#White space in web design

[avatresslyn]

Maximizing White Space: Clean & Modern Web Design Tricks:

White space isn't empty—it's powerful! Learn how to use strategic spacing to enhance readability, focus, and elegance in web design. A quick tip-packed short for designers looking to create clean and modern websites!

Looking to for a developer to create a website, hire him here!

[neosatsuma]

hey gang. reader of Posts here.

you see how the ALT button obscures the text? This is what every post with this setup looks like on mobile; on desktop, the button is more see-through until you hover over it, but not so on phone! While you can tap to open the image, it's an extra step (and then the image has to load...) and it's frustrating to do for, say, every single image in a web weaving post. What you as the post author can do instead...

BAM! Now the text is legible from the get-go, and still has ALT text for accessibility. All I did was added a little white space in the bottom left corner. and it only took about 2 minutes on my phone! I am. gently begging people to do this

[Image ID: two screenshots of tags that read, "#and I'd rather be doing something I enjoy than giving myself a repetitive stress injury scrubbing the shower". In the first image, the alt button largely obscures the words "than" and "scrubbing." In the second image, the text is the same, but the alt button now sits below it, so the entire passage is legible. /end ID]

[zestyzigzagoon]

I have a new little icon that I love very much. not only does it have beta design zigzagoon (the best zigzagoon), but there's a LEMON pattern. because it's ZESTY. get it. lemon zest,,,, zestyzigzagoon... 🥁

[happywebdesign]

Atelier Andrea Gassner

[7principles]

Any blank or empty space surrounding all the other elements in a design composition

[digitalipsum]

The Role of White Space in Modern Web Design

Envision navigating a page that is so jam-packed with information that there is literally no breathing room. Imagine, instead, a website that is uncluttered, easy on the eyes, and features well-placed content that is complemented by plenty of white space. That one or that one? White space is an essential component of today's user-friendly and aesthetically pleasing website designs. This article will discuss how white space can improve your website's design, as well as some tactics and best practices for doing so.

The Importance of White Space in Website Design

"White space," also called "negative space," is the region on a web page that is not occupied by another element. It's the lack of textual or visual information. White space, however, is not restricted to being a solid white color; it can be any background color or texture. Its goal is to make web design more harmonious and clear so that individual pieces may breathe and readers can take in information more quickly and easily.

The Benefits of White Space

White space has many benefits that have a big effect on how users interact with a website and how it looks overall. It improves the clarity, organization, and readability of the presentation. White space helps readers focus on what's most important, lightens their mental load, and gives their material a polished look and feel. Research has revealed that websites with more white space are seen as more professional and inviting.

https://digitalipsum.in/role-of-white-space-in-modern-web-design/

[obeymeluv]

Been thinking about this eel and wanted to explore his character some.

-- Floyd realizing he likes you/falling in love with you --

Not proofread because it's late.

I was going to add two more but I'm tired and wanted to put something out.

Trying to decide if I'm going to put out more new stuff or circle back around to older stuff.

I.

Floyd is used to things being in black and white. No nuances. It's like survival of the fittest--you live or you die. You're living in one of the harshest environments and his brain is constantly circling back to HOW? It baffles him because you have no claws, your teeth aren't designed for raw catching, and he hasn't met a lander alive that could run fast enough to catch their food unless it was near death.

So HOW are you doing this with no magic?

Under the sea if you couldn't provide for yourself, you made yourself useful. If you worked for his family, that meant serving as muscle or as an informant. You looked better for getting information out of people than you did squeezing them.

Well, not the way he and Jade squeezed people, anyways. You squeezed them with kindness.

Yeah, he'd heard rumors that you were doing odd little jobs like the Savanaclaw runt. Mostly making little lunches and snacks. Sometimes you'd do a 'dorm night dinner' where you went over to another dorm and cooked!

Azul had been begging you to cook for the Lounge, to do a limited-time meal deal, but you could make more money cooking for the dorms. It was funny to see the Octomer practically foaming at the mouth as he tried to calculate earnings versus an enticing deal to get said earnings.

As long as they're not doing anything else, Floyd's relaxed eyes sharpened as his brows knotted together in a suggestion of annoyance. But why did he care, right? The law of the ocean, of the mers, was doing what you needed to do, right?

Why did it bug him so much? He knew you weren't doing anything else but why did the idea that you would--or could--make him want to take someone down in a death spiral?

The spaces between his fingers began to itch as the webbing threatened to emerge.

