Chapter Text
When God gave Jimin a fear of heights, he might’ve also planned the crazy cool—but also fucking ridiculous—radioactive spider that turned her into an acrobatic maniac swinging through New York. Probably for equilibrium. Or something vague and ridiculous like that.
(Maniac is used loosely because Jimin’s dealt with actual, certified for mental institutionalization, maniacs.
Jimin just likes doing gymnastics in the air, okay?!
When life gives you a weird radioactive spider that gives you new powers, swing away!)
It happened the way unpredictable things usually happen to Jimin.
Unsolicited and ???.
(To exemplify ???: Jimin once shared her scrumptious pepperoni pizza with a rat on a subway platform on the way home from school. Not because she wanted to. But because its beady eyes were hypnotized by her food and Jimin cares more for her rabies-free life than a pizza she could get for a couple of bucks.
She has also managed to make very strong, very rich, and very corrupt people her enemies simply because she values a precious thing called “lives.”
Under that, in very small font with asterisks, is “other people’s lives, not Yu Jimin’s.”
With great power comes great responsibility. Though, when her sister told her that, Jimin’s sure she didn’t consider self-sacrificial martyrdom as a responsibility. She might’ve retracted her statement, or maybe changed it up a little. She was always the first to tell Jimin to cool it with the heroics, telling her that her savior complex will come to kick her ass one day.
Fighting bullies picking on other people just isn’t comparable to criminals who come to fights with guns and bombs and various other devastating weapons/strengths to end her life/wreck havoc in her dirty, grotty, lovable city.
It’s fine. It’s whatever.
Jimin can bench lift those silly boys with one arm if they’d let her. Sure beats getting their asses kicked by her, but she can be flexible. If they won’t let her use them as glorified weights and she’s forced into sending them to Ryker’s, that’s their own damn choice.)
It was supposed to be a fun field trip—she was geeked to be at Shin Industries. They’re entrepreneurs, geniuses, a light for the future. They’re trailblazers and made groundbreaking discoveries, and most importantly, they were the ideal place for her to jumpstart her career. And with Jimin’s obsession and proficiency with bio-physics, it was the perfect place for her to be—sublime, fortuitous if she could land a position. That day, she came home a lot smarter. And slightly itchier.
(Genuinely, Jimin thought the spider bite was a mosquito bite—those damned winged insects are only good for food and nonconsensually using her blood as a mating ground.
But, she was wrong.
She has never been more wrong in her life and she used to think red velvet was a completely different flavor than chocolate. Imagine her shock.)
The cool, nerdy tour of Shin Industries was life-changing.
Like, actually.
Because Jimin woke up the next morning, groggy and tired. Which is normal. What wasn’t normal was the soreness she felt fucking everywhere—her thighs, arms, shoulders, back, core, even her ass—and the tightness of her uniform around her arms. Like, was she always that broad and buff? Her years of practicing martial arts and doing various other sports might’ve widened her shoulders, but Jimin has never looked like a Dorito chip in her life until the morning after getting bit.
And the sculpted abs? Uh? That was new, too! Sure, she had some humble lines she could squint at if she flexed but, now, honest to God, unflexed, she’s got a four-pack of dinner rolls on her tummy.
And then there was the whole…sticking to…everything.
Jimin just about knocked over her meticulously kept bookcase of manga’s and CD’s while getting ready, wrestled with her hairbrush, and almost tore off her doorknob trying to get out of her room.
With all of that hoopla and panicking and processing life-shifting changes, she arrived at school right at the bell, panting and looking like a sweaty, wet dog just because she had to run to her class from the freaking subway several miles away, angrily cursing herself out because her powers didn’t come with super speed? Just super glue-like tendencies? And crazy defined muscles?
Okay, yeah, those things are cool, especially once she figured out how they work, but, super speed would have been helpful! So she didn’t look like a haggard troll who just rolled out of bed!
Which was totally not ideal because there’s this girl.
There’s always a girl, right?
But for Yu Jimin, her girl is one named Kim Minjeong.
Gorgeous, intelligent, wonderful Kim Minjeong.
Kim Minjeong who’s only talked to her four times.
Okay, thrice.
“Hey! Jimin, right? My pen ran out of ink and I don’t have any spares. Could I borrow one?” hardly counts as a conversation. Jimin didn’t even reply. She just nodded and quietly groaned at her like a fucking neanderthal. Embarrassing. Especially for someone who’s a polyglot. All those languages and she can’t remember a single way to say “yes.”
Either way.
