#spideykook

[chrrybbmb]

HEARTWEAVE

STARRING ... SPIDEY!J. JUNGKOOK X READER

WORD COUNT ... 9.0K

SUMMARY ... in which jungkook realises his heart is caught in your web.

NOTES/WARNINGS ... PATHETIC KOOK ALERT!! cringefail!jungkook, mostly pure fluff. unrequited(?) love if you blink. slow burn(?). unresolved crush. idk i had a lot of fun writing this tho!! not proofread, so there may be mistakes 🫣

taglist. next.

jungkook doesn't know how to approach you.

he's seen you in passing countless times, walked your path because the two of you share the same class. he's considered saying hi, or asking if you need help with schoolwork, or literally doing anything else other than following you and staring like a creep.

the only genuine interaction the two of you have had was during freshman year when jungkook asked you to point out the lecture hall for chemistry, and you laughed and told him you were headed the same way — and just as lost as he was.

he thinks about that moment more often than he should. not because it was anything significant, but because it was the last time talking to you felt easy—effortless. before he let hesitation sink its claws into him, before he started overthinking every glance, every opportunity to speak.

now, jungkook just watches from a distance, caught somewhere between curiosity and cowardice. he wonders if you remember that day at all, if you ever think about him in passing the way he does you. probably not. he wouldn’t blame you.

still, the thought lingers. maybe tomorrow, he tells himself. maybe tomorrow he’ll say something.

jimin always makes fun of him for it, saying he’s fought villains before and yet one girl makes him shy?

“bro, you’ve literally been thrown through a building,” jimin snickers, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth. “but god forbid you say hi to a girl in your chemistry class.”

jungkook rolls his eyes, staring down at his untouched burger. he doesn’t pay jimin’s teasing any mind—he never does. it’s easy for jimin to talk; he’s never had to hide a whole second life, never had to balance midterms with stopping armed robberies. he doesn’t get it.

(though, to be fair, jimin is right. jungkook has gone toe-to-toe with some of the worst criminals in the city. yet somehow, the idea of talking to you makes his palms sweat.)

“it’s not that simple,” he mutters, picking at the edge of his tray.

jimin snorts. “right, because saying ‘hey, what’s up?’ is way harder than getting launched off a bridge.”

jungkook groans, dragging a hand down his face. he doesn’t have a good rebuttal for that. mostly because jimin’s right, and he hates that.

“it’s different,” he insists, even though it really isn’t.

jimin raises an eyebrow. “how?”

jungkook opens his mouth, then closes it. then opens it again. “because—” he starts, but the words get stuck in his throat, tangled up in excuses that don’t make sense even to him.

jimin grins, sensing victory. “you’re scared of her,” he sings, dragging out the last word obnoxiously.

jungkook scowls. “i’m not scared of her.”

“you so are,” jimin laughs. “like, imagine this. you’re mid-battle, bad guy’s got you in a chokehold, and suddenly—boom! it’s her. she’s watching. do you still pull your usual show-off stunts, or do you fumble and get your ass kicked?”

jungkook doesn’t answer.

jimin gasps, slapping the table. “you’d fumble.”

“i would not.”

“you so would.”

jungkook glares at him, but it’s weak. because, again, jimin is right. jungkook has had guns pointed at his head, has dodged death more times than he can count, but somehow, the thought of you seeing him trip over his own feet is what keeps him up at night.

jimin waggles his brows. “just talk to her, dude. it’s not that deep.”

but it is. it is that deep. because talking to you is different. talking to you is real, not some masked-up alter ego that people only half-believe in. and if he messes up as spiderman, he can hide behind the suit. if he messes up as jungkook—well.

there’s no hiding from that.

jungkook stabs at his fries with unnecessary aggression. “it’s not that simple,” he mutters again, knowing full well jimin won’t let it go.

“bro, it’s literally that simple,” jimin says, leaning back in his chair like he’s exhausted by the sheer weight of jungkook’s awkwardness. “just go up to her, say—i dunno—‘hey, you dropped this’ or something, even if she didn’t. instant conversation starter.”

jungkook squints at him. “so, lie?”

“not lie,” jimin corrects, “strategically mislead. big difference.”

jungkook exhales through his nose. “you are the worst person i know.”

“and yet, i’m the only person willing to help your pathetic ass,” jimin grins, stealing one of jungkook’s fries.

jungkook should be used to this by now. the teasing, the dramatic reenactments of how he supposedly looks when he freezes up around you (jimin does this thing where he goes stiff as a board and stares blankly into space—it’s completely inaccurate, by the way). but today, it gets under his skin more than usual. maybe because he knows he’s been avoiding this for way too long.

“whatever,” jungkook grumbles, shoving jimin’s hand away from his tray. “it’s not like i have time for dating, anyway.”

jimin rolls his eyes so hard his whole body moves with it. “oh my god, it’s not about dating. just be normal for once. be her friend. say more than two words to her that aren’t ‘thanks’ or ‘sorry’ when you accidentally bump into her in the hallway.”

jungkook hates how easily jimin reads him. it’s not like he hasn’t considered all of this before. but the thing is—he’s not good at the whole “normal” thing. he doesn’t know how to balance both sides of his life, how to let himself want something outside of the web-slinging and late-night bruises.

because what if he lets you in, and you see everything? what if you see the real him, and you don’t like what’s underneath?

“just think about it,” jimin says, shoving back from the table and tossing his empty tray onto the pile near the trash. “but not too hard. your brain might overheat.”

“ha ha,” jungkook deadpans.

but later, when he’s walking home with his hands stuffed in his pockets, he thinks about it. he thinks about it way too hard.

today is the day. jungkook is going to do it. he’s going to walk up to you, give you his biggest award-winning smile, and he’s going to ask if you want to study together.

he’s going to do it. he’s going to do it.

he’s not going to do it.

because now you’re here—actually here, walking straight toward him, completely unaware that he’s been psyching himself up for this for the past fifteen minutes.

his heart stumbles over itself.

he keeps walking, like a normal person. normal people walk. normal people breathe. normal people don’t panic just because the girl they like is getting closer with every step.

you’re looking at your phone, scrolling absentmindedly, your brows pulling together in a way that makes jungkook wonder what you’re thinking about. your bag is slung over one shoulder, earbuds in, and you look—god, you look good. not in some over-the-top, magazine-cover way, but in the kind of way that makes his stomach feel weird and his feet feel heavier than they should.

he was not prepared for this.

his brain short-circuits. every pre-planned conversation starter he practiced disappears into the void. his feet slow down before he can stop them.

he’s close enough now that he could just say something. one word. one syllable. literally anything.

you look up, and jungkook stops breathing.

and then, like the complete disaster he is, he stops walking altogether.

which is unfortunate, because you don’t.

he realizes his mistake half a second too late, just as you get close enough that you nearly crash into him. nearly, because at the last second, you sidestep smoothly, like it’s no big deal, like you totally meant to almost collide with him just to keep things interesting.

and then you smile.

“oh! hey, jungkook!”

your voice is bright, cheery, like this is just another normal interaction between two normal classmates, not the catastrophic event jungkook’s body is currently treating it as.

his brain goes static. you said his name. you’re smiling at him. did you always smile at him like that? did the hallway lights always make you look this—

“you okay?” you ask, tilting your head. “you kinda just froze.”

jungkook blinks. words. say words.

“i—uh.”

good start. solid foundation.

you don’t seem fazed by his awkwardness. instead, you just grin and shift your bag higher on your shoulder. “what’s up? where are you headed?”

this is it. this is his chance. the perfect opportunity to say something cool, something casual, something that doesn’t make him sound like he’s barely holding it together.

jungkook swallows. “library.”

…right. just one word. like a total weirdo.

but somehow, you don’t seem to notice, nodding along like that was a perfectly normal response. “same! i have a psych paper due, but i was procrastinating, so now i have to power through. you too?”

jungkook should say something. something about school, or studying, or—oh, right, the reason he even stopped you in the first place.

ask her to study. ask her to study.

his mouth opens. what comes out instead is:

“you look… happy.”

he immediately wants to throw himself into the sun.

you laugh. a surprised, airy sound that makes jungkook’s chest feel tight. “thanks? i try.”

he nods. good. cool. nailed it.

(jimin is going to clown him so hard for this.)

you shift your weight, still standing in front of him and obviously waiting for him to contribute something meaningful to this conversation. as if he’s capable of that right now.

“so,” you continue, oblivious to the fact that jungkook’s brain is actively short-circuiting, “are you studying for midterms, too? or just, like, catching up?”

this. this is his moment.

just say it, he tells himself. it’s so easy. just ask if she wants to study together. worst-case scenario, she says no, and you move on, and you never speak again, and you have to drop out of school and move to a remote island where no one knows your shame—

“yeah,” he blurts out. not an answer to your question, exactly, but something.

your smile doesn’t waver. “cool, cool.” then, as if the universe is giving him the easiest possible setup: “wanna study together?”

jungkook’s entire soul leaves his body.

because—what? what?? that was supposed to be his line. that was the whole plan. but now you’re standing there, looking at him expectantly, like this is a totally casual, no-big-deal offer.

he should say yes.

he should absolutely say yes.

“uh.”

your head tilts. “you don’t have to,” you add quickly, as if you think he’s the one who might not want your company. “i just figured, y’know, since we’re both headed there anyway…”

this is so much worse. now you’re giving him an out, and if he hesitates any longer, he’s going to look like an idiot. more than he already does.

“yeah,” he says, a little too fast. “i mean, yeah. let’s—uh. let’s do that.”

you beam, like this is the best news you’ve heard all day. “awesome! let’s go.”

then you turn and start walking, fully expecting him to follow.

and jungkook? jungkook thinks he might actually die.

not from a supervillain attack, not from getting thrown off a building—no, it’s worse than that. he’s dying because you just asked him to study, and now he has to actually go through with it.

he forces his feet to move, catching up to your side even though his entire body feels like it’s running on autopilot. this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. he was supposed to be the one taking the initiative, proving to himself (and to jimin, unfortunately) that he could be normal about this.

instead, he’s trailing after you like a lost puppy, barely keeping up with the conversation.

“so,” you say, tucking your phone into your bag, “what class are you studying for?”

jungkook opens his mouth, then immediately panics because he didn’t think this far ahead. he is studying, technically, but he didn’t have a specific subject in mind. his only plan was talk to you and try not to embarrass himself.

which—so far? not going great.

“uh, chemistry,” he says, because that seems like a safe bet.

you hum in acknowledgment. “oof, rough. you started on that assignment yet?”

“yeah,” jungkook lies, because sure. why not.

you wince sympathetically. “brutal. hope you’re not failing as bad as i am.”

jungkook lets out a weak laugh. hope you’re not failing. if only you knew the things he actually had to juggle on top of school. but no big deal—he can totally pretend to be a normal college student for a couple of hours.

the library comes into view, and suddenly, it hits him—he’s about to spend an actual study session with you. at the same table. breathing the same air.

“you good?” you ask, shooting him a curious glance.

jungkook clears his throat. “yeah. just—uh. mentally preparing.”

you snort. “for studying?”

“yeah.”

you shake your head, laughing. “you’re a little weird, huh?”

jungkook nearly chokes.

but you don’t say it in a bad way. you’re smiling as you say it, like you find it endearing. like it doesn’t make you want to walk away. jungkook has no idea what to do with that.

his brain is still buffering by the time you step through the library doors, pushing them open with ease. this is just another regular day for you, like you didn’t just tell him—straight to his face—that you think he’s weird.

and that you don’t seem to mind.

he follows in a daze, letting the cool, quiet atmosphere of the library settle around him. there are plenty of empty tables scattered throughout the study area, but you don’t hesitate, making a beeline for a spot near the windows. sunlight spills over the wooden surface, and you plop your bag down, evidently having claimed this space a hundred times before.

“this seat good?” you ask, pulling out a chair.

jungkook nods dumbly. “yeah. good.”

(why does he sound like he just learned how to talk?)

you don’t seem to notice his internal struggle. instead, you pull out your laptop, sliding into the chair with the kind of ease that makes him jealous. how are you so normal about this? why does it feel like this is just a casual, no-pressure situation for you, while jungkook is actively fighting for his life?

he sits down, trying to regain control over his body. trying to focus on literally anything other than the fact that he can smell the faint scent of your shampoo from here.

(focus, he tells himself. be normal.)

you glance at him as you open your laptop. “do you need to charge anything?”

jungkook blinks. “huh?”

you gesture toward the outlet beside the table. “your laptop? phone? charger?”

right. yes. because normal people bring chargers to study sessions. normal people actually bring their school stuff.

slowly, with the painful realization that he is so unprepared for this, jungkook unzips his backpack and stares into the absolute void of nothingness inside.

no laptop. no charger. no notebook.

just… snacks. and, for some reason, an extra pair of gloves. his stomach sinks.

you peer over curiously. “uh—did you forget your stuff?”

(lie. lie, you absolute idiot.)

“yeah,” jungkook says, forcing a laugh that does not sound normal. “guess i left it at home.”

you blink at him. then, without missing a beat, you shrug. “that’s fine! we can just share.”

his brain nearly explodes. “what?”

you gesture toward your laptop. “i mean, if you’re studying chemistry, i have my notes from last semester. we can go over them together?”

together.

as in, sitting close. looking at the same screen. existing in the same breathing space.

jungkook swallows. he is not ready for this.

but somehow, he forces his legs to move, pulling his chair closer so he can see your laptop screen. the metal legs scrape lightly against the floor, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet library, but you don’t seem to care.

you rest your elbows on the table as your laptop boots up, fingers tapping absently against the keys. “so, chemistry,” you say, glancing at him with a playful smirk. “you’re totally failing, huh?”

jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels. “i mean. define failing.”

“oh my god.” you laugh, shaking your head. “yeah, okay, you definitely need this.”

your screen flashes on, illuminating your face as you navigate to your files. but jungkook isn’t looking at your notes.

because just before you click away, his eyes catch something else.

an open tab. a news article.

Spider-Man: Hero or Menace? City Officials Weigh In.

his heart jumps straight into his throat.

he doesn’t mean to react—doesn’t mean to tense up, doesn’t mean for his fingers to curl against his jeans—but it happens before he can stop it.

you don’t notice right away, too busy sorting through your documents. “i think i have an old study guide in here somewhere,” you mumble, scrolling. “oh! do you wanna—”

then you pause. jungkook can feel the exact second you realize where his attention is. you glance at the screen, then back at him.

“oh,” you say, blinking. “you’re a spider-man fan?”

he should lie.

he should lie, laugh it off, make some offhand comment about how everyone is at least a little curious about the city’s masked vigilante.

but his throat feels tight, and his brain is still processing the fact that you—of all people—were reading about him.

his hesitation must look weird because you tilt your head, smiling lightly. “i mean, i don’t blame you. he’s kind of cool, right?”

(kind of cool.)

jungkook swallows. “uh. yeah. i guess.”

you glance at the article again, then back at him. “i was just skimming,” you say, feeling the need to explain yourself. “some people in class were talking about him, and i realized that i don’t actually know much about him, so—” you gesture vaguely at the screen, “—research?”

jungkook’s head is spinning. “research,” he echoes.

you nod, chin resting in your palm. “it’s kinda crazy, though. no one even knows who he is.”

he forces himself to breathe. to relax. to be normal.

“yeah,” he says, voice even. “crazy.”

you huff out a laugh. “what do you think? hero or menace?”

jungkook blinks. “what?”

you nod toward the article, eyes bright with curiosity. “the headline. do you think he’s a good guy? or is he, like, actually sketchy?”

he should say something neutral. something vague. something that won’t give him away.

but for some reason, looking at you—sitting there, genuinely wondering, genuinely curious—he can’t stop himself from asking:

“what do you think?”

you blink, surprised by the question. but you consider it, eyes flicking back to the screen as you chew on your bottom lip.

then, finally, “...i think he’s just trying his best.”

jungkook’s stomach flips.

you shrug, scrolling absently through the article. “i mean, yeah, the whole vigilante thing is kinda illegal, but—” you pause, then shake your head, like you’re struggling to find the right words. “i don’t think he’d do all this if he didn’t care, y’know? like, he doesn’t have to help people. but he does anyway.”

you turn back to jungkook, smiling softly. “so yeah. i think he’s a good guy.”

jungkook is silent.

because suddenly, sitting here, right next to you and hearing you say that, he’s pretty sure you just turned him into an even bigger mess than he already was.

jungkook doesn’t know what to say. he just sits there, staring at you, heartbeat in his ears, hands curled into fists beneath the table.

he’s just trying his best.

he swallows hard. you have no idea.

but you don’t seem to notice his internal crisis, already clicking away from the article, pulling up your notes like this conversation didn’t just make his brain short-circuit.

“okay, so, chemistry,” you announce, stretching your arms over your head before settling in. “i have, like, three different study guides, so take your pick.”

jungkook is still trying to remember how to function as a person.

he clears his throat, shifting in his seat, eyes flicking away from you as if that will help him not think about what you just said. “uh. yeah. sure.”

you hum, scrolling through your files. “oh, also—before i forget.”

he glances up. “huh?”

you flash him a grin. “you should totally tell me your opinion on spider-man sometime.”

jungkook chokes.

he should’ve seen that coming.

his reaction is immediate—too immediate, too obvious, and you blink at him like you weren’t expecting that much of a response.

he forces himself to play it off, coughing into his fist. “uh—why?”

you tilt your head, amused. “you just seemed interested, that’s all.”

interested? yeah, that’s one way to put it.

you shrug, tapping at your keyboard. “not now, though. we’re totally studying. no distractions.”

(no distractions. funny.)

jungkook nods, gripping his pencil a little too tightly. “right. studying.”

but as you start explaining your notes, flipping through equations and diagrams, jungkook isn’t paying attention, because all he can think about is the way you looked when you said it. like it was obvious. like you didn’t even have to think twice.

"i think he’s a good guy."

yeah.

he’s so not ready for this.

the next time jungkook sees you, he’s in the suit.

he doesn’t expect to find you all the way across town, so far from campus—especially not here, where the streets are rough and the people are meaner. and he definitely doesn’t expect to see you sprinting full-speed down the sidewalk.

his stomach drops. and then he sees why.

before he can think, before he can second-guess, his body moves on instinct.

jungkook swings down without hesitation, landing hard on the pavement just a few feet ahead of you. the second you see him, you skid to a stop, sneakers screeching against the concrete.

“whoa—” you breathe, wide-eyed, chest rising and falling from the sprint.

but jungkook isn’t looking at you. his focus is already behind you, on the two men barreling toward you from the other end of the street.

his web shoots out before they can get any closer, yanking the first guy clean off his feet and sending him crashing into a lamppost. the second guy isn’t any smarter—he reaches for something in his jacket, but jungkook is faster, spinning and kicking the guy square in the chest before he even has a chance to react.

it’s over in seconds. too easy.

but the part jungkook wasn’t prepared for—the part making his heart pound harder than the fight itself—is you.

because when he finally turns back around, you’re still standing there, staring at him like you’ve just seen a ghost.

he swallows. he should leave. he should web them up, say something cool, and leave.

instead, he says, “you good?”

you blink at him. your breathing is still uneven, adrenaline still high, but... you smile.

“yeah,” you say, nodding. “that was… really cool.”

jungkook has been shot at before. he has been punched through windows, thrown into walls, nearly crushed by collapsing buildings. but somehow, this—you, standing there, grinning at him, eyes bright—is what almost knocks him on his ass.

he clears his throat, trying to regain control of his entire existence. “uh. yeah. just—y’know. doing my job.”

you huff a laugh. “well, thanks for that.”

(you’re thanking him. you’re actually thanking him.)

jungkook knows he should leave. he knows this.

but instead, his eyes flick to your bag, then back up to your face.

“what are you even doing here?” he blurts.

you blink, surprised by the question. “uh. getting very nearly robbed, apparently.”

jungkook exhales sharply. great. real smooth.

you shake your head, adjusting your strap. “i was just picking something up for my friend. obviously didn’t think that one through.”

jungkook doesn’t say anything, just clenches his fists at the thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t been here. if he hadn’t been on this side of town tonight.

“seriously, though,” you continue, tilting your head at him. “you okay?”

jungkook freezes. “what?”

“you just… looked kinda tense for a second.”

his brain short-circuits. because what kind of person almost gets mugged and then asks if their rescuer is okay?

he shakes his head, stepping back, forcing himself to get it together. “yeah. i’m good.”

you don’t look convinced. but you nod anyway, shifting on your feet.

“…guess this is where you do the whole mysterious-hero thing and disappear, huh?” you joke lightly.

jungkook should, he needs to. but he hesitates. because for the first time, standing here, watching you look at him like this, he wonders. if he took off the mask right now...

would you still look at him the same way?

jungkook needs to leave. he should web up the guys groaning on the pavement, throw out a quick “stay safe,” and disappear into the night like he always does.

but he doesn’t.

because you’re still looking at him. really looking at him. and for some reason, that makes it impossible to move.

he swallows, gripping his fingers into fists at his sides. don’t be stupid. don’t linger. don’t let yourself wonder. his fingers twitch and he almost—almost—reaches up.

but then you sigh, shaking your head with a small, amused smile. “well, thanks again, spider-man,” you say, rocking back on your heels. “i should probably get going before more weirdos show up.”

just like that, the moment shatters.

jungkook blinks, the weight of reality crashing back in.

right. spider-man.

not jungkook. not a guy who shares your chemistry class, who has spent so much time psyching himself up just to talk to you like a normal person.

just a masked stranger you’ll forget about by morning.

he exhales, finally forcing himself to take a step back. “yeah,” he mutters. “probably a good idea.”

you nod, gripping the strap of your bag. “guess i’ll see you around?”

jungkook hesitates. he shouldn’t answer that. he shouldn’t make promises. but then—because he’s apparently the biggest idiot alive—he hears himself say,

“yeah.”

your lips twitch, eyes flicking over him one last time. and then, without another word, you turn and walk away.

jungkook watches you go, his chest tight, his heart pounding like he just walked out of a fight.

and that—the way he feels right now, standing frozen in the middle of the street, watching you disappear around the corner—is more terrifying than anything he’s ever faced.

after that first time, jungkook just keeps running into you.

you’ve been caught up in a gas station robbery. your train got derailed. been a victim in three separate mugging attempts.

either you’re trying to manifest him showing up, or you might actually be the unluckiest person jungkook has ever met.

and the worst part is you don’t even seem bothered.

the first couple of times, sure—you were a little shaken up, a little breathless, wide-eyed and gripping your bag like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. but by the fourth time he drops out of the sky to save you, you barely even flinch.

“oh,” you say, blinking up at him as he lands in front of you, cutting off yet another guy who thought it would be a great idea to corner you in an alley. “you again.”

jungkook stares. you again?

he webs the guy’s wrist before he can bolt, yanking him forward just enough to knock him out cold with one clean punch. then, once the guy is down and sufficiently tied up, he turns back to you. arms crossed. head tilted.

“...okay,” he says slowly. “you have got to be doing this on purpose.”

you snort, shaking your head as you adjust your bag strap. “oh, totally. i go wandering through crime-infested areas just hoping you’ll show up.”

he points at you. “see? that’s exactly what someone who’s doing this on purpose would say.”

you just roll your eyes, amused. “do you think i want to be constantly in danger?”

jungkook narrows his eyes. “...i don’t know. do you?”

you laugh, and something about the sound makes his stomach do something weird and annoying. “trust me, spider-man,” you say, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. “if i had it my way, you and i would never be seeing each other again.”

for some reason, that makes his chest tighten. he should let it go. he should web this guy to a fire escape for the cops to find and leave. but instead, he hears himself saying, “what were you doing here, anyway?”

you blink. “going home?”

“through an alley?”

“it’s a shortcut.”

jungkook throws up his hands. “it’s also where people get mugged!”

you squint at him like he’s being dramatic. “not all the time.”

jungkook lets out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “oh my god.”

you snicker. “relax. i’ll take the long way next time, okay?”

he doesn’t believe you. not even a little bit. but he can’t exactly force you to change your entire route home.

he exhales, shaking his head. “if you say so.”

you smirk, tilting your head. “aww, do you worry about me, spider-man?”

jungkook nearly chokes. “what— no. no, i—” he shakes his head aggressively, backing up like that will help him recover. “i worry about the crime rate.”

you nod, way too entertained. “right. of course.”

he glares. “i do.”