You shuffle your way into History of Magic wearing something that Crowley slapped together; it doesn't fit you as well as it could but Trein is the last one to make an issue of it. Floyd's gold eye twinkles with interest as he spots the cup in your hand. He likes to think the tea he smells is from Jade since you work at the Lounge with them but it could also be from Kalim or Goldfishy.

The fact that you can have tea, a small luxury in this foreign world, impresses him.

Yes, you do quite well, don't you?

"Hey Floyd," you sit down with a sleepy smile, setting out your meager supplies before holding the cup happily in both hands.

Ah. That's how.

Your smile makes him squirmy and he wonders if that's what his prey feels like before they meet his pharyngeal jaws.

---

II.

He only gets into fights because he's bored. Usually. Every now and then he and Jade will be called down to the Coral to help their father with a 'business venture'; that's an exception. The only other exception is when Azul sends them on a 'last call' visit.

Except for the occasions where he and Jade defended Azul himself, of course. That was way back in their childhood when he and Jade would terrorize the absolute shit out of those hateful mer-brats! Memories of pulling their scales off without getting caught or biting chunks out of their pretty tailfins when trying to go after smaller fish bring a smile to his lips.

Today he found a fourth reason he didn't expect: you.

He wasn't surprised to see Savanaclaw harassing you, not totally. These beastmen were at the mercy of their instincts and traits, too. Mainly stupidity, but having creature influence didn't always help things.

Just like he couldn't help himself from striking when it was convenient. When he was sure he couldn't lose. Moray eels were consumed with cowardice unless conditions were favorable and on land all fights were in his favor. The beastmen were strong, sure, and physically fit but there was a difference between being built for power and built for speed.

Jade may have taken to his land legs first but Floyd was still nimbler than people gave him credit for. The long legs were deceptive, he knew. It also helped that he spent a lifetime in the Coral where the sea sculpted muscle and got him used to dealing with a resistance that didn't exist on land.

"Kinda dumb to mess with the hand that feeds ya, huh?"

Leona would have their ASSES if he knew they were corning you and trying to bully you. Maybe cop a feel? Floyd swung his fist forward the second one of them turned their head to acknowledge him and it was one.

It was a blur but he was used to that. The Coral had obscuring kelp beds, bursts of water carrying all kinds of debris, and seafloor sediment that provided nice cover when needed.

All you needed were teeth and claws. And the scent of blood.

One of them was bound to get a good lick in. He'd be disappointed if they didn't, honestly. The one who tried to grab his earring would know he did something wrong tomorrow; at least two of his fingers were broken. Broken fingers don't matter to an unconscious guy, though.

"I didn't need your help!" you're glaring up at him. Floyd can't help but laugh. He blinks blood out of his eye. Somewhere near his eyebrow there's a wound throbbing.

"'Course ya did, shrimpy!" Floyd leans towards you, genuine smile showcasing pointy teeth.

"No, I didn't! They were starting to back off!" you hiss, pointing up at him.

"And now they're all the way off." Floyd shrugged, poking one with his foot.

"I'm telling Jade," you scoff. You both know Azul won't let him into the Lounge like this. Floyd detests the infirmary and had to be dragged there when he fell ill with his first stomach bug (Jade and Azul thought he was dying). The nurse gets on his case and the area smells too clean and chemical-y for his liking.

He flops down, waiting patiently and highly amused as you rummage through your thrift shop bag for medical supplies. You'd learned to start carrying stuff on you between Grim's overzealous fire-casting and Riddle's overblot. Floyd hums contentedly as you blot his face, nose wrinkling reflexively when he smells the alcohol wipe. You dab ointment on the wound above his eyebrow, scoffing and pulling his chin out of the crook of your elbow. Floyd snorts, pressing his cheek against your arm.

You smack a band-aid over the wound and he clicks his teeth as you glide your finger over the tender part. "You're such a good shrimpy, taking care of your moray," Floyd teases you, yelping when you pinch his cheek before starting off for the Lounge.

He lets you get a good distance ahead before launching off the ground. "Floyd?! Floyd, no! Stop! Don't do it!" you made the mistake of turning your head to look at him as the grass crunched under his shoes, breaking out into a run.

You shouldn't dart off in front of a predator. That activates the hunting instinct.

His laugh echoes as he catches you effortlessly, scooping you up and throwing you into the air like a toy. "Don't worry shrimpy, I got ya!" Floyd laughs, tossing you again.

---

III.

You're hard to find on your days off and that's really annoying to him. Sometimes Vil whisks you away for a spa day, sometimes you're holed up with that blue-burning recluse playing video games. Floyd has turned up empty-handed more often than not, which is impressive considering he's a hunter by nature.

