UR MOTHER🕴️

megan skiendiel🍒

architect and needy girlfriends || megan skiendiel

pom poms and runners || megan skiendiel and manon bannerman

an eater || megan skiendiel (smau series)

daniela avanzini🛡️

caught in webs and childhood friends || daniela avanzini

manon bannerman👑

pom poms and runners || megan skiendiel and manon bannerman

sophia laforteza⚓️

nothing

lara raj🗝️

nothing

jeong yoonchae🐚

nothing

katseye headcanons or blurbs🐈‍⬛

pairings: megan skiendiel x famous singer gn reader

synopsis: you and megan had broken up, well she broke up with you because of how busy her schedule was gonna be with the girls. you understood and went on your own way with your career but megan? she regretted it especially when you started coming up on her tiktok, ig and twitter. she knew she had made a mistake and tries to get you back.

warnings: cursing, pathetic megan😩, reader lwk dumb, crack, idek?

a/n: next part will be written🤫

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three. bros js saying stuff

————————

pairings: megan skiendiel x famous singer gn reader

synopsis: you and megan had broken up, well she broke up with you because of how busy her schedule was gonna be with the girls. you understood and went on your own way with your career but megan? she regretted it especially when you started coming up on her tiktok, ig and twitter. she knew she had made a mistake and tries to get you back.

warnings: cursing, yearning megan, crack, freaking out?

a/n: i promise it’ll get better lmao😭

prev - masterlist - next

two. try seeking help?

———————

pairings: megan skiendiel x famous singer gn reader

synopsis: you and megan had broken up, well she broke up with you because of how busy her schedule was gonna be with the girls. you understood and went on your own way with your career but megan? she regretted it especially when you started coming up on her tiktok, ig and twitter. she knew she had made a mistake and tries to get you back.

warnings: cursing?, yearning megan (if u squint), crack, angst? idek😭

a/n: will add taglist if wanted

masterlist - next

one. it’s like seeing an ex

————————

megan skiendiel - the dorky one

daniela avanzini - the dancer

manon bannerman - the one with the worst immune system

lara raj - YESSS!

yoonchae - the nonchalant asf one

y/n l/n - famous singer, a loser, loves partying on a random tuesday night, hits the yart every once and a while

finn wolfhard - the actor, the frog face (get it?😉), lowkey the mom of the group, loves to watch mukbangs for some reason

olivia rodrigo - she still misses her ex…, friends with literally everyone, ms. nonchalant

conan gray - the hybe man, just as ‘depressed’ as olivia, he’s lwk just there for the vibes

megan skiendiel x famous singer!gnreader.

you and megan had broken up, well she broke up with you because of how busy her schedule was gonna be with the girls. you understood and went on your own way with your career but megan? she regretted it especially when you started coming up on her tiktok, ig and twitter. she knew she had made a mistake and tries to get you back.

cw: smau, r and megan are both losers😭, crack, angst, fluffy, possibly smut? idk yet, underage drinking and smoking, cursing. pinky up era and in this universe, manon is not on hiatus😭

a/n- yes i’m back… sorry for the long hiatus. first time doing a smau, pls don’t judge😥

the fine shyt musicians hey, its katseye!

chapters:

1. it’s like seeing an ex

2. try seeking help?

pom poms and runners pt 2 || megan skiendiel and manon bannerman

in which you, loser skater collides worlds with shy cheerleader, megan skiendiel, who’s not all bad but your childhood best friend, manon bannerman doesn’t approve of megan especially when you get close with her.

shy cheerleader megan x loser reader x track and field manon

authors note: part 2😛 sorry for the long wait

previous part

—

the rest of the week was weird. like, really weird.

for starters, manon was being clingy in a way she’d never been before. she was always around, always right there, waiting at your locker between every class, sitting closer to you at lunch than usual, texting you constantly when you weren’t together. at first you thought maybe she was just being protective, looking out for you like she always had. but there was an edge to it now, something almost possessive that made you feel like you couldn’t breathe.

and she kept bringing up megan. not directly, but in these little comments that were clearly meant to remind you of what she’d said.

“ugh, cheerleaders are so fucking loud,” she’d mutter when they walked past in the hallway, even though they weren’t being any louder than anyone else.

“did you see what jess posted? jesus. they’re all like that, i swear.”

“i heard the cheer squad got in trouble for bullying some freshman. typical.”

each time, you’d just nod or make some noncommittal sound, but it was starting to grate on you. manon had never been like this before so fixated on hating a specific group of people. it felt excessive. it felt personal.

and the thing was, you kept running into megan.

not literally this time, thank god, but she was suddenly everywhere. in chemistry, she’d started sitting one row closer to your usual spot by the windows. you’d catch her looking at you, and when your eyes met she’d blush and quickly look away, but the next day she’d be there again, one seat closer.

you saw her in the hallway between third and fourth period, and she’d given you a small wave that you returned before manon appeared out of nowhere and steered you in the other direction with a hand on your elbow.

she was at the skate park on saturday.

that one surprised you. you and manon had gone like you did most weekends, and you were in the middle of attempting a kickflip off the small ramp when you spotted her. she was sitting on one of the benches at the edge of the park, still in her cheer practice clothes, shorts and a fitted tank top with the school logo. she had a book open in her lap but she wasn’t reading it. she was watching you.

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” manon muttered beside you, following your gaze.

“maybe she just lives around here,” you said, but even you didn’t really believe that. the skate park was on the opposite side of town from school, not exactly a casual hangout spot.

“she’s following you,” manon said flatly. “this is creepy.”

“it’s a public park—”

“i’m going to talk to her.” manon was already moving, her expression dark.

you grabbed her arm. “don’t. seriously, just leave it.”

“why are you defending her?” manon turned on you, and there was something sharp in her voice that made you take a step back. “you don’t even know her.”

“and you won’t tell me why you hate her so much,” you shot back, frustration finally bubbling over. “you just keep making these vague comments about how she’s a bad person, but you won’t actually explain what she did.”

manon’s jaw clenched. “i told you, it doesn’t matter—”

“clearly it does matter if you’re acting like this.” you gestured between her and where megan was sitting, pretending very hard to be interested in her book now. “you’ve been weird all week, manon. hovering over me, making comments about the cheerleaders constantly, getting pissed every time i even look in megan’s direction—”

“because i’m trying to protect you!” manon’s voice rose, loud enough that a few other skaters glanced over. she lowered it, but the intensity didn’t fade. “i know her, okay? i know what she’s like, and i don’t want you to get hurt.”

“hurt how? by what? she literally just ran into me on the sidewalk—”

“and now she’s showing up where you hang out, staring at you, trying to get close to you—” manon ran a hand through her hair, agitated. “god, this is exactly what she does. she finds someone and she latches on and then—”

“then what?”

manon went quiet. her chest was heaving like she’d been running, and when she looked at you her eyes were bright with something that might have been tears. “then she leaves,” she said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “when something better comes along, she just… leaves.”

and suddenly some pieces started clicking into place. the intensity of manon’s reaction. the personal nature of her hatred. the way she’d looked at megan that first day not just angry, but hurt.

“you were friends?” you said slowly. “you and megan. before.”

manon looked away, but that was answer enough.

“what happened?”

“it doesn’t matter—”

“stop saying that!” you were getting angry now too, fed up with the non-answers and the secrecy. “if you want me to just blindly hate someone, you need to give me an actual reason, manon. that’s not fair.”

“fair?” manon laughed, but it was bitter. “you want to talk about fair? fine. megan and i were best friends in middle school. like, really close. closer than—” she stopped herself. “we did everything together. and then in eighth grade, the popular girls decided they wanted her. jessica and her little crew. and megan just… went with them. completely ditched me to sit at their lunch table and go to their parties and be part of their group.”

you stayed quiet, letting her talk.

“i tried to talk to her about it,” manon continued, and yeah, those were definitely tears now, though she was blinking them back furiously. “tried to ask if we were still friends, if i’d done something wrong. and you know what she said? she said i was being clingy. that i needed to let her have other friends. like i was the problem for being upset that she abandoned me for people who—” she stopped, shook her head. “those girls made my life hell for two years. and megan just stood by and watched. never said anything, never stood up for me, just pretended like we’d never been friends at all.”

your chest felt tight. you’d known manon had a rough time in middle school—she’d mentioned it once or twice, usually when she was explaining why she hated the popular crowd so much. but you’d been in different classes, had your own shit going on with trying to figure out skating and dealing with your own awkward phase. you hadn’t realized megan was part of it.

“i’m sorry,” you said quietly. “i didn’t know, ma-“

manon wiped at her eyes angrily as she cut you off. “yeah, well.. she was shitty so forgive me if i don’t trust her sudden interest in my best friend.”

the possessiveness in those last two words wasn’t lost on you. my best friend.

like a claim.

a territory mark.

you glanced over at the bench. megan was gone. must have left while you and manon were arguing, probably figured out you were talking about her.

“i’m not trying to replace you,” you said, which felt important to say out loud. “you know that, right? you’re my best friend. that’s not going to change.”

manon’s expression softened slightly. “i know. i just—” she sighed. “i don’t want to lose you too.”

“you won’t,” you promised, and you meant it. manon had been there for you through everything. she was constant, reliable, your person. some girl you barely knew wasn’t going to change that.

but even as you said it, even as manon seemed to relax and you went back to skating, part of you couldn’t stop thinking about megan. about the way she’d looked so small and alone standing outside the school. about her nervous laughter and shy smiles.

about the fact that people could change in the years between middle school and now.

monday came with a chemistry test you’d completely forgotten about.

“fuck,” you muttered, staring down at the paper mr. peterson had just placed on your desk. molecular formulas and bonding diagrams and a bunch of shit you definitely should have studied for but hadn’t because you’d been too busy dealing with the weird tension between manon and megan.

you were screwed. completely, utterly screwed.

you made it through maybe three questions before your brain completely gave up. the rest of the period you just sat there, doodling in the margins and accepting your fate. manon was going to kill you she’d reminded you about this test like four times and you’d kept saying you’d study later.

the bell finally rang and you handed in your disaster of a test, already planning how you were going to break it to manon that you’d probably failed.

“um, excuse me?”

you turned to find megan standing there, books clutched to her chest like armor. she looked nervous, kept glancing toward the door like she was ready to bolt.

“hey,” you said, surprised. she hadn’t talked to you directly since that first morning. had kept her distance, probably because of manon’s death glares.

“i—” she started, then stopped. bit her lip. tried again. “i noticed you seemed kind of stuck on the test. i mean, not that i was watching you or anything creepy like that, i just— i, uhm… we sit kind of close and i happened to see—” she was turning red again, tripping over her words.

“it’s cool,” you said, trying to save her from the spiral. “yeah, i totally bombed that. forgot to study.”

she hesitated, then seemed to make a decision. “i could help you. if you want. with chemistry. i’m pretty good at it and mr. peterson sometimes lets people do test corrections for partial credit if you can prove you understand the material now…”

it was a nice offer. genuinely helpful. and the old you, the you from a week ago, would have just said yes without thinking about it.

but you could practically feel manon’s disapproval radiating from somewhere in the building.

“i don’t know,” you said slowly. “i mean, that’s nice of you to offer, but—”

“is it because of manon?” megan asked quietly, and when you didn’t answer, she nodded like she’d expected it. “i understand. she… she has every right to hate me.”

that surprised you. “what?”

“uh.. nevermind.” megan was staring at her shoes.

you didn’t know what to say or do to that.

she just blushed deeper. “i just think you’re really cool. and nice. and i’d like to be your friend, if that’s okay. but i understand if it’s not.”

there was something painfully honest about the way she said it. vulnerable. like she was handing you her heart and fully expecting you to crush it.

and god, you wanted to say yes. wanted to tell her that yeah, you could be friends, that everyone deserved a second chance.

but manon’s hurt expression flashed through your mind. the tears she’d blinked back at the skate park. the way her voice had broken when she said “then she leaves.”