Jimin has cool new superpowers, some cool new enemies that want to kill her (so not cool), and a drawn-out, almost debilitatingly massive crush on a girl in four of her classes.
Other than the freaky-deaky powers, she’d say she’s just a regular high school student trying to get through puberty and way too many AP classes.
-
Jimin was not a regular high school student.
No high school student was throwing themselves off of buildings with absolutely zero knowledge, skill, or practice in parkour. But, no regular high school student wakes up with superpowers so her argument was kaput to begin with.
That day, Jimin was trying to figure out exactly what her body could do. Maybe it was a good thing her mom enrolled her into Taekwondo and that she stuck with it, earning herself a pretty black belt that she brags about to no one in particular because who the fuck cares? Taekwondo’s made her flexible and acrobatic and it’s helping her plenty with maneuvering and doing flips.
She found out that she’s not making her own web, which has its pros and cons.
She’d have to make her own web fluid and gear to use said web fluid. But at least she didn’t have spider webs shooting out of her veins.
Could be an inconvenience later, but she wasn’t focusing on foresight here. Preventative measures later!
Her new powers gave her energy though. Like she drank a whole pack of Monster while being pumped with that crazy Panera drink that her sister told her to stay away from. Briefly, she did wonder if her new powers could handle that much caffeine. She wasn’t dying to find out, but maybe she would have fucked around if she hadn’t needed to figure out how to be faster and more efficient with her method of travel.
(Being a hero on foot just…wasn’t appealing. Sure, there were people who’ve done it, but not Jimin.
She’s smart and inventive. She’s a damn scientist! Or, wants to be, at least.
And so, she ended up making her own web fluid. With trial and error and lots of bruises and maybe broken ankles. And stealing chemicals from her school’s lab. And lots of Googling. And watching rudimentary Youtube tutorials on how to build her web shooters.
Her FBI agent spying on her must have thought she was going through some kind of crisis. And she was! It wasn’t easy figuring out the mechanics and getting the materials for it!
But she did it! She made a web fluid that’s strong enough to support a bus (tried and true on the Manhattan Bridge), stop a subway with busted breaks (also tried and true with the D Line, Jimin’s most used route), and stop bad guys with way too much trauma and grievances and the expendable money to destroy New York.
No fight was easy in the beginning. She often swung home and hobbled with her cracked ribs and bleeding lacerations, pretending she’s got horrible diarrhea or vicious mood swings to get her parents off her back.
Jimin learned plenty about her body’s ability to rehabilitate and heal through that alone.
And how she’s a pretty decent liar—she’s not too sure if that’s a good thing, but in her case, it’s most needed.)
But back to the point.
Jimin isn’t a regular high school student.
If she was a regular high school student, she’d be sadly moping about how she isn’t the lucky fucker taking Kim Minjeong to senior prom. But, no! Some fugly, burly guy named Tombstone has plans to monopolize all gangs in New York for some other guy who looks like an ugly ass thumb. So now, Jimin’s worrying about Tombstone and Kingpin (aforementioned ugly ass thumb) instead of being angsty and pining over a girl who barely knows she exists.
Can’t evil let her do her yearning in peace?
Like, yeah, crime doesn’t take breaks, but Jimin freaking dreamt about going to prom with her crush.
Pathetic.
It's completely loserish.
And she’s got guys who want to kill her on top of that?!
It’s not a vibe.
What’s also not a vibe?
The pinhead, slop for brains, 100% muscle 0% brain activity jock that lives to make school just that much more miserable for her. Jimin isn’t even sure why he’s got a problem with her—she’s never really talked to him. Minus rejecting him in middle school. She just…didn’t like his face or the way he talked to other girls. He wasn’t respectful and she didn’t like the way his face looked when he smirked.
Immediately no.
Actually, now that Jimin thinks about it, that’s definitely the reason why she’s public enemy number one to him.
Weak-willed boys classify as villains in their own right. Like, get a grip! Or, a life. Or, some brains. Better yet, all of the above!
Whatever.
She doesn’t have the time for this. Not when the cafeteria is serving jerk chicken and pineapple fried rice. She has places to be, bowls of food to get, a pretty girl to not-so-subtly gaze at from across the room.
“Where do you think you’re going, Yu?”
Jimin hides her rolling eyes behind her eyelids.
She would appreciate not being manhandled or touched by this meathead but she isn’t about to incite violence to get his hands off of her. Retorting monotonously, Jimin spares no warmth in her voice, “To the cafeteria where a majority of the school goes. For lunch. Which is right now. Can you let me go?”