The prey is illusive. And kind of offending him since you're dating but you're not here right now. He'd come find you if it wasn't that time of the month where they were stuck in their true forms, waiting restlessly for the latest delivery of the transformation potion.

No one knows how it happened, really, not even him. Most mers trade trinkets or hunt for their partners but he didn't do any of that. Not officially. He'd cook you something the second you stepped into the Lounge and comb the waters around Sage's for interesting stuff to give you but you didn't acknowledge those courting attempts so they didn't happen. You thought the way he opened and closed his mouth was just a sign of boredom and never did it back.

So yeah, it took forever for you guys to be a thing by mer standards.

You guys were dating by lander standards, though. Little things like you keeping him awake in class and him walking you to the next. He'd buy you something to put in your hair and you'd wear it the next day. When Azul found out you were the only one who could tie his bowtie without him complaining or undoing it, it was his favorite part of getting ready for a shift. If Crowley wasn't so stingy with the phone he gave you, Floyd would be blowing it up.

He continued his lazy laps in the Octavinelle pool, clicking his teeth and sighing sadly. A moray really shouldn't be without their shrimpy. It was cruel.

As if he'd summoned you, you showed up with a float. It meant you wouldn't be swimming with him today but Floyd could live with that. "Don't even think about it!" you warn, hearing the water pitter behind you as he breaks the surface. Floyd has yanked you in more than once on your 'float' days, blaming it on his predator nature. Leaning down to look through the awkward tent of your arm, one foot splayed across the float and trying to draw it close as you wiggled onto it, you met Floyd's mischievous gaze.

The fins at the side of his head flutter, your boyfriend ducking down until his heterchromatic eyes just touch the water. He pulls strong arms slowly and dramatically from the water, setting them softly on the deck as he flexes the muscles of his hands and lets the light play on his claws. "Think about what?" Floyd can barely get the question out, laughing already. His pupils thin as you successfully push off on the float, sending yourself across the water.

Just like that, he's gone. You peer over the top of your float to keep an eye on the lazy, winding shadow. He moves faster than that, you've seen it! What is he--

"Delightful to see you!" Jade pops up at your back and you yelp, losing your grip on the top of your float. If not for Floyd being on the other side and slinging his corded arms over you, you'd be in the water. He laughs at your near-heart attack and the little scrunch in your nose as water flings all over you. "Sam hasn't gotten our order in, I take it?"

"No," you glare at Jade. "He hasn't."

The calmer twin smiles in his usual unbothered way. You've learned to see the sadistic delight in it now. "I'll let Azul know. We'll be working on things below if you need us. Thanks for keeping my dearest brother company." Jade makes his way down and doesn't miss the chance to flick more water on you with the last bit of tailfin. You hiss, rolling over into Floyd's waiting lips.

"Shrimpy!" he sings, genuine delight slipping into a low purr as he peppers kisses up the side of your face and heaves his slick body onto your float. He's unexpectedly soft due to the weird 'hydration' coat they make. It doesn't dull the prominence of his scales and the feel of scale and slick against your skin makes your spine tingle.

He's either going to drown you or shred your float. You're bobbing in and out of the water, head thrust up to try and keep something dry. Floyd knew your prey instincts would kick in and make you flail; he's practically purring at the fact you've wrapped your arms and legs around him. He throws himself back, arms behind his head.

You relax when you realize he's become your personal float. A float that's very happy with himself. You've ridden on his back before but lying on his chest was new; even with your arms around him it still amazed you how strong his back was. Especially his shoulders.

"Happy?" you lay your cheek on him, eyes drifting along the swirls of blue and teal that surround the whitish-gray of his chest.

"Happy!" Floyd hums.

[reality-detective]

THIS IS THE STORM — OPERATION LIBERTY SHIELD UNLEASHED

The silence has shattered. The war is no longer hidden. On May 10, 2025, the full force of Trump’s restored military alliance launched Operation Liberty Shield — a classified global takedown targeting the heart of an elite child trafficking and human experimentation network that spans continents, corporations, and crowned bloodlines. This is not a sting. This is an extinction-level purge. Over 20,000 elite forces — SEALs, Marines, Delta, and global white hats — are storming underground strongholds once believed untouchable. The goal is simple: annihilate the infrastructure of enslavement, expose the handlers, and rescue every last stolen soul.