“sure, sure.”

he groans, already regretting everything about this conversation.

and then—because he really needs to get out of here before he embarrasses himself any further—he steps back, flexing his fingers before shooting out a web.

but just before he swings away, he hears you call out:

“see you next time, spider-man.”

he freezes. that almost sounded like a promise.

“dude.”

jungkook sighs. “no.”

“dude.”

“jimin, no.”

“duuuude.” jimin is vibrating in his seat, practically buzzing with excitement as he leans across the cafeteria table. “you know what this means, right?”

jungkook takes an aggressive bite of his sandwich, staring him down. “that i have terrible luck?”

jimin gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like jungkook just personally offended him. “terrible luck? bro, are you hearing yourself? this isn’t bad luck—this is literally fate.”

jungkook makes a face. “it’s really not.”

“okay, so let’s go over this one more time,” jimin says, ignoring him entirely. he starts ticking off on his fingers. “you meet this girl in class. you like her. but you’re too much of a coward to do anything about it—”

jungkook glares. “thanks.”

“—and then, suddenly, the universe just keeps throwing her in your path. over and over and over again. and not just in normal, everyday ways—no, no, no. she gets into highly dangerous situations that just so happen to require your heroic intervention.”

he wiggles his fingers dramatically. “it’s like magic.”

jungkook takes another bite, chewing slowly. “or, and hear me out—maybe she just has bad luck.”

“bad luck doesn’t land you in the same masked superhero’s path five different times,” jimin says, slapping his hand on the table. “this is literally the plot of, like, half the romcoms i’ve ever seen.”

jungkook groans, dropping his head onto the table.

“you’re actually insane,” he mumbles into his arms.

“insanely right,” jimin corrects, grinning.

jungkook lifts his head just enough to squint at him. “you’re telling me that if you got randomly mugged three times in the span of a month, you’d consider it romantic?”

jimin shrugs. “depends on who’s saving me.”

jungkook groans again, slumping further into the table.

jimin, unbothered, just leans in closer. “look, bro, all i’m saying is—you clearly have some cosmic connection to this girl. so use it.”

“use it?” jungkook repeats, deadpan.

“yes. as in, maybe instead of waiting for her next near-death experience, you actually talk to her for real.”

jungkook scowls. “i have talked to her.”

jimin makes a face. “you’ve talked to her as spider-man. that doesn’t count.”

jungkook hesitates.

because… yeah. he has technically talked to you. but barely as himself. hardly without the mask.

and the worst part? he kind of likes it that way. because spider-man isn’t awkward. spider-man doesn’t trip over his words, or overthink every interaction, or panic every time you smile at him.

spider-man is confident. quick. easy.

but jungkook? jungkook is an absolute mess.

he presses his lips together, staring down at what’s left of his sandwich.

jimin watches him, expression shifting slightly. “look,” he says, voice a little softer now. “you don’t have to do anything. but… don’t you think it’s a little crazy that she keeps showing up in your life like this?”

jungkook doesn’t answer. because yeah, it is crazy.

but what’s even crazier is the way he already knows this isn’t the last time it’ll happen.

jimin squints at him. “wait, hold on.”

jungkook braces himself, because he knows that look. that’s the i’m about to make your life hell look.

“didn’t you guys, like… study together once?” jimin asks, tilting his head.

jungkook shifts uncomfortably. “uh. yeah.”

jimin slaps the table. “exactly. so that means you already had an in.”

jungkook sighs, rubbing his temple. “what’s your point?”

“my point is,” jimin says, voice heavy with dramatic exasperation, “you had a perfectly normal, non-life-threatening interaction with her before all of this. meaning, you had every opportunity to follow up—y’know, send a text, sit next to her in class, act like a human being.”

jungkook stares at his sandwich, avoiding eye contact.

jimin’s grin sharpens. “...so?”

jungkook exhales, slumping back in his seat. “i, uh… didn’t actually talk to her again,” he mutters.

jimin blinks. “after studying?”

jungkook nods, already regretting admitting anything.

jimin’s jaw drops. “not once?”

jungkook shrugs helplessly. “i was gonna, but then—”

jimin points an accusatory finger at him. “but then you saved her as spider-man and decided that totally counted as interacting with her, didn’t you?”

jungkook opens his mouth. closes it. scratches the back of his neck.

jimin gasps. “oh my god,” he says, full-body flopping back in his chair. “you absolute loser.”

jungkook groans. “i know.”

“no, you don’t know, because if you did know, you would have done something about it.”

jungkook buries his face in his hands.

“i tried, okay? but it’s—” he groans, dragging his hands down his face, “—it’s just easier this way.”

jimin levels him with the flattest look imaginable. “easier?” he repeats. “easier how?”

jungkook hesitates. because if he says it out loud, then it’s real. but jimin is staring at him, waiting, and—well.

he’s already lost his dignity at this point.

“…spider-man is cool,” jungkook mutters finally, eyes glued to the table. “spider-man doesn’t get nervous, or embarrass himself, or say dumb shit and then want to throw himself off a building.”

jimin snorts. “oh, buddy. that’s cute. you think you haven’t embarrassed yourself?”

jungkook glares. “shut up.”

jimin is grinning now, full and unrestrained. “bro. do you realize how weird you probably sound to her? imagine getting rescued by the same guy five times in a row and every time he acts progressively more awkward about it.”

jungkook groans. “i hate you.”

“no you don’t,” jimin says, smug.

jungkook drops his head onto the table again. because, unfortunately, he’s right.

jungkook groans into the table. “okay. fine. let’s say you’re right—”

“i am right.”

“—and i have been weird about it—”

“super weird.”

jungkook lifts his head just enough to glare. “jimin.”

jimin grins, unrepentant. “continue.”

jungkook exhales sharply, scrubbing a hand down his face. “whatever. what am i even supposed to do now? just waltz up to her in class and pretend i haven’t been awkwardly saving her from disaster every other week?”

jimin shrugs. “yeah.”

jungkook stares. “you cannot be serious.”

“why not?” jimin says, stealing a fry off jungkook’s plate. “you already know she’s cool. she doesn’t freak out around you, she doesn’t think spider-man’s a menace, and she definitely isn’t scared of you—”

jungkook scoffs. “yeah, because she doesn’t know it’s me.”

jimin points at him with the stolen fry. “exactly! you have nothing to lose!”

jungkook squints. “that’s not how that works.”

jimin waves him off. “look, bro. i love you. i do. but you overthink literally everything.”

jungkook frowns. “i do not.”

jimin gives him a look so flat it could be legally classified as a murder weapon.

jungkook shifts. “…okay, sometimes.”

jimin nods approvingly. “glad we’re on the same page.” he shoves the fry into his mouth before pointing at jungkook again. “so, let’s think about this logically.”

jungkook groans. “oh, now we’re thinking logically?”

jimin ignores him. “you already know she likes talking to spider-man. you’ve literally heard her say she thinks he’s a good guy. and you also know she was cool with studying with you before you started avoiding her like a total dumbass.”

jungkook winces. “ouch.”

jimin grins. “so, what does that tell us?”

jungkook crosses his arms, scowling. “that i’m a dumbass?”

“correct. but more importantly,” jimin leans forward, voice going annoyingly dramatic, “it means you’re already in.”

jungkook blinks. “what?”

jimin gestures vaguely. “she already likes you. not just spider-man, but you-you. maybe she doesn’t have a crush or anything—”

jungkook’s face burns at the mere mention of the possibility. “dude—”

“—but at the very least, she doesn’t hate you,” jimin finishes, undeterred. “so, all you have to do is act normal for once in your life, and maybe you can stop making things harder than they need to be.”

jungkook stares at him.

jimin stares back.

“…that’s it?” jungkook asks, skeptical.

jimin shrugs. “that’s it.”

jungkook exhales.

because—okay. it does make sense. maybe he is overcomplicating things, like he always does. maybe he really is just making his life ten times harder for no reason.

but then he thinks about actually doing it. about sitting down next to you again, about saying hey like it’s nothing, like he hasn’t been a complete coward for weeks.

and suddenly, he’s panicking all over again.

“…okay,” he mutters. “sure. i’ll talk to her.”

jimin beams. “hell yeah.”

“eventually.”

jimin’s smile drops. “no.”

“yes.”

“jungkook—”

jungkook shoves the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and stands up. “gotta go, bye.”

“jungkook, don’t you dare walk away from me—”

but jungkook is already halfway across the cafeteria, ignoring the way jimin’s voice follows him, loud and accusing.

because, yeah.

maybe he’ll talk to you.

but eventually sounds a hell of a lot safer than right now.

it turns out you end up talking to him first.

jungkook barely has time to process the end of the lecture before you’re suddenly there, standing next to his desk, shifting on your feet like you’re nervous about something.

which is weird.

because you’re never nervous. not when you were nearly mugged, not when a guy pulled a knife on you, not when you looked spider-man in the eye and grinned at him like it was just another tuesday.

but now, standing here, looking at him?

you’re fidgeting.

and jungkook’s brain immediately starts malfunctioning.

“hey,” you say, voice a little softer than usual.

jungkook stares.

then, realizing that yes, this is real, he forces himself to swallow the dumb why are you talking to me that nearly slips out.

“uh. hey,” he says instead.

you shift your bag higher on your shoulder. “so, um.” you clear your throat, glancing around the emptying lecture hall. “this might be kind of random, but… do you, uh. know anyone who tutors?”

jungkook blinks. “tutors?”

you nod, still looking strangely hesitant. “yeah. for chemistry.”

chemistry.

the subject he lied about needing help with.

jungkook can feel the irony punching him directly in the face.

but beyond that, beyond the fact that he is absolutely not qualified to help you with this, there’s something else creeping into his mind.

the fact that you came to him.

out of everyone in this class—hell, out of everyone on campus—you chose to ask him.

his stomach flips.

it has to be fate, right? this is too much of a coincidence. after all the near-misses, after all the nights he spent convincing himself to just talk to you already—you end up coming to him first?

it doesn’t feel real.

but you’re still standing there, watching him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

jungkook swallows. “uh. yeah. i mean, i—” he clears his throat, scrambling to make his voice sound normal. “i can ask around.”

your shoulders drop a little, like you were bracing for rejection. “oh. cool. yeah, that would be great.”

you pause, glancing at him, hesitant. “and, um… if you hear of anyone good, could you maybe… let me know?”

jungkook nods so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash. “yeah. of course.”

your lips curve into a soft smile. “thanks, jungkook.”

his breath stutters.

(oh, he is so screwed.)

and then, just like that, you wave and disappear out the door, leaving him sitting there in the empty lecture hall, gripping his desk like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

he doesn’t move for a solid minute.

his heart is still hammering, his brain is still catching up, and all he can think is jimin is going to have a field day with this.

and jimin fucking does.

“you’re actually kidding me.”

jimin is staring at jungkook like he just confessed to being an alien.

they’re in jungkook’s apartment, controllers in hand, some game running on the screen—but jimin has completely forgotten about it, pausing mid-match to turn and gawk at him.

jungkook, on the other hand, is doing his best to act normal. which is hard, considering his entire life has just been flipped upside down.

“i’m not kidding,” jungkook mutters, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. “it happened.”

jimin lets out a loud, incredulous laugh, tossing his controller onto the couch. “so let me get this straight. you—who have been avoiding this girl like she’s an actual fire hazard—you were literally just sitting there, minding your own business, and she just walks up to you? and asks for a tutor??”

jungkook grits his teeth. “yes.”

jimin cackles, grabbing a pillow and whacking him over the head with it.

“bro, fate is spoon-feeding you a love story and you’re just sitting there like a fucking brick!”

jungkook groans, shoving the pillow away. “okay, first of all, relax. it’s not a love story.”

jimin scoffs. “it could be.”

“it’s not.”

“it could be.”

jungkook sighs aggressively, running a hand down his face.

jimin flops dramatically against the couch, shaking his head. “so? what did you say?”

“i said i’d ask around.”

jimin blinks. “you said you’d—” he stops, eyes narrowing. “...ask around.”

jungkook shifts. “…yes?”

silence.

“you idiot!” jimin yells, smacking his arm.

“ow!” jungkook jerks away, scowling. “what? what was i supposed to say?”

“literally that you could tutor her yourself!”

jungkook’s stomach flips. “i can’t tutor her, dumbass, i'm barely passing chemistry myself.”

jimin throws up his hands. “bro, she doesn’t know that! just pretend!”

“pretend?”

“yes! look up some notes, re-learn a few things, do what you need to do!”

jungkook shakes his head aggressively. “no way. i am not tutoring her when i don’t know shit.”

jimin levels him with a deadpan stare. “so instead, you’re just gonna, what? let her go find some other guy to tutor her?”

jungkook freezes.

jimin grins. “ah.”

jungkook clenches his jaw. “fuck you.”

“no, no, let’s think about this,” jimin continues, voice full of fake contemplation. “some dude, sitting real close, explaining things all smart and helpful. maybe he’s got nice hands. maybe he’s charming. maybe he’s better at chemistry than you—”

jungkook throws a pillow at his face.

jimin laughs as he catches it. “so? what’s the move, lover boy?”

jungkook scowls, but deep down, he already knows.

he sighs, letting his head fall back against the couch.

“…i’m gonna have to tutor her, aren’t i?”

jimin claps a hand on his shoulder, shaking him with excitement.

“yes, you absolutely are.”

jungkook hasn’t seen you in days.

which is weird, because ever since this whole thing started, you’ve been everywhere. in class, in study sessions, in the middle of very questionable situations that require his immediate intervention.

but now, you’ve just vanished.

he’s checked the usual places. your usual seat in lecture, the library, even the coffee shop on the corner where he thinks he saw you once. nothing. no sign of you anywhere.

he doesn’t know why it bothers him so much.

(yes, he does.)

but he pushes it out of his mind. or at least, he tries.

because right now, he’s got other things to focus on—like swinging through the city at just the right angle to catch the breeze, flipping effortlessly between buildings, scanning the streets for trouble.

except there is no trouble. not tonight. it’s weird. quiet. almost peaceful.

and then he sees you.

not running. not being chased. not clutching your bag like your life depends on it.

just… standing there.

paintbrush in hand, clothes speckled with color, entirely focused on the massive mural in front of you.

jungkook nearly crashes into a building.

he just barely manages to recover, swinging onto a rooftop ledge, crouching down to watch from a safe distance.

because what the hell?

you’re supposed to be in a classroom. or getting into some ridiculous situation that requires his immediate assistance. not this. not standing in the middle of an empty lot, surrounded by paint cans, filling an entire wall with streaks of blue and gold.

you look… calm.

you step back, tilting your head at your work, lips pursed in thought. then, with a small nod, you dip your brush into another color and go right back to it.

jungkook stares.

because somehow, in all this time, in all the chaotic ways he’s seen you before—he’s never seen you like this.

focused. steady. completely lost in something you love.

he exhales, watching the way the city lights catch in your hair, the way your brows pinch slightly when you concentrate.

for once, he doesn’t have to worry about saving you. for once, he just gets to watch. before he can help himself, jungkook is swinging down.

it’s instinct, like muscle memory. one second, he’s crouched on the ledge, watching from a safe distance, and the next, he’s mid-air, descending toward you before his brain can even catch up.

he lands a few feet away, boots hitting the pavement with a soft thud.

you don’t even flinch.

just glance over your shoulder, brush still poised against the wall, and say “hey, spider-man.”

no startled jump, no wide-eyed what the fuck?, no immediate questioning of why a masked vigilante just casually dropped into your art session. just… hey, spider-man, like you expected him to show up.

his brain malfunctions. “uh.”

you smirk, finally lowering your brush. “you always this quiet?”

jungkook clears his throat, scrambling to pull himself together. “uh—no, just… wasn’t expecting you to be so—” he gestures vaguely, “—chill about this.”

you tilt your head. “should i not be?”

“i mean, most people don’t just greet me like i’m their next-door neighbor.”

you hum, considering. “well, most people don’t run into you five times in a row, either.”

jungkook exhales sharply. “true.”

you grin, then turn back to your mural, wiping your hands against your paint-stained hoodie. “so,” you say, glancing at him. “what brings you here? crime’s looking pretty low tonight.”

crime is low. there was literally no reason for him to come down here. he just saw you. and… well.

you smile knowingly, like you can see the wheels turning in his head. “you were watching me, weren’t you?”

jungkook chokes.

“what— no. no, i—” he shakes his head aggressively, backing up like that will help him recover. “i was patrolling.”

you arch a brow. “patrolling from a rooftop directly above me?”

he groans. “oh my god.”

you laugh, bright and easy, and jungkook swears his entire world tilts for a second. “relax,” you say, dipping your brush into a new color. “it’s kind of flattering, actually.”

jungkook short-circuits. “it’s what?”

you just wink. “so, you sticking around, or was this just a quick check-in?”

jungkook should leave.

he knows that.

but then you turn back to your mural, completely at ease, completely unbothered by the fact that you’re casually talking to spider-man like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

and jungkook, against all logic, against all common sense, sits down on the curb.

“guess i’ll stick around.”

you glance over when you hear him sit, eyebrows raising slightly. but you don’t question it, don’t make it weird. just hum, like this is normal, like masked vigilantes dropping into your painting sessions is a completely regular thing.

jungkook doesn’t know what to do with that.

you dip your brush into another color, dragging long, confident strokes across the wall.

for a while, neither of you speak.

it’s… oddly comfortable.

jungkook watches, elbows resting on his knees, head tilted as he tries to figure out what you’re painting. it’s not quite clear yet, but the colors blend together in a way that makes his chest feel weirdly tight. like something about it is important.

finally, he clears his throat.

“so… what is it?”

you pause, glancing at him before looking back at the wall. “not sure yet.”

jungkook squints. “you’re not sure?”

you smirk. “it’s a process.”

he huffs a soft laugh. “so you’re just winging it?”

“more like… feeling it out,” you correct. you step back, tilting your head, eyes scanning over the patterns of color like you’re looking for something only you can see.

jungkook doesn’t know why, but that makes sense.

for a while, he doesn’t say anything else. just watches as you paint, as your hands move with purpose, as you fill the blank spaces with something real.

and then, before he can stop himself, “why do you do it?”

you pause, brush still hovering over the wall.

jungkook feels his stomach drop. “uh—you don’t have to answer that, i was just—”

“because it’s mine.”

he stops.

you’re still looking at the mural, voice calm, steady. “it’s something i can make real. something i can create, and leave behind, and know it’s mine. even if someone paints over it later.”

jungkook stares at you. he doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. just watches as you pick up where you left off. and that’s when it hits him. this is the first time he’s ever spent time with you since the library without worrying about saving you. the first time he’s seen you just be.

and it’s terrifying, because suddenly, jungkook isn’t sure what scares him more. the thought of you getting hurt again, or the thought of you never looking at him the way you look at spider-man right now.

jungkook hates this. hates the way his stomach twists every time you look at him—at spider-man—like this. open, unguarded, like you trust him. like he’s someone worth trusting. hates the way he wants you to keep looking at him like that.

because he knows this isn’t real. or at least, not fully real. not like it would be if it were him sitting here beside you, mask off, just jungkook.

(but would you even talk to him if you knew?)

he exhales slowly, pressing his palms against his knees. you don’t seem to notice his internal crisis, still completely focused on your painting, eyebrows furrowed just slightly in concentration.

“you’re staring,” you say after a moment, not looking away from the wall.

jungkook jolts. “what? no, i’m not.”

you smirk, finally glancing at him. “you totally are.”

he crosses his arms, tilting his head at you. “you want me to lie?”

“i want you to at least try to be subtle about it.”

he scoffs. “okay, and what exactly am i supposed to be staring at? the back of your head?”

“or my art.” you gesture to the mural dramatically. “y’know, the thing that’s actually interesting here.”

jungkook huffs a quiet laugh. “yeah, okay. so what’s it supposed to be now?”

you step back, surveying your work. “dunno.”

he stares. “so you still don’t know?”

you shrug. “told you. it’s a process.”

jungkook exhales, shaking his head. “yeah, well. not every process ends up making sense.”

“maybe not right away,” you say, glancing at him. “but eventually.”

eventually.

the word sticks in his head, clinging to something deeper, something he doesn’t want to think about right now. so instead, he sighs, shifting to stand. “well, don’t get mugged while you’re doing your whole process thing.”

you grin. “what, no more rooftop patrols?”

“depends,” he says, adjusting his gloves. “you planning on wandering into any more dark alleys?”

you pretend to think about it. “maybe. depends on who's gonna save me.”

jungkook groans. “i hate you.”

you just laugh, waving your brush at him in a mock salute. “see you next time, spider-man.”

jungkook’s fingers twitch. he lingers—just for a second. because for the first time, he knows something you don’t. he knows he’ll see you again. not just like this, not just as spider-man, but as himself.

because eventually isn’t good enough anymore.

[caelesjjk]

entangled - jjk&kth - part two

⟶title: entangled ⟶pairing: spidey!jungkook x fem reader, venom!taehyung x fem reader ⟶au: marvel au ⟶ rating: 18+ ⟶ genre: romance, smut, love triangle ⟶ wc: 9k ⟶ warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, more infidelity type things, reader is confused af, two smut scenes because we take what they wanna give us: unprotected sex (don’t do this tho), dirty talk, kissing, fingering, couple position switches, it’s all pretty lovey dovey ⟶ summary: Kim Taehyung is Venom. A huge, terrifying symbiote monster that’s bonded with him and made a deal for a common goal. You don’t know what you’re doing. Your feelings are mixed and frazzled and confused. But you may not have the time to sort them out just yet if you can’t keep the two people you care about most from killing each other first. ⟶ authors note: hello darklings. You’ve all waited way too long for me to get this second part together and for that I apologize. I hope this makes up for the wait. The third and final part that follows this will be a bit of a wait too while I work on another fic, but I promise it will come. Big endless shoutout to @sailoryooons for listening to me whine about this for months and for beta reading the mess that it became. Also shouts to @tea4sykes for reading before it was even done to reassure me it was flowing okay. I love you guys.

Part One (if you missed it)

playlist if you want it: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5cg79N5KQBmZ9fOCtyD3A7?si=cQlAtRT7Roat33E60rzKtQ&pi=u-lMIH9SpZSD6X

You needed to run.

Everything was happening too quickly, your head couldn’t catch up with your feet that were scrambling across the floor in every direction trying to escape the monster Taehyung had just turned into. He had you completely trapped with nowhere to go.

Not to mention you were mostly naked with only a thin sheet barely clinging around you.

“Stop! Leave me alone! Please!” You beg and scream as it cuts you off again when you make a dash for the stairs.

“No. Leaving.” Venom roars and tries to make a move towards you, but stops when you accidentally back into the record player Taehyung has sitting on his side table.

The record scratches and squeaks at a high pitch and Venom groans in pain at the sound, his clawed hands grabbing at his head as he stumbles backwards. His black, crawling skin pulls away until you catch glimpses of Taehyung beneath the monster. 

“Run. Please…run,” he begs before Venom consumes him again. But before he can get too far, you push over the record player so that it makes a constant high pitched noise and Venom screams until he falls back against the railing and goes over the edge.

You don’t wait to see anything else. 

Grabbing the ends of the sheet you dash towards the bathroom and shove the door closed behind you, looking around frantically for a way to escape. Immediately your eyes see the fire escape outside the window. 

You see some discarded clothes on the floor and immediately throw on the T-shirt and basketball shorts before using all your strength to shove open the old window that has obviously not been used in years. The old white paint cracks and splinters to the floor as you climb up onto the sill.

A loud bang suddenly sounds from outside the bathroom door. Venom must’ve stopped the record player. 

“Where are you, girl?” You hear his menacing voice travel through the door. 

Your pulse picks up again as you shove yourself the rest of the way out the window and into the pouring rain. The metal of the fire escape creaks and brings an instant chill to your already shaking body. 

