reign

synopsis,,, Everyone knows you as the school’s photographer. You take photographs for peers—enough for some to pay you. Sophia Lafoteza’s throwing a party and wants you to take a few photos for her Instagram. You’re not a fan of parties, but you go regardless. But that twisting feeling in your stomach that something will go wrong never leaves.

warnings/tags,,, tmasc!reader. high school au. popular girl!sophia. use of yn. hardly proofread.

song length,,, 5.9k

❝ 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒎𝒚

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐? ❞

“Are you free this weekend?”

You paused in the hallways as students walked around you. You stared at the girl in front of you and opened your mouth then shut it before shrugging your shoulders with an awkward smile. She smiles up at you and looks around before back at you.

“My boyfriend wants pictures of his car. He has a smoke machine and all that–he said he’ll pay about $90.”

Quiet.

“Okay. Y- yeah. I’ll get back to you once I check my schedule,” you confirm and she hums with a nod.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

She walks away from you after a pause and you’re stuck in the swarming sea of students as the bell rings. You try to rush to class the best you can. You can’t risk being late again because kids don’t know how to pick their feet up.

It’s lunch around 11:14 AM and you’re eating at the stairwell of the courtyard, watching as students chat and fool around. In reality, you’re looking through the photos you had taken during spring break. There were photos of flowers, animals, people from the recent spring fair, and more. You looked through them carefully, cropping images if they were needed and putting them in B&W if you knew they would look good with the filter. You reached for your sandwich blindly and took a bite out of it, placing it down and grabbing your fruit cup and fork, your camera resting on your lap.

“You’re the photographer everyone talks about, huh?” a voice spoke out as the weight of the camera was taken from your lap.

“Hey–”

“These are good,” the girl mused in front of you as she flicked through the photos. “You went to the spring fair and I didn’t see you? I looked good that day too…”

You stood up, wanting to grab the camera out of her hands, but you’re obligated to wait until she’s finished because it’s rude to snatch things out of people’s hands.

Well…she did snatch it out of your lap, but it’s worse when it's Sophia Laforteza.

Sophia was the school’s crush. Whether it was a friend crush or a crush, crush. She had everyone ogling her, copying her, being influenced–almost like Regina George from Mean Girls. Except, she was nice and kind to others. She knew when to take situations seriously and when they weren’t. She was gifted with a throat that could sing and a personality that was too vibrant to ignore. She was skilled in culinary, arts and crafts, and poetry. She was a star student and always around the top 50 out of the whole school. Honor rolls, student council, face of theater–she was perfect.

“You went?” you asked after her comment registers in your head. She looks at you instead of the screen of the camera, her glossy lips twitching up. She lowers the camera and hands it back to you. You take it almost quickly.

“Of course I went. My mom persuaded me to go on stage and sing with her,” she said as she tossed her hair back. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love to perform–I just didn’t think the spring fair would have anything to do with me.”

You looked at her in awe. Was she really just here to talk to you?

Sophia keeps her gaze on yours before she steps back. “Get down here.”

You look down at your feet. You were leveled due to the fact that you were basically standing on a step higher than her. You step down and she hums in approval before looking up at you. You’re still somewhat taller than her.

“I have a request…” she says smoothly as she steps a little closer, keeping eye contact. It was enough to make you nervous and step back against the step you were just standing on. Sophia smiles a little more.

“Nervous?” she teases. You shake your head side to side and she shakes her head with you out of humor.

“Don’t be. I just wanted to ask if you could take photos of my party tomorrow night,” she explained softly as she took a step back out of your personal bubble. “It's at eight. But come early–I want some photos of me before you catch the party’s vibe.”

You paused and blinked a few times before shaking your head. “I don’t–umm, do out of school photos,” you lie.

Sophia tilts her head. “Yes you do. You took photos for Megan’s birthday and Valentine’s party and you have a whole Instagram dedicated to photography.”

Crap, you thought.

You couldn’t lie to this girl. Not at all. The problem was that Megan’s birthday party and Valentine’s party wasn’t all out. It didn’t have a lot of people and her mom was really nice to you. She offered you her room for you to focus on editing your photos after the party died down.

“I don’t do parties,” you tried to reason with her.