Nevada. Alaska. Rome. Antarctica. Tunnels that were once Cold War secrets are now battlegrounds. SEAL units uncovered thousands of children locked in cages beneath camouflaged mining sites and AI-operated labs. Evidence of MK-Ultra abuse, hormonal harvesting, and genetic weaponization has been retrieved — all tied to biotech firms, fake NGOs, and even Area 51. These were not experiments. These were rituals. Each child was a data point in a demonic system designed to feed the beast and blackmail the world. From the Vatican to Silicon Valley, the currency was always the same: human lives.

Digital forensics teams under Space Force command have decrypted petabytes of dark web data — exposing blockchain-funded trafficking routes masked as "development grants." Names once praised as philanthropists are now exposed as financiers of evil. Zuckerberg, Bezos, and Gates are directly tied to AI-managed procurement contracts and smart-chain auctions. Military raids on media hubs have confirmed "Operation Obscura" — a coordinated propaganda system created to bury these operations, discredit Trump, and destroy whistleblowers before truth could reach the surface.

Now it’s all unraveling. Gitmo is overflowing. Military tribunals are active. Blackmail files once used to enslave nations are being burned. Trump’s alliance is not just winning — it is rewriting history.

The storm is no longer a warning. It is here. It is righteous. And it will be remembered forever. Stay alert. Stay grounded. The final act has begun.

I can't make you understand or believe me, but this whole thing has been about saving the children and then to clean up the top three branches of the government. This is happening in every country NOT just in the United States. You Decide 🤔

[scarluna]

Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT II / ACT III / ACT IV / ACT V / ACT VI / ACT VII / ACT VIII

Chapters: 1 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers

ACT I.

I adjusted my blazer for what felt like the millionth time, catching my reflection in the mirrored elevator doors. It wasn’t like me to fuss over what I was wearing, but this wasn’t just another job. It was Jeon Enterprises, one of the most prestigious companies in the world, and I was walking straight into the lion’s den.

The blazer was professional, fitted just right. At least, I hoped it was. The material hugged my body in ways that made me overly aware of every curve, but I had told myself over and over this morning: You’re here because you’re good at what you do, not because of how you look.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. I stepped onto the executive floor and immediately felt small. Everything screamed luxury. The floors gleamed, the walls were adorned with minimalist art, and the light streaming in through floor-to-ceiling windows made the space feel impossibly big.

“Greetings,” the receptionist greeted me with a perfect smile. Her sleek ponytail and impeccable outfit made me feel like I’d rolled out of bed. “Mr. Jeon is expecting you. His office is straight ahead and to the left.”

“Thank you,” I managed to mutter under my braeth, clutching my portfolio like it was a shield. 

Every step down the hallway felt heavier than the last. I’d heard the rumors about Jeon Jungkook. Everyone had. The man was a genius, sure, but he was also ruthless, arrogant, and an unapologetic womanizer. He had the kind of power and charm that let him get away with it, too.

I knocked on the massive wooden door at the end of the hallway, my heart pounding like a drum.

“Come in,” came a deep voice from the other side.

I pushed the door open and stepped into a room that felt like the command center of an empire. Jungkook sat behind a sleek glass desk, flipping through a stack of papers. For a second, he didn’t even look up. 

When he did, I nearly forgot how to breathe. Okay, Y/N, you got this. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. 

Jungkook looked like trouble in the most devastating way. His jet-black hair was perfectly tousled, his sharp jawline seemed carved from stone, and his dark eyes locked onto mine like they could see right through me. The tattoos peeking out from the collar of his white button-up shirt only added to the effect.

“You’re late,” he said, leaning back in his chair. It was as if he was seeing right through me with his eyes. I felt uneasy.

I blinked. “I… I was told the meeting was at nine.”

“It’s 9:01.” His lips curved into a lazy smirk. “I don’t like people who waste my time.”

I swallowed the sharp reply rising in my throat. Instead, I forced a polite smile. “I’ll be sure to set my watch ahead next time, Mr. Jeon.”

His smirk deepened, and he gestured to the chair across from him. “Have a seat. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I sat down, carefully placing my portfolio on the desk. The tension in the room was suffocating, but I opened the folder and spread out the designs I’d spent days perfecting. “These are the concepts I’ve prepared based on the rebranding brief.”

Jungkook didn’t even glance at the papers right away. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his eyes sweeping over me like I was part of the presentation.

“You don’t look like the typical designer we hire,” he said, his tone casual but cutting. His eyes roamed over my blazer, and then focused back to my eyes. I wanted to hide so bad.

My jaw tightened, but I kept my voice steady. “And you don’t look like the typical CEO.”

For a second, something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe—but then he laughed. A low, quiet sound that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Touché,” he said, finally picking up one of the designs.