“i need to think about it,” you said finally, which was the most honest answer you could give.

megan nodded, looking both disappointed and like she’d expected nothing different. “okay. that’s- yeah. okay.” she adjusted her books. “i’ll see you around.”

she was gone before you could say anything else, disappearing into the hallway crowd in a flash of ginger hair.

pom poms and runners || megan skiendiel and manon bannerman

in which you, loser skater collides worlds with shy cheerleader, megan skiendiel, who’s not all bad but your childhood best friend, manon bannerman doesn’t approve of megan especially when you get close with her.

shy cheerleader megan x loser reader x track and field manon

authors notes: might make a pt2

next part

—

the morning started like any other tuesday which is to say, it started badly.

your alarm didn’t go off, or maybe it did and you just slept through it, sprawled across your bed with one leg hanging off the edge and your face buried in a pillow that smelled vaguely of old pizza. by the time you jolted awake, sunlight was already streaming through your blinds in that aggressive way that meant you were definitely, absolutely late.

“shit, shit, shit,” you muttered, scrambling out of bed and nearly tripping over the skateboard you’d left in the middle of your floor the night before. your room was a disaster clothes everywhere, empty energy drink cans on your desk, posters of random skate brands and indie bands plastered across the walls in no particular order. your mom had given up on telling you to clean it months ago.

your skateboard was already in your hand before you’d even fully processed the decision to skate to school. it was automatic at this point, muscle memory. the board was your baby covered in stickers you’d collected over the years, grip tape worn smooth in some spots from use, wheels that desperately needed replacing but you kept putting it off because new wheels were expensive and you were saving up for a new deck.

the cool morning air hit your face as you kicked off down your driveway, and immediately everything felt better. this was your element. the rhythmic sound of wheels on pavement, the slight vibration traveling up through your feet, the wind in your hair, this was when your brain finally woke up and everything else faded into background noise.

you popped in your earbuds, letting the music drown out the world. some indie rock band manon had recommended last week, all guitars and angsty vocals that somehow felt right for a morning skate. you weaved around the familiar sidewalk cracks, ollieing over a stick someone’s dog had probably dragged into the path, carving smooth lines down the gentle slope that led toward school.

manon. just thinking about her made you smile without meaning to.

manon had been in your life for so long that you couldn’t really remember a time before her. sandbox days, she’d call them back when you were both small enough that the playground seemed enormous and the biggest drama in your life was who got to go down the slide first. she’d been there through everything. when you’d first gotten into skating at age ten and could barely stay on the board for three seconds without falling. when you broke your arm attempting a kickflip off the loading dock behind the grocery store, she’d been the one to run and get help, then sat with you in the emergency room for four hours making stupid jokes to keep you from freaking out about the pain. when you hit that awkward growth spurt in eighth grade and suddenly none of your clothes fit and you felt like a baby giraffe learning to walk, she’d been there, teasing you mercilessly but also being genuinely supportive in that way only a best friend could be.

she was in track and field now, and apparently pretty good at it. you’d been to a few of her meets, watching her absolutely demolish the competition in the 400-meter. she had this intensity when she ran, this focus that was honestly kind of intimidating. people knew her around school not popular in the cheerleader way, but respected. she was nice to pretty much everyone, had this easy confidence that you kind of envied.

everyone except the cheerleaders, that is.

manon hated the cheerleaders. like, with a passion that seemed almost excessive to you, but you’d learned not to question it. whenever they walked by in their matching uniforms, all high ponytails and loud voices, manon would get this look on her face like she’d just smelled something rotten. “they’re all bitches,” she’d say matter-of-factly. “every single one. mean girls straight out of a movie, i swear to god.”

you’d always just shrugged it off. the cheerleaders existed in a completely different stratosphere than you did, you were the loser, who sat in the back of class with headphones on and got detention for skating in the hallways. they were the popular crowd who actually went to football games and cared about pep rallies and whatever else popular people did. your worlds didn’t intersect.

your phone buzzed in your pocket.

then again.

and again.

“jesus christ,” you muttered, fishing it out while still skating. probably manon wondering where you were, since you were definitely late at this point and she usually waited for you at your locker before first period.

you glanced down at the screen, squinting at the notifications. group chat going off about something, looked like memes probably, and yeah, a text from manon asking if you were dead or just overslept again.

you were about to text back when you heard it, a small gasp, the sound of something hitting the ground and then you were colliding with something, someone, both of you going down hard on the concrete.

“fuck!” you yelped as your skateboard shot out from under you and you hit the ground, knee cracking against the pavement in a way that immediately sent sharp, throbbing pain radiating up your leg. your phone skittered across the sidewalk, your earbuds yanked out of your ears.

“oh my god, oh my god, i’m so sorry—”

you looked up, blinking away the spots in your vision from the impact, and saw her.

ginger hair, like actual red-orange ginger that caught the morning light and seemed to glow. she was sitting on the ground a few feet away, textbooks scattered around her, one hand pressed to her forehead where you must have clipped her. and her face, her face was bright red, blushing so hard you could see it spread down her neck.

she was wearing a varsity jacket. the varsity jacket. cheerleader colors.

“shit, i’m sorry,” you said immediately, ignoring the pain in your knee as you scrambled to your feet. you offered her a hand, which she stared at for a second like she wasn’t sure what to do with it. “i wasn’t looking where i was going, totally my fault.”

“n-no, i—i wasn’t paying attention either, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry—” she was tripping over her words, stuttering, still that brilliant shade of red as she finally took your hand. her palm was soft and warm, and she was shaking slightly as you pulled her up.

she was shorter than you, you realized, had to tilt her head back slightly to meet your eyes. and then she immediately looked away, like making eye contact was physically painful for her.

“you okay?” you asked, brushing off your jeans and trying not to wince at the pain in your knee. definitely scraped, probably bleeding, but whatever. you’d had worse.

“y-yeah, i’m fine, i’m—god, i’m- i, i’m sorry—” she was frantically gathering her textbooks, almost dropping them twice in the process, and you bent down to help her.

“seriously, it was my fault,” you insisted, handing her a notebook that had landed cover-down on the sidewalk. chemistry, you noticed. you were pretty sure you had chemistry first period. “i was texting while skating, which is like, rule number one of things not to do.”

she let out a small laugh, nervous and high-pitched, and tucked a strand of that ginger hair behind her ear. she had freckles, you noticed, scattered across her nose and cheeks. and her eyes were this light hazel color that seemed almost gold in the morning sun.

she was… really pretty, actually.

“i’m—” you started, then realized you should probably introduce yourself like a normal person. you stuck out your hand again. “i’m y/n. sorry again for, you know, running you over.”

her eyes went wide, like you’d just said something shocking. “i—i know,” she stammered out, then immediately looked mortified that she’d said it. “i mean—we have class together. chemistry. with mr. peterson. you sit in the back by the windows.”

you blinked. “oh. uh, yeah, i do.” you felt kind of bad that you hadn’t noticed her. but to be fair, you spent most of chemistry with your headphones in, doodling in the margins of your notebook and trying not to fall asleep. mr. peterson had a voice like a droning mosquito and the subject matter was about as interesting as watching paint dry.

she was still blushing, clutching her books to her chest like a shield. she kept opening her mouth like she wanted to say something else, then closing it again.

“i didn’t catch your name though,” you prompted, trying to be friendly. you felt bad for running into her, and she seemed nice, even if she was wearing that cheerleader jacket.

“m-megan,” she managed to get out. “megan skiendiel.”

“megan,” you repeated, testing it out. “right. nice to officially meet you, i guess?” you shot her a lopsided grin, trying to ease the tension that was radiating off her in waves.

her blush somehow deepened, and she nodded so fast you thought her neck might snap. “yeah, nice to meet you too, even if—” she gestured vaguely at the ground where you’d both just been sprawled out. “even if it was kind of literally.”

you laughed, and she smiled small and shy, but genuine.

your phone buzzed again from where it had landed on the ground, and you grabbed it, checking to make sure the screen wasn’t cracked, it what, thank god. then another text from manon,

“shit, i’m so late,” you muttered, then looked at megan. “are you- uhm- are you headed to school?”

she nodded.

“wanna walk together? well, i’ll skate, you walk. same direction though.” you weren’t sure why you offered, exactly.

maybe because she seemed nervous and alone and you felt guilty for running into her. maybe because she was kind of cute and you were kind of a disaster who made impulsive decisions.

her face lit up like you’d just offered her a winning lottery ticket. “really? i mean—yeah, yes, that would be—yeah.”

you grabbed your skateboard, testing your weight on your injured knee. it hurt, but not enough to stop you. you’d skated through worse. “cool. let’s go then before we’re both super late.”

the walk—well, your skating and her walking to school was surprisingly nice. megan was quiet at first, but she gradually started to relax as you kept the conversation going, asking her random questions about chemistry class and whether she thought mr. peterson was actually a robot disguised as a human because you’d never seen him display a single emotion.

she laughed at that, a real laugh that wasn’t nervous at all, and started opening up a bit. she told you about how she’d been doing cheerleading since freshman year, how she actually loved it even though the early morning practices were brutal. how her favorite subject was english because she liked creative writing. how she had a dog named biscuit who was old and fat and slept approximately twenty-three hours a day.

you told her about skating, about the skate park you and manon hung out at on weekends, about the time you’d tried to learn a treflip and ended up with a black eye and a bruised ego. she listened intently, actually seemed interested, kept asking follow-up questions.

and she kept glancing at you. like, a lot. quick little looks from the corner of her eye when she thought you weren’t paying attention, then darting her gaze away when you turned toward her. it was kind of endearing, honestly. reminded you of a nervous bird.

“so you’re friends with manon, right?” she asked suddenly, and something in her voice had changed. less relaxed, more careful.

“yeah, she’s my best friend. have been since we were kids.” you kick-pushed your skateboard over a crack in the sidewalk. “why?”

megan bit her lip. “just… just asking.”

before you could ask what that meant, the school came into view, and you spotted a familiar figure standing outside the main entrance, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently.

manon.

she saw you immediately, her face lit up in that way it always did when she spotted you, this bright genuine smile that made her whole face transform. but then her eyes shifted to who you were with, and you watched in real-time as that smile died.

her expression went cold, hard, jaw clenching. her dark eyes fixed on megan with something that looked a lot like hatred.

you glanced between them, confused. megan had gone rigid beside you, all the color draining from her face. she’d stopped walking, was standing frozen about ten feet from the entrance.

“hey manon!” you called out, skating up to her. “sorry i’m late, i overslept and then—”

“what is she doing here?” manon’s voice was ice, cutting through your explanation. she wasn’t looking at you. she was staring at megan like she wanted to bore holes through her skull with her mind.

you looked back at megan, who was staring at the ground, arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to physically hold herself together. “we ran into each other. literally. i wasn’t paying attention and—”

“you know each other?” you asked, looking between them. because clearly there was some history here, some tension you were completely missing.

megan nodded, barely perceptible, still not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“yeah,” manon said flatly. “we know each other.”

the silence stretched out, painful and awkward. a few other students were filing past you into the building, shooting curious glances at the weird standoff happening at the entrance.

“um,” you started, not sure what to say. “should i—”

“let’s go,” manon said abruptly, and her hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. hard. her fingers dug into your skin with enough force that you yelped.

“ow, manon, what the—”

but she was already pulling you, yanking you toward the entrance with a grip like iron. you stumbled, almost dropping your skateboard, shooting an apologetic look back at megan. she was still standing there frozen, looking small and hurt and alone in that cheerleader jacket, and something in your chest twisted at the sight.

“manon, seriously, that hurts—” you tried to pull your wrist free but she wasn’t letting go, was practically dragging you through the doors and into the crowded hallway.

“manon!”

she finally released you once you were inside, and you yanked your wrist back, rubbing at the red marks her fingers had left. “what the hell was that about?”

manon’s jaw was clenched so tight you could see the muscle jumping. her eyes were bright, angry, hurt. “what were you doing with her?”

“with megan? i literally just told you, we ran into each other—”

“you shouldn’t hang out with her,” manon cut you off, voice hard. “she’s—she’s not a good person.”

you stared at her. in all the years you’d known manon, you’d seen her angry plenty of times, but never like this. never this cold fury that seemed to radiate off her in waves. “that seems kind of harsh. she seemed nice—”

“you don’t know her,” manon snapped. “trust me on this, okay? just—stay away from her.”

“why- wha- did something happen or something?”

for a second, you thought she might actually tell you. her expression flickered, something vulnerable breaking through the anger. but then she just shook her head, grabbed her backpack straps like she needed something to hold onto.

“it doesn’t matter. it was a long time ago.” she looked at you, and her voice softened slightly. “i’m just trying to look out for you. the cheerleaders are all the same fake, mean, backstabbers. megan skiendiel is no different.”

you wanted to argue, wanted to point out that megan hadn’t seemed fake or mean at all, had actually been shy and sweet and genuine. but something in manon’s face stopped you. she looked hurt in a way you didn’t fully understand, and you didn’t want to make it worse.