“Oh, c’mon. I bet my party will change your perspective,” Sophia said, her hands coming to hold your shoulders to shake some sort of sense in you. “It’s just one party. Maybe another if you like the way I throw them.”

Her persuasion worked well. Your head gave her the slightest nod and she pulled back and hopped in place before smiling brightly.

“Come to my house at seven thirty. You know where it is, don’t you? If you don’t, my DMs are always open for you,” she said with a small wink before blowing two kisses with her hand.

“Thanks, Y–”

“Yn.”

Sophia pauses and rolls her eyes playfully. “I know, silly. Thank you, Yn.”

Your heart fluttered. When she turned her back on you, your stomach flipped inside out and your knees buckled, forcing you down on your butt again. What the heck did you get yourself–

“…into?” your cousin asked as he rummaged through your closet.

“I don’t know…”

Your cousin was a basketball player in your school. He was the face of boys basketball, honestly. He's a mutual friend with Sophia through Leon, who’s also involved in basketball, and is his teammate and friend. He was the type of guy to know a guy who knows a guy.

“Man…over a girl, too? Even I wasn’t that down bad for Manon…”

“That’s because she doesn’t like jockey athletes,” you retort.

“That’s discrimination, y’know…” he said as he tossed a shirt from your closet towards you.

“That’s the exact words she said to you,” you murmured quietly before you’re hit with a pair of pants.

That night, you shifted and turned in your bed. You had sent Sophia a message to send a direct GPS of her house. She sent it quickly within the span of a minute or two like she had been waiting for you to text her first. It took you a ton of courage to–even if you had just been asking about her address.

Her last message before you reacted to it was “see you tmr night xx” with that dumb emoji that was smiling and blushing with its hand on its face.

Was it flirty? Friendly? Leading you on?

Whatever it was, it had you in deep, and it felt uneasy because you knew something was bad. Or maybe nothing was going to happen. Maybe you were just being paranoid about going to a real party.

That Saturday morning, your stomach kept on twisting uneasily. You ate food, drank water, walked around the block, took a shower–hell, even cleaned your room to get your mind off of this damn feeling. It was overcoming every part of your emotions and thoughts. It was almost unbearable.

It only worsened when you put on your outfit and walked out the door. You felt self conscious about your outfit, even though the point was to not be seen. It felt boring and simple. A white long sleeve shirt under a black flannel and black jeans? It felt…too normal and not party-like. But you didn’t want to stand out.

Oh my Gosh.

Did dressing underdressed for a party make you stand out more?

You rushed back inside and changed out of the outfit your cousin chose for you. You switched into…something more you.

You decided to wear a black sweater underneath a graphic tee and denim jeans again, that way your cousin at the party couldn’t spot you. Even if he did, it wouldn’t matter. But it would–but it wouldn’t at the same time. You put your beat up Converse on and rushed with your camera to head onto the city bus. You didn’t bring your bag for your camera. You decided that after you take Sophia’s photos and stay in the corner of her house with it, nothing will happen to you or your camera.

What’s the worst that could happen? Right?

Oh, don’t think that, Yn, you told yourself mentally. Your stomach only flexed and twisted even more at the countless thoughts that swarmed.

Once you stepped off of the bus and opened her DM to see where her house was, your stomach knotted even tighter once again. Her message was still lingering there. The emoji, the words, the “xx”, and her words. You could hear her voice in your head saying those words to you. Did your stomach feel nervous or sick?

You clicked the link and watched as your tabs switched from Instagram to Maps. A fifteen minute walk from the bus stop to her house.

You walked down the streets. The faint sounds of families in their backyards and birds chirping felt…oddly nostalgic. The houses were rich with colour and their lawns were bright green. They were watered everyday. Some of the lawns were still shimmering, some of the pavement coloured a deep brown as the grey was painted wet. Some houses had lawn signs to represent their seniors that were graduating this year or lawn signs that promoted their family lawn services or others. Some had two cars or three. Many were two story houses.

You turned a block, your phone chiming that if you walked about half a mile, your destination would be on your right.

It’s too soon.

Your stomach drops and your heart is suddenly in your throat.