The silence stretched as he studied my work. My heart was beating so loudly, I was sure he could hear it. This job wasn’t just a step up for me—it was a chance to prove that I belonged here, even if every glance from him made me feel like I didn’t.

“This one’s decent,” he said at last, holding up one of the logos. “But it’s missing… something.”

“What kind of something?” I asked, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

“Danger. Boldness. It needs to make people stop and stare.” He set the paper down and leaned back again, his smirk returning. “Think you can deliver that?”

I straightened my shoulders, even as my palms felt sweaty. “I can deliver exactly what you need.”

His smirk widened, but there was something darker behind it now, something that made me feel like he enjoyed the challenge. “We’ll see, Y/N. Welcome to Jeon Enterprises. Try not to disappoint me.”

As I left his office, my hands were still trembling. Jungkook Jeon was everything the rumors said and more—arrogant, sharp, and utterly infuriating. I was here for a week already and this was my first time meeting him. I noticed he didn't introduce himself, and it was probably because he knew the influence he had on others and he was aware that people knew him.  Here I was, being delusional that this company was treating their employes with care. How much I was lied to at that damn job interview? I had to get this through. It was my dream job.

Jungkook himself had an intimidating aura. But he wasn’t going to intimidate me. Not yet, anyway.

My first day at Jeon Enterprises started like any other, with a carefully curated outfit and a bundle of nerves. But by noon, I’d already realized that fitting in here would be like trying to squeeze into a size too small—it wasn’t going to happen smoothly.

It began with Tina.

Tina was my direct manager, the person who would oversee my work and, apparently, my every move. I hadn’t been in the bullpen of the design department for five minutes before she sauntered over, heels clicking against the polished floor like a countdown to doom.

“Y/N, right?” she said, her voice oozing faux warmth as her sharp blue eyes scanned me from head to toe.

“Yes, that’s me.” I smiled, trying to come across as approachable.

Tina didn’t return the gesture. Instead, she crossed her arms, her fitted designer dress emphasizing a figure that belonged on a billboard. Her blonde hair was swept into an effortless bun, and her makeup looked flawless, like she’d just stepped out of a high-end commercial.

“Cute,” she said, her lips curling into a smirk. “Well, welcome to the team. I’ll be honest with you—Jeon Enterprises isn’t for everyone. Things move fast here, and we don’t have time to coddle anyone.”

I nodded. “I’m ready to work hard.”

She raised a perfectly sculpted brow. “Good. Because I won’t tolerate sloppy work or excuses. If you can’t keep up, you won’t last long.”

Her words stung, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Understood.”

“Great,” she said, clapping her hands together. “I’ll let you get settled. Just make sure you don’t need too much hand-holding. Mr. Jeon has a thing for perfection, and I’d hate for your mistakes to reflect on me.”

Before I could reply, Tina turned on her heel and strode away, her confidence practically leaving a trail behind her.

A few hours later, I realized that Tina wasn’t just sharp with me—she was sharp with everyone. But when it came to Jungkook, her demeanor shifted.

The first time I saw them interact was during a brief meeting in the design area. Jungkook had stopped by unexpectedly, his presence sucking the air out of the room. Conversations died, heads turned, and people suddenly looked very busy with their screens.

Tina, however, wasn’t fazed.

“Mr. Jeon,” she said, her tone smooth as silk. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, a move that felt almost rehearsed. “What a surprise. Did you come to check on our progress?”

Jungkook barely glanced at her. “Just passing through,” he said, his voice cool and detached.

But Tina wasn’t deterred. She stepped closer, her smile turning brighter. “If you have a moment, I could go over some of the new concepts we’ve been working on. I’d love your input.”

I watched from my desk as Jungkook’s gaze flicked to her, then to the designs she held out like an offering.

“No need,” he said, his tone as dismissive as it was polite. “That’s what I hired you for.”

Tina’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but she recovered quickly. “Of course. I just want to make sure everything aligns with your vision.”

Jungkook didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes scanned the room, landing on me. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, but I swore there was a flicker of amusement. Then he turned back to Tina.

“Carry on,” he said, already walking away.

Tina’s smile vanished the second he was out of earshot. She tossed the papers onto her desk with a huff, muttering something under her breath that I couldn’t catch.

She caught me watching and raised an eyebrow. “Something on your mind, newbie?”

“No, just…” I hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. “It seems like Mr. Jeon has high expectations.”

Tina snorted, crossing her arms. “High expectations? Please. He’s impossible to please unless it’s on his terms. But don’t get too comfortable, Y/N. He has a way of making even the most confident people feel inadequate.”