“okay,” you said finally, even though you weren’t sure you meant it. “okay.”

manon’s shoulders relaxed slightly. she managed a small smile, reaching out to adjust your backpack strap that had slipped down your shoulder. “come on, we’re already late for first period. if we run we might make it before the bell.”

she started walking, and you followed, but you couldn’t help glancing back toward the entrance. through the glass doors, you could just barely see a flash of ginger hair and a varsity jacket, still standing alone outside.

the warning bell rang, shrill and urgent, and you turned back around, hurrying to keep up with manon as she navigated through the crowded hallway. but your mind was still outside, still thinking about shy smiles and nervous laughter and the way megan had looked at you like you were something special.

hopelessly in love || megan skiendiel headcanons

in which your whiny puppy girlfriend is hopelessly in love and obsessed with you.

megan skiendiel x gn reader

authors note: THE PICTURES HAVE A HOLD ON ME BRORODOS

—

megan who gets so clingy the moment you’re in the same room, like she physically cannot be more than two feet away from you or she’ll combust.

she’s the type to follow you around the dorm like a literal puppy, padding after you from room to room even if you’re just going to grab water from the kitchen. you’ll turn around and nearly trip over her because she’s RIGHT there, looking up at you with those big eyes like “where are we going?”

constantly tugging on your sleeves, your shirt hem, your fingers, anything she can grab onto. she needs that physical connection at all times and if you’re not holding her hand she’ll just keep reaching for you until you give in.

megan who whines your name in the most dramatic drawn-out way when you’re paying attention to literally anything else. “but i’m RIGHT here” she’ll say, bottom lip jutting out, practically vibrating with the need for your attention.

she’s so needy about good morning and goodnight kisses that she’s made it a whole routine. will NOT start her day properly until you’ve kissed her at least three times and told her she’s pretty. wakes you up by pressing soft kisses all over your face until you’re giggling and trying to push her away but she just whines “five more minutes” and cuddles closer.

gets pouty when you have to leave for work or errands, literally drapes herself over you like a weighted blanket trying to keep you from going. “don’t you love me? don’t you want to stay with your girlfriend who misses you so much already?”

sends you approximately eight hundred texts when you’re apart, mostly just “i miss you” and “when are you coming home” and blurry selfies of her pouting with captions like “your girlfriend is so sad and lonely without you”

megan who curls up in your lap whenever possible, doesn’t matter if you’re trying to work or watch tv or literally anything else. she’ll just wiggle her way onto you and tuck her face into your neck with the most content little sigh.

she’s SO verbally affectionate in the whiniest way possible. “tell me you love me” “tell me i’m your favorite” “tell me you’ll never leave me” and when you DO tell her she’s like “say it again” with the most serious expression.

gets jealous so easily but in the most pathetic puppy way where she doesn’t get mad she just gets extra clingy and sad. you’ll be talking to someone else and she’ll just slowly inch closer and closer until she’s practically molded to your side, head on your shoulder, holding your arm with both of hers.

makes these little needy sounds when you kiss her or play with her hair soft sighs and tiny whimpers that make your heart ache because she’s so responsive to every touch.

absolutely LIVES for praise. you could tell her she looks pretty and she’ll literally melt, nuzzling into you with the happiest smile. “really? you really think so?” even though you tell her every single day.

megan who stress-bakes when you’re away for too long and then sends you pictures of progressively more chaotic kitchen disasters with increasingly unhinged captions about how she’s coping so well and definitely not spiraling.

has a THAT whiny voice reserved just for when she wants something from you. you’ve grown immune to it exactly zero percent, she knows you’ll give her whatever she wants when she looks at you like that.

gets so excited when you come home that she literally runs to the door, crashing into you with a hug that nearly knocks you both over. wraps herself around you like a koala and refuses to let go for a solid five minutes minimum.

sleeps basically ON TOP of you every night, one leg thrown over yours, arm around your waist, face buried in your chest or neck. if you try to move even slightly she’ll whine in her sleep and hold you tighter.

leaves little notes everywhere when she knows you’ll be home without her—sticky notes on the bathroom mirror, tucked into your laptop, in your coat pockets. all of them say variations of “i love you” and “i miss you already” and “please come home soon”

does this thing where she’ll just stare at you with the softest most lovestruck expression until you notice and go “what?” and she’s like “nothing you’re just really pretty” but her voice cracks because she’s so genuine about it.

megan who gets all whiny and clingy when she’s tired, basically becomes a boneless noodle person who drapes herself over you and mumbles about how you’re so warm and comfortable and perfect.

absolutely cannot handle you being sick or hurt, becomes the most attentive worried girlfriend who hovers constantly. “does it hurt? do you need anything? i’ll get you anything. please let me take care of you i’m going CRAZY just sitting here”

has claimed one of your hoodies as her comfort item and wears it constantly when you’re not around, sleeves hanging past her fingers, buried in the fabric because it smells like you

gets so genuinely distressed if she thinks you’re upset with her, immediately spirals into “please don’t be mad at me i’m sorry i love you so much please” even if you’re literally not mad at all.

does grabby hands at you from across the room when she wants you to come closer, makes little “come here” motions until you give in and go to her.

megan who talks about you CONSTANTLY to the other girls until they’re like “we know, we get it, your they’re is perfect” but she just keeps going because she physically cannot stop gushing about you.

gets all blushy and giggly when you call her baby or love or any pet name really, hides her face in your shoulder because she’s so overwhelmed with feelings.

will literally pout and sulk if you forget to kiss her goodbye, sends you sad selfies until you video call her just to blow her a kiss through the screen. yes, crazy right?

keeps a collection of every cute thing you’ve ever given her. ticket stubs, receipts from dates, pressed flowers, polaroids. has them in a box under her bed that she looks through when she misses you.

megan who just wants to be close to you all the time, who needs your touch and attention like she needs air, who loves you so wholly and desperately and obviously that everyone can see it written all over her face.

sometimes gets overwhelmed by how much she loves you and just has to stop whatever she’s doing to hug you really tight and mumble “i love you so much it’s actually insane” into your shoulder.

Seriously, incredible work, please never stop writing!

architect and needy girlfriends || megan skiendiel

in which you have been busy with your architect major and final exams that you can’t spend time with your girlfriend, who is very much acting like a needy puppy but when schools shuts down because of a snowstorm. you better believe megan is taking advantage.

megan skiendiel x architect major gn reader

authors note: reader is kinda a workalcoholic here and a bit of a dick😭

—

the sound of your phone buzzing for the fifth time in the last hour makes several heads turn in your architecture studio class. you can feel your ears burning as you quickly silence it, catching a glimpse of megan’s name lighting up the screen along with another text that simply reads

professor richardson gives you a pointed look before returning to his lecture about structural engineering principles, but you’re barely paying attention anymore. your phone vibrates again in your pocket, this time it’s a call. you let it go to voicemail, knowing exactly who it is and feeling equal parts guilty and stressed. finals week is killing you, and while you love megan more than anything, her timing couldn’t be worse.

the class finally ends after what feels like an eternity, and you pull out your phone to find twelve new messages and three missed calls, all from megan.

your heart clenches with guilt as you read through them. you quickly type back:

the responses is immediate.

you sigh, running a hand through your hair as you make your way across the snowy campus toward the library. you can practically hear her whining through the text, can perfectly picture the pout on her face and those big puppy dog eyes that always make you cave. but you can’t afford to fail these finals, not when you’re so close to finishing the semester.

she’s not wrong. ever since she arrived in new york three days ago for her break from katseye activities, you’ve barely spent any time with her. between final projects, presentations, and exams, you’ve been drowning in work. you feel terrible about it, but there’s nothing you can do.

you make it to the library and manage to get about two hours of solid studying in before your phone starts buzzing again. this time it’s a call, and you debate letting it go to voicemail, but you know that will only make things worse.

“hey babe,” you answer in a whisper, gathering your things so you can step outside.

“baby,” megan’s voice comes through, and she sounds on the verge of tears. “when are you coming home?”

“megs, i told you around eight—”

“but that’s still four hours away,” she whines, and you can hear the tremor in her voice. “i’m so lonely here. i’ve been by myself all day and i just miss you so much and i came here to spend time with you but you’re never here and i know you have to study but i just—” her voice breaks and you hear a small sob.

“hey, hey, don’t cry,” you say softly, your resolve already crumbling. “please don’t cry.”

“i can’t help it,” she sniffles. “i just miss you. is that so bad? i just want to be with my girlfriend.”

you close your eyes, feeling like the worst girlfriend in the world. here megan is, on one of her rare breaks from her incredibly demanding schedule, and she chose to spend it with you in cold, busy new york instead of going home to her family or relaxing somewhere warm. and you’ve been too buried in finals to appreciate it.

“it’s not bad at all,” you assure her. “i miss you too. so much.”

“then come home,” she pleads. “please baby, just come home. you can study here. i won’t bother you, i promise. i just want you here.”

you know that’s not entirely true. megan has never been good at not bothering you when you’re trying to work but you can’t stand hearing her cry.

“okay,” you concede. “okay, i’ll come home. give me thirty minutes.”

“really?” her voice immediately brightens. “you mean it?”

“yeah, i mean it. let me pack up and i’ll be there soon.”

“thank you thank you thank you!” she squeals. “i love you so much baby, you’re the best!”

you can’t help but smile despite your stress. “i love you too, megs. see you soon.”

the subway ride back to your small studio apartment in the east village feels longer than usual, and by the time you’re climbing the stairs to your fourth-floor walkup, you’re exhausted. but the moment you open the door, all that fades away.

megan practically launches herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck and her legs around your waist, nearly knocking you backward.

“baby!” she squeals, burying her face in your neck. “you’re home, you’re finally home!”

you drop your bag and wrap your arms around her, holding her tight. she’s wearing one of your hoodies that’s absolutely drowning her small frame, and her hair is up in a messy bun. she smells like your shampoo and that vanilla perfume she always wears.

“hi, my love,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple. “i missed you.”

“i missed you more,” she insists, pulling back to look at you with those big brown eyes. they’re a little red and puffy from crying, and it makes your heart ache. “so so so much more.”

she leans in and kisses you, soft and sweet, and you forget for a moment about the mountain of studying you have to do.

“okay,” you say when she finally pulls away. “let me get set up and i’ll study for a bit, yeah?”

megan nods, but she doesn’t let go of you. “can i just hold onto you for a little bit longer? please?”

“yeah… yeah of course…”

you carry her over to your bed, which is really just a mattress on the floor because you’re a broke college student and sit down with her still wrapped around you like a koala. she sighs contentedly, nuzzling into your neck.

“i’m never letting you go,” she mumbles. “you’re stuck with me forever now.”

“oh no, what a terrible fate,” you tease, running your hands up and down her back.

she pinches your side. “don’t be mean. i’ve been deprived of you for days. days, baby. do you know how long that is?”

“i believe it’s been about three days, which is definitely not the same as—”

“it felt like years,” she interrupts dramatically. “actual years. i thought i was going to die from loneliness.”

you laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “you’re so dramatic.”

“i’m not dramatic, i’m in love,” she corrects, pulling back to look at you seriously. “there’s a difference.”

“if you say so.”

you sit there for another ten minutes, just holding her and listening to her talk about her day, which apparently consisted of watching netflix, eating all your snacks, and missing you terribly. eventually, though, you know you have to get some work done.

“okay, baby, i really need to study now,” you say gently.

megan’s grip on you tightens. “five more minutes.”

“megan—”

“please? just five more minutes?”

you check your phone. it’s already past five. “okay, five more minutes.”

five minutes turns into ten, and ten turns into fifteen, until finally you have to physically pry her off of you.

“i’m sorry, i really have to work,” you say as she pouts at you with her arms crossed.

“fine,” she huffs. “but i’m staying right here with you.”

you set up your laptop and textbooks on the small desk in the corner of your apartment, and true to her word, megan stays right there. specifically, she climbs onto your lap, straddling your thighs and wrapping her arms around your neck.

“uh, i can’t really work like this,” you point out.

“yes you can,” she insists, resting her chin on your shoulder. “i’ll be quiet. you won’t even know i’m here.”

that is absolutely not true, but you don’t have the heart to push her away, so you try your best to read through your notes with your girlfriend draped over you like a living blanket.

it works for about fifteen minutes before she starts getting restless.