You feel your body want to turn back, but you don’t. You’re still walking–and you’re walking down to her house. You see a few walk on her lawn to the front door, but it’s too nicely done to be walked on. And disrespectful.

You walk up her driveway and pass the one car that’s sitting there. You walk along her sidewalk and up the steps. The doors are wide open for anyone.

Her parties are sometimes always open invitation.

You walk in and are met with Basil, Sophia’s older brother. You’ve seen him before. Last year before he graduated, he had asked you to take photos of him on his new motorbike he got from his dad.

He greeted you with a nod, his eyes always seemingly tired and out of it before he went back to his phone. You walked in and saw the piles of shoes, a mandatory rule you knew should exist in every household. You slipped your Converse off before peering into the living room. Not a lot of people were here yet. Only a few close friends of hers and their partners or other friends.

One saw you.

Crap.

“Yn, right?” she asked, her voice sweet like a siren. You watched as she came up to you. You knew her. She was in choir and played a wall in that one school play.

“Yeah,” you say as you reveal yourself.

“I like your shirt,” another voice said. You knew her–Yoonchae. She was a freshman in varsity girls basketball and in the badminton club.

“Thanks,” you said as you ran your palm down the design. You looked down at it yourself before up at the group who was now staring at you. Staring into your soul.

“Sophia’s upstairs,” Daniela, a part of the cheer team, said from the side as she leaned against the arm rest of the couch. “I bet she’s waiting for you and that camera.”

Your ears go red and nod your head slightly.

Daniela pulls back and points to the stairs that lead up. “Go up. Second door at the end of the hall to your right.”

“Okay,” you said calmly. Too calmly. “Thank you.”

The Latina hums softly before turning back to her friends and lover, letting you pass through the room. You walked up the steps with your camera in your hands before you let go. Your hands are too clammy–gross. You can feel your body heating up horribly as you take a step. Was it the temperature? The nerves?

“Don’t do that!” you heard Sophia say from behind the door. Your hand was half raised, ready to interrupt her and whoever was inside. You couldn’t make out the words, but it definitely didn’t sound like Leon, or a girl, or anyone you knew. You hesitated and looked at the door ahead of you before you placed your head down to stare at your socked feet. You stepped back and placed your back against the wall, sliding down to wait for her to be done.

You could’ve knocked to interrupt her and that other person, but it didn’t feel right. Or wrong. Or both. Knocking was better than barging in, right?

Right, Yn?

The time passes quickly and you feel your patience, that was always present and full, begin to start running thin. You looked at the clock on your camera.

8:07 PM.

Time was running out. Why did she want you here early again? To take photos if she wasn’t even going to show up? Why did she bring you if she wasn’t going to–

You stood up from your spot, clutching your camera in front of your chest firmly before you walked down the stairs. Crowded. A lot of people came while you were waiting for this damn woman to leave her room.

You tried your best to swerve through the people like you would at school, but it’s different. The living room width was smaller than the hallways at school. You pushed through people nicely, trying your best not to ruin your camera. Your hand moved to hold the bottom, the other shielding the top as you struggled to push through.

“Hey,” Lara said quickly as she held your wrist to stop you. “Where are you going? I thought you were staying the whole time.”

“I can’t,” you said, trying to pull your hand away.

“Weren’t you going to stay and take photos?”

“Changed my mind,” you said quickly as you forcefully pulled your hand back from her loosening grip. You stumbled back and bumped into someone, a cold liquid spilling on you. You looked at the person with the red Solo cup looking…not so guilty.

“Watch where you’re going,” they said with a shrug before moving to get more punch or soda or water or…whatever!

You grimaced at the feeling of wet clothes before your hand instinctively went to hold your wet camera.

Wait, wet?

You looked down at your camera and your heart dropped. You rushed out of the house, pushing forcefully through people this time. You grabbed your displaced Converse and headed out of the door with no comment left to give. Once you were on the porch, you moved to the side and quickly put your shoes on messily, the heel of the shoe being forced down as your shoelaces stay undone. You walk along her clean lawn to get to the curb or road, hands fumbling around the camera’s buttons to see if it still works.

It has to, right?

Your hands shake as the camera tries its best to keep up with your frantic moves. Your eyes never leave the screen.