Pushed into her locker, he leans into her, smirking all ugly and gross. Shiver worthy, when he breathes on her, hot and grody, “I don’t think I want to. I kinda like being this close to you. Don’t you like it?”
No, she doesn’t.
And he knows it.
See, Jimin could easily push him off of her, push him across the damn hall if she wanted to. She has the strength to. She could probably even pick him up and body slam him if she wanted to.
But she’s feeling nice today.
And she doesn’t want to touch him anymore than she has to. Wrestling his grubby hands off of her and slipping under his arms to get away from him, Jimin grimaces, “Your breath reeks, man. Do you have money for gum? I can lend you some if you need it!”
Stuttering, he shrivels back, “My- my breath doesn’t stink! I brushed my teeth!”
Jimin scoffs out a laugh, cold and mischievous smirk on her lips, “Whatever you’re doing isn’t working. My nostril hairs almost incinerated because it smelt so damn bad.” When he wordlessly glares at her, Jimin fails to hide her eye roll. Or maybe she didn’t try to hide it at all. “Smell ya later, asshole! Hopefully someone gives you some gum! It’ll be easier for me the next time you come to annoy me,” she grins.
Taunting her bully might not be the smartest thing she has ever thought to do (which is saying something because she’s made a lot of batshit, stupid decisions in the past year or so due to her Spidey extracurriculars) because the next thing Jimin knows, she’s got a face full of metal locker imprinting on her skin.
Jesus Christ.
Can’t a girl just get her lunch?
“You walk around like you’re cool. You think anyone cares about you here? Your only friend is a geeky transfer student who doesn’t know any better. You’re still the girl whose sister got murdered. You’re still the loser crying. You don’t get to talk to me like that.”
Now, there are things Jimin tolerates.
Bad guys, bad breath, mediocre dim sum from places Jimin’s trying out.
But casually announcing to the whole damn school that she lost half of her heart, in cold blood, is a hard limit.
She doesn’t feel bad for what she does next. Not when she can still hear the gunshot ringing in her ears, the brittle sound of her sister’s voice, the wet feeling of her bloody hands caressing her cheek, pleading, telling her not to cry so she remembers her prettily.
Even if a year has passed since her sister’s death, it’s fresh like it happened a month ago.
She has no patience for this.
Harshly elbowing him in the stomach and stomping on his foot, Jimin keeps a hold on his wrist, twisting his arm behind him, leaning into the resistance she feels the more she pulls.
“Fuck! Let me go!”
Pulling a little harder, the buoyancy she felt earlier is gone, her voice low and grave when she threatens him through gritted teeth, “You don’t get to talk about my family like that. You don’t get to talk about me like that. Try that again and I’ll break your fucking arm. Say bye to whatever scholarship you’re looking for with football. I’ll ruin your fucking life in a second. Don’t test me. Because I will do it. I don’t care about the trouble it gets me. If I can see you suffer, I’d gladly do it.”
Whimpering the more she twists, twisted grimace on his face, he sobs, “‘m sorry! I won’t! I won’t! Please, let me go! It hurts!”
Jimin isn’t a regular high school student.
She has superpowers, she has enemies.
She’s grieving her sister, her world.
And she’s got vengeance in her future.
Her sister will get justice, even if it kills her.
-
Lunch is much less eventful. If Jimin ignores everyone and their moms gossiping about what happened in the hallway.
Typical, she’s the bad guy and the actual dipshit is a victim. Though, she’s aware her innocence has a hard fight to handle when she was the one making someone cry. Not her fault Stupid Jock didn’t know she could whoop major ass; breaking an arm would be the least of her capabilities.
But, she couldn’t care less. What she could care about is how the whole shebang cramped her appetite. What a waste of a good lunch menu! She just isn’t in the best mood—if she’s being honest, she’s feeling like complete shit because who the hell wants to be retraumatized on a random Tuesday afternoon?!
Playing with her food and pushing around her fried rice, the constant chatter and noise makes her feel suffocated and claustrophobic. Putting in her Airpods, the music is the only thing Jimin wants to focus on. It’s getting increasingly harder to stay, to carry on as if she isn’t getting pummeled by flashbacks and horrific memories. If anything, she feels sick to her stomach.
She did retch after the paramedics took her sister away. When Jimin gulps down the knot in her throat, she thinks she can taste the rancid tang of vomit in the back of it.
Shit.
She’d love to leave and go home and have a crying session but she has an AP Physics exam she needs to take and she refuses to miss out, not when she busted her ass studying while apprehending criminals for petty theft and dismantling some nuclear power bomb thing The Prowler was protecting.