Looking back, you see the bathroom door shatter with the force the monster uses to break it open. You can barely hear yourself scream as you throw your weight onto the top of the window and close it behind you. You don’t look back again as you sprint down the stairs of the fire escape, but the sound of Venom crashing through the glass makes you move faster. 

Bricks from the warehouse crunch beneath his claws and feet, causing pieces to crumble and rain down over your head. As soon as your bare feet hit the pavement, you make a mad dash past the docks and towards the main road.

The rain pelts against your face as the clouds continue to block the sun that should be starting to come up now. There is barely any light for you to see where you are going while the world is still wrapped in a navy blue hue.

You can see headlights up ahead. Cars. People. A way out.

“Not so fast.” Venom suddenly drops in front of you, making you stumble and fall to your back against the cobblestones. Your elbows scrape across the ground as you try to move away but he’s too big and too fast.

“Please…just let me go. I won’t tell anyone about you. I swear.” You press flat to the ground as Venom looms over you, his face slowly maneuvering downwards until your nose almost touches him.

“We…want to keep you. Protect you.” 

“You’re scaring me, Taehyung. How can you say you want to protect me?” The crawling, black skin of Venom’s face peels away to reveal Taehyung once more.

“You’re in the middle of something that you shouldn’t be,” Taehyung says desperately. 

“What does that even mean?” 

“_____, please stay away from Jungkook. He-” Taehyung is cut off when Venom closes the skin back over his face. “He’s here,” he growls, moving to stand over top of you.

Before you can question him again, the bright light of a laser blast shoots past you, barely skimming Venom’s shoulder and blowing chunks of the ground all over you.

When you look back up, the red and gold suit of Ironman comes flying into your view. He tries to fly between you and Venom, but the monster is too fast, back handing Ironman and sending him flying into the side of one of the buildings.

“No!” You yell, trying to get to your feet but you can’t get your footing with all the rubble surrounding you.

“Stay. Back,” Venom whips around to tell you. That distraction is enough for Ironman to come flying back, hitting Venom in the stomach with his shoulder and throwing the two of them about ten feet away.

You don’t want Jin to hurt Taehyung. Venom is the monster. Taehyung is good. He’s gentle and kind. 

Your head hurts so badly and there’s blood dripping down your newly busted lip. You don’t know what you can do but you have to do something. 

Getting to your feet as the rain continues to pour from the thundering clouds overhead, you clamber through the rubble trying to get closer to where Jin has Venom pinned against the side of a dumpster. Just as you approach, Venom hits Jin’s hand away causing the laser blast to go off and almost hit you. You felt the heat of it skim past your face.

“Get out of here, _____! Now!” Jin yells, losing his balance when Venom pushes him off into the side of another building. You fall back on your ass, hitting the wet street once again.

Venom crawls over to you slowly. The sight of it freezing you in place as the slithering skin of his face once again pulls back to reveal Taehyung.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says, bending to get closer to you. You can see Jin getting back up out of the corner of your eye.

“Run, Tae. Please just run away and hide. And don’t ever come looking for me again. They’ll kill you.” You touch his cheek and his eyes close. “Please go.”

Just as you take your hand away you hear someone from above you yell your name, your head whipping up at the familiar sound.

Venom’s face consumes Taehyung again as he steps in front of you defensively. Jungkook comes into view, swinging down from a web attached to the nearest warehouse. 

Jungkook moves so quickly you can barely register what’s happening before he’s kicking Venom hard enough to make him roar and fly across the other side of the road.

“Get her out of here, Jungkook!” Jin yells as he comes back into the fight.

“We have him where we want him! I’m not leaving!” Jungkook yells back, shooting a web at one of the big pieces of rubble and flinging it towards Venom.

It shouldn’t hurt to hear him say that.

It shouldn’t sting like a slap across the face when he doesn’t choose you again. But god, does it fucking ever.

“Now!” Jin screams the word at Jungkook, barely holding off Venom, who is scraping and clawing with all his might to get back to you.

Such an anomaly this turned out to be.

Jungkook shoots off a few more webs, catching them on one of Venom’s wrists and sticking to the ground so it’s harder for him to move. And then Jungkook is whirling around and scooping you into his arms.

You wrap your arms around his neck instinctively, looking over his shoulder to watch the fight between Jin and Venom for as long as you can before they’re just dots in the distance as Jungkook swings you back into the city.

You almost start to doze off from exhaustion when you feel the world stop moving and Jungkook standing you on your feet. You almost lose your balance at the loss of him so suddenly.

“What the fuck were you doing out there, ____?” Jungkook asks, his voice loud and full of an anger you’d never heard from him before.

“I…I was just going for a walk…” the lie falls from your mouth before you even have a chance to think about it. “I got lost…”

“How do you always do this? How are you always in the middle of some terrible shit?” Jungkook rips his mask off and throws it across your bedroom against the opposite wall before he starts to pace.

“I’m sorry…” you feel so small as you watch the anger radiate off of him.

“Sorry? You’re sorry? Do you have any idea what you’ve likely cost us tonight?” He comes into your space, backing you into your kitchen counter.

“Jungkook…” 

“Just…stay out of my way, Data.” His shoulders slump when he steps back from you and grabs his mask from the floor. Your body shakes and gives into your exhaustion, your knees hitting the floor as Jungkook bounds off your balcony.

The only light in your apartment is from the barely there sun, casting shadows of your furniture and the plants on the windowsill across the hardwood floor. It’s quiet, too quiet when there’s a busy city 10 floors down.

How could one person make you feel so loved and so alone at the same time? Were you the bad guy? You slept with Taehyung out of spite…didn’t you? That’s how it started at least…now you’re not sure how you feel.

You don’t understand Taehyung, and part of you wants to know more. Why is he allowing Venom to control him and use him? What does he get out of it? All questions you would love to ask him if he wasn’t an absolutely terrifying monster.

A monster that Jungkook could possibly be killing right now. That thought makes you nauseous immediately.

You crawl across the floor until you can press your back against the wall, pulling your knees to your chest and putting your head between them. You needed to block it all out for a moment…or several.

You don’t know how long you have been sitting there or when you fall asleep but eventually you lift your head and squint at the sun trickling in through your windows and balcony doors. A perfectly cool breeze moves your green curtains and gives you goosebumps.

When your back starts to hurt from sitting on the wood floor, you convince yourself to get up to close the door. You know you desperately need a shower as well.

As you reach the balcony door, you see Jungkook sitting on your stone railing, his head in his hands. You want to rush towards him and make sure he’s okay, but you stay put.

“How long have you been out here?” You ask quietly, hand gripping the door handle too tightly.

“A while.” Jungkook mutters, his hands coming up to his hair and pulling at the roots.

“You…you should go home, Jungkook.” You hate the sound of your own voice right now. Weak and scratchy.

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you earlier, Data.” He moves slowly, head coming up as he slides off the railing to stand.

“But you did. And I have a feeling you meant them.”

“No…I just don’t understand why we can’t catch this monster. And when I saw you there, I lost it.” He runs his hand through his mess of black waves.

“Did…did you catch him now?” You swallow thickly, not sure what answer you want to hear.

“No. Jin couldn’t hold him. He’s looking into asking Dr. Kim for help in building a trap.” He looks defeated and the guilt starts to crawl up your throat.

Dr. Kim Namjoon is a scientist that most people would know as the Hulk. He’s a brilliant mind and someone you very much look up to as far as the career path you hope to take one day. It scares you that he might get involved in capturing…or killing Taehyung.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can manage to whisper.

“Data…” He steps closer to you and you flinch a little. “Fuck…fuck I’m so sorry. You were scared and you’re…you’re fucking hurt and all I did was yell at you.” Jungkook stays where he is, but reaches out his hand towards you.

“I don’t…I can’t,” you whimper.

“It’s okay. Let me take care of you, baby. Please.” His hand stays out stretched and you know if you take it that the guilt will continue to eat away at you. That you can never tell him what you know. Because you care about Jungkook…but you care about Taehyung too, and you just hope he runs and doesn’t come back.

You take Jungkook’s hand and he gently steps towards you again until he’s close enough to cup your face in his hands, angling it in different ways to mentally take note of your injuries. He runs his thumb over the bump on your forehead and the cut on your lip that has you wincing. His lips press to your forehead when your arms finally wrap around his middle and fingers grip at his back.

“I’m just making trouble for you, JK.” Your lip trembles when you look up into his eyes, his brows scrunching in confusion.

“We knew when we started that this wasn’t going to be easy. But I…I have a responsibility, Data. And I’m doing my best to do that and keep you safe.” He swipes at your tears and lifts you onto the counter so he can stand between your thighs. “I’ll always keep you safe.”

You believe him. But at what cost? What will happen to him if he continues to worry about you instead of the danger he is so heroically protecting the city…maybe even the world from. He is your best friend and something so much more. 

Your hands slide into his hair, the damp strands sliding through your fingers in the most familiar way. Jungkook's hands stay on your cheeks as he pulls your mouth to his, swallowing the little whimpers that try to escape you.

His lips taste like his favorite minty chapstick and the cinnamon gum he had probably chewed on his way back to your apartment. He always chews it when he needs to think more clearly.

“You have every right to be angry with me,” you whisper between sweet pecks to your lips.

“Angry…maybe. But cruel? No. You mean more to me than that.” His mouth finds your jaw while his hands gently hold your shoulders. “How about a bath?”

Could you really be deserving of these moments with Jungkook when you were enjoying being face down on Taehyung’s bed just a day ago?

Fuck. You were so fucking selfish.

You nod your head ‘yes’, not trusting your voice when guilt is rising up your throat.

Jungkook picks you up from the counter, your arms around his neck and legs around his hips as he carries you towards your tiny apartment bathroom. Stopping once or twice to press your back against the wall and slip his tongue into your mouth. A tongue that you gladly suck between your teeth until he moans your name.

“Get these off.” Jungkook shoves into your bathroom, the space almost too small for you and his broad body. He makes quick but gentle work of your dirt and blood stained clothes, kicking them into the corner of the bathroom.

You help him slide the sleeves of his blue and red suit down his arms, slowly revealing all the beautiful ink tattooed into the skin of his right arm. Your hands follow the dips of muscle of his torso as more skin is revealed from beneath his suit.

After he’s naked and you’ve thoroughly touched as much of his bare body as you can, you slide your ass up onto your tiny marble vanity and open your legs for him to stand between. Jungkook stands back a moment, his eyes roaming and settling between your legs.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? You went through a lot tonight…” You don’t let him finish his sentence, wrapping your fingers around his semi-hard cock so you can stroke him.

“Let’s talk later. Right now I just need to feel you inside me. Remind me why I’m yours…please.” You could feel traitorous tears try to well in your eyes and Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion for a moment.

“Data…” He puts his hand over yours to stop your strokes.

“No. Please…I need you.” You meet his eyes and it only takes him a moment to tighten his hand on yours and help you move your fist up and down his cock again.

Jungkooks head rolls forward, a deep grumble in his chest sending shivers up your spine. He steps closer so his hips can widen your thighs and you can guide his cock to your entrance. You’re so wet that he easily pushes into you, your back arching off the vanity mirror at the stretch.

“You’ve always been my girl, Data.” His tattooed hand grips your hip and steadies you when he begins to shallow thrust, crude wet noises already coming from where your bodies meet. “Your pussy always remembers me so well.”

“Do the other Avengers know how filthy your mouth is?” You whisper, leaning forward to kiss him.

“My filthy mouth is only for you.” Jungkook kisses you back, sheathing himself completely inside you and holding himself there. He moves his swollen lips down your jaw and over your chest until he reaches your nipples, sucking and pulling until you’re a moaning mess.

“Please move, Jungkook.” You inch your ass forward until it’s perched right on the edge of the vanity. Jungkook groans against your breast, lifting his head to look where your bodies meet.

He holds both your hips in his hands as he begins a quick pace. But no matter how fast he pumps his hips against you, he never misses that spot inside you that makes stars dance across your eyelids.

“You feel so good. I don’t think I’m gonna last…” His distressed face meets yours and you reach up to touch his face and pull him closer.

“I’m so close, JK…please make me come.” He kisses you, hard and unyielding while his cock drills you against the mirror. You’re almost afraid it’ll break when he forgets how strong he is. But you don’t care, you want him to break you. You don’t deserve soft and sweet right now.

Jungkook lifts you off the vanity and faster than humanly possible has you on the floor of your hallway right outside your tiny bathroom. He throws your legs over his shoulders and hits a spot inside you that almost immediately has you crying out his name and coming all over his cock. Your pussy clenches around him so hard it makes him whimper above you, bringing him to his own orgasm. He fills you up as warmth spreads all over your body.

“Did I hurt you? I was too rough…” His hands are immediately on your face angling you to look at him.

“No, I’m okay. I promise.” You smile at him, hoping that it feels real. You’re too riddled with guilt.

“Let’s get in the bath.” He pulls out of you slowly, sitting up on his knees while he presses soft kisses to your fingers and palm.

The tub is far too small for the both of you, but it doesn’t matter. Water sloshes out onto the floor each time you move, but that doesn’t matter either. It feels good to have his warmth behind you when you lean back against his chest. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Jungkook asks after a while, his hands rubbing your arms while his lips kiss the top of your head.

You freeze, knowing that you should tell him the truth. That you know who the monster is that he’s searching for. But you can’t bring yourself to put Taehyung in danger. So you lie. Again.

“I went for drinks with friends last night…I got lost walking home. I don’t know how I ended up at the docks. It was so stupid of me…” You hate how easily the lie spilled out.

“You aren’t stupid, Data. You just seem to have a magnet for danger.” He laughs quietly, kissing your shoulder. “I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was your fault.”

“It was my fault. I messed things up for you and Jin,” you sigh, slumping against his wet chest.

“Don’t worry about that. It won’t be much longer before we have the monster.” 

“Have him?” You ask, goosebumps prickling your skin.

“Mr. Kim thinks the monster is a human. An experiment gone wrong. He wants to help him…or study him. As long as it isn’t running free in the city anymore.” Jungkook explains, his hands gathering some soap bubbles from the water and washing your arms and chest with gentle fingers.

“How would he help him?” If Jin can help Taehyung…then maybe he can get rid of Venom.

“I’m not sure. I think we would be better off getting rid of it altogether. It’s a menace.” You feel Jungkook’s muscles tense as he talks and you know you still can't tell him the truth about Venom.

You don’t say anything else, afraid that your voice will shake and give you away. He knows you too well. 

Jungkook makes sure you’re cleaned up and comfortable in bed before he leaves you again. In most cases you would feel hurt that he’s left, but you need time to think without your feelings being clouded by his presence.

What the fuck are you going to do?

Going about your normal day to day life felt wrong. You go to school. You study with your friends. You see Jungkook on occasion, and every time you do, the guilt burrows a little deeper inside you, whittling away at your ability to keep up the facade. 

What makes it worse was that Taehyung hasn’t been at school for two weeks. It makes you absolutely terrified that something has happened to him. That undeniable connection you felt with him makes it difficult not to worry.

Sleep almost completely evades you the last two weeks.

“You look terrible,” Hoseok pokes, sitting a fresh coffee down in front of you on the library study table.

“Charming,” you grumble, snatching the coffee and inhaling its heavenly caffeine-illed scent.

“It’s not even finals season, why aren’t you sleeping? Trouble with the boyfriend perhaps?” Hobi sits his backpack down and plops into the chair next to you.

“He isn’t my boyfriend.” You press your forehead to the table and gently hit it against the top a few times. “And I just…my upstairs neighbor has been noisy.” The lies start to come out easier and easier the more you make up.

“I told you to move in with me months ago. Way closer to campus.” He pops some cheese cracker snacks into his mouth.

You know it would be nice to live with Hoseok. Easy. But you can’t. Not with Spider-Man coming and going and a giant monster possibly looking for you now. You could never forgive yourself if something happened to your friend.

“I appreciate that offer, you know I do. I just…like my space.” You sigh, lifting your head to meet his eyes. He probably knows you’re lying, but if he does, he doesn’t let on.

“Offer continues to stand if you change your mind, ___.” The look on his face is serious for a moment before he points the bag of snacks towards you. “Crackers?”

You smile and take a handful, popping them into your mouth as you sit back in your chair and listen to Hoseok talk more about nothing and everything for as long as you can.

After Hobi leaves, you continue to study until you notice the daylight is starting to disappear outside the library windows. You stretch your arms over your head, groaning when your stiff muscles protest before packing up your things to finally head home for the night.

Pulling your phone from your bag, you see there’s been no messages from Jungkook since yesterday afternoon when he said he would stop by as soon as he could. It shouldn’t be disappointing, you should be used to it, but that little pang still makes you feel some type of way.

You sigh, shoving your phone into your back pocket as you exit the library and see that it’s raining again. It seems like there has been constant rain over the last two weeks, making everything dreary. A mirror to how you felt inside as well.

Not having an umbrella, you power walk down the street towards the train station to get home. It’s only a couple of blocks but you still hate to do it at night. Especially when you get a sudden chill at the back of your neck, as if someone is following you. But every time you turn around, no one is there.

“Relax, ____. You’re exhausted and delirious,” you say to yourself, trying to calm your nerves as you continue walking.

Something big moves at the corner of your eye, dashing down the alleyway to your right and making you halt your quick steps. The only way to your apartment is past that alleyway, so you convince yourself once more that the exhaustion is getting to you and you press forward down the sidewalk.

You hold your breath and close your eyes as you sprint past the alleyway, stopping after a few feet to catch your breath.

You make it. You’re in the clear. The home stretch.

A cold hand wraps around your wrist and yanks you backwards into the alley. Your brain tries to catch up with what’s happening but when you try to scream, another hand covers your mouth just as your back is pressed against the cold, wet bricks of the wall behind you.

“Pigeon.” Taehyung’s deep voice sounds hoarse but also relieved. Your fight or flight instincts immediately melt away when your eyes settle on his injured face.

A cut on his eyebrow, a bruise beneath his left eye, blood dripping from his forehead from beneath his mess of black hair. What the hell happened to him?

You gently wrap your hand around his wrist and slowly move his hand away from your mouth.

“I won’t scream. I promise,” you assure him, his shoulders visibly unwinding.

“I know you’re scared of me. I’m sorry…I put you in danger because I was being selfish.” Taehyung takes a step back from you, giving you space.

“I’m not scared of you.” You reach out and softly touch his cheek just beneath his eye where the bruise has blossomed and he shivers at your touch.

“I’m just glad that you’re safe.” Taehyung moves your palm to his lips and presses a kiss to your skin.

“What happened to you, Taehyung? Where have you been?” 

“All I’ve wanted since this started was to expose The Life Foundation. They’re testing on people and killing them. Not a single person has survived until…”

“You,” you say quietly, watching his shoulders slump before he nods in agreement. “How did this happen?”

“I went to the lab to interview a couple of the scientists for an assignment…I got a little too curious I guess and followed a scientist down into a part of the lab no one knows exists. That’s where I saw the people they’re testing on…in cages. The symbiotes like Venom need a host but it wasn’t working and no one was surviving.” Taehyung runs his hand through his hair before he continues. “I accidentally released Venom when I tried to save one of the people in the cages and he bonded with me and somehow I survived. Still not sure how…”

“What’s stopping you from exposing them?” 

“I wanted to have hard proof before I took the information somewhere else but I haven’t been able to get back inside the lab, not even with Venom.” 

“Because of Jungkook.”

“He doesn’t understand what he’s getting himself into. They have suspicions but they’re keeping me from shutting the place down.” Taehyung sighs. “Your boyfriend is a pain in my ass.”

“What if…what if we talk to him? Jungkook will listen. I know he…” Taehyung cuts you off with a laugh.

“They think I’m a monster…and they aren’t wrong. But all Venom wants is to save the other symbiotes and get back to their planet.” Taehyung’s words almost sound disappointed when he talks about Venom leaving.

“But he’s…he’s hurting you. Can’t Venom heal you?”

“He does…he has. This last round of injuries was…extensive. I’m just healing more slowly.” He slumps against the opposite wall of the alley.

“You need to rest.”

“No. No, we’re going back to the lab tonight to try again.”

“Taehyung, please. He’s going to get you killed. Jungkook and Jin…they’re powerful.”

“You think I haven’t noticed?” He raises his voice slightly, but chokes on his words, folding over when a pain shoots through his side.

“That’s it. I want to talk to Venom.” You can’t stand to see him like this.

“Absolutely not. I’m not putting you in danger.”

“You’ll be there, right? You won’t let him hurt me.”

“I can’t always control him. He doesn’t always listen.” His eyes search yours for any sign of fear but he doesn’t find it.

“Let him out.” You cross your arms over your chest and wait for Taehyung to release his monster.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m giving.” He takes several steps away from you until there’s plenty of space between the two of you. You nod that you’re ready.

The black crawling skin of Venom consumes Taehyung in almost an instant, his handsome face disappearing beneath terrifying white eyes and razor sharp teeth. Deep, bass filled growls flow from between those teeth and rumble the ground beneath your feet.

“Creature.” He says, smiling widely.

“Monster.” You retort.

“Sorry for…chasing you.” He keeps his distance, but paces back and forth through the alley. “I was…hungry.”

“You chase people and destroy buildings when you’re hungry?” You half laugh in disbelief.

“Very hungry!” He growls, pushing against a dumpster.

“Fine. Forget about it. I want you to let Taehyung rest, you’re going to get him killed.”

“Taehyung is fine.”

“No he isn’t! He’s all beat up, and I don’t even want to know what’s wrong internally. He needs time to heal.” You take a few steps closer.

“I can heal him, Creature.”

“He needs to rest. You need him and he won’t be of any use if he’s dead.” You stop as Venom groans and shoves his fists into the ground beside you.

“Demanding little bug.” He half spits.

“How long can you live without your host?” You don’t flinch at his outburst.

Venom doesn’t answer right away, he goes back to pacing the alley before he starts talking to himself…or to Taehyung.

“Bad idea…she pisses me off…should eat her…” Venom grabs his head in pain when the last line leaves his mouth. “Fine. No eating.” He comes back to stand in front of you, looming several feet taller. 

You look up and hold your stance. You’ll never let this pain in the ass monster know that he absolutely terrifies you.

“Three days. Three days before your atmosphere kills me.” Venom says, not seeming pleased.

“Then leave him alone for three days. Go away and let him rest. I mean it.” Venom lowers his face to yours so that you’re standing eye to eye. 

You can see your reflection in the shiny white of his eyes and your heart picks up its pace. Not because of the monster in front of you, but because somewhere behind those eyes is a man that means more to you than you thought he ever could. The strange feeling of just knowing someone is meant to be in your life becomes slightly overwhelming.

Without a second thought, one of your hands comes up and touches the side of Venom's face. His symbiote skin is cold, strange and unfamiliar. But it only takes a moment before Venom is melting away and once again revealing the stunned face of Taehyung.

“You got him to listen.” He breathes, taking your face in his hands.

“He’s not so tough.” You smile when he laughs and presses his forehead against yours.

“You’re exquisite.” His nose skims yours. “And I missed you.”

“I was so worried about you,” you admit softly against his mouth that has gravitated to yours.

He kisses you softly for a moment, neither of you noticing as Venom slithers out and makes his exit down the alley. You’re too relieved to have Taehyung safely pressed against you again. And when he starts to deepen your kiss, as much as you want it to continue, you press your palm to his chest and gently push him back.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“I wasn’t joking about you getting rest. I got you three days with no Venom. Let’s get you home, okay?” You lace your fingers through his and start walking towards the street, but he stops you.

“I haven’t been able to go back to the warehouse. They’ve been watching it like hawks.” His shoulder slump when he rubs the back of his neck.

“Where have you been sleeping?” 

“Abandoned buildings mostly. Or just not at all.” He laughs half heartedly.

“Let’s go to my place.” You know it’s a bad idea. Jungkook could drop in at any moment and you aren’t sure how he would react to finding the man behind the monster he’s been so desperately trying to defeat. “You’ll be safe there.”