“No. No, no. No,” you say repetitively as your screen glitches and slows down. It’s without a doubt that the camera slowly comes to die. Your hands move to take the SD card out and wipe it against your sleeve, attempting to dry the excess water off. This has everything. This little chip has your whole life.

“Yn! Is your hearing okay?” Sophia asked as she grabbed your wrist. She’s barefoot against her lawn. You look at her.

“Dude. I’ve been calling you for minutes on end,” she says, “You trying to blow me off?”

“Blow me off?” you said, “You blew me off! I came extra early for you and you didn’t come out of that damn door!”

Sophia pauses and she pulls her hand away. “You didn’t knock! How was I supposed to know if you were here? I don’t have telepathy or something.”

“Who doesn’t leave their room after half an hour to enjoy their party that they hosted themselves?!” you retort as you step back.

Sophia’s ready to argue back, but she notices something different. You’re different. You’re fighting back.

“What happened?” she asked quickly, her brows creasing in concern. You didn’t say anything and she pushed.

“Yn, you tell me what happened. If someone teased the hell out of you I’ll–”

“You happened!” you shouted. “I should’ve never agreed to come to this- this–this stupid party! I don’t even do parties; I don’t know why I came for you and only you! I did this for you! If anyone else had asked, I would’ve said no, but I came!”

A beat of silence–maybe a beat too long.

You turn your heel and you speed walk down the street back to that bus stop you were at before. The next bus comes by in twenty minutes or so, so you were okay. For now.

If the chance was given, Sophia would’ve ran to get you, but she’s barefoot. Barefoot and a warm road to walk on with insects and rocky pebbles weren’t a delight. She wished she had done something more like yell out your name, keep her hand on your wrist, or even have Basil run to get you, but she stays quiet and on her front lawn at the curb before she heads back inside to try and enjoy the party.

Monday came by quicker than it should’ve. You spent the whole weekend mourning the loss of your camera. People may say that it was just a camera and nothing else, but it isn’t just a camera when it was from your grandma.

You’re struggling to get out of bed when you hear your alarm go off. It takes a while, but you’re out of bed. Without a stylish outfit, you’re placed in a hoodie and jeans from yesterday as you walk to your bus stop. It’s comfortable, sure, but you don’t feel too good about yourself. You had your hood on your head the whole school day. Your hair was slowly being pushed down from the force.

Meanwhile with Sophia, she had struggled this whole weekend. She had been blowing your phone up on Instagram. She wanted so desperately to know more and to apologize her ass off, but you had muted her notifications. No matter how hard the red dot begged you to open the messages, you ignored it all.

“You!”

You’re turned around and held back before you could even leave the school doors. You knew that voice.

“I don’t want to talk, Sophia.”

“Then listen!” she pleads as she tugs you impossibly closer. Sophia looks up at you and notices the lack of a camera around your neck. She swallows before dragging you farther from the door as she grips the sleeve of your sweater.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized quietly. “I didn’t mean to push you. I should’ve backed off and- and not have you come because you weren’t okay with parties. I figured that because you went to Megan’s, you’d be okay.”

She pauses to see if you’re still listening and you are. She shifts on her feet again.

“But I realized,” Sophia whispered, “that you only went because there weren't a lot of people. And that the party died quickly.”

You looked at her and she looked back, her gaze gentle.

“Let me gain your forgiveness again.”

“By doing what?” you asked with a small and quiet snappy tone. “Reversing time so that you exit your room quicker?”

Sophia pauses and shakes her head. “Buying you a new camera.”

You didn’t say anything. You’re in shock. Cameras are expensive–that’s why you were so upset about that.

“I tried to go yesterday,” she explained, “but I don’t know cameras all that well. And I don’t know if you need a battery or SD card or whatever.”

You still kept quiet. You’re still in shock. Sophia Laforteza, the face of theatre and class president. The girl who always won prom queen was going to buy you, a nobody, a new camera? You hesitated before giving her that small and hesitant nod.

“Good,” she said quietly before loosening her grip on your sleeve. Before she let go, she tugged the fabric to guide you to the door.

“We need to take the city bus,” Sophia said as she walked in front of you. “I don’t drive.”

“I don’t either,” you blurt. She turns her head to look at you and smiles.