“baby,” she whines, tugging at your sleeve.

“yeah?” you don’t look away from your screen.

“i’m bored.”

“watch something on your phone.”

“i don’t want to watch something on my phone,” she complains, tugging at your sleeve again. “i want to watch you.”

“that’s going to get boring real fast.”

“no it won’t,” she argues. “you’re very pretty. i could look at you forever.”

despite everything, you smile. “that’s sweet, but i really need to focus.”

megan huffs and buries her face back in your neck, but she only stays quiet for another few minutes before she’s tugging at you again.

“baby.”

“yes, megan?”

“i’m cold.”

you’re not surprised. it’s december in new york and your apartment’s heating system is questionable at best. you’re wearing a thick sweater and you’re still a bit chilly.

“there’s a blanket on the bed,” you suggest, trying to calculate load-bearing equations while she squirms in your lap.

“but then i’d have to move,” she whines. “and i’m comfortable here.”

“then i don’t know what to tell you, love.”

she makes a disgruntled noise and presses closer to you, her cold nose against your neck making you shiver. her hands snake under your sweater, seeking warmth, and her icy fingers against your skin make you jump.

“jesus, megs, your hands are freezing!”

“i know, that’s why i’m putting them on you,” she says matter-of-factly. “you’re so warm.”

you try to focus on your work, you really do, but megan is making it nearly impossible. she keeps shifting in your lap, tugging at your clothes, playing with your hair, pressing little kisses to your neck and jaw.

“baby,” she whines after another few minutes. “pay attention to me.”

“i am paying attention to you,” you argue, though your eyes haven’t left your screen.

“no you’re not, you’re paying attention to your stupid computer.”

“it’s not stupid, it’s important.”

“i’m important,” she pouts, and when you glance at her, her bottom lip is jutting out and her eyes are getting watery again. “more important than your computer.”

“of course you are—”

“then why won’t you look at me?” her voice cracks, and you realize she’s actually getting upset.

you sigh and turn your attention fully to her, cupping her face in your hands. “i’m looking at you now.”

“you’re only doing it because i’m crying,” she sniffles, and sure enough, there are tears rolling down her cheeks. “you don’t actually want to.”

“that’s not true—”

“yes it is!” she’s fully crying now, her whole body shaking with sobs. “you’ve been ignoring me for days and now you’re finally home but you’re still ignoring me and i just wanted to spend time with you and i miss you so much and—” she dissolves into incoherent crying, burying her face in your chest.

you feel absolutely terrible. you close your laptop and wrap your arms around her, holding her tight as she cries.

“i’m sorry,” you murmur into her hair. “i’m so sorry, baby. you’re right, i’ve been terrible to you.”

“the worst,” she sobs, though she clings to you tighter.

“the absolute worst,” you agree. “i’m sorry i’ve been so busy. i’m sorry i haven’t been giving you the attention you deserve.”

“i just miss you,” she cries. “i miss you even when you’re right here because you’re not really here, you’re thinking about school and your projects and i know it’s important but i’m important too and i just—i just want you to want to spend time with me.”

your heart breaks a little. “i do want to spend time with you. i always want to spend time with you. you’re my favorite person in the entire world.”

“then why do you keep choosing your homework over me?” she pulls back to look at you with red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, and she looks so sad and small that you want to cry too.

“i’m not choosing it over you,” you try to explain. “i just—finals are really important and if i don’t pass—”

“i know,” she cuts you off, wiping at her eyes. “i know it’s important. i’m not trying to be difficult, i just… i miss you. and i know that’s clingy and needy and annoying but i can’t help it. i love you so much and i just want to be with you.”

“it’s not annoying,” you assure her, wiping away her tears with your thumbs. “you’re not annoying. and you’re allowed to want attention from your girlfriend. i’m sorry i haven’t been giving you enough of it.”

she sniffles, leaning into your touch. “so you’ll stop studying?”

you hesitate. you really do need to study, but looking at megan’s tear-stained face, you can’t bring yourself to say no.

“yeah,” you say softly. “yeah, i’ll stop studying. what do you want to do?”

her whole face lights up like you’ve just given her the best gift in the world. “really? you mean it?”

“i mean it.”

“can we go to that bakery?” she asks hopefully, her tears already drying. “the one with the really good cupcakes? i’ve been thinking about them all day.”

you smile. “yeah, we can go to the bakery. i could actually go for something sweet right now too.”

megan’s eyes light up with mischief, and a slow smirk spreads across her face. “well, you have something sweet to eat right in front of you,” she says, her voice dropping suggestively as she rocked her hips on you. “you could eat that instead.”

you feel your face heat up and you scoff softly, trying to ignore the way your heart rate picks up. “later,” you promise, which makes her eyes widen with excitement.

“later?” she repeats, her whole demeanor changing from sad to excited in an instant. “you promise?”

“i promise,” you confirm, gently moving her off your lap so you can stand. “now come on, let’s get ready to—”

but before you can finish your sentence, megan is scrambling after you, practically tripping over herself to follow you to your tiny closet.

“wait, what are we wearing?” she asks, already rifling through your clothes. “oh! we should wear matching pajamas! the ones i bought us!”

“megs, we’re going outside—”

“so? they’re cute and comfortable and i want everyone to know we’re together,” she insists, pulling out the matching set she’d ordered online last week. soft pink pajama pants with little hearts on them and matching hoodies.

you want to argue that it’s ridiculous to wear pajamas to a bakery, but the excited look on her face stops you. besides, it’s new york. you’ve definitely seen weirder.

“okay, fine.” she immediately attacks you with kisses on your lips softly moaning as she starts getting carried away hir you tap her waist making her whine.

twenty minutes later, you’re walking down the snowy streets of the east village in matching pajamas, with megan clinging to your arm like her life depends on it. she’s practically hanging off you, and you’re pretty sure if you stopped walking suddenly, she’d just keep holding on and dangle there like a koala.

the bakery is warm and smells like sugar and cinnamon when you walk in, and megan immediately drags you over to the display case, her eyes wide with excitement.

“baby, look at all of them!” she gushes, pressing her face against the glass like a kid in a candy store. “they all look so good, i don’t know which one to get!”

you smile at her enthusiasm, wrapping an arm around her waist. “get whatever you want, my treat.”

“no, you don’t have to?” but she looks up at you with sparkling eyes.

“no argument.”

she turns back to the display case, studying each cupcake with intense concentration. you can practically see the gears turning in her head as she tries to decide.

“that one,” she finally declares, pointing at a red velvet cupcake on the top shelf. “i want that one.”

“the red velvet?”

“yes!” she tugs at your sleeve. “baby, get it for me?”

“why can’t you get it yourself?”

she looks at you like you’ve just asked the stupidest question in the world. “because i’m short and you’re a giant.”

“i’m literally only like six inches taller than you—”

“you’re huge compared to me,” she insists, tugging at you again. “now please get me the cupcake? pretty please?”

you roll your eyes but lean over the counter to tell the worker which one you want. while you’re ordering and adding a chocolate one for yourself. megan stays glued to your side, her hand fisted in the back of your hoodie.

“can i get you anything else?” the worker asks.

“do you want anything else?” you ask megan.

she peers back at the display case, chewing on her bottom lip. “maybe the chocolate chip cookie? and—oh! the brownie looks good too! and—”

“okay, we’ll take one of each,” you tell the worker before megan can list the entire bakery.

“baby, you don’t have to—”

“i want to,” you assure her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “consider it an apology for being such a neglectful asshole.”

she beams up at you, going up on her tiptoes to kiss your cheek. “you’re not neglectful, you’re just busy but i accept your apology anyway.”

you pay for your haul and the worker hands you a large bag filled with treats. megan immediately opens it and pulls out her red velvet cupcake, peeling off the wrapper right there in the bakery.

“want a bite?” she offers, holding it up to your mouth.

you take a bite and she watches you expectantly. “good?”

“really good,” you confirm, and she grins before taking a huge bite herself, getting frosting on her nose.

“you’ve got a little something—” you reach out and wipe the frosting off her nose with your thumb, and she immediately grabs your hand and licks the frosting off your thumb, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

“megan,” you hiss, feeling your face heat up again. you’re in public, for god’s sake.

she just giggles, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “what? i didn’t want it to go to waste.”

you’re definitely going to die from embarrassment, but before you can respond, megan is tugging at your sleeve again.

“baby, i’m cold,” she whines, pressing closer to you. “can we go?”

“yeah, let’s go.”

the walk home is slower than the walk there because megan keeps stopping to look at christmas lights or dogs or literally anything that catches her attention, all while maintaining her death grip on your arm. by the time you make it back to your apartment, your arm is completely numb but megan looks happier than she has in days.

“that was fun,” she declares, flopping onto your bed. “we should do that every night.”

“megs, if we do that every night, i’m going to fail all my classes and we’re both going to gain twenty pounds.”

she props herself up on her elbows to look at you. “worth it.”

you laugh and climb onto the bed next to her, and she immediately rolls over to cuddle into your side, her head on your chest and her leg thrown over yours.

“thank you for taking me,” she murmurs. “and for spending time with me. i know you have a lot to do.”

“i’ll always make time for you,” you promise, running your fingers through her hair. “i’m sorry i’ve been so busy. just a few more days and then i’m all yours for winter break.”

“all mine?” she perks up.

“all yours.”

“good,” she says firmly, snuggling closer. “because i’m not sharing you with anyone. not even your textbooks.”

you smile and press a kiss to the top of her head. “deal.”

she falls asleep like that, curled up against you, and you can’t bring yourself to move her even though you should probably get some more studying done. instead, you just hold her, listening to her soft breathing and feeling grateful that she chose to spend her break with you, even if you have been a terrible girlfriend.

you eventually doze off too, and when you wake up a few hours later, it’s dark outside and megan is starfished across the bed, taking up way more space than someone her size should be able to. you carefully extract yourself and check your phone. it’s almost midnight.

you should study. you really should study.

instead, you climb back into bed and pull megan into your arms. she makes a sleepy noise and automatically curls into you.

the studying can wait until tomorrow.

except tomorrow comes with a massive snowstorm that has the entire city shutting down.

you wake up to your phone buzzing with alerts about class cancellations and transit delays, and when you look out your window, you can barely see the building across the street through the heavy snow.

“baby?” megan’s sleepy voice comes from behind you. “what’s going on?”

“snowstorm,” you tell her, climbing back into bed. “classes are cancelled.”

“really?” she’s suddenly wide awake, a huge grin spreading across her face. “so you’re home all day?”

“well, i should probably still study—”

“no!” she launches herself at you, wrapping her entire body around yours like an octopus. “no studying! you promised you’d make time for me and now you have all day and you’re not allowed to study!”

“megs, i have finals—”

“i don’t care!” she buries her face in your neck. “it’s a snow day. you’re not supposed to work on snow days, that’s like, a rule.”

“i don’t think that’s—“

“it is,” she insists. “it’s a rule. i just made it up. and you have to follow it because i’m your girlfriend and i said so.”

you can’t help but laugh at her logic. “is that how this works?”

“yes,” she says firmly. “now stop trying to be responsible and cuddle me. i’m cold.”

and honestly? with the snow coming down outside and megan warm in your arms and no obligations for the entire day? you can’t think of a single reason to say no.

“okay,” you concede, settling back against the pillows and pulling her close. “no studying today.”

“really?” she pulls back to look at you suspiciously, like she’s waiting for you to take it back.

“really.”

she squeals and throws her arms around your neck, peppering your face with kisses. “oh my god! i love you i love you i love you!”

you laugh, trying to dodge her enthusiastic kisses. “i love you too, you menace.”

she pulls back with a pout. “i’m not a menace, i’m delightful.”

“you’re something, alright.”

“rude,” she huffs, but she’s smiling as she settles back against you, her head on your chest and her fingers playing with the strings of your hoodie.

you lay there for a while, just enjoying the quiet. the only sounds are the wind howling outside and megan’s soft breathing, and for the first time in weeks, you feel completely relaxed.

of course, that doesn’t last long.

“baby,” megan whines after about ten minutes.

“yeah?”

“i’m bored.”

“we’ve been laying here for like ten minutes.”

“exactly! that’s so long!” she squirms against you. “let’s do something.

“like what?”

“i don’t know,” she props herself up on your chest to look at you. “we could watch a movie? or play a game? or—oh! we could build a blanket fort!”

“a blanket fort?”