“Will I?” Taehyung asks, wary for the same reasons you are.

“Yes. Because I’ll protect you.” Taehyung smiles at your declaration.

“I have no doubts about that, Pigeon.”

You take as many back ways as you can think of until you reach your apartment building, releasing a long breath when you safely reach the elevator and unlock your door. 

It feels strange to have Taehyung here, but also very right. He looks like a weight has been lifted off of him as he takes in your green velvet couch and collection of coffee mugs with a boxy smile on his face.

“You’re adorable.” He says, picking up a tiny cactus from your bookshelf that could definitely use some water.

“It’s not much.” You shrug, feeling your cheeks heat.

“It’s perfect.” He comes back to stand in front of you, long fingers gently gripping your chin to make you look at him. “It’s you and I think that’s perfect.”

“Tae…” you sigh but give into the kiss he sweetly presses to your lips. 

“Thank you.” He whispers after a moment. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if anything had…” You cut him off with another kiss.

“I’m fine, I promise.” You take both of his hands in yours and start to lead him towards your bathroom. “You, however, need to take a shower.”

“Saying I stink, Pigeon?” He teases, following you to your tiny bathroom.

“Definitely,” you counter, smiling when he laughs. A real laugh that you aren’t sure you’ve heard yet. It makes your stomach twist and clench.

“Come in with me?” Taehyung asks quietly when you bend to turn on the hot water for him. His fingers find your spine and tease up the column slowly.

God you want to. But the sudden memory of Jungkook in this bathroom with you two weeks ago clouds your vision and your ability to have this too.

“I’m going to make you some tea, okay? Take your time.” You stand on your toes to kiss him quickly, ignoring the pang in your chest when he pouts his bottom lip.

You close the bathroom door and press your back against it. You listen as Taehyung opens the shower curtain and gets inside, the smell of your rose scented body wash wafting from under the door when he uses it. You must be insane.

Bringing him here is so risky, but you can’t leave him out there with nowhere else to go. He means too much. 

When the bathroom door opens twenty minutes later, you jump at the sound, almost dropping your cup of tea to the hardwood floor. It almost takes a tumble a second time when you look up and see Taehyung standing in your kitchen with just a towel around his waist.

“My clothes were in pretty bad shape…I don’t suppose you have something I can borrow?” He asks with a shy smile on his face and fingers in his wet curls.

“Um…y-yeah. Yes. I’ll find something.” A wave of heat rushes over your skin as you hastily move past him and into your bedroom at the end of the hallway. He follows you, leaning against the door frame to watch you.

“Are you worried he’ll come here?” Taehyung asks, the pretty smile on his face replaced by a frown.

“A bit.” You admit, kneeling inside your closet to look through some drawers for sleeping pants. “It’s really just a matter of when…”

“Is he what you want?” The question throws you off, making you pause.

“I don’t know.” It’s an honest answer, more complicated than it should be. Taehyung nods but doesn’t press for more information. You’re not sure you can come with anything else even if he wants you to.

You finally find a pair of green and navy blue plaid pajama pants, pulling them out of the drawer and bringing them to Taehyung. 

He drops the towel as soon as you’re in front of him, eyes holding you in place with nowhere to escape.

“Thanks, Pigeon.” He doesn’t look away from your eyes as he slips his long legs into the too short leg holes and settles them loosely on his narrow hips. Your breath shakes when he steps closer and closes the gap between you. 

“I made you tea,” you croak.

“I don’t want tea.” He practically moans against your neck when he nuzzles your jaw. “I want to show you why I’m what you want.”

Your entire being trembles at the words.

“You should rest, Taehyung.” You can’t stop your hands from finding the warm skin of his shoulders and chest.

“No rest for the wicked, Pigeon.” His mouth claims yours, swallowing down any other protest you may have tried to use.

He slowly leads you back until the back of your knees hit your bed and you both fall onto the mattress. He kisses you until you’re dizzy and desperate for air, your legs wrapping around his hips in a desperate attempt to bring him closer.

And then you remember that your stove is still turned on with tea likely boiling over all over the burners.

“Tae…” Yyou try to say before his lips close over yours again. “The tea…I need to go turn it off.”

“No.” He nips your lips and moves his kisses down your chin and over your jaw.

“I’ll be quick. Just wait here.” You playfully push him off of you, his head landing on your pillows with a smile on his face.

You look back over your shoulder when you reach the door, Taehyung winking as you round the corner into the hallway.

Luckily, the tea is where it should be, inside the kettle. You turn off the burner and move the kettle onto a potholder onto the counter top. Then quickly turn off the lights before stopping by the bathroom to make something of your mess of hair as quickly as possible.

Back in the bedroom, you barely make it inside the door before you hear the quiet snores coming from Taehyung. His arms above his head and his face buried in the pillows as he lays on his back against your mustard yellow sheets. His half dried curls a messy little halo around his head. 

He really is beautiful.

You make your way to the bed, pulling your comforter over his sleeping form and softly touching the bruises in his cheek. He doesn’t stir even a little. 

Over the next three days you, watch him.

You’ve never seen someone sleep so much in your life. It worries you at first, checking to see if he is breaking multiple times throughout the day. But he just continues to sleep, only moving to turn on his side or stomach and barely makes any noise at all.

You email your professors the first day and tell them that you won’t be in class but would follow along online. You move a chair into the corner of your bedroom so you can stay close to him. It keeps you busy while Taehyung sleeps.

You also keep busy with cleaning your apartment and thinking of ways to have a very hard and strange conversation with Jungkook. How did you tell your best friend…someone you love…that you may also have feelings for someone else? 

And how did you then tell your best friend that the other person you have feelings for is the monster he’s been trying to capture for months?

At night you curl up next to him in your bed, but always carefully so you don't disturb him. You want him to feel better as soon as possible.

It was mid morning on the third day, some very difficult calculus questions driving you crazy when you hear Taehyung groan and lift his head from the pillow. 

“Pigeon?” He croaks, his voice rough and dry.

“I’m here, it’s okay.” You toss your book aside, rushing over to the side table and handing him the glass of water you sat out every day in case he woke up needing it. “Drink this please.”

He doesn’t argue, taking the glass of water and downing all its contents in an instant. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hands, chest heaving.

“That may have been the best water I’ve had in my life.” You take the glass and sit down next to him on the bed. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost three days.” You move some black curls away from his forehead when he looks up at you.

“Really? I wasted the whole three days sleeping? Fuck.” He sighs in annoyance.

“It wasn’t a waste, Tae. You obviously needed it after what you’ve been through lately.” 

The way he looks at you makes your stomach flutter and twist. Like he’s never seen anyone like you or felt anything like your touch. It’s maddening.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” He squeezes your hand and jumps out of bed far too quickly, heading into your bathroom where you hear him using the extra toothbrush you had sat out for him. You can’t stop the smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth.

When he returns to the bed, he sits behind you and wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling your back against his chest so he can nuzzle his face into your neck.

“Thank you for watching over me,” he mumbles into your neck.

“How do you know I watched over you?” You ask, leaning back into his chest.

“There’s a chair surrounded by snacks, coffee cups and calculus books set up in the corner, Pigeon.” Taehyung kisses your neck and makes you shudder. “You’re too good for me.”

“It’s not that.” Your voice is a whisper when he moves your sweater off of your shoulder to kiss the heated skin there.

“What is it?” His mouth continues leaving warm, wet paths along your neck and shoulder.

“I care…about you.” Your head lulls back against his shoulder when his hands slide up your front beneath your shirt to cup your breasts in his hands.

“I’m still going to show you why I’m what you want…what you need. I didn’t forget.” He nips your earlobe and pinches both nipples with his long fingers at the same time.

You spin around, grabbing his face roughly and slam your mouth onto his in the next second. Taehyung’s hands immediately find your hips helping you straddle his thighs to settle on his lap. 

Any clothing creating an unwanted barrier between the two of you are quickly discarded without a care for where they land. Your skin feels like there’s millions of tiny embers just below the surface waiting to crack through and set the whole room on fire. 

Taehyung holds one arm tightly around your waist while the other maneuvers the two of you back farther on the bed so he can rest his back against the headboard. Your mouths never leave the others, tongues and teeth clashing in the most desperate way. 

“Are you okay…with this?” Taehyung suddenly asks. His hair is a mess and his lips swollen and chapped.

“I don’t know how to answer that question anymore. I wish I just knew what to do…” You feel emotion start to take over and Taehyung grips your chin to look at him.

“It doesn’t matter. Not right now, okay? Right now I just want you to be mine. Because I’m yours…I belong to you.” He says it so simply. And it should be simple. It shouldn’t be possible to love them both.

He pulls you back to him, kissing you so gently it makes you shiver. One hand glides to the back of your head and settles in your hair while the other lifts your ass to hold you above his cock that was standing tall with need between your legs.

No more words need to be spoken as you position him at your entrance, your pussy slick and sticky from the build up to what’s about to happen. He takes his hand from your hip and brings it to your throbbing clit, using his thumb to stroke it slowly while you lower yourself onto him.

The stretch of him mixed with the way his thumb strokes you is as close to heaven as you can imagine. You can feel yourself getting wetter that more you try and accommodate his size.

“Be good for me, Pigeon. Ride my cock.” He moans the words around one of your nipples when he leans forward to capture one with his lips.

Once fully seated, you slowly move your hips in a circular motion, causing his engorged cock to hit places inside that make fireworks pop behind your eyelids and your head to fall back when your back arches.

“Fuck…you feel so good,” you finally manage to say.

“I could come right now just watching you take me like this, angel. Like you were made to have my cock inside you.” Taehyung groans as his hands find your hips and help you start to move up and down.

You find a mind numbing rhythm, and orgasm on the brink of breaking through. You’re so close it almost hurts. 

“I need to come, Tae…please.” You wrap your arms around his neck, sweaty chests sliding against the other.

“Me too. Fuck, I can’t wait to come inside you.” He holds you steady, digging his heels into the mattress and thrusting upwards to meet your movements.

A silent scream has your mouth hanging open and eyes rolling to the back of your head when you finally get your release. Taehyung’s lips and tongue scorching the skin of your neck when he feels you clench around him.

“Good girl, Pigeon. Come all over my cock.” He holds you down, fully sheathing inside you when he finds his release as well. 

You slump against his chest, breathing hard as you start to come down for the incredible high he had just given you. 

Taehyung kisses your shoulder and up your neck, over your jaw and chin until he reaches your lips. Kissing your raw lips in the softest way.

“You okay?” You ask, still out of breath.

“Never better.” He smiles, moving sweaty hair from your face.

“I’ll get you some more water. Maybe snacks?” You move from his lap, the sudden empty feeling making you groan.

“Venom will be here soon. If he isn’t already.” His smile fades.

“I know. So let’s get you fed and hydrated before he makes his presence known, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Don’t be too long.” He holds your hand to help you off the bed while he readjusts against the headboard. You playfully roll your eyes, grabbing your t-shirt off the floor and quickly throwing it on before you slip out of your bedroom to the kitchen.

You fill up two more glasses of water and begin rummaging through your cabinets for any sort of edible snack when you hear tapping on the glass doors leading to your balcony. You nearly drop everything when you turn and see Jungkook standing there in his Spider-Man suit, his mask in his hand.

“Fuck.” You grumble, sitting down the snacks and water before going to unlock the door with pure fear coursing through your veins.

“Since when do you lock this door?” Jungkook asks as soon as you turn the lock.

“Just to be safe.” Your voice shakes and your eyes continuously flash towards the hallway where you know your bedroom door is wide open. Another man in your bed.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here in so long I just…” He pauses, a look you recognize crossing his face. He senses something.

Shit.

“Is everything okay?” You know the answer.

“He’s in here.” Jungkook immediately starts to push past you to look through your apartment.

“Who? What are you talking about Jungkook?” You try to grab his arm while he looks in your living room.

“The monster. I know that feeling anywhere. He’s here. What the fuck is he doing here?” You shove against his chest to stop him.

“There’s no monster here. I think you need to go.”

“What the fuck is going on, Data? Is someone else here?” His jaw ticks and your panic is starting to take over.

“I…um. Jungkook, please just listen.”

“Who? Who the fuck is it?” He pushes past you and you grab his arm to stop him before he freezes in place, looking at the doorway that leads to the hall.

Taehyung in all his shirtless glory stands leaning against the frame.

“Looking for me?” Taehyung smirks and you want to die.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jungkook practically seethes.

“Pretty sure you know the answer to that.” Taehyung takes a step towards you and Jungkook immediately blocks his path.

“You’re him? The monster from the lab?” Jungkook asks, moving into an even more protective stance.

“You don’t need to protect her from me.” Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest and walks over to the counter where you left the water and snacks, picking up a glass and taking a few drinks. “I’d never hurt her.”

“You mean the way your monster left her bruised and bleeding by the docks? Fuck you.” Jungkook takes your hand and pulls you towards the balcony door. “I don’t know what you’re doing with him, Data, but he’s fucking dangerous. Let’s go.”

“Jungkook, please. You don’t understand.”

“Don’t fight me on this. I’m getting you out of here.”

“Since when do you care about ___? She may as well be alone when she’s with you.” Taehyung moves to stand in front of the doors.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re lucky I don’t drag you to Mr. Kim this fucking second.”

“Is that so, spider boy?” Taehyung smiles and grabs Jungkook’s shoulder to stop him from dragging you any farther.

Jungkook lets go of your wrist and pushes Taehyung in the chest. But before he can make any other moves, Venom’s black crawling skin swallows Taehyung and replaces him with the huge looking monster.

Venom roars, shaking your entire apartment. He’s so big he takes almost half the room.

“Get the hell out of here, Data!” Jungkook yells, slipping his mask back over his face.

You want to rip your hair from your head. Scream at the top of your lungs. Stomp on the floor like a two year old throwing a tantrum. 

But you deserve this after what you’ve been doing.

“Stop.” You say, watching Jungkook shoot a web at Venom’s sharp clawed hand. “Stop it!” You practically scream, making the both of them pause to look at you.

“Go outside, Creature.” Venom growls.

“You’re both going to listen to me. Right fucking now.” You walk across the kitchen and stand between them. “You’re not about to destroy my apartment with your pointless fighting. So listen to what I have to say.”

Jungkook stays in his defensive position but nods towards you for you to continue.

“You’re going to listen too, monster. Understand?”

“Bossy little creature.” He groans, ripping Jungkook’s web off of his hand and giving you his attention.

“I realized the other day that you all want the same thing. You want to shut down that lab and stop the testing they’re doing on humans. Venom wants to save his friends and go home and Jungkook, I know you want to save everyone trapped inside there. So why don’t we all work together to make it happen?” You release a long breath after everything spills out. “And after we do that…then we can talk about…us.” You motion between the three of you.

“Data…I didn’t know that I…” Jungkook starts to say but you stop him by holding up a hand.

“We aren’t doing this now, okay? Right now, we need to go see Jin.” 

“Ironman.” Venom growls in distaste.

“He can help. I know he’ll know how to get you and the other symbiotes home.” you try to reason. 

Venom contemplates for a moment before answering. “Fine, Creature. But if he messes with me, I eat him.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Jungkook half laughs, taking off his mask as he approaches you. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. Now let’s go.” You walk out the balcony door and wait expectantly. “Well?” You tap your foot.

Jungkook and Venom stare at each other for a moment, silently telling the other that these conversations aren’t over but that they’re going to trust you on this.

Jungkook puts his mask back on once more and makes a beeline towards you, grabbing you around the waist and jumping off the balcony with you in his arms. Venom barks a laugh and quickly follows after.

And then you’re falling.

taglist: @hanversace @chaelvrx @moonchild1 @rkivewritersblog @ungodlyjoon @ricecakeslove @jeonsweetpea @screamertannie @tearyjjeon @kookrecs @bintificreads @minisugakoobies @sureconfused @boisenberry77@ts19009 @lorarri @looneybleus @joyouart @armyugh @kthsmoon @vminluvrs @ooooglymoooogly (i did my best with this, i may have missed people who asked)

series masterlist

[l3tm3kn0w]

CHAPTER ONE: The Wheel of Fortune

jungkook x reader | friends to lovers | spiderman!au — link to masterlist

chapter summary: your mission to get an interview from spiderman reaches a new milestone as the arachnid vigilante acknowledges your presence during your latest chase, and the wheels of fortune are put into motion as you're faced with a devastating turn of events

wc: 8k

warning: explicit language, swearing, sexual innuendos/jokes, one joke about brutally murdering a best friend, mentions of drinking, mentions of kidapping, slow burn that’s burning slowly, jungkook has a crush tho ur just fucking oblivious sorry, other bitches wanting jungkook also deserves a warning i fear

a/n: hello world, hello tumblr!! first time publishing something here (a sister hailing from ao3 speaking) so please bear with me as i try to relearn how to navigate this website from my preteens. i’ve DMs open & believe i also opened asks????? with anon enabled???? (help????) so if you want to holler at me, you may do so there as well :)

aaaaand, welcome to the first chapter, where we’re really just setting the scene for what’s to come, hehe. please know that i don’t have a beta-reader, so please excuse any mistakes i might’ve accidentally left in 😣

hope you’ll enjoy it!! happy reading <3

You watch as the man plummets towards the ground from the 12th floor balcony.

A pretty jammed crowd of bystanders have formed on the street corner you, too, are standing on, watching with bated breath as the suited figure limply approaches the ground. You play with the voice recorder in your hand as parents cover their children’s eyes, and friends tightly grab onto each other in anticipation. The rest have their cell phones’ cameras up and ready, but the focus is not on the falling man.

You take a deep breath.

“C’mon,” you mutter under your breath. A man elbows you in the ribs, but you graciously ignore it in favour of not breaking your focus. “C’mon, c’mon, dude, show up. Show up. Don’t be a false reporting and an unnecessary trauma, c’mon.”

A gunshot is heard from somewhere within the apartment building. A window breaks, but it’s hard to say if it’s because of the bullet or the lean, male figure that jumped through it. 

The crowd gasps as if one person, heads and cameras both immediately snapping towards the new person, clad in unmistakable red and blue. You allow yourself a satisfied smirk. He free falls for a moment, and someone shrieks, and you don’t bother trying to suppress your snort because, come on, it’s obvious that in the very next second, he’s going to— yup, Spiderman shoots a web, as Spiderman tends to do, and swings towards the suited man in a pleasant, even arch. 

OK. Good. So, Spiderman is here. 

Time to get into position.

“Excuse me, sorry,” you mutter as you fight your way through the crowd, trying to secure a nice spot around the edge, towards the closer side. People don’t really mind you, looking awestruck with their mouths slightly open as Spiderman’s hands steadily encircle the torso of the man who was previously plummeting towards certain death, very heroic indeed. And anyways — you’re a native New Yorker. Meaning you’re not above a little elbowing here and there when the situation calls for it. “Sorry, I’m coming through, excuse me.”

The crowd spits you out at the edge. 

After stumbling a little, you huff, fixing the straps of your backpacks on your shoulders, and ruffling your hair. 

You walk a little closer, just in time to hear the crowd erupt in a loud cheer as Spiderman touches ground, the loan shark looking man in his forties held bridal style in his arms. God, now that’s a sight. You should’ve brought your camera — if only you didn’t catch the report on Spidey-Watch so last minute while stepping off the subway.

OK. Approximately 25 seconds, now. That’s what you have.

You lean down to retie the shoelaces of your trainers. Tightly. With a double knot, and all. 

Spiderman sets the man on his feet. Tentatively, the man, too, releases the hold he has around Spiderman’s shoulders. 

He looks shaken, understandably. Face pale, clearly on the brink of vomiting, legs shaking as he takes a few tentative steps. The reality that his bones didn’t end up cracking into a million little pieces seems to sink in for him as he cries, hands flying back to grip onto the vigilante’s shoulders. “You saved me, Spiderman.”

“Yeah.” Spiderman nods. He pats the man’s hands on his shoulders — maybe in a show of comfort, maybe in an awkward attempt to get them off. “Please make more responsible deals in the future. Preferably not with the, y’know, uh. . . the mob.”

“I didn’t know they were the mob, Spiderman.” The man shakes his head, voice very utterly serious, before giving himself away by swallowing. 

“Of course you didn’t,” Spiderman complies.

“Of course I didn’t,” the man affirms. He gasps, taking his hands off of Spiderman’s latex suit clad shoulders to rummage through the inner pockets of his suit jackets. “Wait a second.”

You take the chance to walk closer to the scene on the sidelines while the crowd is busy watching intently as the man produces a 5$ Starbucks gift card. Some gasp, some sigh in awe. Personally, you just think he’s a bit of a cheap ass loser as you grip your voice recorder tighter, fingers hovering ready over the buttons. 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—” Spiderman shakes his head as he declines the generous offer, holding out his palms in rejection.

“Please, take it,” says the man, pushing the gift card into the vigilante’s chest before swiftly letting it go, so that the other has no chance but to grab it before it falls to the ground. “Let me repay you. Thank you, Spiderman.”

“Thank you, Spiderman,” the crowd echoes. 

The scene is a bit funny. In the same way it’s funny when people clap when a plane lands.

OK. About 10 seconds now. 

Spiderman quickly says his goodbyes to his impromptu audience, throwing up a few peace signs here and there while shooting a web behind him, ready to take off. 

“Goodbye, you people. Drink water and, uh, stay safe!” Spiderman starts walking backwards as he speaks, gradually gaining speed. “Oh, and wear sunscreen!”

The crowd answers, “We will, Spiderman!”

And just like that, Spiderman is off. 

It’s your time to shine. In your comfortable running trainers, you take off on the pavement, right under where he swings, attention divided between evading fellow pedestrians and keeping an eye on the arachnid vigilante. 

“Spiderman! Hey, Spiderman!” you shout. For a moment, you swear you see him teeter. “Spiderman, I’m ___ from the NYU Weekly, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”

Nothing. 

Spiderman keeps swinging. So, what to do, you keep running.

“Spiderman!” you continue, “I study journalism with a minor in communications and am writing my thesis on the presentation of superheroes in the media, and I think an interview with you could give great insight on the subject to the academics!”

Spiderman keeps swinging. 

In your heedlessness, you faintly crash into one of the green, metal bins out on the street with your hip, letting out a painful yelp as you press a palm against the most likely forming bruise to soothe the pain. 

But still, you keep running. 

“Miss!” you hear someone shout. Snapping your head up, you see Spiderman looking down on you as he glides through the air, expression hidden behind his mask but voice a bit desperate. “Miss, please stop doing this, it’s very dangerous.”

“Give me an interview?” you try, starting to get out of breath. 

You’ve never gotten this far before. Usually, he manages to shake you off pretty quickly at the first approaching street corner. This is a bit more than what you’ve been working out in the university’s gym for. 

This might just be your chance, though— Spiderman actually acknowledged your presence, it’s been like half a minute and you’re still hot on his trail, and your new running shoes, although very, very fugly, are holding up great so far. 

But before you have a chance to give it another try, a few — unexpected to your calculations — things happen in quick succession. 

You hear Spiderman let out an uncharacteristical squeak, and the next thing you know, you’re falling back on your ass, some of the textbooks in your backpack painfully digging into your back as you collide with a news stand by the crosswalk. 

A few metres from you, cars start speeding down the road as the lights turn green. 

“I’m really sorry, miss!” Spiderman shouts once more. “Soak it in one part water and one part vinegar overnight! And be more careful watching where you’re going, please!”

And with that, Spiderman turns the corner, and away he swings above the New York traffic. 

Well. There’s always next time.

Groaning, you push yourself up into a squat with both hands on the ground, before massaging the strain in the top of your neck where your head has jerked back upon impact with the news stand. 

All over your chest, are slimy, gooey, sticky white spiderwebs. You try not to cry.

The sweater is cashmere.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

“Where the hell have you been?” Yoongi Min, a short, mint-haired communications major senior with cat-like tendencies and an endless temperament, (and your best friend since the diapers, but that’s worth mentioning only on the margins), whisper-yells as you slide into the seat next to him during the ongoing lecture. 