Pushing away her tray, the smell making her even more nauseous, Jimin nearly bowls someone over with her haste to get some air. Crashing into them and yelping, everything happens in a blur. If it weren’t for her reflexes and strength catching them by the waist, they’d be a jumbled heap on the floor.
“Shit. I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to-”
World stop.
She knows that pretty face and mochi cheeks anywhere, unmistakable ginger hair that she might as well have been born that way instead of brunette.
“Minjeong. Uh- I- sorry! I didn’t know you were behind me.” Noticing something, Jimin clears her throat, “Um,” she stammers awkwardly, “you…have something here,” she points by the corner of her lip with her free hand.
Er. Or, her not-free hand.
Huh?
When did she manage to catch Minjeong’s pudding cup with her other hand?
(Spidey reflexes—they’re astonishing.)
“Oh! I- I do?” Minjeong laughs nervously, still trying to figure out how Jimin managed to catch her and her pudding cup, blindly tries to wipe away the crumbs at the corner of her lip. “Thanks for telling me. None of my friends told me,” she trails off with a breathy laugh.
(Minjeong’s got some pretty fair skin so her pinkish blush colors her cheeks. She’s too fucking cute for Jimin’s own good. Her mood went from abhorrently shitty to blasting heart eye emojis.
The power of a pretty girl is not to be played with!)
“Here!” Jimin brandishes her napkin left untouched on her tray. “I haven’t used it! It’s clean!”
In her dreams, she’d wipe it away—maybe she’d even kiss her if her dreams decided they loved Jimin a little more than usual. But, this is reality and Jimin is a civilized, respectful simp! Handing Minjeong the napkin, she pulls out her phone and turns on her selfie camera for Minjeong to see herself.
After the girl cleans her lips, she smiles, small but sweet and sincere, “Thanks, Jimin. Can’t be walking around with my dessert on me like that.”
Breathing out a laugh, Jimin quirks and eyebrow, and lightheartedly teases, “Didn’t want to save it for later?”
When Minjeong giggles, genuinely and from happiness this time, Jimin makes it her ultimate life goal to make Minjeong laugh like that in every conversation she has. She never knew a laugh could be so restorative and beautiful and ring so prettily like an angel lent her their voice and-
And then Minjeong’s face falls into something serious. She looks around, as if making sure no one’s paying attention to them. She inches closer, loosely grabs her hand holding her pudding.
Jimin is only just registering that she has yet to take her hand off of her waist. Quickly retrieving her limb, she keeps her hand stuffed in her cardigan’s pocket, confined like it’s in pocket jail.
“Can we talk? Somewhere private?”
Now, if anyone told Jimin she’d be hearing this from Minjeong, she’d think they fucking lost it.
Just five minutes ago, Jimin was contemplating crying in the bathroom or completely dissociating to avoid her trauma. Now, her heart’s in her throat, pounding in her ears and temple, and Minjeong’s touching her and looking at her like she’s the only person in the cafeteria that buzzes with energy and vibrates with clamor.
Life is a rollercoaster and it looks like Minjeong’s taken control of the damn thing.
“Uh. Yeah! Sure! Let me just…throw away my food. I wasn’t as hungry as I thought.”
As they walk to the trash bin, Jimin is absolutely not thinking about how Minjeong is still holding onto her arm. For no apparent reason, since Jimin knows where the garbage is. But as soon as she gets rid of her trash and places her tray on a rack, Minjeong leads them outside of the cafeteria and to the quad.
Finding a quiet, shaded place under a tree, Minjeong looks lost for a moment, awkwardly rocking on her feet and looking at anything that isn’t Jimin.
There’s plenty to be nervous about for Jimin. This is her fifth conversation with Minjeong in the span of three years, ever since Jimin knew of her existence and categorized her as someone special. She’s not too sure what Minjeong’s nervous about.
It’s not like she has a crush on her. Minjeong barely even looks at her on a regular day; their paths rarely ever overlap despite their similar schedule.
“I uh…overheard what happened in the hall.” Rushing out, Minjeong’s eyes are wide, “Not that I was eavesdropping! Jaehyun was just…really loud.”
Can’t help but to hear. But Jimin wouldn’t fault her for eavesdropping if she did it—it was a juicy conversation after all. Even if it tore her heart apart like she didn’t sew it back together herself.
“I know it’s not my fault, but I feel partially responsible. I’m sorry he said those things to you. I know he apologized, but not the way you deserve. I know he only said it to get out of the hold you had him in.”