“Well, hurry then. I’m going to miss it without you.”

The bus ride to the local mall was quiet. You two stood on the bus next to each other, but didn’t say a word. She held the pole and you held the handle above. Though she was locked in on her phone, she let you peer over as she saw your curiosity spike. You saw the invitation and didn’t hesitate to look over. She shared her screen, her thumb mindlessly scrolling through the media. You noticed her thumb moved a little slower than it did before because she was waiting for you.

After the bus came to a stop, Sophia was the first to react while you took a moment. You forgot you came with her. You followed her out and struggled around the crowd of people that left the bus before she grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t lose me,” Sophia said to you before she looked back in front of her.

To be honest you haven’t really traveled around the city before. You’ve been stuck in your little town and neighborhood for years ever since you were born. Sophia was basically your tour guide. She knew all the spots and the shortcuts as she easily weaved through people. There were people in suits, bikes on the road, electric scooters, and so many cars and buildings and people–oh my gosh.

“Do people really live like this?” you asked yourself and Sophia laughed before moving to walk beside you.

“Of course,” she replied. “Don’t enjoy it?”

You paused, eyes roaming the area a little more. The people–you could take so many photos of what the city life looks like. The food trucks, the tourists, the business men and women, the people. It felt surreal.

“It’s…decent,” you said quietly. Sophia didn’t say anything. She knew that it was more than decent. She could tell in your eyes. The sight was adorable.

It took a while to finally get to the mall, but you two walked around before ending up in the electronics centre. You felt Sophia’s grip loosen and you didn’t waste time to go and head towards the cameras. You looked around at the different designs, eyes sparkling as you read the description of the cameras.

Sophia lingered from behind, keeping quiet as she watched you examine the cameras in front of you. You looked, again, adorable.

After about fifteen minutes, you turned around to the Filipina who was waiting patiently. She wasn’t on her phone or zoning out–she was actually paying attention.

“That one, huh?” she asked as she walked up to the glass cases and pointed at the one you read the description of the most. Her acrylic nail clinked against the item. You loved that she paid attention to you. You didn’t even have to say a word. You nod your head with an awkward smile and she smiles confidently at you.

“Stay here,” she instructs. “I’ll go get an employee.”

Again, you nodded before heading back to read the description of the camera for the fifth time and she turned to leave.

After a few minutes, Sophia comes by and talks to the man before he moves down to grab the box and hand it to her. She smiles, giving him a thank you before he left. Sophia turns to you and she bit her tongue to stop herself from cooing.

You looked like an eager puppy.

She hasn't given it to you yet. Instead, she walks herself over to the cashier to ring the item up. You followed after her, staying behind her tail. You watched the price be entered in and watched as she fished her wallet out of her bag. She was quick and efficient–paying for the camera quicker than you expected it to be paid. Your hand reached out to grab the bag when it was placed alone on the side, but Sophia held the handles before you could.

She looks at you for a moment before she leaves. You watch her before following quickly after her.

“Isn’t it for me? You bought that for me, didn’t you, Sophia?” you asked as you followed her from behind, the side, and even in front of her. She didn’t wipe that smirk off her face. She continued to walk down before turning into another building. She guides you through before settling the bag down on a table and looking at you.

“I need a snack,” she said softly. “Get your camera ready while I order my drink. And stay here, okay?”

You hummed quickly and sat down, grabbing the camera out of the paper bag and beginning to tear at the cardboard to get your desired equipment. She smiled fondly before moving away to get in line for her drink. She didn’t forget about you. She got you a cake pop for three dollars with her matcha.

She came back to sit across from you, placing her bag by your chair and slid the cake pop across the table and in your direction. Your attention wasn’t on anything but your camera at this point. You messed around to get used to the new technology. You looked through the variety of filters, adjusting the settings, and making sure the lenses weren’t scratched or anything like that.

“Make sure you eat. I spent three dollars on that sweet,” she comments and she fishes her phone out. You don’t look up when you hum and she shakes her head in amusement.

Sophia finished her drink by the time you’re done with the new camera. You have taken half a bite from the cake pop and spent the whole time adjusting to how the camera works. She leans forward.

“Am I forgiven?” she asks quietly.