Eyes on the presentation screen, you pull your laptop and water bottle out of your bag without any haste, trying to get an idea of which lecture of yours you are even sitting in on right now. You catch a few buzzwords like defamation, source credibility, Johnny Depp, and deep fakes on the presentation. 

Introduction to Media Law, is the most feasible conclusion you can come to.

“I had a lead,” you mutter to Yoongi as you power up OneNote on your screen. 

“You mean you stalked him on Twitter,” Yoongi corrects. He drops his stylus in favour of tugging on the sweater you didn’t have time to change out of, curiously touching the gooey remains of spiderwebs before wiping it back into the material from his fingers with a scrunched up face. “Ew. You look as if someone depraved just came all across your tits. What the fuck did you do this time?”

“As you can see, I had an actual interaction with Spiderman this time.” You smirk. Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Details are unimportant. The point is, now I’m sure he knows who I am, and the next time he sees me he’ll—”

“Wait,” Yoongi interrupts. “What do you mean next time? Namjoon told you to give up on the article.”

“That’s only because Namjoon’s been dumped again and became a defeatist.” You shake your head. The lecturer asks a question, so you start randomly typing on your keyboard. Old man Professor Hendersson’s a softie, he wouldn’t call on a student busy in the making of the perfect lecture notes. Some person in the third row answers him, and so you continue to do the same to Yoongi. “Dude’s gonna be kissing my feet when I make him the first NYU Weekly editor who signs off on an Avengers feature.”

“Avengers-adjacent.” Yoongi corrects.

“Spiderman wouldn’t appreciate you saying that.”

Yoongi snorts. “What a relief Spiderman won’t hear shit of what I say.”

“Hey guys,” whispers a third voice. 

Jungkook Jeon — shy, giggly, fellow journalism major junior with a long haircut that makes him look like a triangle kimbap — slides into the other seat next to Yoongi, only a notebook and a branded cup of coffee in hand. 

He looks slightly out of breath, cheeks aflame, and clothes messy, his large black t-shirt hanging inside out on his lean figure. It’s 11:42, which might as well be the ass crack of dawn in Jungkook-terms. He must’ve slept in. 

Jungkook settles in the seat, taking a sip of his coffee with the straw as he turns the pages of his notebook to the next blank. That is when he seems to remember something. 

Before he could even look over and ask, you reach over Yoongi (who scratches your arm that blocks his sight of his iPad, HayDay opened, which is not very nice of him, is it, but see — the aforementioned cat-like tendencies) to hand him the pen you’ve fished out of your bag the moment Jungkook sat down.

You know him too well.

Cheeks going a bit pinker, Jungkook huffs, accepting the pen as he whispers, “Thanks, ___”

“Welcome, as usual.”

Yoongi pipes up, his interrogative gaze turning to Jungkook this time. “And you? Been on a coffee date, debating existentialism and forgot time exists? Why am I the only one taking my education seriously?”

You can’t help but scoff at that. “No offence, dude, but the only thing I see you taking seriously is trying to hack into Seokjin’s farm to sell his raspberry cupcakes to yourself.”

“I need to sell some to Greg.” Yoongi shrugs. “And I, unlike you dipshits, was here on time, wasn’t I?”

“I was at my Stark internship,” Jungkook whispers, before mumblingly adding, “In case it was genuine curiosity.”

You sigh. You look at this boy, with a hint of pity in your eyes. So young, so bright, way too cute for his own good, but just a bit too easy for this big, bad world. “Jungkook?”

“Hm?” he hums.

“Do you think you’ll ever get hired?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?”

“Just that, didn’t you say you’ve been interning for him since junior year of high school?” you continue. In your years of friendship with the guy, steady since the freshmen camp in Upstate NY he ditched after a day and a half, you’ve heard your fair share about this internship at whichever branch of Tony Stark’s company, both from Jungkook and his childhood friends, Jimin and Taehyung alike. “It sounds like the old Ironbag is exploiting your labour for me. Go somewhere you’re appreciated. And is relevant to your studies.”

“Damn, I just realised it.” Yoongi pipes up.

You didn’t dignify him with asking the question. Yoongi’s eyes are screaming bullshit. You’ve known your own childhood friend for a bit too long to fall for an obvious bait like that. 

Jungkook, who has been looking at you with a nervous glint in his eyes, though, is seemingly not as seasoned as you are. “Realised what?”

“Thank you so much for asking, Jungkook,” Yoongi pats the younger boy’s arm, before turning to you. “I’ve realised that you’re exhibiting extreme levels of jobless behaviour and should take your own advice first.” Next, he addresses Jungkook again. “Can you believe she was chasing Spiderman down the city this morning, too? That’s jobless. Jungkookie can at least put the Stark stuff on his resume.”

“I can, too,” you protest. The only reason you’re doing any of this is for the good of your academic advancement, after all. And if you get some brownie points with Namjoon for it, too… well? 

“Yeah, you can put ‘stalker psycho’ as a previous position,” Yoongi says. “Will open lots of doors for you.”

“You’ll be singing a different tune when I become the first journalist to get an interview with Spiderman, like, ever, and get hired to The New York Times straight out of college, but you do you, Yoongles.”

“Correction. Put ‘delusional stalker psycho.’”

“I—”

“Why do you want it so bad, anyways?” Jungkook interrupts, quickly averting his eyes when you look over at him again and catch him staring at your chest, and. . .  right. Spider goo on your sweater. As already stated, he interrupted your bickering, but good thing he did, because you already have one hand in the air ready to whack Yoongi, and killing him might not be appropriate behaviour during lecture. Even if none of you are paying attention to it, and skinning Yoongi alive would be much more beneficial to your career in the long run. “You could just get an interview with Daredevil for the thesis. I think he gives out interviews from time to time.”

Yoongi snickers. “She’s scared of Daredevil.”

“I’m scared of Hell’s Kitchen,” you correct. “That’s very different.”

“It’s understandable, though,” Jungkook says, smiling sweetly at you while he doodles on the corner of his notebook. “The crime rate is a bit high there. I get it.”

“Oh, no Jungkookie, you don’t.” Yoongi shakes his head. He has a shit-eating grin curling on the edge of his lips, looking you up and down coyly as he whispers to Jungkook in dramatics. “She’s afraid of Hell’s Kitchen because she used to think Gordon Ramsey was Daredevil. Wanted to avoid him at all costs.”

It’s silent for the while — well, silent between the three of you. Professor Hendersson has started playing some video on the screen and that’s pretty loud. 

Poor man has no clue on how to control the speaker system. 

“I’m… pretty sure he’s not,” Jungkook says tentatively.

“Tell that to an 8 year-old me who was awfully confused by Hell’s Kitchen, the neighbourhood and Hell’s Kitchen, the television show.”

Jungkook looks at your best friend. “You’re right, Yoongi, I don’t get it.”

Yoongi pats his arms. “No problem, Jungkook. Being weird as fuck is her only charm.”

Jungkook looks ready to either confirm or fight that standpoint, but you interrupt.

“Anyways, I want the interviewee to be Spiderman, because… Lots of reasons, actually.” You sigh, thinking about how to put it into words. “First of all, most signs point towards him being young, like, around our age. He’s part of the digital native generation so he probably has different and potentially more complex views on social media and how it affects his job than the old farts and defrosted chickens in the Avengers. We could also assume he’s very media conscious, judging by how extremely lowkey his direct presence on the internet is, and yet he has a very unique relationship with the Spiderheads.”

“And who the fuck are those?” Yoongi asks.

Surprisingly, it’s not you, but Jungkook who answers for him. “His fans.”

“Please, not you, too,” Yoongi sighs, looking at Jungkook in horror.

The younger boy is very quick to shake his head. Vehemently. “Nah, nah, it’s not like that, I’m just very. . . uh, chronically online, you know.”

“You might wanna fix that, then.”

“Also,” you butt in. If you’ve started explaining, you want to finish explaining. Men, and their short attention span, God. “He just seems like a genuinely nice guy, you know? Other superheroes tend to end up in all sorts of scandals, and despite being high-profile and being around for years now, Spiderman’s slate is spotty clean. So he either has a killer PR team or he’s really just, like, a really nice and responsible guy, y’know? But it makes him a bit. . . well, impersonal when it comes down to it. I don’t wanna do an exposé or anything like that, of course, but I think people would like hearing his thoughts on stuff.”

“And you have the hots for him.” Yoongi adds.

Jungkook squeaks, and your hands shoot out to smack Yoongi on the chest. It’s a reflex, at this point.

“I do not have the hots for him,” you protest.

“Jesus Christ, how did I not realise,” Yoongi bemoans. “You so wanna fuck him, you samaritan-sexual freak.”

“You say that like being attracted to good people is a bad thing,” you hiss.

“Okay, here we go.” Yoongi points at you with his stylus. “Fuck, marry, kill: Hulk in Hulk form, Gordon Ramsey, Spiderman.”

“Dude, that’s so rigged!” you object.

“That’s what you get.” Yoongi shrugs.

“Kill Gordon Ramsey, fuck Hulk Hulk, marry Spiderman.” You give in, listing them on your fingers. “Obviously.”

“Knew you were a monster fucker. Freak,” Yoongi says delightedly. You hit him in the chest again, but he pays you no mind — probably has a dent in the shape of your fist on his chest at this point to soften the blows — as he turns to Jungkook. “Okay, let’s move on. Jungkook. Fuck, marry, kill: Megan thee Stallion, Rihanna, and ___.”

Jungkook looks at your best friend with wide eyes, cheeks already aflame a deep scarlet as he anxiously chews on his now soggy paper straw. 

“C’mon, Gigi, don’t tease him,” you scold him.

“What?” Yoongi protest. “It’s a good line up.”

“Ignore him, Jungkook.”

“— could give us an adequate answer to that, right, Mr. Jeon?” Professor Hendersson’s voice breaks through your little bubble as the rest of the heads in the auditorium turn towards your little trio in the back in unison. 

Uh oh. Busted.

Jungkook gapes a little as his eyes flit between the presentation and his blank notebook, swallowing nervously before clearing his throat. “Um. . .” 

“You might wanna answer him, though.” Yoongi mutters. Utterly, utterly unhelpful. 

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

Hari’s playlist of 5 Seconds of Summer — a nostalgia mix, strictly made up of their first three albums’ repertoire — is blaring through your student apartment. 

Sitting in front of the mirror in your room, you can hear them singing along in the living room as Hari carefully braids Piper’s hair, and you have to stifle a smile during their terribly off-key high notes as you perfect your eyeliner. 

Half an hour ago, all three of your cell phones pinged in unison while watching Love Island on the couch as Seokjin messaged the big communal group chat a simple, ‘seoulite @ 9? who in?’ and a quick follow up of ‘reply or like this at least if you coming fuckers’. 

Which brings you to the current scene: quickly getting ready as you wait for Taehyung and Jimin to pick you guys up since they live in the same off-campus student apartment complex you do, and Taehyung doesn’t drink, but drives. (Like a maniac, really. He drives as if he did drink.)

The quickly getting ready part elongated a little bit somewhere between Hana settling on the green corduroy flares and you brushing your teeth as your phones lit up with a short additional message in the thread. 

Jungkookie [20:34]: me too ^^

To his credit, Jungkook is a pretty faithful lecture-goer, and due to some cosmic coincidence, semester after semester, you guys end up in almost all of the same classes, so you, who is enrolled in the same programme he is, cannot complain about a lack of Jungkook in your life. 

That cannot be said about the others, though. Piper, for one, is pretty fond of complaining about a severe Jungkook deficiency. 

To put it fairly, Jungkook is not the most. . . reliable guy you know. Lacks a little bit of consistency. Too scatter-minded. 

Because sometimes, the man cannot be shaken off for days on end even with some super high-tech Stark Industries scraper (for the hyperbole to work properly, please imagine that they’re producing handy tools instead of, like, weaponry). 

Then, there’s the other times, the admittedly much more frequent times, when there’s just simply no sight or sign of Jungkook until he conveniently decides to pop up out of the blue again. 

But to be honest, it’s the dynamic your little group always had since forming. 

The first time it happened, you were worried, though. Mostly because the two of you were partnered up for a group project that was rapidly coming up all the while you couldn’t get a hold of this guy you’ve known for like three weeks at that point, but the worry, of course, extended to his person, as well. 

Although, after some time, seeing how nonchalant Jimin and Taehyung — friends who have known Jungkook since the dawn of time and are thick as thieves with him — are when faced with worries over Jungkook’s where- and howabouts (‘He’s just home tending to his aunt,’ / ‘He had to travel for the Stark Internship, happens sometimes’ / ‘He sprained his ankle in the gym, no biggie’ / ‘He’s probably helping out his aunt at their restaurant for the week,’ / ‘He just travelled back to Korea for Chuseok with his family to visit relatives,’ / ‘He’s fostering a stray cat, can’t leave her alone,’ and such) you decided there’s surely no reason for you to sweat about it too much.

(And anyways, Jungkook made it up to you tenfold for that one instance. He showed up to your dorm one night with two bags of takeout from their family restaurant — amazing jajangmyeon — and braved through the assignment with you in one sitting on your shitty, spring mattress. Volunteered to hold the Q&A segment following your presentation, and stayed over late into the AMs to watch the first two Star Wars prequels with you. It really solidified your budding friendship.)

It’s probably not that easy to be all cool about any of it when you have a big fat fucking crush on the guy, though. Like Piper does, for example.

These past few weeks were also ones that have seen very little of Jungkook, so the excitement bubbling in all three of you at his message is quite understandable — it means all ten of you in the groupchat have RSVP’d Seokjin’s invitation, after all. And it’s been way too long since a get-together with everyone present. 

The levels of excitement only differ where Piper got struck by a desperate need to change into a tighter pair of jeans, put on some highlighters over her eyelids, and braid her blonde hair into something called a waterfall braid.

But it’s okay. After finishing your own makeup and jumping into a looser pair of pants, you gladly join Hari and Piper in the living room to line the latter’s lips with a dark red colour. Her crush is cute. 

Fifteen minutes later, Jimin and Taehyung blast up Hari’s phone with announcements of their arrival and even more messages urging the three of you to make haste. They throw in a few threats of leaving you guys to fend for yourselves in a cab if you’re not down in 10, as well, but after all this time of being friends with them, you know they’re just shooting blanks. 

Grabbing your coats for the chilly September nights, the three of you lock up your apartment and make your way down from the fourth floor, and into the waiting Hyundai by the sidewalk in front of the complex.

“6.34 after the first message.” Taehyung turns to Jimin who’s sitting in the passenger seat as the three of you file into the back. “Chim, can you believe that?”

“Can’t say I do, babe. It has to be a new record.”

“Do you know who edits the Guiness’? I’m gonna call them on the way.”

“Har-har-har, hello to you, too, brothers and in-laws,” Hari chirps, poking a finger through the gap between the seat and the headrest to prick the back of Jimin’s neck with her acrylics. The boy yelps, trying to snatch his younger sister’s hand, but he’s too late. “Nice evening we have here.”

“Yeah, yeah, nice evening, pleasant breeze, picturesque light pollution,” Taehyung drones on, one hand on the steering wheel while he fiddles with the radio with the other. “Let’s get a move on, are you guys ready? Have everything, all in one piece, et cetera? I have serious business to deal with Jungkook.”

“Yeah, we can leave,” you answer him, while Piper pipes up:

“What’s up with Jungkook?”

“Got a new dog,” Jimin supplies.

“And the asshole refuses to send me a picture of him,” Taehyung huffs as he drives out of the parking lot, before pointing a thumb at Jimin. “And this asshole refuses to hack Kookie’s iCloud gallery for me.”

“After all these years, which part of ethical hacking do you still not get?” Jimin sighs.

“What kind of dog did he get?” Piper follows up enthusiastically, and that conversation entertains the three of them for most of the ride. 

(Jungkook got a doberman.)

Sitting by the window on the driver’s side, you drone out their conversation and occupy yourself with the city view and your thoughts.

You’ve washed your sweater. Spiderman’s washing tip has, surprisingly, worked. Which could be a nice opener for the next time you see him. 

It’s been a few days since there was any sighting of him that you could catch, though. 

Two days ago, Reddit was buzzing with a store robbery the vigilante has managed to stop while you slept, and yesterday, you got an alert from a Twitter account you follow called the Spidey-Watch while eating lunch in some burger joint close to campus with Seokjin and Hoseok, but it was on the far edge of Queens and you doubted you’d even get there in time to witness anything. 

But never mind. Ever since you took this on the mission at the beginning of the previous spring semester, there’s one very important lesson you’ve learned: serious journalism requires patience.

And hell, if you’re not the epitome of patience by now. (Yeah, there might’ve been some problems with your inner zen in the past, but you took up yoga over the summer).

Even if just unwittingly, you lose track of the conversation in the car as you drive through Queensboro Bridge, but then a few moments later, it’s the radio playing faintly in the background that inadvertently gets your attention.

The music on the station ends in favour of the 8PM evening news, a female voice with a bit of an irritating intonation covering a few economic and political reportings your brain doesn’t quite retain, before — “. . . so with the disappearance of Amanda Porter, we urge the young population of New York City to be particularly cautious in the upcoming weeks as the number of missing person cases increases all over the city. Especially people in their late teens to early twenties are advised to avoid remote areas and travelling alone at night. The New York Police Department’s Missing Persons Unit has yet release a follow-up statement since their press conference on —”

“Jesus Christ,” Taehyung mutters as he quickly turns the volume down, sharing a concerned look with Jimin from the corner of his eyes.

The rest of the ride over to Queens passes quietly.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

The Seoulite is a small, Korean hole-in-the-wall type of bar, except it is not as much of a bar as just the owner, an old woman commonly just called Auntie Aecha’s street-front apartment with a second-hand bar from Ebay dumped into her kitchen in the place of an island, and a couple of tables and chairs scattered around her entrance hall and living room. 

Don’t ask. You’re not quite certain of its legality, either. 

A few things to know about Auntie Aecha:

She’s a compulsive hoarder, and the decoration (or maybe, at this point, with its excessiveness, the lack thereof) proclaims it loudly. The place is packed with rugs, vases, paintings, magazines, lamps, biblical figurines, blankets, pottery and a wide array of trinkets laying around everywhere. 

She has three cats, a dog, and a parrot freely roaming around the place. You’ve never learned their names, but that’s because their names keep changing every time you're here and not because your lack of trying, even when Auntie Aecha, despite her impressive age of 70 and some mystery as she says, doesn’t display any of the typical symptoms that usually come with old age, like forgetfulness. She just simply keeps calling them different fucking names, so you’ve stopped trying to keep up. 

And lastly included in this list that obviously lacks completeness — she’s a self-proclaimed psychic. No other comments on that. 

Namjoon found this place accidentally (distraught from heartbreak, he was trying to go over to Jungkook’s — the only problem with that plan was that this is not the area of Queens Jungkook lives in) last year after getting dumped. 

Ever since Auntie Aecha has personally nursed Namjoon’s broken heart into beating again with imported peach soju, your little group took up frequenting this bar/apartment any time the urge to get together somewhere arose. (And that was only partly because Auntie Aecha gives alcohol to those of you — Piper and Hari — who are twenty-but a little short on-one). 

By the time the five of you get in tonight, everyone else is here, already sitting around your usual table by the decorative fireplace. 

There’s a bit of commotion as they all stand up and everyone tries to greet everyone, before you file back into your seats. Somehow, you end up on the bench seat with Jungkook — even if you distinctly remember seeing him in the armchair, the most coveted seat, by the other side of the table — and shoot Piper an apologetic look as she dejectedly takes a seat on the puff between Namjoon and Hari. 

“Congratulations on becoming a father,” you mutter to Jungkook, playfully elbowing the guy on his side.

He shoots you a confused look, eyes impossibly bigger as he peers down on you. Sitting on the small bench just enough for two people, your shoulder is pressed against his biceps. The material of his large, black hoodie is nice against the bare skin of your arms.

“Don’t look so scared, I meant your dog,” you scoff at him, teeth biting into your bottom lips as you smile. Jungkook’s gaze wanders, and you wiggle your eyebrows, “Unless there’s something else I don’t know about?”

“No, no, no, there’s… there isn’t. No,” he protests, shaking his head as spots of red freckle his cheeks. 

It makes you giggle — Jungkook is rather easy to fluster, despite the many eyes that follow him around hungrily anywhere he goes. As it seems, he’s completely unaware of his own allure, when objectively speaking, Jungkook is one of the prettiest guys you’ve ever met. He has these huge sparkling eyes, an elegant nose, an endearing smile overflowing with teeth, and freckled smooth honey-skin with beauty spots to kill for. And that’s just the outside.

All in all, let’s just say that you’re not entirely blind to what captivates Piper so much. 

“He’s. . . Bam,” he continues. “That’s his name. I. . . um, y’know, found him a few days ago. A stray.”

“You’re sweet, Kook,” you tell him. Seokjin with the help of Hoseok has arrived back at the table with drinks, and places your usual orders — a whiskey coke for you and wheat beer for Jungkook — in front of you guys. You quickly thank them and take a sip, fiddling with the straw as you ask, “Bam. Anything particular behind the name?”

“Yeah. It means ‘night’ in Korean,” Jungkook tells you, reaching for his own drink. “My aunt named him. You, um, you wanna see pictures?”

“Sure.” You nod, and hold your drink out of reach when Jungkook leans a bit into you to fish his cellphone out of his jeans pocket. 

With two fingers, you pick the lemon out of your drink to chew on it — you’re between friends with no one to impress, so if you want to rather unflatteringly suck on the garnish, you will, thank you very much — while you watch from the corner of your eye as Jungkook unlocks his phone and starts scrolling through his gallery.

He freezes, and scrolls up and down for a long moment, before hesitantly handing over his phone to you. “This is, um,” he eloquently mumbles as a description to accomapy the picture. 

You take the phone from Jungkook that’s opened on a selfie of him and a dark brown doberman in bed. The focus is clearly on the dog, given that the picture cuts off somewhere above Jungkook’s chin, and you recognise the location as his bedroom, a few Star Wars and Overwatch posters on the wall in the background giving it away. 

He’s a cute dog, Bam. He looks into the camera, deep dark eyes looking weirdly intelligent, his mouth open and tongue lolling out as he’s laid back against Jungkook’s naked torso. That has abs. Like, a fucking six pack. Wow.

You know Jungkook frequents the gym, he has even accompanied you to your treadmill workouts in preparation of chasing Spiderman from time to time, but in the oversized clothes he always wears, it’s easy to forget he's not actually scrawny. Still, wow. So he has abs. Yeah. Good to know.

Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly, so you make the executive decision to zoom in slightly on the dog as you comment, “He’s really cute, Kook. Bam looks like a smart boy.”

“Yeah, he. . . yup, he really is, very smart.”

“IS THAT BAM??!” 

Suddenly, you have a Taehyung-weighted mass thrown across your lap, and two hands wrenching Jungkook’s phone out of your hold. 

Caught off guard, you let out a yelp as you fall slightly over Jungkook, and you would’ve been about to spill your drink, too, if it weren’t for one of Jungkook’s hands fixing around your wrist, while the other balances both you and Taehyung by wrapping itself around your back. Quick reflexes.

“Hey, shithead!” you snap, slapping a palm over Taehyung’s back.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this cutieful little cinnamon roll from me, dude!” Taehyung cries, zooming in and out of the picture with two fingers like a boomer. “Look at Bamie! So, so adorable, look at his ey— wait. Jungkook Jeon, is this a thirst tra—”

“Tsk, children,” an accented voice chides. “Behave.”

You peek your head out behind Taehyung’s shoulder to beam up at the woman who has walked over to your table. “Auntie!”

Alerted to her presence, Taehyung assumed a position with a degree more of civility (he’s now sitting perched on your legs, back straight and legs thrown over your thighs on one side) looking up at Aecha with a toothy grin, telling her something in Korean.

The woman snorts, retorting in the same language. Jungkook fails and tries to stifle a giggle beside you. 

“I brought you children a little something,” Auntie Aecha says, setting a plate of cookies on the table. 