“yeah!” her eyes light up with excitement. “like when we were kids! it’ll be fun!”

“babe, we don’t have enough blankets for a fort.”

her face falls. “oh. right.”

“but we could watch a movie?” you offer.

she considers this for a moment, then nods. “okay. but i get to pick.”

“deal.”

you reach for your laptop but megan stops you. “no, on the tv! it’s more comfortable that way.”

“we have to get up if we want to watch it on the tv.”

“no we don’t!” she argues. “you can reach the remote from here!”

she’s not wrong. your apartment is so small that you can pretty much reach everything from the bed. you grab the remote and turn on the small tv mounted on the wall, then hand it to megan to pick something.

she scrolls through netflix for what feels like forever, commenting on every single option.

“ooh, we could watch this! no wait, i’ve seen this already. oh! what about this one? no, you wouldn’t like that. oh oh oh! baby, look at this one!”

“megs, just pick something.”

“i am picking something!” she protests. “this is a very important decision! we have all day so we need to pick something good!”

finally, finally, she settles on some romantic comedy you’ve never heard of, and she immediately burrows back into your side, pulling your arm around her.

the movie starts and you’re actually kind of getting into it when megan shifts against you.

“baby, i’m cold,” she whines.

“i’ll get you a blanket—“

“no!” she tightens her grip on you. “you’ll make it worse! you’re so warm, i just need to get closer.”

“i don’t think you can get any closer, megs. you’re practically on top of me.”

“watch me,” she says, and then she’s somehow maneuvering herself even more on top of you, her whole body pressed against yours, her face buried in your neck.

“better?” you ask, amused.

“much better,” she mumbles against your skin. “you’re like a personal heater.”

you try to focus on the movie, but megan keeps moving, adjusting her position every few minutes, her hands roaming under your shirt seeking warmth, her cold nose pressing against your collarbone.

“baby,” she whines again.

“yeah?”

“still cold.”

“you’re literally wrapped around me like a python. i don’t know how you can still be cold.”

“it’s freezing in here!” she complains. “your apartment is so cold! it’s like living in antarctica!”

“the heating is on, megs.”

“well it’s not working!” she shivers dramatically. “i’m going to freeze to death. you’re going to wake up and i’ll be frozen solid like a popsicle and it’ll be all your fault.”

you laugh despite yourself. “you’re so dramatic.”

“i’m not dramatic, i’m literally dying from hypothermia right now.”

“if you’re dying from hypothermia, i don’t think you’d be able to complain about it this much.”

she pulls back to glare at you. “are you really going to let your girlfriend freeze to death? is this how it ends? you’re just going to sit here and watch me die?”

“you’re not dying—”

“i am!” she insists. “i can feel it happening! my fingers are going numb! my toes are turning blue! i’m seeing a white light!”

“oh my god,” you can’t help but laugh at her theatrics. “you’re impossible.”

“i’m cold!” she wails, and then she’s trying to climb even more on top of you, attempting to get under your hoodie with you.

“megs, what are you—”

“you’re warm and i’m cold and i’m trying to absorb your body heat through osmosis,” she explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.”

“i don’t think that’s how osmosis works.”

“i don’t care about science right now, i care about not freezing to death!”

you sigh but wrap your arms around her tighter, and she makes a happy noise as she settles against you again.

“better?”

“a little,” she admits. “but i’d be even better if you never moved again.”

“i’m going to have to move eventually.”

“no you don’t.”

“babe, i need to use the bathroom at some point.”

“no you don’t,” she repeats stubbornly. “you can hold it.”

“for how long?”

“forever.”

you laugh and press a kiss to her head. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i’m in love,” she corrects. “there’s a difference.”

you’re about halfway through the movie when you start to feel restless. you’ve been in the same position for over an hour and your back is starting to hurt and your stomach is grumbling.

“megan, i need to eat, cmon.” you said as she just perked up slightly while still having a tight grip on you.

“you can always eat me out, you know”

caught in webs and childhood friends || daniela avanzini

in which you are daniela's childhood best friend but also spiderman, you've been keeping this secret from her for years until one night when she comes back from the dance studio and someone decides to attack her.

daniela avanzini x gn spiderman reader

authors note: first fic, kinda nervy chat

—

you still remember that day at the science center like it was yesterday, even though it’s been six months since everything changed. sixth period, mrs. chen’s biology class field trip to the metropolitan science institute.

daniela had been bouncing in her seat on the bus ride there, going on and on about some new choreography she’d been working on, her hands moving animatedly as she described each move. you’d been friends since third grade when she’d shared her fruit snacks with you at lunch after you forgot yours, and since then, you’d been inseparable. sleepovers every weekend, inside jokes that made no sense to anyone else, showing up at each other’s houses unannounced because you were basically family at this point.

that day at the science center, you’d wandered away from the group during the genetics exhibit. daniela had been pulled aside by some of the other girls who wanted to take pictures, and you’d found yourself in a restricted hallway, drawn by some weird humming sound. that’s when it happened. a sharp sting on your neck, and you’d slapped at it instinctively, watching a spider with an iridescent blue glow scurry away into the shadows.

you hadn’t thought much of it at first. told daniela you were fine when she asked why you kept rubbing your neck on the bus ride back. but that night, everything changed. the fever, the strange dreams, waking up stuck to your ceiling at three in the morning. and then the abilities started manifesting. the strength, the spider-sense, the ability to climb walls, shoot webs from your wrists.

it took you two weeks to figure out what was happening, another week to make your first suit, and by the end of the month, you were swinging through the city stopping robberies and helping people. but you couldn’t tell daniela. how could you? she was already stressed with her dance training, the pressure from her family. and more than that. you’d seen the news reports, the way spider-man. (the name the daily bugle had given you) was already making enemies. people who’d want to hurt you, hurt the people you loved.

so you started making excuses.

the first time was two months ago. daniela had texted you about grabbing boba after school like you always did on thursdays, your thing since freshman year. but you’d gotten an alert on the police scanner app you’d downloaded armed robbery three blocks from school.

the guilt had eaten at you even as you’d changed into your suit in an alley and stopped three guys from robbing a convenience store. you’d made it up to her the next day, surprising her with her favorite pastelitos from the latin bakery across town, and she’d squealed and hugged you so tight you’d worried she might actually crack one of your now-enhanced ribs.

but then it kept happening.

study sessions you’d had to bail on because someone’s car was dangling off a bridge. movie nights canceled because a building was on fire. that saturday you’d promised to help her film content for her channel, but you’d gotten caught up stopping a smuggling operation at the docks and hadn’t gotten home until four in the morning, passing out immediately. you’d woken up to seventeen missed calls and a text that made your heart sink:

you’d called her immediately, spinning some story about your phone dying and your mom needing help with a family emergency. daniela had been understanding—she was always understanding, always so sweet and caring, which somehow made it worse. you could hear the concern in her voice, the way she kept asking if you were sure you were okay, if there was something you needed to talk about.

“i’m fine, dani, i promise,” you’d said, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. “just been a weird couple of weeks.”

“you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” she’d asked, her voice small in a way that was so unlike her usual bright energy. “like, you know you can tell me anything? we’re best friends. we’ve been best friends since we were eight years old.”

“i know,” you’d whispered, closing your eyes against the sting of tears. “i know, dani. i promise everything’s okay.”

but everything wasn’t okay.

it got worse after you’d missed her dance showcase. you’d circled the date on your calendar in red, set five different alarms, promised her you’d be in the front row cheering louder than anyone else. but that night, a subway tunnel had started collapsing during rush hour, and by the time you’d finished helping evacuate everyone and stabilize the structure enough for emergency services to arrive, the showcase was over.

you’d swung by the theater still in your suit, perched on a rooftop across the street, watching through the windows as the crowd filtered out. you’d spotted daniela’s family, her mom and brother, but not her. found her finally, sitting alone on the back steps of the theater, still in her costume, mascara running down her cheeks.

you’d changed faster than you ever had, running the six blocks back to where you’d stashed your clothes, then sprinting to the theater. but by the time you got there, her family had found her, and they were loading into their car. you’d called her immediately.

“where were you?” her voice had been flat, emotionless in a way you’d never heard from her before. “you promised.”

“dani, i’m so sorry, there was—my aunt got sick and we had to rush to the hospital and my phone died and—”

“stop.” the word had cut through your rambling excuse like a knife. “just stop. i don’t… i don’t even know if i believe you anymore.”

the line had gone quiet for a long moment, just her breathing on the other end.

“you’ve been my best friend for almost ten years,” she’d finally said, her voice cracking. “and i feel like i don’t even know you anymore. you’re different. you’re always tired, you’ve got bruises all the time that you won’t explain, you barely look me in the eye anymore. and you keep lying to me. i know you’re lying, and i don’t understand why.”

“daniela—”

“i miss you,” she’d whispered, and you could hear that she was crying now. “i miss my best friend. and i don’t know where you went.”

she’d hung up before you could respond.

you’d tried to make things right after that. really tried. showed up at her house the next day with her favorite flowers—sunflowers, because she said they reminded her of happiness—and her favorite candy and a whole speech prepared. she’d answered the door in sweats and one of your old hoodies that she’d stolen sophomore year, eyes red and puffy.

“i’m sorry,” you’d said immediately. “dani, i’m so sorry. i know i’ve been a terrible friend lately, and i wish i could explain, but—”

“but you can’t,” she’d finished, crossing her arms. “or you won’t. which is it?”

you’d hesitated, and that hesitation had been enough of an answer.

she’d taken the flowers and the candy though, had let you come inside and sit on her bed like you’d done a thousand times before. you’d watched her arrange the sunflowers in a vase, her movements careful and precise like everything she did.

“i’m not going to push you to tell me what’s going on,” she’d said finally, sitting down next to you. “but i need you to know that whatever it is, you can trust me. we’ve been through everything together. remember when my parents were fighting all the time in fifth grade and i used to sleep over at your house like four nights a week? or when your dad left and you didn’t talk for two months and i just sat with you every day until you were ready? that’s what we do. we’re there for each other, no matter what.”

she’d turned to look at you then, and god, those eyes. big and brown and so full of concern and hurt and love, and you’d almost broken. almost told her everything right then and there.

“please,” she’d whispered, and her voice had cracked on that single word. “please just tell me what’s wrong. i can help, whatever it is. did you get into trouble? are you sick? is it your family? just tell me and we’ll figure it out together.”

your spider-sense had tingled right at that moment—not danger, just awareness. through her window, you could see the sun setting over the city, the city you’d been protecting every night, the city that needed spider-man. and you’d thought about the vulture, the guy who’d nearly killed you last month, who’d specifically threatened to “find everyone you love” before the cops had taken him away. you’d thought about the kingpin, still out there somewhere, putting prices on spider-man’s head.

“i’m okay, dani,” you’d said softly, even as everything in you screamed to tell her the truth. “i promise. i’ve just been dealing with some personal stuff, but i’m handling it.”

she’d looked at you for a long moment, and you’d watched something in her expression shift. a wall going up that had never been there before, not between you two.

“okay,” she’d said quietly. “if that’s how you want it to be.”

and that had somehow been worse than her anger.

things had been weird between you after that. she still texted you, still said hi in the hallways at school, but that easy closeness you’d always had was gone. she’d stopped sharing the little details of her day, stopped sending you random memes at two in the morning, stopped asking you to hang out. when you ate lunch together, there would be these long silences where there used to be constant chatter. she was pulling away, protecting herself, and you couldn’t even blame her.

the other katseye girls had noticed too. sophia had cornered you after english class one day.

“what did you do to daniela?” she’d demanded, hands on her hips.

“what? nothing, i—”

“she’s been sad for weeks, and whenever anyone asks about you, she changes the subject. so i’m asking you, as her friend—what. did. you. do?”

“it’s complicated,” you’d muttered, and sophia had given you a look that said she thought you were being ridiculous.