You finally look up at her and you lower the camera. You smile shyly and nod your head.

“You’re forgiven.”

Sophia smiles back at you, her hands interlocking and coming to rest on the side of her face. Her brown eyes locked onto the sweet that was barely touched.

“Not a sweets person?” she questioned.

You pause and look down at the cake pop before shaking your head. “This camera was enough to fuel my stomach, honestly.”

Sophia laughs through her nose, air slipping from her nostrils. She takes the dessert and takes a bite out of it before standing up.

“Come on,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand as she spoke with food in there. “I want to go to another store.”

You didn’t hesitate to go after her. You didn’t forget to toss away your cardboard bags and whatnot either. As you followed her out, your hands immediately went to your camera to snap at every moment that was passing by you. The smoke that came out of that one building, a woman handing out roses for a dollar, a couple holding hands, two men having a conversation on their balcony, and…Sophia’s figure from behind. How did she look stunning from the back? It was as if she were carefree about anything.

You followed her around before she turned into a store way in the corner of the mall. You took a moment to look around before you realized–this was a mini figure store. It had a lot of those viral blindboxes. Some were big, some were small, and some were plushies.

Sophia looked around and took photos on her phone, way different from you. You took photos on your camera. Even took some photos of Sophia looking at plushies and boxes that she wanted. You saw her hold these hexagonal boxes that were about five inches tall. It came in a variety of green, yellow, red, and blue. The figures inside on display were green characters who had a straight face. Almost monotone.

It wasn’t hard to notice that these were the ones that she wanted. She kept on coming back to grab the boxes. As she turned to a different aisle, you looked at the boxes yourself. They were cute and silly. You should repay her too, right?

The camera had cost a lot and gaining your forgiveness was enough for her, but not for you.

You grabbed a few–maybe five, and managed to sneak from her before buying them in the front. After a quick pay, you shoved the bag into the pocket of your bag before rushing back to stand next to Sophia who showed you the newest edition to the set shown in front of the two of you.

After an hour of exploring the mall, you two decided to head out to the park nearby. Sophia told many stories about when she was younger. She’s been to so many places before settling down with her family. It was fun to listen to her. She knew how to make it fun. She talked the whole way until you two settled under a tree where shade was provided. The faint sound of the basketball court can be heard from your left and the children playing on the playground on the right.

Friends from the university nearby were a few feet away from you and dogs were playing with frisbees or resting with their owners. The old couple behind the tree you guys were under were simply enjoying the horizon you and Sophia were facing away from.

For once, you didn’t feel the need to take photos to capture a moment. The moment you had right now was with Sophia.

“Oh,” you said softly, interrupting her story of her time in Hongkong and in Disneyland. “I’ve got something for you.”

“For me?” she questioned. She leans forwards instinctively. “Should I close my eyes? Count down from ten? Or three–or five!”

You smiled and hummed. “Close your eyes and hold your hands out for me, please.”

Sophia was quick to oblige, her hands sticking out between the two of you as she waited patiently. She could hear the faint rustling of you getting the plastic bag out of your backpack and opening it.

“Guess what it is.”

“What? I thought you were just going to give them to me,” Sophia pouted.

“It’s easy,” you said as you grabbed one of the boxes and placed it in her hands. Sophia took a moment to feel the item, her hands tracing the edges and feeling the top and bottom of the box before–

“Oh my God! Is it what I think it is?!” she asked, her eyes still closed. You smiled and placed the rest in her hands and she opened her eyes.

Her eyes widened and her mouth stood agape before she squealed. “Holy crap, Yn! You got them?! When? How come I didn’t see you?”

“Because I’m that sneaky,” you said playfully.

“But why?” she asks as she looks up at you.

You paused and rubbed the back of your neck, “I shouldn’t have blamed you for ruining my camera. It was entirely my fault for not knocking and not bringing my bag for my camera. So…this is my apology for being rude to you that night. And attempting to ignore you the whole day today.”

Sophia laughs lightly in amusement before she begins to open one of the boxes. “You’re also forgiven, idiot.”

She explained to you which ones she wanted as you grabbed a box to examine, bouncing in her spot after she successfully opens one and gets the figure out. Though it wasn’t the one she anticipated for, she was grateful for it either way.