Another thing to know about Auntie Aecha: though she would never admit it to your faces, too big on that tough love shtick she has going on, it’s an open secret that your ragtag group of ten are her favourite customers.

Expressions of thanks echo around the table as all of you latch onto the cookies, Seokjin standing up to offer his seat, but Aecha denies, “No, no, sit back, sit. I won’t stay to bother you young people for long, this old lady just wanted to say hi.”

“You never bother,” Namjoon says between two bites. “Stay, Auntie, please.”

“You kids are too sweet,” she smiles, patting the boy’s shoulder with ringed fingers. Auntie Aecha has the most exquisite collection, full of emeralds and intricate silverwork, unique enough craftsmanship to match her generally eccentric style. Right now, too, she’s dressed in an elegant white blouse and a long, navy blue skirt covered in detailed patterns and a beaded shawl tied around her waist. 

The conversation picks up around the table again, but Aecha lingers. “___?”

“Yes, Auntie?” 

“Have you had your fortunes read lately?”

You smile at her, breaking off a piece of the cookie in Taehyung’s hand. He looks about ready to protest, if only Auntie Aecha’s presence wasn’t holding him back from whining publically. But he decided he could share your seat, so you might as well share his cookie, right? Simple and fair.

“You know you’re the only one who does me readings,” you tell her. 

Sometimes when the group is fewer in numbers, or when you visit in the afternoon for a cup of coffee, you entertain her charade from time to time. You think it’s rather silly — yes, you live in a world with Scandinavian Gods and purple evil aliens, but no way in hell a random old lady in Queens is, like, an actual psychic. Who tells the future from tarot cards, of all things. Right. . . 

Aecha hums. “Right. . . The Wheel of Fortune. What does it mean?”

You’re unsure whether the question is directed on the card’s meaning in general, or on its possible effect on your life. But regardless, the answer to both scenarios is:

“I don’t know.”

She does that thing. The thing that chills you to the bone sometimes, the thing when her eyes seem to dim, like there’s no sight or soul in them, and her face looks paler for a moment under the lights. She fixes her gaze on you, before it slips over to Jungkook.

You feel his fingers, that are still splattered across your back, tighten as he stares back.

“So soon?” Aecha mutters, then: she snaps out of it. A smile is back on her face, a bit weaker than before, as she says. “Very well, then. I’ll leave you kids to it. There’s a clue in the night, ___.”

And with that, she walks off.

Slowly, Jungkook retracts his hand from your waist, while Taehyung’s head whips around towards the two of you. “So, that was weird as fuck, huh?”

“Right. . .” Jungkook and you both mumble. 

You break a bigger piece off of Taehyung’s cookie, and then break that into halves again before offering one of them to Jungkook. He seems spaced out, but readily accepts it.

That’s another thing to know about Auntie Aecha: she says weird, cryptic shit sometimes. But that’s how you love her.

“‘There’s a clue in the night, ___’,” Taehyung repeats in a deepened, mysterious baritone. He wiggles his fingers in your face, which you promptly swap away. “Any clue what that might mean?”

“None.” You shake your head.

“Anyways.” Taehyung shrugs, picking Jungkook’s phone back up, and giddily scrolling through his gallery. “Let me look at more of these Bam pictures.”

You sigh. You’ve long since stopped whacking your brain to figure out what Auntie Aecha’s off handed comments might mean. They’re usually just similar nonsense.

Suddenly, Taehyung is yanked off your lap just as abruptly as he came, before Yoongi’s fingers latch onto your forearm next. “Bitch, I need you at the table soccer, pronto.”

“And that’s my cue, guys,” you sigh, before standing up.

After ruffling Jungkook’s hair, you step over Taehyung who’s now splattered on the floor, then take one last sip of your drink, and leave it besides Jungkook’s beer on the table. 

He’s the only motherfucker here you can trust not to drink it while you’re away.

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

The following Thursday evening finds you tucked away in one of the public libraries of Queens, sharing a table with Hoseok who quietly types away on his short story, while you add the finishing touches to your article for next week’s newspaper before sending it over to Namjoon for editing. 

Originally, you guys came over to the neighbourhood because you accompanied Hoseok to pick up these sneakers that he found on Facebook Marketplace, which turned out to be a total scam, unfortunately.

So, in Queens and awfully unaccomplished, the two of you tried to ring up to Jungkook’s (his aunt answered the intercom, Jungkook’s apparently out) and to Namjoon’s (where you guys actually got in, but were promptly kicked out at 6PM because some show Namjoon’s grandmother is obsessed with like a teenager was starting on the telly, and she doesn’t want you kids around to make a rattle) so without any idea of what to do, the two of you decided to retreat to the next best option of a free shelter in Queens, since you’ve already made the commute here. That’s the library. 

“What’s another word for ‘motivating’? As an adjective,” you ask Hoseok, taking a sip of water.

“Duh. ‘Inspiring’,” Hoseok says without even looking up from his laptop. Or stopping typing, for that matter.

“It makes me so happy that you hold my intelligence to such high regards, friend.” You kick his shin under the table, but it does little to deter him. “I meant besides that and ‘encouraging’, obviously.”

“‘Impelling’, ‘propelling’, maybe ‘provoking’ depending on the context,” Hoseok lists like the walking thesaurus he is — the pros of having a friend in the English major.

“Thanksie yousie.”

“Bless you.”

You finish typing up the article, and send it over to Namjoon’s school mail inbox. Without anything to do now, you immediately fall victim to boredom.

Hoseok seems to be in the flow, though, fingers rapidly flying over the keyboard as he mumbles under his breath, so you scroll through your newsfeed for a while — someone won the lottery this week, a politician is under suspicion of tax fraud, wow, who would’ve thought, another disappearance happened in Manhattan, a baby giraffe was born in the zoo, nothing about Spiderman since you’ve last checked — before opening up a Watermelon Game with cat pictures on the web to occupy yourself with for the time being.

Some ten minutes pass with that before the silence is broken again. 

“So how’s the Spiderman thing coming along?” Hoseok asks. 

After combining two large, yawning cats into an even larger, screaming and wet one, you meet his gaze over your computer screens. 

“Steady,” you simply say, and it’s vague enough not to constitute a lie. You let another baby kitten fall from the metaphorical sky. “Why?”

“Yoongi told me about the spider cum on your sweater.”

“Ew, it’s not fuckin—” you shriek, earning yourself a few ‘ssh’s and a dirty look from the librarian. You nod your head in apology with an awkward smile. Bending your laptop’s screen slightly, you lean in closer to hiss, “It’s not fucking spider cum.”

“Think about it,” Hoseok argues. “It’s his bodily fluid.”

“Actually, a few people on the forums think it might be synthetic,” you tell him.

“You’re just gonna have to ask him that, too.”

Humming, you take your phone out to make a quick note of it. That’s actually a pretty relevant question — for science. 

“Yoongi also told me that you left class early to try and catch him again yesterday and just ended up falling into Meadow Lake,” Hoseok continues.

“So why are you asking me then, if you already know everything?”

“I’m just curious. Unlike the others, I do kinda think that you’re gonna get somewhere.” Hoseok shrugs. He continues typing as he adds. “All this embarrassment without some sort of a pay-off? Nah. Karma is kinder than that.”

That’s. . . wow, that was actually pretty nice to hear. Impelling, if you will. 

Even if it was a little — a lot — backhanded. 

“Aww. Hobi. . .” You pout, kicking his leg under the table playfully. “My only fan.”

“Lukewarm supporter,” he corrects. 

“Whatever,” you brush him off. “Actually, nothing much happened besides those. Taking the subway back home drenched and stinking was a humbling experience, but I’m just gonna have to keep going. For the pay-off, like you said.”

Hoseok just hums again, and turns back to his writing, his curiosity seemingly running dry. Whatever.

For the next twenty-something minutes, you occupy yourself by playing round after round of Dress to Impress with Yoongi (later joined by Seokjin and Hari, as well) and you have lots of fun downrating each other’s outfits, so you don’t really accomplish anything. But who cares.

‘ur ootd look like smthng drawn on a deflated balloon lol ugly butt @ yunkiboongi’ you type in the chat, whipping out the lame PG-13 insults in consideration of the fact that, you know, Roblox is for middle schoolers, when Hoseok unceremoniously snaps his laptop shut, standing up from his seat.

“I’m perched. A quick drink at Seoulite before we leave the ‘hood?”

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡

After consulting Google Maps, the two of you make the twenty-minute walk through Queens to Aecha’s. Sharing Hoseok’s Airpods, you listen to Epic Sax on repeat on the way, while you try to bring up the topic of Namjoon as subtly as possible.

See, you and Jungkook have a running theory. 

It’s not long — it’s just that Hoseok and Namjoon are in love with each other, possibly secretly dating already (this is the point where you guys usually lose the rest of your friends when trying to get them onto the bandwagon, and to be honest, your faith has wavered at this point too, but then Jungkook raised a good point: for the past six months, you haven’t even seen pictures of these people, let alone meet them, that Namjoon is apparently getting dumped by biweekly. Jungkook thinks keeping up the pretence of Namjoon being an unlucky serial dater is part of their elaborate cover-up plan) so Jungkook and you are trying to get any sort of hint or confirmation on the matter, like the nosey little bitches you two are. 

Whatever. You come up empty. After droning on about Namjoon’s chest, like ‘He has really nice tits, doesn’t he?’ and ‘You kinda just wanna suffocate buried between them, am I right?’, which are not at all subtle, you admit, you come to the conclusion that Hoseok must be either oblivious, a damn good liar, or not in love with Namjoon, which you personally refuse to believe. 

When you round the corner to the street of the Seoulite, the two of you step into the flashing of red and blue police lights in the pitch black night. Confused, you hand the borrowed half of the earbuds back to Hoseok, furrowing your brows as you two keep walking closer.

A smaller crowd has gathered around the block that you know houses the Seoulite, some clearly passersby and others most likely denizens of the neighbouring buildings, clad in their pyjamas and a coat in the evening hours. 

“What the fucks going on?” you croak, grabbing onto the arm of Hoseok’s coat with two fingers as the two of you squeeze into the crowd.

The pavement in front of Auntie Aecha’s door is railed off with a police line, officers moving in and out of her apartment through the opened door. 

No. 

No, no, no, no, no. 

Hari and Jimin were here just this morning. 

A weak rumble befalls the crowd as people whisper to each other, too quiet and too much for you to overhear anything. 

You rummage through your backpack, taking a deep breath before noticing two officers engaged in conversation by the police line.

“Excuse me?” you call out.

One of them turns, sparing you a look over his shoulders, before saying. “Not now, kid. Please wait for the official reports.”

“I’m ___ from NYU Weekly News,” you continue, flashing him the press card you have procured from your bag.

“School paper’s covering crimes now, girl?” The officer sighs, but walks closer to inspect your ID nevertheless.  

“Always did,” you reply. It’s a bit of a stretch. 

The most illegal activity you’ve written about was someone stealing a piano from the music room. Which was a fun one, by the way, because how the fuck do you steal a piano without anyone noticing, and yet. . .

“Okay,” the policeman says, not entirely convinced. “The owner’s kids from Kentucky requested a wellness check. We did it. The apartment shows clear signs of struggle, and the owner couldn’t be reached, so the NYPD is opening a missing person’s case, suspecting kidnapping. And that’s all I can tell you, kid.”

You swallow, grip tightening around Hoseok’s wrists, who has gone just as rigid as you did. 

“Thank you, officer.”

The man nods, and leaves the two of you alone as he walks back to his colleague. 

Hoseok looks at you, expression baffled as he reaches for your hand. His tight hold is welcome. You feel like you’re about to vomit.

“Auntie Aecha’s missing?”

NEXT CHAPTER

[majablanque]

spideykoo 🕷️💜

[boyfiejk]

have a deeply rooted love for spideykook like it just makes so much sense. jeongguk literally IS peter parker and you can't tell me otherwise. his big comfy outfits and fluffy hair and glasses like... i'm obsessed

[jkprkerz]

they’re so cool i wish i was both of them

just hot girl sunday things

[hannieehaee]

this is the next jk fic ill be writing btw<33 im not sure when i'll finish but i have about 5k words already!!

[voyter]

getting back to based off film !! break of dawn will be released soon .. pls bare with me 😅😅😅

[jkpng]

STOPPPPPPPP…………..

[jkprkerz]

seven by jungkook mv is LOADED with spider-man references it’s so spideykook

[moonscarabz]

if metro spider exists in atsv then i raise that spideykook can and will exist in btsv

[chrrybbmb]

INTERLACE

STARRING ... SPIDEY!J. JUNGKOOK X READER

WORD COUNT ... 10.5K

SUMMARY ... at what point do crossing paths become one in the same?

NOTES/WARNINGS ... slow burn. reader and jungkook are both awkward losers. reader is in mega denial abt her feelings. is it a love triangle if it's technically only two people? fighting and mentions of blood. very spidey centric this chapter.

playlist : head over heels (tears for fears). glue song (beabadoobee). some (steve lacy). a new kind of love (frou frou). i want you to love me (fiona apple). my kind of woman (mac de marco). telephones (vacations). blondie (current joys). fade into you (mazzy star). waiting room (phoebe bridgers).

taglist. prev. next.

you don’t know why this is making you this nervous.

it’s not like jungkook is scary. he’s quiet, sure—keeps to himself, doesn’t talk much in class. but he’s nice. normal. a perfectly reasonable person to ask for help.

so why the hell are your palms sweating?

you take a slow breath, forcing your legs to move, weaving through the crowd of students packing up their things. by the time you reach his desk, most of the lecture hall has emptied, and jungkook is still sitting there, hunched slightly over his bag like he’s in no rush to leave.

he glances up when you stop beside him.

his eyes are huge. it throws you off for half a second, but you shake it off, adjusting your bag strap and clearing your throat.

“hey,” you say, voice coming out a little softer than you mean it to.

jungkook stares.

and stares.

for a second, you think he might actually be buffering. then, finally, “uh. hey,” he says, blinking like he just remembered how to function.

you shift, rolling your shoulders. okay. normal. this is normal.

“so, um.” you glance around, suddenly hyper-aware of how empty the room is. “this might be kind of random, but… do you, uh. know anyone who tutors?”

jungkook blinks again, like he wasn’t expecting that question. “tutors?”

you nod, shifting on your feet. “yeah. for chemistry.”

god, why does this feel so awkward?

jungkook doesn’t answer right away.

his expression shifts—just a flicker of something unreadable—but you don’t have time to dwell on it before he clears his throat.

“uh. yeah. i mean, i—” he rubs the back of his neck, voice slightly strained. “i can ask around.”

you try not to let your disappointment show, but you must not be very good at it, because jungkook’s brows twitch slightly.

“oh,” you say, nodding. “cool. yeah, that would be great.”

you hesitate.

because this—standing here, watching him watch you, feeling like there’s some kind of weird, invisible weight between you—feels off. like the conversation should be longer, like there’s something else you should say, even though you don’t know what.

but you don’t want to drag this out.

so you clear your throat, shifting your bag strap higher. “and, um… if you hear of anyone good, could you maybe… let me know?”

jungkook nods so fast it almost startles you. “yeah. of course.”

his voice is weirdly serious.

but you brush it off, offering a small smile. “thanks, jungkook.”

for a second, his breath catches—like you just said something completely life-altering instead of just his name.

you tilt your head, but before you can think too hard about it, you wave and turn toward the door.

you don’t look back.

but as you step into the hallway, something about the whole thing still lingers. like you missed something important.

jungkook had rehearsed for this exact situation. he thought the hard part was over—he'd actually acted semi-normal when he'd approached you, managed to hold eye contact while offering to be your tutor. he'd even left the exchange having obtained your number (sweet!!).

he'd spent countless nights revising content, practicing formulas and memorising equations and theories so that he could at least seem like he knew what he was doing.

this was it. his moment. he was finally just going to interact with you like a normal fucking human being.

it was all good in theory, but in practice? jungkook was royally fucked.

because now you're sitting next to him, completely oblivious to the fact that he's barely holding it together.

you're chewing on the end of your pen, eyes narrowed at your notebook, looking way too focused for someone who has no idea how much damage they're doing to his concentration.

"so," you say, tapping the paper. "balancing equations. i kind of get it, but also, i really, really don't."

jungkook blinks. right. chemistry. that's what they're here for.

he clears his throat, forcing himself to focus. "uh, yeah. it's not too bad once you get the hang of it."

you shoot him a deadpan look. "strongly disagree."

he huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. "okay, so—" he grabs his pen and flips to a clean page. "the key thing is that both sides need to have the same number of atoms. like, if you start with four hydrogens on this side, you need four on the other too."

you nod slowly. "okay. that… makes sense."

"yeah, so let’s try this one." he writes out a basic equation, sliding the notebook toward you. "give it a shot."

you stare at it like it's personally offended you.

jungkook bites back a grin. "it’s not a trick question."

"it feels like a trick question," you mutter. but you pick up your pen, hesitating before writing a number down.

jungkook watches as you pause, lips pressing together, brows furrowing in concentration.

he looks away quickly.

he should be focusing on the chemistry. the equations, the tutoring.

not the fact that he’s definitely in trouble.

because the moment you put pen to paper, jungkook knows—just knows—you’re about to get it wrong.

and sure enough, when you slide the notebook back toward him, there it is.

wrong.

not completely wrong, but wrong enough that jungkook exhales through his nose and shakes his head.

you groan, dragging a hand down your face. “god, this is so dumb.”

“it’s not dumb,” jungkook says, flipping his pen between his fingers. “you’re just thinking about it the wrong way.”

“okay, smart guy.” you tilt your head, challenging. “explain it to me in a way that actually makes sense.”

jungkook leans back, tapping the pen against the page. “okay, think of it like this. say you’re making a fruit salad—”

you blink. “a what?”

“a fruit salad,” he repeats, undeterred. “and say you start with four oranges.”

you eye him warily. “...okay.”

“so no matter what you do—peel them, slice them, throw them in a bowl with other fruit—at the end of the day, you still have four oranges.”

your brows furrow, lips pressing together like you don’t want to admit that makes sense.

jungkook grins. “balancing equations is the same thing. no matter how you rearrange the elements, the total amount of each one has to stay the same on both sides.”

you stare at him for a long moment.

then, finally, you sigh. “...that’s actually a good analogy.”

he smirks. “i know.”

you roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips now. “okay, hotshot, let’s see if you can explain something harder.”

jungkook arches a brow. “oh, so now you want me to tutor you?”

you shove his arm lightly. “shut up and give me another problem.”

he chuckles, flipping to a fresh page. “alright. let’s try the haber process.”

he writes it down, leaving it unbalanced:

N₂ + H₂ → NH₃

“alright,” he says, capping his pen. “same rule as before. everything on the left has to match everything on the right.”

you narrow your eyes, twirling your pen between your fingers before jotting something down.

jungkook watches as you hesitate, erasing and rewriting numbers, brows furrowed in concentration.

it’s weirdly endearing.

and then you groan, pushing the notebook back. “i give up.”

jungkook scans your work. “you were close.”

“i hate that phrase.”

he grins, nudging the notebook back toward himself. “watch.”

he adjusts the numbers as he explains. “so, nitrogen. you start with two on this side, but only one on this side. so we fix that by making this a two—” he scribbles down the coefficient.

“okay…” you say slowly, watching his pen move.

“now hydrogen,” he continues. “we start with two here, but six here. so we add a three here to balance it out—”

N₂ + 3H₂ → 2NH₃

he slides the notebook back to you with a triumphant smile.

you stare at it, expression unreadable. “i swear to god,” you say, shaking your head, “if you had explained it like that from the start, i wouldn’t have struggled.”

jungkook laughs. “so what i’m hearing is, i’m a great tutor.”

“what you’re hearing is, you could’ve been a great tutor.”

“eh. still counts.”

you roll your eyes, but this time, you’re actually smiling.

and jungkook—despite everything, despite his initial panic, despite the fact that he’s sitting way too close to you for his own sanity—finds himself smiling too.

you stretch your arms over your head, letting out a quiet sigh. “y’know, i almost asked namjoon for tutoring.”

jungkook stills for a second before forcing himself to look casual. “oh, yeah?”

you nod, scribbling absently in the corner of your notebook. “yeah. figured he’d be a good choice, since he’s, like… stupidly smart.”

jungkook huffs a small laugh, but something about that digs at him a little. because you’re right. namjoon would be the better choice.

namjoon is a teacher’s aide. namjoon is literally enrolled in biomedical engineering, which is, like, a hundred times more impressive than whatever jungkook is doing. namjoon probably understands this stuff instead of just memorizing enough to fake his way through a tutoring session.

jungkook shifts slightly in his seat, tapping his pen against the table. “so why didn’t you?”

you blink at him.

then, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, you shrug. “because you offered.”

jungkook's brain goes blank.

because what?

you say it so easily, like it’s obvious, like there wasn’t even a question. like you actually wanted to study with him.

his grip tightens around his pen as he watches you absently flip through your notes, completely unaware of the absolute chaos you've just thrown him into.

for a second, neither of you say anything.

your eyes flick up to his, and suddenly, he’s stuck.

there’s a small pause—just a beat, just long enough for jungkook to forget how to breathe.

you hold his gaze like it’s nothing, like he’s not sitting here actively trying not to combust.

his mouth goes dry. his heart is way too loud.

and then, just as quickly, you glance back down at your notes, tapping your pen against the paper. “okay, next question. impress me, tutor boy.”

jungkook clears his throat, blinking hard, trying to snap himself out of whatever the hell that was (he is so fucking done for).

he shifts in his seat, flipping through the textbook like he actually knows what he’s looking for. “uh. yeah. next question. right.”

you smirk, tilting your head. “you good?”

“yeah.” his voice comes out too fast, too stiff. he forces a casual shrug. “just, uh—thinking of a good one.”

(thinking about how you looked at me like that. thinking about how you chose me instead of namjoon. thinking about how—fuck.)

you hum, resting your chin in your palm. “hope it’s a hard one.”

jungkook exhales sharply, scanning the page like it has the answers to any of the things he’s struggling with right now.

finally, he lands on a problem that looks complicated enough to distract both of you.

“alright,” he says, tapping the book. “let’s see what you got.”

you lean in slightly, eyes flicking over the question, and jungkook tells himself to focus—on the tutoring, on the problem, on literally anything except the way your shoulder brushes his when you move. but he feels it anyway. and he knows this is so much worse than he thought.

time passes.

the tutoring session slowly shifts—somewhere between balancing equations and half-scribbled notes, the conversation drifts, drifting away from chemistry, away from anything remotely academic.

at first, it’s small things.

you ask jungkook how he even ended up offering to tutor you in the first place (he very smoothly dodges the part where jimin bullied him into it). he asks you if chemistry is your worst subject (it is, followed closely by calculus, which makes him wince in secondhand pain).

but then, when the notes are mostly abandoned and the textbooks sit open but unread between you, jungkook asks, “so, the mural.”

you pause, pen tapping against the table. “what about it?”

jungkook shrugs, keeping his tone casual. “just wondering how it’s going.”

you blink. “how do you know about the mural?”

fuck.

jungkook freezes.

because—right. right. he’s not supposed to know about that. not as jungkook.

he clears his throat, scrambling for a non-suspicious answer. “uh—i mean, it’s kind of hard to miss, right? huge wall, lots of paint?” he forces a laugh. “not exactly subtle.”

you tilt your head, watching him.

for a second, he panics. does she know? is she suspicious?

but then, your lips curve into a small smile. “guess that’s true.”

he lets out a breath, relieved.

you shift slightly, leaning back in your chair. “it’s going okay. slow, but i like how it’s turning out.”

jungkook nods, relaxing a little. “still just ‘feeling it out’?”

you grin. “always.”

jungkook exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

you lean forward, resting your chin on your hand, watching him curiously. “you actually care, or are you just trying to distract me from chemistry?”

he scoffs. “i do care.”

you raise an eyebrow.