Her words felt like a warning, but I couldn’t help but notice the frustration laced with something else—something personal.

She wanted him. That much was obvious. And judging by the way Jungkook hadn’t given her more than a passing glance, it was equally obvious that he didn’t want her.

It wasn’t comforting, exactly, but it did make me wonder: What did Jungkook Jeon want?

I had a feeling I’d find out soon enough.

I left the executive's floor in haze, my head spinning from everything he’d said—and everything he hadn’t said. The moment I stepped out of the elevator and into the main lobby, the weight of the building seemed to come crashing down on me. I had just had my first meeting with him, the infamous Jeon Jungkook.

I couldn’t decide if I should be excited or terrified. Maybe both? I certainly wasn’t expecting him to be so… blunt. But that was Jungkook—no pleasantries, just cold, sharp efficiency wrapped in a dangerously attractive package. He hadn’t even tried to sugarcoat it when he said, “Try not to disappoint me.”

I shook my head, trying to shake off the sting of his words.

I could already feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me, the quiet murmur of the office that seemed louder as I made my way through the hallways. I just needed to breathe.

Lunch. I should grab lunch.

But even as the idea of food settled in my mind, the thought of stepping into the cafeteria was daunting. The last thing I wanted was to deal with the cafeteria crowd, with their subtle stares, quiet judgments, and the inevitable whispers.

I paused for a moment outside the cafeteria door, my nerves tightening in my chest. What if people noticed? What if I was the topic of the next office gossip? I wasn’t ready for that.

Sighing, I turned to leave. That’s when I spotted two people standing near the entrance of the cafeteria, chatting quietly.

“Y/N?”

I froze. It was Hoseok, the Marketing Manager Rya, the Social Media Specialist in my Team. They both looked up at me, smiling warmly. I was being trained by Tina during the past week and I hadn't had the chance to meet anyone on my Team, everyone was busy with their job and I was busy not to cry at how dismissive I was being treated by Tina.

“Hey!” Hoseok called out, his voice friendly and easy-going. “Are you coming in? We’ve got a couple of spots open.”

I hesitated. They didn’t look like the typical crowd who’d pay attention to me. But still, my nerves gripped me. I wasn’t ready to be the center of attention.

Rya noticed my unease, her eyes softening as she flashed me an understanding look. “It’s okay. You’re not the only one who gets the cafeteria jitters.”

I let out a soft laugh, though it sounded awkward. “I… I was thinking about just grabbing something quick and heading back to my desk.”

“You’re not getting away that easily,” Hoseok teased, motioning for me to come over. “Trust me, the food here isn’t so bad. And we’re cool. You’ll be fine.”

Something about Hoseok’s warm smile and Rya’s welcoming attitude made the anxiety that had been eating at me for the past few days ease just a little. “Alright, fine. I’ll join you.”

I made my way over to their table, trying not to look at anyone else. The last thing I wanted was to feel like I was on display.

As I sat down, I noticed they were both already halfway through their meals, and the conversation seemed casual, almost like we had known each other for ages. Hoseok leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he gave me a sympathetic look.

“You’re probably wondering what it’s like working here, right?”

I blinked. “A little. I’m still figuring things out.”

“Well, don’t let it get to you,” Hoseok said with a grin. “You’re probably gonna hear a lot of rumors around here, especially about our wonderful boss.”

I froze. My stomach did a flip.

“You’ve probably heard some stories about him, huh?” Rya asked, her voice lighter than I expected.

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. A few.” I have heard whispers amongst the other employes at how he had slept with someone from their department and whatnot. How good he was in bed, bla bla bla. It was the usual gossip I tried not to pay attention to.

Rya exchanged a knowing glance with Hoseok before turning her attention back to me. “Well, we’ve worked here long enough to know the truth behind the gossip.”

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, giving Rya an amused look. “Don’t go spreading too many secrets now, Rya.”

Rya grinned. “Oh, I’m just telling her the truth.”

I couldn’t help but lean in, intrigued. “What’s the truth?”

Rya grinned, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. “Well, first of all, Jungkook isn’t as terrifying as people make him out to be.”

“Really?” I said, surprised. “He seemed pretty… intense in our meeting.”

Rya laughed. “He’s definitely intense, that’s for sure. But he’s also complicated. It’s not like he’s always angry or anything. He’s just… cold. Detached. He doesn’t let people get too close.”