After opening the boxes, Sophia came out with two duplicates, one rare, and two that she didn’t have in her collection yet. She hands one of the duplicates to you with a smile.

“Keep it,” Sophia muses. “I think it looks like you.”

“They all look the same.”

“This one looks a little sad.”

“You think I look sad?”

“Most of the time. But…not now you don’t.”

That stupid sentence. It was almost as if she were trying to make you smile on purpose…which unfortunately worked.

You two spent a little more time together in the park. You showed her how to take pictures on the camera and it was almost intimate. She was still struggling, but in the meantime she had it down perfectly. You kept the photos she edited and the raw ones as well. It was a memory you were dedicated to savor, even if it would already be engraved into your head. You took a couple of those photos she wanted of herself during her party but never got.

She was a perfect muse for the camera. She knew how to pose, when to pose, and where to pose. She knew her good sides from every angle and knew when the lightning was good enough to hit her face.

The sky later turned an orange colour; the sun ready to rotate to the other side of the world. You and Sophia got back onto the city bus. You two finally got to sit on the seats as the bus was merely empty. You kept your head locked on your camera as you edited some photos of Sophia, cropping the images to make her centered and what not. Your bag was between your legs, Sophia’s resting against your right leg as she sat next to you.

Her head lolled down and up and down before eventually landing on your shoulder. You froze, fingers messing up the cropping of a photo before you looked over at her. She was asleep next to you with her hands on her lap. You looked around awkwardly before moving to try and move her head off but she grumbled.

“Don’t,” she said sleepily. “You’re comfortable.”

She locks her arms around your right arm and comes a little closer. You took a moment to realize that she had genuinely done this on purpose. You looked at your camera and turned it off, flipping the screen around and putting it to the side before leaning back to rest against the seat. You placed your cheek against her hair and turned to look at the view outside.

This time, you didn’t move her away from you. You let her stay until the two of you had to get off. For the first time, you felt seen. You felt more than a teenage photographer. You felt like…Yn Ln.

spidey’s mic : ON,,, second fic on katzblr woo !! thank you all for the support and love on Sofia : ( you all are so sweet. i love writing long fics that actually have plot, so apologies if some wips take longer !! anyway, thank you all so much again : )

Fuck ICE.

ACAB.

No one is illegal on stolen land.

synopsis: you’re the twin brother of KATSEYE’s very own visual, manon bannerman. you moved to los angeles with her when she joined dream academy so that she wouldn’t be alone in a new continent. when manon debuts, she introduces you to her members and the dancer catches your eye. however, they’re off limits because if they break up, it’ll affect the groove of the group. but what happens when you ignore your sister’s warning?

pairings: daniela avanzini x trans!reader, manon bannerman x brother!reader

warnings: forbidden romance, idol dating restrictions, secrecy and hidden relationships, sibling conflict and (unintentional) emotional manipulation, loss of privacy, jealousy within a group setting, potential breakup consequences, anxiety and emotional stress.

❛ yo big hungry ass 😂😂 ❜

【 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐮 】 doordasher!kats × f!reader everyone knows & loves them: katseye! but... oh, looks like they all got fired due to leaking every single track of their latest album—oh well, side hustle time! / or, they all got fired and became d1 crashouts.

cw. do not take anything said beneath the cut seriously, let alone anything in this whole smau! crack, they're all crashouts, profanity.

001. manon bannerman

side hustle? more like side huzzle! oh. no one's laughing.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ you dream of walls that hold us in prison

�� ✿֔ᮬ ( 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕 ) 𖹭 ning yizhuo x f!reader ✴︎ angst ── pre debut!ningning, childhood friends sorta, reader loves fo, unsaid feelings, me and my obsession with the totga trope, n and r are both painfully stupid. read in light mode! / word count : 2.O6k words / ( masterlist )

y/n and ningning had a complicated relationship; the two of them acted like they were more than friends, though they swore to everyone that they weren’t lovers.

from what she could see, ningning couldn’t seem to care any less about what people said, brushing off their comments with the same casual reply. “we’re just being friendly, nothing more, nothing less.”

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.

soph in a button down.

soph in a button down.