“okay, and i’m trying to distract you.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “appreciate the honesty, tutor boy.”

jungkook rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

and as the conversation drifts even further from chemistry, as the minutes slip by unnoticed, he realizes he doesn’t actually mind that they haven’t gotten much studying done.

because sitting here, just talking to you? that might be his favorite part.

you stretch your arms over your head, letting out a slow sigh. “you know, this is giving me serious deja vu.”

jungkook raises an eyebrow. “deja vu?”

“yeah,” you say, twirling your pen between your fingers. “feels like our first library date all over again.”

jungkook chokes.

his throat closes up, his brain slams into a brick wall, and he spends a solid three seconds trying to remember how to breathe.

because—date??

DATE??

“what—” he coughs, scrambling to recover. “what?”

your eyes widen, like you just realized what you said. “oh my god.” you sit up straighter, waving your hands frantically. “no, wait, not like—i didn’t mean—i just meant, like—”

you groan, squeezing your eyes shut for a second before trying again. “i meant ‘date’ in, like, a casual, non-romantic way. like a—like a study date. not a date-date.”

jungkook is still stuck on the first part.

you clear your throat, shifting uncomfortably. “obviously, right? because that wasn’t—i mean, it’s not like we were—”

jungkook nods way too fast. “right. yeah. totally.”

silence.

the air is suddenly so much thicker than it was two seconds ago and neither of you are looking at each other anymore.

you tap your fingers against the notebook. jungkook fiddles with the cap of his pen.

somewhere in the distance, a clock ticks.

and then you really make it worse. you shake your head, then sigh dramatically. “god, i haven’t been on a date in ages.”

jungkook short-circuits.

you seem to realize it the second it leaves your mouth because your face burns hot immediately.

“i mean—not that you needed to know that,” you add quickly.

jungkook stares, not sure if he needed to know that either, but now he does and it’s definitely doing something weird to his brain.

you groan again, dropping your head onto the table, muffled voice full of suffering. “why am i still talking?”

jungkook has no idea.

no idea why you’re telling him this. no idea why his face is getting warm at the thought of you not having been on a date in ages.

he should say something. should defuse the tension, get this conversation back on track before either of you combust.

but his brain is a useless pile of mush.

so instead, he just blurts, “really?”

you lift your head just enough to squint at him. “why do you sound so surprised?”

he freezes. “i—uh. i don’t? sound surprised?”

you narrow your eyes, clearly not buying it.

jungkook panics. “i just mean—like, i figured you probably—” he waves his hand vaguely, trying to will the words to make sense, “—go on dates?”

you groan, dropping your forehead back onto the table. “oh my god.”

jungkook wants to crawl into a hole. “that’s not what i meant.”

your voice comes out muffled against the wood. “please stop talking.”

“yeah. okay.” he nods, gripping the edge of the table like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “i can do that.”

silence. horribly awkward, suffocating silence.

you peek up at him, resting your chin on your arms, and jungkook almost forgets how to function when you pout dramatically.

“i don’t know why i said any of that,” you whine, shaking your head.

jungkook exhales a laugh, the tension breaking just a little. “honestly? same.”

you squint at him. “you barely said anything.”

he shrugs. “felt like i did.”

you stare at him for a second. then, slowly, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

and just like that, the weirdness settles into something… easier.

you groan, stretching your arms over your head. “okay. chemistry. let’s focus. no more personal life crises.”

jungkook snorts, flipping the textbook back open. “you started it.”

“and i regret it immensely.”

“noted.”

you shake your head, grinning. and jungkook can't help but mirror your grin.

after a few minutes more, the library announcement chimes overhead, signaling that closing time is in fifteen minutes. you sigh, stretching your arms before starting to pack up your things.

“guess that’s our cue,” you say, slipping your notebook into your bag.

jungkook watches, debating something for a second before finally just going for it. “want me to walk you home?”

you pause, blinking up at him.

for a second, he wonders if that was too forward, if he made it weird, if he—

but then, you just smile, shaking your head. “that’s sweet, but i’ll be fine. i live pretty close.”

jungkook nods, trying to ignore the slight disappointment in his chest. “got it.”

you sling your bag over your shoulder and flash him a grateful look. “but seriously, thanks for tutoring me. i know you probably have better things to do.”

jungkook shrugs. “it’s not a big deal.”

you tilt your head, amused. “well, i’ll still say thanks. so, when are you free next?”

“whenever,” he answers immediately.

you raise an eyebrow. “wow. must be nice having unlimited free time.”

jungkook panics for a second because, yeah, it is nice when you don’t technically have a set schedule outside of being a vigilante and school.

he clears his throat, scrambling for a normal answer. “uh, yeah, i mean… i just study and play video games, so.”

your expression brightens at that. “oh? what games?”

he exhales, relieved at the topic change. “mostly overwatch. jimin and i play together a lot.”

you snort. “i suck at overwatch.”

jungkook scoffs. “you can’t be that bad.”

“no, i promise you, i’m that bad.”

he smirks, tilting his head. “so prove it.”

you blink. “what?”

“play with me sometime,” he says casually, shoving his books into his bag. “i’ll carry you.”

you shake your head, laughing. “you say that now, but wait till you actually see me play.”

“still worth it.”

you roll your eyes, but there’s a fondness in it. “nah, i usually play stuff like stardew valley.”

jungkook nods, pretending he hasn’t dumped way too many hours into that game himself. “yeah? how’s your farm?”

you grin, eyes bright. “thriving. absolute empire. perfect livestock, peak efficiency.”

he chuckles. “that so?”

“mhm.” you start heading for the door, throwing a glance over your shoulder. “i’ll show you sometime if you want.”

jungkook hesitates for half a second, then nods. “yeah. i’d like that.”

you smile. “cool.”

and just like that, you push open the library doors and step into the hall, calling out a quick, “see you later, tutor boy!” before disappearing into the crowd.

jungkook watches you go, standing there in the doorway for a moment longer than he probably should.

then, finally, he exhales, running a hand through his hair.

he’s so, so fucked.

it’s been a few days since your first tutoring session with jungkook, and somehow, your brain still won’t let go of that one stupid moment.

the part where you, for absolutely no reason, volunteered the information that you haven’t been on a date in ages.

why did you say that? what compelled you to just throw that out there like it was relevant to anything?

it wasn’t even that big of a deal—jungkook didn’t react weirdly, didn’t press you about it—but now you can’t stop wondering if he has gone on any dates recently. if he’s been out with someone, if there’s someone else who gets to sit across from him and hear him talk about things that aren’t chemistry equations.

you frown, shaking your head. it doesn’t matter.

because you don’t care. obviously.

it was just an awkward slip-up, that’s all. no reason to read into it, no reason to wonder about things that don’t concern you.

you don’t care.

really.

“you look like you’re thinking way too hard about something,” taehyung’s voice snaps you out of your daze.

you blink, barely registering that you’ve been staring at the sidewalk for the past minute instead of watching where you’re going.

taehyung, your seatmate in one of your other classes and the only person who seems to struggle with chemistry as much as you do, raises an eyebrow. “are you planning to confess to the pavement or…?”

you groan, adjusting your bag strap. “shut up.”

he laughs, shoving his hands into his pockets as the two of you walk across campus.

“so,” he says, shooting you a knowing look. “you finally got a tutor?”

you hum in confirmation. “yup.”

he grins. “about time. i was starting to think you were just accepting your fate.”

you groan again. “trust me, i was.”

taehyung laughs, shaking his head. “well, at least namjoon’s helping you out now. you couldn’t have picked a better tutor.”

you blink. “wait, what?”

he gives you a confused look. “your tutor. namjoon?”

you snort. “oh. no, not namjoon.”

taehyung frowns. “not namjoon?”

you shake your head.

he blinks. “then… who?”

you glance away, suddenly feeling a little awkward. “…jungkook.”

there’s a pause, and taehyung stops walking.

you take a few more steps before realizing he isn’t next to you anymore. when you turn back, he’s just staring at you, brows furrowed in disbelief.

“wait. jeon jungkook?”

you sigh. “how many jungkooks do we know?”

he ignores that, eyes narrowing. “the same jungkook who spends half of lecture spacing out and scribbling in his notebook?”

you roll your eyes. “he’s doing fine so far.”

taehyung still looks unconvinced. “so… you asked him?”

“no, he offered.”

his eyebrows shoot up. “he offered?”

you nod, and he really squints this time. “okay,” he says slowly. “what exactly did he say? word for word.”

you groan. “why does it matter?”

“because.” he leans in, smirking. “i need to know if this is just tutoring, or if tutor boy is lowkey flirting with you.”

your face heats immediately. “taehyung.”

he grins. “yes?”

you shake your head aggressively. “it’s not like that.”

he shrugs, but there’s mischief in his expression. “if you say so.” but the look on his face definitely says he doesn’t believe you.

you groan, tightening your grip on your bag. “seriously, it’s not like that.”

taehyung gives you a look. “mmm. still skeptical.”

you roll your eyes. “look, i originally just asked him if he knew any tutors, okay? like, if he could ask around or whatever.”

taehyung hums, intrigued. “and?”

“and i guess he just figured tutoring me himself was easier than actually hunting for one.”

taehyung stops walking again. you turn to see him staring at you, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“…what?” you ask.

he tilts his head. “so, instead of just looking for a tutor, which would have taken him a single day and it would be over with, he just… decided to be one? to take time out of his day to tutor you?”

you nod. “yeah?”

he squints. “even though he definitely didn’t have to?”

you frown. “i mean, yeah, but—”

“even though he probably had other things to do?”

you groan, dragging a hand down your face. “oh my god, taehyung.”

he grins. “i’m just saying. interesting.”

you glare. “it’s not like that.”

he shrugs, falling back into step beside you. “if you say so.”

as you walk, taehyung hums, still smirking like he knows something you don’t. “so, when’s your next study date?”

you trip over your own feet. “it’s not a date,” you sputter, spinning to glare at him.

his smirk widens. “you sure?”

“it’s not a date,” you repeat, scowling. “me and jungkook never been on a date. ever. and he can go on as many dates as he wants and it doesn’t bother me because it’s not like i wanted to go out with him in the first place so there.”

silence.

taehyung blinks at you, completely unimpressed. “…okay?”

your brain finally catches up with your mouth, and horror creeps in as you replay the absolute disaster that just came out of your own lips.

taehyung just watches, waiting, smug as hell.

you groan, smacking a hand over your face. “i don’t know why i said all of that.”

“oh, i do,” he says, all too pleased with himself.

you refuse to dignify that with a response. instead, you storm ahead, fully ready to throw yourself into oncoming traffic.

taehyung, the menace, just follows along, whistling smugly. “you and jungkook, sitting in a tree—” you immediately smack him on the back of the head.

“ow!” he yelps, rubbing the spot dramatically. “violence? over a silly little song?”

you shoot him a glare so sharp it could cut glass, and taehyung shuts up immediately. he falls right into line, walking beside you like a perfectly normal, well-behaved person. not even humming.

you narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. “…that easy?”

he lifts his hands in surrender, lips twitching. “what can I say? i know when i’ve pushed my luck.”

you huff, shaking your head. “good. keep it that way.”

taehyung nods sagely. “oh, for sure.”

but the second you glance away, you catch him grinning out of the corner of your eye.

taehyung, very much not knowing when to not push his luck, mutters under his breath, “you are so whipped.”

without hesitation, you smack him again.

“ow—!”

“i am so not whipped,” you hiss, jabbing a finger at him.

taehyung rubs the back of his head, grinning despite the repeated assault. “denial is a river in egypt, my friend.”

you glare at him. “taehyung, i swear to god—”

“okay!” he lifts his hands in surrender, still grinning. “i’ll stop. for now.”

you narrow your eyes. “good.”

but as the two of you keep walking, taehyung just smiles to himself, smug as hell. and you hate that, for some reason, it feels like he already knows something you don’t.

“bro, you are so whipped. president of whipped city. honorary mayor. full-time resident.”

jungkook sighs, staring blankly at the game screen. “…yeah.”

jimin nearly drops his controller. “wait, what?”

jungkook exhales, running a hand through his hair. “i said yeah.”

jimin gapes at him, like jungkook just admitted to something earth-shattering. “hold on. hold on. you’re actually agreeing with me? no pushback? no pathetic attempts to deny it?”

jungkook groans, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. “dude, what’s the point? we both know it’s true.”

jimin flops dramatically against the couch. “oh my god. my best friend—self-aware?”

“shut up.”

“no, no, this is huge.” jimin tosses his controller onto the coffee table and gestures wildly. “this is, like, character development.”

jungkook scowls, shoving him with his foot. “dude, play the game.”

jimin smirks, picking up his controller again. “so what’s got you suddenly admitting defeat? did she do something cute again?”

jungkook grits his teeth, staring too hard at the screen. “she exists. that’s enough.”

jimin cackles. “oh, you are so gone.” jungkook groans, slumping deeper into the couch, because yeah. yeah. he really, really is. he’s been gone from the moment you smiled at him for the first time.

not just a polite, passing smile, not the kind you give to strangers in the hall, but a real one—bright and effortless, the kind that made his brain short-circuit and his stomach flip all at once.

it was over for him before he even realized it.

jimin side-eyes him, a slow grin creeping onto his face. “you’re thinking about her right now, aren’t you?”

jungkook scoffs. “shut up.”

“you are.” jimin points at him. “you’re sitting here, pretending to focus on the game, but in reality? your brain is running a full highlight reel of every time she’s ever laughed in your direction.”

jungkook’s eye twitches. “…so what if it is?”

jimin gasps, clutching his chest like he’s moved. “holy shit. you’ve evolved. you’re finally embracing the downfall.”

jungkook sighs, pausing the game and rubbing his face. “god, i hate you.”

“no, you love me,” jimin corrects, slinging an arm around jungkook’s shoulders and shaking him lightly. “but not as much as you love—”

jungkook slaps a hand over his mouth, and jimin laughs against his palm, completely unbothered.

jungkook sighs, pulling his hand away. “bro, what do i do?”

jimin leans back, smug. “depends. what’s the goal here? do you just wanna keep suffering in silence? or do you actually wanna do something about it?”

jungkook exhales sharply, staring at the game screen. “i don’t know.”

“well,” jimin grins, “i do.”

jungkook groans, already regretting asking. “oh god.”

jimin smacks his knee. “dude. date. her.”

jungkook freezes.

jimin raises an eyebrow. “what? too much?”

jungkook stares at the screen, heart pounding.

because—fuck.

date her. just two simple words. but now that they’re out there, he can’t stop thinking about them.

obviously he's had the idea in passing, but he's never fully entertained it. he'd imagined it every now and then, wondered what it would feel like to hold your hand and keep you by his side, and then dismissed the idea entirely.

but now it was somewhat tangible.

it wasn’t just a passing thought anymore. it was real enough to put a name to, real enough that jimin could say it out loud, real enough that jungkook’s chest tightened at the very idea of it.

he swallows hard, gripping his controller like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

jimin watches him closely, the smirk on his face slowly morphing into something less teasing, more knowing.

“…you wanna,” he says, voice softer now. not a question.

jungkook exhales, pressing his lips together.

does he?

he thinks about it. really thinks about it.

about you, sitting across from him in the library, chewing on your pen as you furrowed your brows at a chemistry problem. about you standing in front of that mural, streaks of paint on your fingers, looking so focused, so alive. about you looking at him—at spider-man—and telling him you thought he was a good guy.

his stomach flips. yeah. he wants.

“…yeah,” jungkook mutters, barely above a whisper. “i wanna.”

jimin beams.

“okay, lover boy,” he says, stretching his arms behind his head. “so what’s the move?”

jungkook groans, dragging a hand down his face. “god, i don’t know.”

jimin hums, fake-pensive. “well, you could just ask her out.”

jungkook levels him with a deadpan stare. “oh, genius. brilliant. why didn’t i think of that?”

jimin grins. “i know, right?”

jungkook shoves him, and jimin cackles.

but underneath all of jimin’s antics, all the teasing and the prodding and the smugness, jungkook knows he’s right. if he wants this—if he really, actually wants this—he can’t just sit around waiting for fate to keep throwing you in his path.

he has to do something about it.

…except he won’t.

because the thought alone is enough to send him into a full-blown spiral, and if he actually tried to do something about it? he’d probably self-destruct on the spot.

he’s not ready for that. so instead, he just leans back into the couch, stretching his legs out and letting out a slow breath. “yeah, no. not happening.”

jimin groans dramatically. “dude.”

“nope.” jungkook shakes his head, staring at the game screen like it holds all the answers. “happy to keep things exactly the way they are.”

jimin rolls his eyes. “oh, because that’s going so great for you.”

jungkook shrugs. “could be worse.”

“bro, you are suffering.”

“debatable.”

jimin makes a frustrated noise, flopping back against the cushions. “this is painful to witness.”

jungkook snorts, nudging jimin’s foot with his own. “so stop witnessing.”

“oh, no. i’m invested now,” jimin says, pointing at him. “one of these days, you’re gonna slip. you’re gonna do something so disgustingly obvious that she has to notice, and when that day comes? i will be there to say ‘i told you so.’”

jungkook shakes his head, amused. “cool. let’s cross that bridge when we get there.”

jimin just grins, looking way too smug. “oh, we will.”

jungkook rolls his eyes and unpauses the game, diving back into their match.

he tells himself not to think about it anymore.

not about you, not about the way his chest tightened when he admitted he wanted this, not about the fact that jimin is probably right and it’s only a matter of time before he screws up big time.

for now, it’s easier to just keep things the way they are.

you step back, wiping your hands against your hoodie, smudging more paint onto the already-stained fabric. the mural is starting to take shape.

sort of.

it’s different from what you originally planned. when you first started, it was going to be full of blues—deep, rich shades, like the night sky stretched across the wall. but somewhere along the way, the reds started creeping in.

now, there’s more red than blue.

you tilt your head, studying it under the dim glow of the streetlamp. you didn’t plan it this way, but somehow, the colors look familiar.

warm undertones mixed with the shadows. the way the red bleeds into the dark, streaks of white cutting through the mess, as if something—or someone—is moving through it.

it looks like—

no.

you shake your head, dipping your brush into more red.

you don’t know what it looks like yet. it’s still forming. still coming together. you’ll figure it out later.

you just keep painting.

the streetlamp flickers, casting a dull glow over your workspace, your shadow stretching long against the wall. the night is quiet—just the occasional sound of passing cars, the distant murmur of the city still alive somewhere beyond this little pocket of stillness.

your brush glides across the concrete, the red blending deeper, warmer, more intense.

you tell yourself you’re not thinking about it.

not thinking about why your strokes keep forming those streaks, those sharp angles that almost resemble the shape of someone in motion.

not thinking about why you keep gravitating toward these colors, why the contrast between red and blue feels so familiar, like you’ve seen it a thousand times before, flashing across the city skyline.

you sigh, stepping back again, arms crossed.

maybe you’re imagining things. maybe it’s nothing. maybe your subconscious just decided on this without consulting you first.

but still, the mural is starting to look like something. or someone.

you press your lips together, debating whether to add more or leave it for the night.

before you can decide, a noise from above catches your attention.

a faint thump—barely noticeable, but enough to pull your focus upward.

your eyes flick toward the rooftops.

the city stretches above you, dark windows, empty fire escapes, towering buildings. nothing unusual. nothing there.

but something in your gut says otherwise.

you linger for a second longer, staring at the skyline, before finally shaking your head.

it’s just your imagination. probably.

you turn back to your mural, reaching for your brush again. because whatever it is—whoever it reminds you of—you’ll figure it out later.

right now, you just want to paint.

just as you’re about to dip your brush back into the paint, a commotion erupts in the distance. loud, sharp—people screaming. your head snaps toward the street. you hesitate for only a second before stepping away from the wall, peering out from the alleyway.

“oh, what the fuck.”

there’s something big—way too big—moving down the street. cars veer off, tires screeching. people sprint in every direction, desperate to get out of its path. streetlights flicker, casting broken shadows over the chaos.

you blink hard, trying to process what you’re seeing. because whatever that thing is, it’s huge.

bulky, armored, stomping through the street like it owns the place.

“is that—” you squint, taking a step forward. 

it lets out a roar. an actual, earth-shaking roar. you flinch, gripping the edge of the wall. "fucking godzilla junior,” you mutter, heart hammering.

the thing—creature? metal suit? angry science experiment?—swings an arm, knocking over a lamppost like it’s nothing. it crashes onto the sidewalk, sending sparks flying. this is so not your problem. this is, in fact, the exact opposite of your problem. this is a spider-man problem.

your fingers tighten on the strap of your bag as you scan the street, looking for any sign of red and blue.

because if there’s one thing you do know, he’ll show up. he always does.

the creature stomps past your alley, the ground shaking with every step.

you hold your breath, pressing yourself against the wall as it moves further into the city, tearing its way through the streets like a walking natural disaster.

you should leave. should turn around, pack up, go home. but instead, you wait, because you know what’s coming next.

and sure enough, not even a full minute later, you spot him. a blur of red and blue swings into view, flipping between the buildings, fast and precise, headed straight for the chaos.

you grin. “go get ‘em, spider-man!” you call out, cupping your hands around your mouth.

he falters. mid-swing, his momentum glitches, his body twisting at the sound of your voice.

“whoa—shit—”

he just barely corrects himself before landing, almost colliding with a very confused pedestrian.

you giggle, pressing a hand to your mouth.

he whips around, scanning the area, but you’re already retreating back into the alley, out of sight.

you laugh under your breath, shaking your head as you dip your brush back into the paint. the shouts and sirens from the street feel distant now, like background noise to your own little world.

the colors on the wall bleed together beneath your touch, slow and deliberate. you swipe through the wet paint with practiced ease, dragging the deep reds across the surface, blending them into darker shades, cutting through them with streaks of white and blue.

it’s instinctual, the way your wrist moves, the way the brush strokes form something you recognize but don’t question. it’s coming together on its own—shapes forming out of muscle memory, lines shifting into movement, colors layering until they feel right.

you don’t mind how familiar it’s turning out to be.

even if there's no red string, even if fate doesn’t work the way the stories say it does—if the universe keeps bringing two people together, again and again, through coincidence or chaos or sheer, dumb luck—

isn’t that the same thing?

your fingers pause against the wall.

the thought lingers, curling into your chest like something warm, something you don’t want to name yet.

so you don’t.

instead, you pick up your brush again and keep painting.

jungkook is getting his ass beat.

not, like, fatally—he’s had worse, honestly—but this? this is definitely not great.

he barely dodges another swing from godzilla junior, flipping backward onto a car hood before launching himself into the air. his chest aches from where he took a hit earlier, and his reflexes are just a little slower than usual, which is definitely not ideal when fighting something that could probably fold him in half.

and the worst part?

he’s still thinking about you.

because, of course, of course the second he swings in, you have to be there—cheering him on, all cute and distracting—and now his brain is all messed up, and that’s why he nearly wiped out in front of a whole crowd of people.

(seriously, who does that? what kind of idiot almost faceplants mid-swing just because a girl said his name?)

(oh, right. him.)

“hey, focus, dumbass!” he mutters to himself, shooting out a web and flipping just in time to avoid another direct hit.

the creature—or, more accurately, the massive asshole in a mechanical exo-suit—lets out a roar of frustration, swinging wildly at nothing as jungkook zips between buildings.

jungkook lands against a wall, crouching low, trying to catch his breath. he really needs to find an opening, but all he can think about is the way you giggled before disappearing back into that alley. his stomach does a weird little flip, and that’s when it hits him.

not a realization. an actual hit. because apparently, while he was busy being an idiot, godzilla junior decided to throw an entire street sign at him.

the impact knocks the air from his lungs, sending him crashing into a dumpster with a loud, painful clang. jungkook groans, peeling himself out of the metal. 

okay, focus. no more thinking about you.

jungkook barely has time to roll out of the way before the dumpster caves in on itself, the metal screeching as godzilla junior storms toward him. “okay, rude,” jungkook wheezes, flipping onto his feet. “you ever heard of talking things out? no? just straight to throwing street signs, huh?”

the guy inside the exo-suit growls, voice crackling through the speakers. “shut up and fight me.”

jungkook sighs, shaking out his limbs. “see, that’s the problem. i am fighting you, and yet, somehow, i’m still getting my ass handed to me.”

before he can brace himself, the guy lunges, fast—way too fast for something that big. jungkook dodges just in time to avoid a direct hit, twisting mid-air and landing on the creature’s back. “whoa, big guy,” he grins, gripping onto the metal. “you ever think about cutting back on the protein powder?”

he barely gets the words out before he’s violently shaken off, his body whipping through the air like a ragdoll before he slams into the pavement.

pain explodes through his ribs.