Jimin winces.
She would have preferred if Minjeong didn’t see her like that—spiteful, angry, brimming with hatred, physically violent, even if it was justified. Jimin isn’t a fighter. Which sounds ironic since all she does after school is fight bad people.
But she does it with the purpose to protect. Not to threaten.
What she had done in the hallway was a threat, a promise to cause harm if pushed.
(Vaguely, Jimin hears her sister saying, “With great power comes great responsibility,” in the back of her head.
She’s right.
And she was irresponsible with what she could do to Jaehyun. She could very easily hurt him if she wasn’t careful. But, underneath her Spider-Woman mask is just a girl.
Jimin’s just a regular girl with way too much fucking baggage to take care of at the mere age of seventeen.)
“You’re not apologizing for him, are you? Because if you are, you don’t need to. I know he isn’t sorry. He’s always been like that to me.”
Minjeong frowns, deep and uneasy. “I’m not. I’m apologizing because he’s…in my friend group. But I don’t agree with him. At all. He has this weird vendetta against you and I’ve tried to talk to him about it but he won’t give it up.”
Jimin laughs humorlessly. “I must’ve really hurt him when I rejected him four years ago.”
“Still isn’t a reason to go after you,” Minjeong replies.
Leaning against the tree, Jimin closes her eyes to take in fresh air.
She’s been needing it, something to ground her and keep her tethered to the world.
“No, it isn’t. But thanks for apologizing. Even though I get it, I don’t really think you needed to.”
Jimin can feel Minjeong’s eyes on her. She doesn’t need to look to know she’s drilling her attention on her.
It makes her feel so fucking giddy. Like, kicking her feet and twirling her hair giddy.
“I regret agreeing to be his date for prom.”
Jimin’s dream shatters, her eyes opening. She’d like to forget that, continue ignoring the fact that her crush is going to prom with the guy Jimin despises. It’s a little too bitter for her to not feel salty about it.
“Then, ditch him. He could do with some humbling,” she grumbles. When Minjeong laughs again, Jimin is unsurprised that she is physically unable to stop her own smile from reflecting the brightness of Minjeong’s. “I’m being serious! Don’t go with him if you don’t want to. Senior prom only happens once. It’d be nice if you could go happily and have something good to look back on. No cutting him out of pictures and all that.”
“So you’re suggesting I flake on him?” Minjeong jokes, “Who would I go with instead? Prom is this weekend!”
“I’m sure the moment people knew you’d be going alone, they’d be lining up to ask.”
When Minjeong hums out an unsure sound, Jimin hears her teasing and playful lilt, “Ugh, that’s too much to deal with. Next idea?”
Jimin, high on Minjeong Proximity and the wonder that is Minjeong’s laughter, jokes back and breezily suggests, “Go with me instead! I promise I’d be a better date than him!”
Minjeong doesn’t even consider it for a second—hell, she thinks on it for a blink. “Pick me up at 6? Maybe we can catch dinner before?”
Huh?
Jimin searches her eyes to find that Minjeong is waiting for an answer. Expecting, patiently, but anticipating.
Oh.
She’s being serious.
“I- yes! Yeah! I’ll uh- pick you up at 6. Wait. But I don’t drive. We could take an Uber though. Where do you live? I don’t even have your number. Could I have it so we can-”
Laughing again, Minjeong’s eyes make precious crescent moons as she smiles. “Relax, Jimin!” Reaching into her bag and taking out a pen, Minjeong carefully rolls up the sleeves of Jimin’s jacket. Watching as she scrawls something on her forearm, Jimin can’t believe this is real—that is the life she has, that Kim freaking Minjeong is giving her number, that she’s her date!
For prom!
For a prom that Jimin wasn’t even planning on going to because of Evil Guy Number 1 and Evil Guy Number 2. (Which reminds her: she needs to buy a ticket for prom now that her life is taking this turn of events.)
Crime will just have to wait! She has a dance to go to! It isn’t everyday her crush wants to go to prom with her!
“Text me?” Minjeong smiles, carefree and stunning in the glow of sunlight, “I’ll be waiting, Jimin!”
Minjeong’s got this thing about her. Her effervescence, magnetizing energy and charisma, her smile that makes everything disappear, just everything about her.
She makes it easy for Jimin to forget about everything that stresses her out. Things like fighting crime and guys that could kill her and her sister’s cruel and brutal death.
For the first time in a long time, Jimin actually feels like a regular high school student.
For the first time in a long time, she finds it easier to breathe.