“uncomplicate it then,” she’d said. “because that girl loves you more than anything, and you’re breaking her heart.”

those words had haunted you for days afterward. you’d wanted so badly to fix things, but how could you? every day there was something new, a car accident to prevent, a mugging to stop, a fire to put out. the city needed spider-man. but daniela needed her best friend, and you couldn’t figure out how to be both.

you’d started taking more risks, being less careful. stopped going to the hospital when you got hurt, just webbed up your own wounds in alleyways and kept going. you were tired all the time, running on maybe three hours of sleep a night, mainlining energy drinks to get through school. your grades were slipping. you’d fallen asleep in calculus twice last week.

but you couldn’t stop. wouldn’t stop. because every time you saved someone, every time you stopped something bad from happening, you thought about daniela. about keeping her safe, keeping the whole city safe so she could keep dancing and making videos and living her life without fear.

even if it meant she hated you. even if it meant losing her.

you’d thought that was going to be the worst of it, that strange cold distance between you. you’d resigned yourself to it, told yourself it was for the best, that maybe you’d be able to explain someday when things were safer.

but then came tonight.

it’s a tuesday, and you’re doing your usual evening patrol, swinging between buildings in the downtown area. it’s been a quiet night so far—helped a lady get her cat out of a tree (classic), stopped a bike theft, gave directions to three separate tourists. you’re actually thinking about calling it early, maybe going home and actually sleeping for once, when your spider-sense tingles.

not the sharp, urgent alarm that means immediate danger. something subtler, more of a persistent buzz at the back of your skull. you pause on the corner of a building, crouching on the ledge, and scan the street below.

that’s when you see her.

daniela, walking alone down a dimly lit street, dance bag slung over her shoulder. she’s in sweats and a crop top, her hair up in a messy bun, and she’s looking at her phone as she walks. you check the time 10:47 pm. way later than she should be out alone, especially in this part of the city.

you feel your chest tighten. she must have stayed late at the studio again, probably practicing until they literally kicked her out. she does that sometimes, gets so focused on perfecting a routine that she loses track of time completely. usually, you’d be the one texting her, reminding her to take breaks, offering to pick her up so she wouldn’t have to walk alone in the dark.

but you haven’t done that in months. haven’t had the right to, not after all the times you’ve bailed on her.

you start following her from the rooftops, telling yourself you’ll just make sure she gets home safe and then continue your patrol. she’s only about six blocks from her apartment, and the streets are mostly empty. it should be fine.

that’s when you notice them.

three guys, early twenties maybe, stepping out from an alley about half a block behind daniela. even from up here, you can read their body language—the way they’re looking at her, the way they’re speeding up to match her pace. your spider-sense goes from a buzz to a scream.

you watch as daniela notices them too. she glances back, and even from this distance, you can see her shoulders tense. she picks up her pace, clutching her bag tighter, and the guys speed up too. one of them says something, and the others laugh.

“hey, mamacita!” one of them calls out, his voice carrying up to where you’re perched. “where you going so fast?”

daniela keeps walking, doesn’t respond, and you’re already moving, swinging down to a lower building to stay close.

“yo, we’re talking to you!” another one shouts. “that’s rude, ignoring us like that!”

“leave me alone,” daniela says, her voice firm but you can hear the tremor in it. she’s scared.

“aww, don’t be like that, baby,” the first guy says, and they’re getting closer now, almost caught up to her. “we just want to talk, that’s all. maybe get your number? pretty girl like you shouldn’t be alone out here at night.”

“i said leave me alone,” daniela repeats, walking faster now, almost jogging.

that’s when one of them reaches out and grabs her arm.

everything goes red.

you don’t remember dropping down from the building, don’t remember the moment your feet leave the ledge. one second you’re three stories up, the next you’re landing directly between daniela and the three guys with enough force to crack the concrete beneath your feet.

“she said leave her alone,” you say, and your voice comes out lower than usual, darker with an edge you didn’t know you had.

the guys stumble backward, and the one who’d been holding daniela’s arm lets go immediately. you can feel her behind you, hear her sharp intake of breath.

“what the—” one of the guys starts, but you cut him off.

“you have three seconds to walk away,” you say, taking a step forward. your fists are clenched so tight your knuckles are white under your suit. “three.”

“yo, chill man, we were just—”

“two.”

they look at each other, and you can see them calculating, trying to figure out if they can take you. there’s three of them, one of you, but you’re literally dressed as spider-man and you just dropped from the sky like an avenging angel.

“one.”

they run.

you watch until they round the corner and disappear, every muscle in your body still tensed, ready to chase them down if they come back. your spider-sense slowly starts to quiet, settling from a scream to a whisper.

and then you remember. daniela. you just landed in front of daniela. saved her as spider-man. she’s right behind you.

you turn slowly, and there she is. pressed back against the wall of a building, her bag dropped on the ground beside her, one hand over her mouth and her eyes wide. she’s staring at you like she can’t quite believe you’re real.

“are you okay?” you ask, and you try to modulate your voice, try to make sure she won’t recognize it, but it comes out rough with leftover adrenaline and fear.

she nods slowly, then shakes her head, then nods again. “i—yeah. yes. thank you. oh my god, thank you so much.”

you can see her hands shaking, see the tear tracks on her cheeks that you hadn’t noticed before, and something in your chest cracks. you want to hug her, want to hold her and tell her she’s safe and that you’re sorry, so sorry you haven’t been there, but you can’t. you’re spider-man right now. not her best friend.

“are you hurt?” you ask instead, taking a small step closer. “did they hurt you?”

“no, i’m—i’m fine. just scared.” she wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing her mascara. “i should have taken an uber. i just—the studio is only usually six blocks from my place and i didn’t think—”

“it’s not your fault,” you cut in firmly. “none of this is your fault. those guys are assholes, and you have every right to walk home safely.”

she gives you a small, shaky smile, and even now, even terrified and crying, she’s beautiful. your best friend. your person. the girl who knows you better than anyone in the world and who you’ve been lying to for six months.

“thank you,” she says again, softer this time. “seriously. i don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.”

you don’t want to think about what would have happened. can’t think about it without wanting to hunt those guys down and—

no. you’re a hero. you don’t do that.

but for daniela? you might make an exception.

“do you live far from here?” you ask, bending down to pick up her dropped bag and holding it out to her.

“um, like six blocks that way,” she points west, back toward her neighborhood. “i can make it from here though, i don’t want to keep you. i’m sure you have, like, important spider-man stuff to do.”

“nothing’s more important than making sure you get home safe,” you say, and it comes out more intense than you meant it to. you clear your throat. “i mean, uh, that’s literally my job. protecting people. so. let me walk you home? or, well, swing you? if you’re okay with that?”

she blinks at you, and you can see her processing the offer. “you want to swing me home? like, through the air?”

“if you’re comfortable with it. it’s faster than walking, and definitely safer. but only if you want to. no pressure.”

she looks at you for a long moment, and you wish you could see what she’s thinking. finally, she nods. “okay. yeah. that would be… actually, that would be really cool.”

“cool. okay. so, uh, i’m going to need to hold onto you. is that alright?”

she nods again, stepping closer, and your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure she can hear it. this is daniela. you’ve hugged daniela a million times, but never like this, never as spider-man.

“you’re gonna want to hold on tight,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist. like a piggyback but, uh, front ways.”

“a frontpack?” she offers, and there’s a hint of her usual humor in her voice that makes your chest ache.

“sure, a frontpack,” you say, and you can hear the smile in your own voice. “ready?”

she steps into your space, and you try to be a gentleman about it, really, but it’s impossible not to notice how perfectly she fits against you as she wraps her arms around your neck. her face is inches from yours, separated only by your mask, and you can smell her perfume, something vanilla and warm that she’s worn since tenth grade.

“oh my god, this is insane,” she mutters, more to herself than to you, and you can’t help but laugh.

“you good?” you ask, wrapping one arm securely around her waist.

“ask me again when we’re back on the ground,” she says, but she’s holding on tight, her fingers locked together behind your neck.

“here we go.”

you shoot a web up to the nearest building and pull, launching both of you into the air. daniela shrieks, burying her face in your neck, and you hold her tighter, making sure your grip is secure.

“it’s okay, i got you,” you say, and you mean it with everything in you. “i’ve got you, i promise.”

after the initial shock, she slowly lifts her head, and you hear her breath catch.

“oh wow,” she whispers, looking around at the city spread out below you, the lights glittering like stars. “this is… wow.”

you swing through the city, taking a slightly longer route than necessary because she seems to be enjoying it. she points out landmarks as you pass them—“that’s where we had your fourteenth birthday party!” and “sophia lives in that building!” and you realize she’s not scared anymore. she’s smiling, actually smiling, her earlier terror forgotten for the moment.

too soon, you’re on her street, landing gently on the fire escape outside her apartment window. she unlocks her arms from around your neck but doesn’t step back immediately, and neither do you.

“that was incredible,” she says, breathless and grinning. “like, actually incredible. i can’t believe people give you crap in the news when you do stuff like that every day.”

“some people are just scared of what they don’t understand,” you say with a shrug, reluctantly letting her go.

she moves to her window, then pauses and turns back. “can i ask you something?”

your spider-sense gives a little pulse, not danger exactly, but a warning. “sure.”

“earlier, when you saved me… you seemed really angry. like, more than just ‘hero doing their job’ angry. personal angry.”

you freeze. “i don’t like bullies,” you say carefully. “or guys who think they can intimidate women.”

she studies you for a moment, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of how well she knows you, how she’s always been able to read you better than anyone. can she recognize you just from your posture? your voice? the way you tilt your head?

“well, thank you,” she says finally. “for being angry on my behalf. and for the lift. and for, you know, being a hero and stuff.”

“anytime,” you say, and you mean it. “seriously. if you ever need help, i’ll be there.”

she gives you one last smile, then climbs through her window. you wait until you see her light turn on, see her shadow pass by the curtain, before you swing away.

you make it three blocks before you have to stop, perching on a rooftop and putting your head in your hands. that was too close. way too close. the way you’d reacted when they grabbed her, the protective fury that had taken over—that wasn’t spider-man. that was you. and if you’re not careful, if you let your feelings for daniela dictate your actions as spider-man, she’s going to figure it out.

and then she’ll be in danger. real danger.

but even as you think it, you know you’d do it all again. would do anything to keep her safe.

the next day at school, daniela is the center of attention.

you spot her in the hallway before first period, surrounded by the other girls. she’s talking animatedly, her hands moving in that expressive way they do, and you catch snippets as you approach your locker.

“—and then they just dropped from the sky! literally dropped from the sky like some kind of superhero angel—”

“because they are a superhero, dummy,” manon says with a laugh.

“you know what i mean! and then they swung me home and it was like flying, but better? i don’t even know how to describe it.”

“i can’t believe you actually met spider-man,” lara says, bouncing excitedly. “were they cute? i bet they’re cute.”

“i mean, they were wearing a mask, but they’re voice was nice? and they had a really good build—”

“daniela!” sophia gasps, laughing.

“what! i’m just saying! the suit doesn’t leave much to the imagination!”

you slam your locker shut harder than necessary, and the sound makes all of them turn to look at you.

“oh, hey,” daniela says, and there’s something in her voice you can’t quite read. “did you hear? i met spider-man last night.”

“yeah, i heard,” you say, trying to sound casual. “sounds like quite the story.”

“it was pretty amazing,” she says, and she’s looking at you with this weird intensity. “they saved me from these guys who were following me. i was walking home alone from the studio and—”

“you were walking home alone?” you cut in before you can stop yourself acting dumb and worried well you were worried but you didn’t wanna blow your cover. “dani, that’s so dangerous, especially that late at night. you should have called someone, called an uber, called—”

you stop yourself before you say “me.” you don’t have the right to say that anymore.

“yeah, well, i didn’t think i needed to,” she says, and there’s an edge to her voice now. “it’s only six blocks, and i’ve done it before. but don’t worry—apparently i have spider-man looking out for me now.”

the other girls are looking between you two, clearly picking up on the tension.

“we should get to class,” megan says diplomatically. “but dani, you have to tell us more at lunch. i want every detail.”

they scatter, and you’re left standing with daniela in the slowly emptying hallway.

“i’m glad you’re okay,” you say quietly. “seriously. when i heard what happened—”

“how did you hear?” she asks, tilting her head. “i only told the girls just now.”

shit. “uh, i saw manon this morning. before homeroom. she mentioned it.”

“manon wasn’t there when i told them,” daniela says slowly. “i texted the group chat last night, but manon said she fell asleep early and didn’t see it until this morning.”

double shit. “must have been one of the other girls then. i don’t know, someone told me.” you hitch your backpack higher on your shoulder. “look, i gotta get to class, but we should—we should talk. soon. there’s stuff i—”

“you’ve been saying that for months,” she interrupts, and she sounds tired. “i don’t think you actually want to talk. i think you want me to stop asking questions and just accept that my best friend isn’t my best friend anymore.”