“ow.” he groans, rolling onto his side. “okay. that was fair.”

the guy doesn’t let up, stomping forward, metal plating glinting under the streetlights. jungkook forces himself to move, to breathe, flipping backward as the exo-suit’s arm smashes into the ground where he was just laying. concrete shatters beneath the force.

“man,” jungkook huffs, shaking out his wrist as he shoots a web, swinging around to land on a streetlight. “you are really committed to the whole mindless destruction thing, huh?”

“stand still and maybe i’ll stop.”

“ohhh, see, that sounds like a trap.”

the guy lunges again, swiping at the post with a massive, mechanical arm. jungkook jumps—barely clearing it—but he’s not fast enough this time. the impact sends shockwaves through the ground, knocking him off balance mid-air.

before he can recover, a fist, full force, collides with his chest, folding him in half.

he flies.

his vision tilts—buildings blur—his body crashes straight through a bus stop sign before slamming into the pavement, rolling several feet before finally coming to a stop against the side of a parked car.

his mask sticks to his face from the sheer amount of sweat, his ribs are screaming, and he’s definitely going to have a new collection of bruises tomorrow.

“ow,” he mutters again, blinking up at the sky. “ow, ow, ow.”

people are still screaming in the background, sirens wailing in the distance. he needs to get up. needs to get back in the fight before the guy starts tearing apart more of the city.

but—

yeah. no.

he needs, like, two seconds.

dragging himself up onto shaking legs, he stumbles into a nearby alleyway, pressing his back against the brick wall, gasping for breath. his vision swims and his hands tremble as he braces them on his knees.

okay. just a second. just a second to breathe.

then he’ll get back out there.

jungkook tugs off his mask, sucking in a shaky breath as the cool night air hits his sweat-damp skin.

his lungs burn. his ribs ache like they’ve been put through a meat grinder.

he spits onto the pavement—dark red against the concrete.

great. awesome. love that.

he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, grimacing. his knuckles sting, his fingers are twitching from exertion, and every single breath reminds him that he definitely got his ribs cracked somewhere in the process of getting bodied.

“okay,” he mutters, rolling his shoulders, trying to will the pain away. “not dead. not dead. still good.”

he’s had worse.

he leans his head back against the brick wall, shutting his eyes for half a second.

the distant sounds of destruction still echo down the street—sirens, screaming, metal crunching under massive weight.

he should be out there. but instead, he’s here—hiding in an alley, gulping down breaths, trying to ignore the way his body is begging for a break.

“just a second,” he mutters to himself, hands curling into fists. he can’t afford to stop for long. the fight isn’t over yet.

jungkook forces himself to stand up straight. his body protests—every muscle screaming, every breath a sharp reminder of how hard he just got his ass handed to him—but he has to move.

because outside the alley, chaos is still unfolding.

the ground shakes again, a distant explosion rattling through the streets. people are still running, still screaming.

he can’t afford to sit this one out.

with a deep inhale, he wipes the sweat from his forehead, then rolls his shoulders, trying to shake off the ache. his fingers fumble as he tugs his mask back down, adjusting it into place.

alright.

jungkook cracks his neck, flexes his hands, forces himself to take another step. he ignores the way his ribs protest. ignores the way his legs feel like lead.

he’s been through worse.

probably.

gritting his teeth, he fires a web toward the nearest fire escape and yanks himself up, flipping onto the rooftop with a grunt. the moment he clears the edge, he sees it. godzilla junior, still rampaging down the street, tossing cars out of its way like they’re made of styrofoam.

jungkook exhales through his nose. “round two, big guy.” and then he swings.

jungkook swings, using the momentum to propel himself forward, ignoring the sharp pull in his ribs as he twists mid-air.

he needs a new strategy.

because going at this guy head-on? clearly not working.

he lands on the side of a building, clinging to the glass as he assesses the scene. godzilla junior is still tearing through the street, metal limbs glinting under the streetlights, hydraulics hissing as it stomps forward.

jungkook exhales sharply. okay. think. what does he know?

the exo-suit is heavy, super heavy, which means it’s slow to recover after a big move. it definitely has enhanced strength, so getting close is a one-way ticket to another ass-kicking. and it has hydraulics, which means it can break.

jungkook’s lips curve into a grin.

“alright, big guy,” he mutters, rolling out his shoulders. “let’s see what happens when you stop moving.”

with that, he shoots a web at a nearby streetlight and swings hard, aiming straight for the thing’s back.

it hears him at the last second, turning just as he lands feet-first onto its shoulder.

“miss me?” jungkook quips, driving his web-shooters straight into the crevices of the exo-suit’s joints.

before the guy inside can respond, jungkook fires.

thick webs burst from his shooters, jamming themselves into the gears and hinges, clogging up the hydraulics in a mess of reinforced webbing.

the exo-suit whirs, sputters, tries to move, but the entire left arm locks up. jungkook grins.

“aw, what’s wrong?” he taunts, flipping over the creature’s head before landing on a nearby car. “can’t throw me across the city anymore?”

the guy inside snarls, trying to yank the arm free. jungkook doesn’t give him the chance. he dives, rolling under the thing’s legs before webbing the back of its knees, pulling tight.

another loud hiss—another joint jammed.

the suit stumbles.

jungkook flips backward, landing a safe distance away as the mechanical beast groans under its own weight.

“y’know, buddy,” he calls, panting, “maybe you should’ve invested in better hinges.”

the exo-suit lurches forward, trying to force itself free, but the joints are already straining. jungkook doesn’t wait. he fires two more webs at a nearby light post, swings himself high into the air, then comes down fast, both feet colliding directly with the already-weakened left knee.

the suit collapses.

metal crashes against the pavement, sparks flying as the massive frame finally buckles under its own weight. jungkook lands on the ground a few feet away, chest heaving. the guy inside groans, struggling, but he’s stuck, and just like that the fight is over.

jungkook stands there, catching his breath as the riot of noise around him settles into something more distant. sirens wail as cop cars pull up, officers pouring onto the street with their guns drawn—not that they’re needed anymore.

the exo-suit guy is down, tangled in a mess of metal and reinforced webbing, completely immobilized.

one of the officers approaches, cautious at first. “nice work, spider-man.”

jungkook nods, barely hearing him.

because right now, all he can think about is you.

the way you had cheered him on earlier, loud and carefree, like you knew he’d win. like you had never doubted that he would.

he wonders, would you be proud of him?

he hopes so.

because right now, standing in the aftermath of another near-death experience, barely holding himself together, that thought makes it feel worth it.

jungkook exhales, rolls out his aching shoulders, then fires a web at the nearest building.

the cops can handle the rest, he needs to get out of here.

his muscles scream as he swings off into the night, his grip weaker than usual, his head pounding. every movement feels slower, every pull of his body through the air making his ribs throb in protest. by the time he lands on an abandoned rooftop, his knees buckle on impact. he barely catches himself, arms shaking, breaths coming in sharp and uneven.

his body feels like it’s about to cave in.

his ribs burn, his limbs feel like they’re filled with lead, and he’s pretty sure if he takes his mask off, there’s at least one nasty cut hidden underneath.

but for now, he just lays back against the rooftop, stares up at the stars, and lets himself breathe.

you sigh, rolling your shoulders as you walk home, the scent of fresh paint still lingering on your hands. today had been a good day—no interruptions, no chaos—save for the slight hiccup. well, a little bit more than slight, but for once you'd been left entirely unaffected. just you and your mural, slowly coming to life. but as you round the corner near your building, something catches your eye.

or rather, someone.

spider-man is there, hanging upside down from a web attached to a nearby fire escape. you slow your steps, noticing he’s not moving much. the thought makes your stomach twist. “hey,” you call out, stopping just below him.

his head tilts slightly, like he’s only just noticed you. “oh. hey.” his voice is off—lower, a little rougher than usual.

you narrow your eyes. “are you… okay?”

he waves a hand. “yeah, yeah. just—” he makes a vague gesture, “—taking a breather.”

you cross your arms. “uh-huh. taking a breather by hanging upside down?”

he shrugs, but the motion looks lazy, like he’s conserving energy. your eyes scan him quickly, and that’s when you notice the way his suit is ripped just slightly at his side, the dark material stained a little darker.

your stomach drops. “you’re bleeding.”

he sighs. “technically, yeah, but it’s—”

“not a big deal?” you finish for him, unimpressed.

he pauses. “...yeah.”

you glare.

he sighs, like he already knows what’s coming.

“look,” he says, still hanging there, voice lighter now, “i appreciate the concern, really, but i’ll be fine. i just—”

“come inside.”

he stops.

“what?”

you nod toward the entrance of your building. “my apartment is literally right here. you need to clean that before it gets worse.”

spider-man hesitates. it’s subtle, but you see it—the way his shoulders tense just slightly, the way his fingers twitch where they grip the web. “i’m good,” he says. “really.”

you cross your arms. “you don’t look good.”

“charming,” he mutters.

you huff. “i’m serious. that looks bad. and if you just leave it, it’ll get worse.”

he’s still quiet.

you narrow your eyes. “what, scared of my decor?”

“no,” he says quickly, then pauses. “should i be?”

“depends on your taste,” you say, shrugging. “but i do have a first aid kit, so. your call.”

he still doesn’t move.

you sigh. “look. if it makes you feel better, you don’t have to stay long. just long enough to patch that up so you don’t pass out mid-swing and eat pavement.”

he exhales a small laugh, but you can tell it’s just for show. still, after a second, he sighs again—deeper this time, more resigned. “…okay.”

you nod, ignoring the way your stomach flips a little.

“good,” you say, turning toward the door. “then quit hanging around and come on.”

he groans. “oh my god, was that a pun?”

“it absolutely was.”

“i regret this already.”

you grin. “no takebacks, spidey.”

spider-man lets out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his shoulders before finally reaching up and releasing the web holding him in place. the second his feet hit the ground, his knees buckle. he stumbles forward, the world tilting around him, and he barely has time to process it before your hands are on him.

one gripping his arm, the other pressing against his chest, steadying him before he can completely collapse.

“whoa—okay, nope,” you say, tightening your grip, voice sharp with concern. “you are so not okay.”

“i—” he starts, but his ribs scream when he tries to straighten up, and his vision tilts again.

he would have gone down if you weren’t already half-carrying him.

“jesus, spider-man,” you mutter, struggling under his weight. “could’ve warned me before you almost ate the pavement.”

he exhales a laugh, but it’s weak, winded. “wasn’t—planning on it.”

you scoff, shifting your stance to better support him. “yeah, well, you’re not walking on your own, so just—don’t fight me on this.”

he wants to protest, but he can’t.

because as much as he hates to admit it—his legs are barely holding him up, his ribs are fucked, and right now? he needs you. so instead, he just sighs. “…fine.”

you huff. “good choice.”

with slow, careful steps, you guide him toward your building, your grip firm, your touch warm even through the material of his suit.

the trip up to your apartment is hell.

for him, probably because he’s in pain.

for you, because he is heavy as shit.

you’re practically dragging him by the time you reach your door, his arm slung over your shoulders, his weight leaning into you more and more with every step.

“you know,” you mutter, shifting him against you as you fumble with your keys, “for a guy who moves like a damn gymnast, you’re really bad at this whole walking thing.”

he lets out a breathless laugh. “sorry—not my best day.”

you huff but don’t respond, finally unlocking the door and shoving it open.

the second you step inside, you aim for the couch, and as carefully as you can—which, at this point, isn’t much—you practically toss him onto it.

he lands with a sharp, pained exhale, body sinking into the cushions.

you wince. “whoops.”

he lets out a weak, breathy chuckle, but his whole frame tenses as he shifts, a clear sign that he’s not doing great.

you step back, hands on your hips, trying to catch your breath.

“alright.” you clap your hands together. “stay put.”

he huffs, tilting his head toward you. “yeah, not a problem.”

you roll your eyes but don’t argue, already turning on your heel and heading toward the bathroom. you need your first aid kit. and maybe a lot of patience.

because if this guy even tries to act tough about how messed up he is, you’re not going to let him hear the end of it.

you return a minute later, first aid kit in one hand and a wet washcloth in the other. he’s still slumped against the couch, head tilted back, chest rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths.

“alright, sit up,” you say, kneeling beside him.

he groans but obeys, shifting just enough to let you get closer. “the suit stays on,” he mutters, voice rough.

you snort. “wasn’t planning on stripping you down, spider-boy. don’t flatter yourself.”

he huffs a quiet laugh but doesn’t say anything else. you reach for his mask, fingers brushing the material lightly. “just gonna move this up a little, okay?”

he nods, barely perceptible.

you pull it up slowly, stopping just above the bridge of his nose.

…huh.

your brows furrow slightly as you take in the lower half of his face. it’s… weirdly familiar.

not in a striking way, not in a this is someone i definitely know way, but in a nagging at the back of your mind kind of way. like maybe you’ve seen him before.

but that’s ridiculous.

you shake the thought away and press the cool washcloth to his face, wiping gently at the blood and dirt smeared along his nose and cheeks.

he flinches slightly at first but then relaxes, letting you work in silence. his lips are dry, slightly cracked, and there’s a faint bruise forming along his cheekbone.

“you look like hell,” you murmur.

he exhales a soft chuckle. “feel like it, too.”

you shake your head, dabbing at the last of the blood before sitting back.

“stay put,” you say again, standing up.

“not going anywhere,” he mutters, eyes already half-lidded.

you walk into the kitchen, open the freezer, and grab the first thing you can find—frozen peas. good enough. when you return he peeks one eye open, and you toss the bag onto his chest.

he grunts. “ow.”

“don’t be dramatic.” you plop down onto the armrest of the couch, watching as he begrudgingly lifts the bag and presses it to his ribs. “you need ice, and that’s all i’ve got.”

he shifts, adjusting the peas against his chest. “…thanks.”

you shrug, playing it off. “don’t mention it.”

you linger for a second too long, eyes flicking over his face once more—his bruised cheekbone, the faint cut near his lip, the way the mask rests just above his nose. you don’t know why you keep staring, so you shake it off and push yourself to your feet.

“stay here,” you say, as if he’s in any condition to go anywhere.

he grunts in response, now holding the frozen peas to his face.

you head to the kitchen again, pulling open a cabinet and grabbing a bottle of painkillers. you pop two tablets into your palm, then fill a glass of water before making your way back to the couch. he looks up as you sit beside him, shifting slightly to make room—not that there’s much room to be made.

you hold up the painkillers. “open.”

he blinks. “what?”

“your mouth,” you clarify, tilting your head.

his lips part slightly, like he’s about to say something, maybe protest, but instead, he just sighs and does as he’s told. you drop the tablets onto his tongue, then lift the glass of water to his lips.

he hesitates, just for a second, before wrapping his fingers loosely around yours, steadying the glass as he drinks.

it’s quiet. too quiet.

your pulse jumps, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you are—of the way your knees are touching, of the warmth radiating from his body, of the way his throat moves as he swallows. it’s… uncomfortably intimate.

you know you should pull away, but for some reason, you don’t.

his fingers brush yours as you lower the glass, his breath warm when he exhales. he shifts a little, glancing at you. “i could’ve done that myself.”

“could you?” you quip, tilting your head, aiming for smug.

but it falls flat.

because your voice is quieter than you meant for it to be, and you’re still too close, and your brain is suddenly too caught up on the details—on the little things, like how soft his lips looked when they parted, or how his jaw tensed just slightly when you touched him, or how his presence alone feels weirdly overwhelming in your tiny apartment.

he stares at you for a beat, and your breath catches.

he holds your gaze for a second longer—just long enough to make your pulse stutter, just long enough for something to settle thick in the air between you. then, finally, he exhales.

“you should head to bed.” 

his voice is rough, softer than before, like he’s trying to gently remind you that it’s late, that you’ve done enough, that you don’t need to be sitting here looking at him like that.

you hesitate. “what about you?”

he shifts slightly, adjusting the ice pack against his cheek. “i’ll go when i’m ready.”

you frown. you could argue, could tell him to rest, could insist that he shouldn’t be running off anywhere in his condition—but something about the way he says it makes you pause. because you get the feeling that whatever ‘ready’ means for him, it’s not something you can change. so instead, you sigh.

“fine,” you say, pushing yourself to your feet. “but don’t be an idiot, okay? if you still feel like crap, don’t leave.”

he huffs out something between a laugh and a breath. “i’ll be fine.”

you shoot him a look. “i mean it.”

he grunts in acknowledgment, but you don’t know if it’s a promise or just a way to get you to drop it. still, you let it go. you linger for a second longer, but then you force yourself to turn away, padding toward your room.

you push the door open, step inside, fingers curling around the handle.

just before you close it, you hear him say;

“…thank you.”

quiet, rough, almost like he wasn’t planning on saying it but couldn’t stop himself. you pause. your throat feels tight for a reason you don’t want to think about.

but you don’t turn around.

you just nod, even though he can’t see it, and gently close the door behind you.

taglist : @rpwprpwprpwprw @haru-jiminn @glossdebut @knivesdoingcartwheels @mimi1097 @angellekookie

[caelesjjk]

entangled | jjk&kth - fic announcement

⟶title: entangled

⟶au: marvel au

⟶ pairing: spidey!kook x reader, venom!taehyung x reader

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ genre: romance, smut, love triangle

⟶wc:

⟶ banner: is by yours truly

⟶warnings: nothing for this. Just an announcement. But just know in the future there will be some infidelity type things, sneaking around, and a lot of smutty goodness with some superhuman fellas.

⟶ summary: Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man.

He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend.

You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well?

Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you met on the dance floor of Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world.

What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

⟶ authors note: hello darklings. This is literally just a little announcement about a fic I’m working on. I don’t have a set posting date, I promise to release it as soon as I can. It’ll be a series. Maybe four parts. It’s in it’s early stages. But I just hope everyone will be as excited about it as I am so please let me know!

[l3tm3kn0w]

WEBS OF OPACITY: MASTERLIST

pairing: jungkook x reader (afab + she/her pronouns)

word count: 8k/?

chapter count: 1/?

summary: by your junior year of university, your five-year plan looks something like this: graduate summa cum laude from your journalism programme, get a job at the new york times and a sunlit apartment in manhattan with your best friend, yoongi, and secure the spot of best man (best woman? maid of best?) at namjoon’s future wedding to hoseok before jungkook does.

the key to all of that? an interview with spiderman for the university newspaper that could not only catapult your thesis onto the next level, and make you an established name in the field of journalism, but also make namjoon literally piss himself. (in joy, of course).

so there you go, speding every bit of your free — and not-so-free — time chasing a web-slinging vigilante around the streets of new york, hoping for the answers of four simple questions from the masked arachnid hero.

(getting tangled up in the webs of a mystery that you’re not quite ready to find answers for was not part of this aforementioned five-year plan, by the way.)

rating: M [for violence and sexual content]

tags: spiderman!au, friends-to-lovers, college!au, comedy, fluff & angst, slow burn, eventual smut, crime mystery (we all know who spiderman is, so where would be the fun that mystery hehe), descriptions of violence, gore, body horror, guns, character death (not MCD!!), bam (you’ll get it ;))

+ additional chapter-specific tags & warnings!!

CHAPTER ONE: The Wheel of Fortune

CHAPTER TWO: Two of Pentacles (Reversed)

[taekookfests]

*:･ﾟ✧ taekook spideykook fest

↳ A Taekook fest set in the Spiderman universe with Jungkook as the Spiderman. Taehyung can be the villain, out to get the Spiderman, not knowing it's Jungkook himself. He can be a fan of Spiderman, and also can be a hater. There can be other characters of Marvel, or you can create your own superheroes. Or maybe there's only one superhero, the Spiderman himself. To conclude, it's Spideykook in love with Taehyung, swinging all over the city, fighting bad people, and making use of the popular quote "With great power, comes great responsibility."

↳ twitter • archiveofourown • schedule

↳ fic reveals season 1

[kaesficrecarchive]

[taekook fic rec]

Just Say "Yes" (I'd Rather Have Everything Than Nothing At All) by Taecakes (3/3 | 23,164 | T)

It all starts with a tweet: KTH is giving me serious creeper vibes Against his better judgement, Taehyung clicks.

(canon compliant)

the family man by Vicky (Wikczi) (1/1 | 36,224 | M)

the one where Jeongguk is a successful businessman living his best life as a single alpha in New York City until a mysterious encounter on a night of Christmas Eve after which he wakes up mated and married to… his college boyfriend?

(a/b/o au, getting back together)

Even If You Don't Love Me by tigerbuns (1/1 | 37,505 | E)

Taehyung is desperate to save his kingdom and Jeongguk agrees to form an alliance with him on one condition: Marriage.

(arranged marriage, royalty)

such a beautiful scar by autumnstae (1/1 | 38,782 | T)

“Don’t be,” Taehyung responds, his voice low—a whisper of a word. He looks up, a palm reaching out to grasp Jeongguk’s hand, which lay flat on his cheek, “go out there and kick some butt, Spidey. I’m rooting for you.” And Jeongguk looks like he wants to say more, his head tilting, mouth slightly ajar—but he decides against it, retracting his arm from Taehyung’s hold. A kiss to the forehead, as always—his lips, for once, cold, sickly against his skin—before he’s suited up, shooting his webs, and out the window. Taehyung watches silently. Jeongguk doesn’t look back. Whoever says that being Spiderman’s best friend is an unmatched, priceless perk clearly hasn’t been in love with the guy, he supposes.

(spideykook au)

LACUNA by meganni (1/1 | 48,041 | E)

Jeon Jeongguk is an uprising boxer, in dire need of a sponsor; Kim Taehyung is a supermodel, just as desperate to find a partner in crime to cheat out an entire family wealth with – upon meeting, they cannot help but get tangled. (Despite the fact they can barely stand each other, but oh well, destiny plays its own hand as well.)

(boxer jk, model/chaebol tae)

Something To Do With Hands by lethallergic (1/1 | 49,739 | E)

“It’s a lot like falling in love with a city you’ve never been to.”

(canon compliant, friends to lovers)

boyfriends with benefits (love for show) by kvhnoir (1/1 | 53,567 | M)

where taehyung, the perfect role model is too tired of being perfect and releases his frustrations through rebelling chaebol jeon jeongguk and well it gets too dramatic, both their feelings and their lives

(pwp)

Try Hard by meganni (1/1 | 58,704 | E)

With years of rivalry at hand, one can clearly point out that rebellious prodigy Kim Taehyung and golden boy Jeon Jeongguk simply can’t stand each other. And then suddenly comes out a rumor about said Jeongguk being fucking hung and Taehyung wants to punch him in the face even more than before (he also kind of wants to suck his dick, but that’s beside the point).

(enemies to lovers)

summer; blue by batman (1/1 | 66,024 | M)

More than you can manage, more than you can hide: a study in light.

(magical realism)

this is my heart (dive deep) by serenitaes (6/6 | 80,653 | M)

Kim Taehyung wasn’t looking for love but still, it found him anyway. Surely by now, everyone knows that some of the best things in life appear when you least expect them and Taehyung certainly wasn't expecting to fall for Jeon Jeongguk as effortlessly as he did. (Or an au where single father Taehyung is on the search for an in-house chef to compensate for his barely-there cooking skills. When the opportunity appears to hire professional chef Jeongguk, Taehyung is blindsided with how perfectly Jeongguk settles into their lives, making a home in not only his son’s heart but his too.)

(single parent tae, chef jk)

with time by taecheeks (19/19 | 182,313 | E)

Future Alpha Taehyung's parents send his ex best friend, future second in command Jeongguk to university with him. Taehyung's annoyed. Jeongguk takes his duties too seriously for reasons. There's only one bed.

(wolf au, NOT a/b/o)