“He’s got a reputation for being a heartbreaker,” Hoseok added with a slight roll of his eyes. “And he definitely doesn’t tolerate mistakes. But don’t take it personally. He’s just obsessed with control. It doesn't matter if it's a job related or a person related.”

I let out a slow breath, still processing. “So, all the rumors about him being a womanizer… are those true?”

Hoseok shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “He’s not exactly the type to settle down. But that doesn’t mean he’s out there dating every woman who walks through the door. He’s selective, you could say.”

Rya’s lips twitched, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “Selective is an understatement. He doesn’t seem interested in anyone but himself. Though, a certain someone might argue differently…”

I furrowed my brow, not entirely following her meaning. Hoseok picked up on it immediately and chuckled. “Rya’s just a little bitter. She’s been crushing on him for years.”

Rya’s face flushed slightly, but she didn’t back down. “I wouldn’t say crushing. Just admiring from a distance. He’s got this way about him that’s hard to ignore. But trust me, you won’t get anywhere with him. He’s not the type to let anyone in.”

I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse. The idea of Jungkook being so emotionally unavailable seemed like a blessing and a curse at the same time.

“But hey, if you can get past his walls,” Hoseok said with a teasing grin, “you might find that he’s not as bad as people think. Just don’t go expecting him to hand out compliments like candy. He’s got a… very unique way of showing he’s impressed.”

“Yeah, by barely acknowledging you, if you’re lucky,” Rya added, her tone dry.

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. The tension that had been gripping me finally loosened.

“Thanks, guys,” I said, feeling a bit lighter. “This helps a lot. I didn’t expect such an… honest view of him.”

Hoseok gave me a wink. “We’re here for the truth, Y/N. Don’t worry too much about him. Just do your thing and keep your head down. You’ll be fine.”

Rya smiled warmly. “Exactly. And remember, we’re here if you need anything.”

I smiled back, the warmth of their kindness making my nerves a little easier to handle. Maybe, just maybe, I could survive this place after all.

-

It had two weeks since I’d joined the team, but it felt like I’d been here forever. Between the pressure of trying to meet everyone’s expectations and dealing with my own insecurities, the past few days had been a blur. But today? Today felt different.

I was sitting at my desk, trying to finalize a design for a new client, when I got an email: Urgent meeting, 2 PM. I glanced at the clock— it was nearly time. The butterflies in my stomach immediately turned into a storm of dread.

I didn’t know what the meeting was about, but something told me it wasn’t going to be good.

By the time I walked into the conference room, my heart was pounding. The entire team was gathered— Tina, Hoseok, Rya, and even some of the higher-ups were sitting around the long conference table. At the head of the table was Jungkook, looking every bit the part of the cold, calculated CEO he was. He barely even looked up as I entered, though the slight tension in the air made it clear something was wrong.

“Y/N, sit,” Tina said, her tone cool as she gestured toward an empty chair. I sat down quickly, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“Alright,” Jungkook finally spoke, his voice sharp and commanding. He stood up, moving around the table like he was preparing to give a speech. But his gaze locked on me as he began.

“The client is not happy with the design.” His words felt like a slap to the face. “And do you want to know why?” He didn’t wait for a response, his eyes boring into me. “Because, Y/N, you thought it would be cute to add your little personal touch.” I saw him take the folder I had given to Tina to give to Jungkook. He slammed it on the table which made me flinch.

I felt my face flush as the room fell silent. I knew exactly what he was talking about—the last-minute design changes that had been added against my protests. I had tried to convince Tina not to add them, but she insisted. The change had been pushed through her decision, not mine.

But here I was, in front of everyone, being blamed for something I had no control over.

I opened my mouth to speak, to explain that the changes were not my idea, but Jungkook didn’t give me a chance.

“Look at this,” he continued, “It’s amateur work, Y/N. It’s embarrassing. This,” he said, pointing at the screen, “is what you think a professional design looks like?” His eyes narrowed. “It’s no wonder the client doesn’t want to move forward with us.”

I felt my chest tighten, every word hitting me like a ton of bricks. The weight of his insults pressed down on me, but I stayed quiet. I couldn’t speak.

Then, his voice grew colder, mocking. “And what’s this?” He pointed at the screen again. “You decided to add this ridiculous pattern—what, you thought it would make it look more ‘fun’?”

I wanted to sink into the chair and disappear. The whole room was watching me, waiting for me to respond. But how could I? What could I possibly say when Jungkook was tearing my work—and me—down in front of everyone?

“And don’t get me started on the layout,” he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s all over the place. I mean, do you even have a vision of beauty?” he paused for a moment, "Because It's obvious you have absolutely no idea how beauty feels like. I mean, look at you. . . " he trailed off.