“dani, that’s not—”

“i have to get to class too,” she says, already turning away. “i’ll see you around.”

you watch her walk away, and that crack in your chest from last night gets a little bigger.

only if she knew.

the next few days are weird. daniela keeps bringing up spider-man, telling the story over and over to anyone who asks her about it. she posts about it on her social media, and the video gets hundreds of thousands of views. local news picks it up. suddenly everyone at school knows that daniela avanzini met spider-man, was saved by spider-man, and she’s basically famous for it.

and through it all, she keeps looking at you. these searching glances when she thinks you’re not paying attention, like she’s trying to figure something out.

on thursday, she corners you after school.

“walk with me?” she asks, and it’s not really a question.

you fall into step beside her, and for a few minutes, neither of you says anything. it’s almost like old times, this comfortable silence, except there’s nothing comfortable about it now.

“i’ve been thinking,” she finally says. “about- about that night.”

your heart rate picks up. “yeah?”

“there was something familiar about them. i can’t put my finger on it, but…” she trails off, shaking her head. “it’s probably nothing. just my brain trying to make patterns where there aren’t any.”

“what do you mean, familiar?” you ask, trying to keep your voice neutral.

“just… the way they moved, i guess? and the way they talked to me. they seemed really protective, more than i would have expected from a random superhero doing their job.” she glances at you. “and then there’s the timing.”

“the timing?”

“you’ve been acting weird for months. distant, secretive, always tired, always with bruises you won’t explain. and you have the worst excuses for where you are.” she stops walking and turns to face you. “and i started thinking about when it all started. when spider-man first showed up in the news, and when you started being weird. and it’s around the same time.”

your mouth goes dry. “dani—”

“i’m not saying you’re spider-man,” she says quickly. “that would be crazy, right? you’re my best friend. i’ve known you for almost ten years. if you were secretly a superhero, i’d know. i’d definitely know.”

she’s looking at you so earnestly, like she’s waiting for you to laugh and tell her she’s being ridiculous, to confirm that of course you’re not spider-man, what a crazy idea.

“right,” you say weakly. “that would be crazy.”

“so where have you been?” she asks, and her voice cracks. “because if you’re not off being a superhero, then what? what’s so important that you’ve basically ghosted your best friend?”

you can’t do this. can’t keep lying to her face, can’t keep watching her hurt because of you.

“i can’t tell you,” you say, and it comes out barely above a whisper. “dani, i want to. god, you don’t know how badly i want to tell you everything, but i can’t.”

“why not?” she demands, and she’s crying now, tears streaming down her face. “why can’t you trust me? what did i do that was so wrong that you can’t even be honest with me anymore?”

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you say urgently, reaching out to grab her hands. “dani, you’re perfect. you’re the best person i know. this isn’t about you, it’s about me trying to protect you—”

you cut yourself off, realizing you’ve said too much, but she’s already picked up on it.

“protect me from what?” she asks, her eyes wide. “what do you need to protect me from?”

your phone buzzes, the police scanner app. robbery in progress, six blocks away. your spider-sense is buzzing too, urgent and insistent.

“i have to go,” you say, and you hate yourself for it. “i’m sorry, i have to—”

“no,” she says firmly, squeezing your hands. “no, you don’t get to do this again. you don’t get to start saying something important and then just leave. we’re finally talking, really talking, and you’re going to stay here and—”

your phone buzzes again, more urgent this time. shots fired.

“i’m sorry,” you say again, pulling away from her. “i’ll explain everything, i promise. just not right now.”

you’re already backing away, already planning your route to the nearest alley where you can change.

“don’t bother,” she calls after you, and her voice is sharp with hurt. “i’m done waiting for you to trust me. i’m done.”

you want to turn around, want to tell her you’re sorry, want to explain everything, but people need help and you’re the only one who can—

you run.

the robbery is a disaster. you’re distracted, sloppy, and you take three hits you should have dodged easily. by the time the cops arrive and you’ve webbed up the suspects, you’re bleeding from a cut above your eyebrow and your ribs are screaming.

you swing to your usual spot, a rooftop garden on an abandoned building that no one knows about. your first aid kit is stashed here in a waterproof box, and you’ve gotten worryingly good at stitching yourself up.

you’re halfway through cleaning the cut on your forehead when you hear it. footsteps. on your rooftop. your private rooftop that no one should know about.

you spin around, ready to fight if necessary, and freeze.

daniela is standing there, ten feet away, still in her school clothes, staring at you with wide eyes.

“i followed you,” she says, and her voice is shaking. “after you ran off. i just—i had this feeling, so i followed you. and i saw you duck into an alley, and then spider-man came swinging out, and—”

“dani,” you start, but she holds up a hand.

“let me finish. please.” she takes a shaky breath. “i watched you stop that robbery. watched you get hurt. and then i followed you here, and—” her voice breaks. “and it’s you. it’s been you this whole time.”

you don’t bother denying it. can’t, really, when she’s looking right at you, when you’re sitting here in your torn suit with your mask off and blood dripping down your face.

“yeah,” you say quietly. “it’s me.”

she walks closer slowly, like she’s approaching a spooked animal, and sits down next to you. for a long moment, she just looks at you, really looks at you, taking in the suit, the injuries, the exhaustion that you know is written all over your face.

“how long?” she finally asks.

“six months. remember that field trip to the science center?”

“the spider bite,” she says, and it’s not a question. “that’s why you kept rubbing your neck. that’s when it happened.”

you nod. “woke up the next day stuck to my ceiling. took me a while to figure out what was happening, and by the time i did…” you trail off with a shrug. “someone had to help people and i could, so i did.”

“why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, and she sounds so hurt. “we tell each other everything. we always have.”

“because i was scared,” you admit, setting down the first aid supplies. “scared that if you knew, you’d be in danger. the people i fight, dani, they’re not good people. they’d hurt you to get to me. and i couldn’t—i can’t let that happen. i can’t lose you.”

“so instead you just pushed me away?” she asks incredulously. “made me think you didn’t care about me anymore? do you have any idea what these last few months have been like? thinking i’d done something wrong, thinking you hated me, thinking i was losing my best friend and not knowing why?”

“i never hated you,” you say urgently, turning to face her fully. “dani, i could never hate you. you’re the most important person in my life. you always have been.”

“then why did you lie to me?” she whispers, and fresh tears are rolling down her cheeks. “all those times you canceled, all those excuses—were you out doing this? being spider-man?”

you nod miserably. “the dentist appointment was a robbery. the family emergency was a building fire. your showcase…” you close your eyes. “there was a subway tunnel collapse. i had to help evacuate people, and by the time i was done, i’d missed it. i’m so sorry, dani. i’m so sorry about all of it.”

she’s quiet for a long moment, and you can’t bring yourself to look at her, can’t bear to see the disappointment in her eyes.

“let me see,” she finally says, and you look up in confusion. she’s gesturing to your forehead. “the cut. let me see it.”

“i can do it myself, i’ve—”

“you’ve been doing everything yourself,” she interrupts. “for six months. let me help you.”

she doesn’t wait for permission, just picks up the first aid kit and moves closer. her touch is gentle as she examines the cut, and you try not to think about how close she is, how you can count every eyelash.

“this needs stitches,” she says softly. “have you been doing this yourself? stitching yourself up?”

“youtube tutorials are very helpful,” you try to joke, but it falls flat.

“you’re an idiot,” she says, but there’s no heat in it. “the biggest idiot i’ve ever met. you got superpowers and decided to take on the entire city’s problems by yourself without telling anyone.”

“i told you, i was trying to protect you—”

“and i get that,” she says, cutting you off. “i do. but you don’t get to make that choice for me. you don’t get to decide what risks i’m willing to take or what i can handle. we’re supposed to be best friends. we’re supposed to face things together.”

she’s threading a needle now, her hands steady despite the tears still on her cheeks.

“this is going to hurt,” she warns, and then she’s stitching, quick and efficient. you hiss at the pain but don’t move.

“where did you learn to do that?” you ask through gritted teeth.

“youtube tutorials are very helpful,” she echoes your earlier words, and there’s a hint of a smile on her face. “also, my mom’s a nurse. i’ve picked up a few things.”

she finishes the stitches and sits back to examine her work. “not my best, but it’ll hold. you need to actually go to a hospital though. you could have a concussion.”

“i’ve had worse,” you say without thinking, and her eyes flash.

“worse? how many times have you been hurt like this?”

“dani—”

“how many times?” she demands.

you look away. “i don’t know. i stopped counting.”

“dios mío,” she breathes, and she sounds horrified. “you’ve been getting hurt, really hurt, and just… what? patching yourself up in alleys and on rooftops?”

“i heal fast,” you offer weakly.

“that doesn’t make this okay!” she’s standing now, pacing. “you’re seventeen years old! you should be worried about homework and college applications, not—not fighting criminals and getting shot at!”

“someone has to do it,” you say tiredly. “people need help, and i can help them. what am i supposed to do, just ignore it?”

“you’re supposed to let me in!” she practically shouts, and she’s crying again. “you’re supposed to trust me enough to tell me when you’re scared or hurt or overwhelmed! that’s what best friends do!”

“i was trying to keep you safe!”

“well, congratulations, you failed!” she gestures around wildly. “because here i am, on your secret rooftop, knowing your secret identity. and guess what? i would have been here months ago if you’d just trusted me. i could have been helping you, supporting you, instead of crying myself to sleep thinking you hated me!”

the words hit you like a physical blow. “you cried yourself to sleep?”

“of course i did!” she’s fully sobbing now. “you’re my best friend. you’ve been my best friend since we were eight years old. we’ve done everything together. and then suddenly you were just… gone. and i didn’t know why, and i thought maybe i’d done something wrong, maybe you’d outgrown me, maybe you’d found better friends and didn’t know how to tell me—”

“no,” you say urgently, standing up despite your protesting ribs. “no, dani, never. you could never do anything wrong. you’re perfect, you’re—” you stop, aware that you’re about to say too much, reveal feelings you’ve been hiding even longer than your spider-man secret.

“i’m what?” she asks, looking up at you with those big brown eyes, and you’re lost.

“you’re everything,” you say helplessly. “you’re my best friend and my favorite person and the reason i do this. every time i put on this suit, every time i stop something bad from happening, i think about you. about keeping you safe, keeping the city safe so you can keep dancing and making people smile and just… being you. you’re what makes this worth it.”

she stares at you, and you can see her processing your words, understanding what you’re really saying.

“how long?” she asks quietly.

“how long what?”

“how long have you been in love with me?”

your heart stops. “i’m not—i didn’t say—”

“don’t lie to me,” she says, stepping closer. “please. no more lying. how long?”

you close your eyes, exhausted and hurt and so, so tired of lying. “since sixth grade. since you performed in that talent show and sang that song and i couldn’t breathe because you were so beautiful and talented and bright. since you laughed so hard at my stupid joke that you snorted and then got embarrassed but i thought it was the cutest thing i’d ever seen. since forever, dani. since forever.”

the silence stretches between you, and you can’t bring yourself to look at her, can’t bear to see the rejection in her eyes because you’ve just ruined everything, ruined the last good thing you had—

“you’re such an idiot,” she says, and then she’s kissing you.

for a moment, you’re too shocked to respond. daniela is kissing you. your best friend, your person, the girl you’ve been in love with for years is actually kissing you. and then your brain catches up and you’re kissing her back, your hands coming up to cup her face gently because she’s precious and perfect and you can’t believe this is real.

she pulls back after a moment, just far enough to look at you. “i’ve been waiting for you to figure it out for two years,” she says, breathless. “two years of dropping hints and trying to make you jealous and wearing your hoodies and you never said anything.”

“you—what?” you’re pretty sure you’ve short-circuited. “you- you-“

“i’m in love with you, you absolute dumbass,” she says, and she’s laughing and crying at the same time. “i thought maybe that’s why you’d been avoiding me, because you’d figured it out and didn’t feel the same way and didn’t know how to let me down easy.”

“that’s the—dani, that’s the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard,” you say, and you can’t help but smile. “how could i not feel the same way? you’re you.”

“well, you’re you too,” she says, poking you in the chest. “and apparently you is spider-man, which i’m still processing, but you is also my best friend who i’ve been in love with since you gave me your jacket at homecoming freshman year because i was cold.”

“that was three years ago,” you say, doing the math.

“yep. three years of me pining after my oblivious best friend.” she shakes her head. “and then you got superpowers and decided to become a vigilante instead of just asking me out like a normal person.”

“to be fair, the spider bite was not part of my plan,” you say, and she laughs, really laughs, and the sound fills something in you that’s been empty for months.

“so what now?” she asks, turning serious. “you’re spider-man. people want to hurt spider-man. where does that leave us?”

“i don’t know,” you admit. “i meant what i said before, about wanting to keep you safe. the people i fight, dani, they’re dangerous. if they knew about you, about how much you mean to me—”

“then we’ll be careful,” she interrupts. “we’ll be smart about it. but you don’t get to push me away again. we’re in this together now, okay? all of it. the superhero stuff, the danger, everything. you don’t have to do this alone anymore.

“you could get hurt,” you say quietly. “you could die. because of me.”

“and you could die every single night when you put on that suit,” she counters. “but you do it anyway because you want to help people. well, i want to help you. so let me.”

you look at her—really look at her. at the determination in her eyes, the set of her jaw, the way she’s standing like she’s ready to fight the whole world if necessary. and you realize she’s not going to back down on this. daniela avanzini has never backed down from anything in her life.

“okay,” you say finally. “okay. together.”

“together,” she agrees, and then she’s hugging you, careful of your injuries but holding you tight like she’s afraid you’ll disappear. you wrap your arms around her and let yourself have this moment—no mask, no lies, just you and her and the truth finally between you.

“we should probably get you home,” you say eventually, reluctantly pulling back. “your mom’s probably worried.”

“i told her i was studying at sophia’s,” dani says. “but yeah, we should go. and you need actual medical attention, not just my mediocre stitching.”

“your stitching was great,” you assure her. “but i’m not going to the hospital. too many questions.”

“then you’re coming to my house,” she says firmly. “my mom can look at you properly. we’ll tell her you got mugged or something.”

“dani—”

“nope. no arguments. you’ve been making all the decisions for six months, now it’s my turn.” she crosses her arms. “and my first decision is that you’re not bleeding alone on rooftops anymore. got it?”

you can’t help but smile. “got it.”

“good. now put your mask back on and take me home. the right way this time, i want to actually enjoy the swinging without being terrified.”

you pull your mask on, and she steps into your arms like she belongs there. because she does. she always has.

“ready?” you ask.

“with you? always.”

you swing through the city with her in your arms, and for the first time in six months, everything feels right. she points out buildings and laughs when you do a flip, and when you land on her fire escape, she kisses you again before climbing through her window.

“same time tomorrow?” she asks. “you can show me your whole spider-man routine. and we need to set up a better communication system. maybe i can monitor police scanners while you’re in class? oh, and you need better first aid supplies—”

“dani,” you interrupt, laughing. “yes. tomorrow. we’ll figure it all out tomorrow.”

“okay,” she says, smiling so bright it rivals the city lights behind you. “tomorrow. but hey—” she grabs your hand before you can swing away. “thank you. for trusting me. finally.”

“thank you for following me,” you say. “and for not giving up on me. even when i gave you every reason to.”

“never,” she says firmly. “you’re stuck with me now. best friends and… whatever we are now.”

“dating?” you offer hopefully, and she grins.

“yeah. dating. spider-man’s girlfriend. that’s going to take some getting used to.”

“you could be my sidekick,” you tease. “we could get you a suit, call you spider-girl—”

“absolutely not,” she says, laughing. “i am not getting bit by a radioactive spider. i’ll support you from the ground, thanks.”

you talk for another twenty minutes before she finally shoos you away, reminding you that you have school tomorrow and you need sleep. you swing home feeling lighter than you have in months, and for once, sleep comes easily.

the next few weeks are an adjustment. dani throws herself into helping you with the same intensity she brings to everything else in her life. she sets up a whole system, police scanner feeds, a burner phone just for spider-man emergencies, a better first aid kit that she keeps stocked. she makes you promise to check in every hour when you’re patrolling, and if you don’t, she spam calls you until you respond.

“you’re worse than my mom,” you complain after she calls you fourteen times because you were mid-fight and couldn’t answer.

“good,” she says, unapologetic. “someone needs to worry about you since you clearly don’t worry about yourself.”

she studies videos of your fights that people post online, points out mistakes you’re making, suggests better strategies. it’s annoying and helpful in equal measure. the other girls notice that you and dani are suddenly close again, closer than ever actually, and they’re thrilled even if they don’t know the full story.

“i knew you two would figure it out,” sophia says knowingly one day at lunch.

“figure what out?” dani asks innocently.

“that you’re crazy about each other,” megan says, rolling her eyes. “you’ve both been obvious about it for years. we were starting to think we’d have to lock you in a closet or something.”

you and dani exchange glances, and you can see her fighting a smile.

“yeah, well,” you say, threading your fingers through hers on top of the lunch table. “better late than never.”

that night, you’re patrolling downtown when your spider-sense goes haywire. you barely have time to dodge before something slams into the wall where your head was a second ago.

“spider-man,” a voice growls, and you look up to see a man in a mechanical suit hovering above you. “you’ve been a thorn in my side for too long.”

you don’t recognize him, but that doesn’t mean much. you’ve made a lot of enemies in six months.

the fight is brutal. he’s strong, stronger than most of the people you’ve fought, and his suit has weapons you have to constantly dodge. you’re so focused on the fight that you don’t notice the second person until it’s too late.

pain explodes across your back as someone hits you with what feels like a baseball bat. you go down hard, rolling to avoid a follow-up strike, and that’s when you see her.

a woman in black, holding some kind of electrified staff, grinning at you.

“two on one isn’t very fair,” you manage to say, getting back to your feet.

“life isn’t fair, kid,” the man says, and he shoots something at you—a net that you barely web away in time.

your phone is buzzing in your pocket—dani, probably wondering why you haven’t checked in. you can’t answer. can barely breathe as you dodge and weave and try to fight back against two opponents at once.

you manage to web the woman’s staff and yank it away, but the man grabs you from behind, his mechanical arms crushing your ribs. you can feel them cracking, can taste blood in your mouth.

“any last words, spider-man?” he asks, and his grip tightens.

your vision is going dark around the edges. you think about dani, about how you promised her you’d be careful, how she’s probably panicking right now because you haven’t responded to her texts.

i’m sorry, you think. i’m so sorry.

and then there’s a scream, high-pitched and furious and suddenly the pressure releases. you drop to the ground, gasping, and look up to see dani. she’s hitting the man with what appears to be a metal pipe, screaming spanish curses at him.

“get away from them!” she shouts. “don’t you touch them!”

“dani, no!” you try to yell, but it comes out as more of a wheeze.

the man backhands her casually, and she goes flying. she hits the ground hard and doesn’t get up.

everything goes red.

you don’t remember much of what happens next. later, dani will tell you it was terrifying and amazing in equal measure, the way you took apart both attackers in under a minute, the fury and precision in every movement. you webbed them so thoroughly they looked like mummies, then called the cops before swinging over to where dani was lying.

“dani,” you’re saying, and your hands are shaking as you check her over. there’s blood on her temple and her arm is at a wrong angle. “dani, please, please be okay.”

“i’m okay,” she mumbles, trying to sit up. “ow. okay, maybe not totally okay.”

“what were you thinking?” you demand, angry “you could have died! you could have—why would you—”

“because you were dying,” she says simply, like it’s obvious. “and i wasn’t going to let that happen.”

you want to yell at her, want to lecture her about safety and staying away from your fights, but you can’t. because she saved your life. your untrained, unpowered best friend saw you in trouble and didn’t hesitate.

“you’re insane,” you say instead, pulling her carefully into your arms. “completely insane.”

“yeah, well, you love me anyway,” she says, and even hurt and bleeding, she’s smiling.

“i really do,” you say. “come on. hospital. now. and don’t even try to argue.”

you swing her to the nearest emergency room, and you wait with her through everything—the x-rays fractured arm, mild concussion, the stitches six, on her temple, the concerned questions from doctors mugging gone wrong, she tells them, same story you told her mom that first night. you hold her good hand the whole time, and when she falls asleep from the pain medication, you sit in the chair next to her bed and watch her breathe.

she could have died tonight. because of you. because she was trying to save you.

“i know what you’re thinking,” she says suddenly, and you jump. her eyes are still closed but she’s smiling slightly. “and stop it.”

“i almost got you killed,” you say quietly.

“no, some bad guys almost got me killed. there’s a difference.” she opens her eyes and looks at you. “and i’d do it again. every time. because that’s what you do when you love someone, you protect them, even if it’s stupid and reckless and dangerous.”

“i’m supposed to be the one dying for you not you dying for me,” you say, but you’re smiling despite yourself.

“well, looks like the roles have changed,” she says. “we protect each other. that’s the deal. you don’t get to martyr yourself for me, and i don’t get to martyr myself for you. we both just… try our best not to die. together. okay?”

“okay,” you agree, because what else can you say? “together.”

it takes another month before things settle into a real routine. dani’s arm heals, and she makes you promise to train her in self-defense. you make her promise to stay away from your fights unless it’s absolutely necessary.

“define absolutely necessary,” she says, and you know you’re not winning this argument.

the city starts to notice that spider-man seems to favor certain areas specifically, the routes between dani’s house, her dance studio, and school. there’s speculation online about whether spider-man has a girlfriend, and dani thinks it’s hilarious.

“you’re not even trying to be subtle,” she teases one night when you’ve swung by the studio to walk her home for the third time that week.

“can you blame me?” you ask, pulling off your mask now that you’re on a private rooftop. “those guys were following you. i’m not taking chances.”

“they were asking for directions,” she says, but she’s smiling as she kisses you. “my overprotective spider-hero.”

“your spider-hero,” you agree, pulling her closer. “only yours.”

“good,” she whispers against your lips. “because you’re kind of stuck with me now.”

“best thing that ever happened to me,” you say honestly. “even better than the spider powers.”

she laughs, bright and happy, and you think about how close you came to losing this, losing her because you were too scared to tell the truth. how many months you wasted pushing her away when you could have had this the whole time.

“i love you,” you say, because you can now. because she knows everything and she’s still here, still choosing you. “i really, really love you.”

“i love you too,” she says, and then she’s grinning mischievously. “hey, you know what we haven’t done yet?”

“what?”

“the upside-down kiss. you know, it’s basically a spider-man tradition.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “are you serious right now?”

“completely serious. come on, it’ll be cute!”

“seriously?” you tease, but you’re already shooting a web to the building above you.

“it’s called being efficient,” she calls up as you climb. “please!”

you position yourself on the edge of the building, then flip over, hanging upside down by a web. dani is already smiling.

“perfect,” she says, and steps closer.

she reaches up to cup your face or technically the bottom of your face since you’re inverted and you lean down as she stretches up, and then you’re kissing. it’s awkward and weird and perfect, and when she pulls back, she’s giggling.

“that was so impractical,” she says. “like, all the blood is rushing to your head, right? this can’t be comfortable.”

“totally worth it,” you say, grinning down at her. “but yeah, i should probably flip back up before i pass out.”

you right yourself and drop back down next to her, and she immediately wraps her arms around your waist.

“thank you,” she says softly.

“for the kiss? because i’m pretty sure that was your idea.”

“no, dummy. for trusting me. for letting me in. for being you.” she looks up at you, and in the glow of the city lights, she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. “for being my best friend and my hero and my person.”

“always,” you promise, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “always, dani.”

your phone buzzes, police scanner alert, robbery in progress ten blocks away. dani sighs and steps back.

“duty calls?” she asks.

“unfortunately.” you pull your mask back on. “text you when i’m done?”

“you better,” she says, pointing at you sternly. “and be careful. i mean it. no unnecessary risks.”

“yes, ma’am,” you say with a mock salute, and she rolls her eyes but she’s smiling.

you swing off into the night, and for the first time since that spider bit you six months ago, you don’t feel alone. you have your partner, your person, your dani. and whatever comes next whatever villains or dangers or challenges, you’ll face it together.

just like you always have.

just like you always will.

because that’s what best friends do. and you and daniela avanzini? you’ve been best friends since you were eight years old, been through everything together, and not even superpowers and secret identities can change that.

some things are just meant to be.

and as you swing through the city with her goodnight text already lighting up your phone;

you can’t help but think that getting bit by that radioactive spider might have been the second-best thing that ever happened to you.

the best thing? that’s easy.

meeting daniela avanzini in third grade, becoming her best friend, and eventually finally becoming something more.