The words hit like a physical blow. I froze. The way he said it, so casually, made it feel like it was the least important thing to him. But to me? It felt like the world had just fallen apart.

“Maybe if you spent less time making things look good and more time doing your job, we wouldn’t be in this position,” he mocked, his eyes cutting into me. “You really think you deserve to be here?”

I could feel my heart racing, my breath shallow. The sting of his words—those last few—made my entire body feel cold. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, but I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.

I just sat there, the weight of his words crashing down on me, feeling more exposed than I ever had in my life.

Jungkook turned away, finally seeming to lose interest in me, as he went on to talk about other aspects of the project. But I was no longer listening. The room felt like it was closing in on me.

I couldn’t look at anyone. I didn’t even want to be here anymore. But all I could do was sit in silence, my eyes trained on the table, willing myself not to cry.

-

The meeting dragged on for what felt like hours, but when it finally ended, I barely heard the chatter around me. I just stood up quietly and walked out, my hands trembling at my sides.

I didn’t know where I was going, but somehow, my feet carried me to the nearest bathroom. I locked myself inside one of the stalls, pressing my back against the door as the tears I had been holding back finally broke free.

I slid down the wall, hugging my knees to my chest, the words from the meeting echoing in my head. “You really think you deserve to be here?”

I didn’t know how long I sat there, crying silently, but I couldn’t stop. Every insult, every mocking tone he’d used to tear me down, was running through my mind on repeat.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, I heard a soft knock at the door.

“Y/N? You in there?”

It was Rya’s voice.

I wiped my eyes quickly, trying to get myself together, but it was no use. I couldn’t hide the sobs that kept coming.

“Y/N, let me in,” Rya said, her voice soft but insistent. “It’s okay. Open up.”

I stood up and unlocked the door, only to find Rya standing there, her eyes full of understanding. Without a word, she stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and wrapped her arms around me.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “It’s okay. He’s an asshole. Don’t let him get to you.”

I buried my face in her shoulder, the tears flowing freely now. I didn’t care anymore. I just needed someone to tell me it wasn’t my fault.

“I… I didn’t even want to add those changes,” I whispered between sobs. “It wasn’t my idea. Tina—Tina pushed it. But he—he…” I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t bring myself to repeat what he’d said about my weight, about me.

Rya held me tighter. “I know. I know. And it’s not your fault. Tina did that on purpose, and Jungkook? He doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. He’s got his own issues.”

I sniffled and pulled back slightly, wiping my eyes. “But… the way he talked about me—”

“Forget him,” Rya interrupted gently. “He’s an idiot. A rich, spoiled idiot who doesn’t know how to treat people. You’re a damn good designer, Y/N. Don’t let him make you doubt that.”

I nodded, though it didn’t feel like it was enough. My mind was still reeling, but Rya’s words were a small comfort.

“I don’t know if I can go back in there,” I confessed. “I don’t think I can face him again.”

Rya gave me a small smile. “You don’t have to. But when you’re ready, we’ll be here. Just remember, you’ve got this. Don’t let one asshole ruin your day.”

I took a deep breath, nodding slowly. It didn’t fix everything, but it was a start.

Rya squeezed my shoulder before leaving the bathroom, leaving me to gather my thoughts. As I stood there, I realized one thing: Maybe it wasn’t about winning Jungkook’s approval. Maybe it was about not letting him—or anyone else—define my worth.

-

It had been a long, draining day at the office. My mind was still tangled with the aftermath of the meeting, Jungkook's biting words still echoing in my head. But I didn’t want to think about it anymore—not right now, at least.

“Come on, Y/N. You need a break,” Hoseok said with that signature grin of his as he tugged me away from my desk. “We’re going out for coffee. You’re coming with us.”

“I… I don’t know if I should,” I replied, glancing at the clock. “I still have some work to catch up on.”

“You’ve been working non-stop for hours,” Rya chimed in, appearing by my side. “It’s one coffee. We’ll keep it short. Besides, you deserve it.”

Reluctantly, I grabbed my bag and followed them out of the office. My shoulders were still tense from the meeting, but I figured a little break wouldn’t hurt.

We walked to the nearby café, a cozy little spot that seemed like the perfect place to relax. The warm scent of coffee beans and pastries filled the air as we stepped inside, and I immediately felt my mood shift. I could finally breathe.

“Alright, get whatever you want,” Hoseok said, waving a hand at the menu. “My treat. You need something sweet after today.”

I gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Hoseok. I’ll just get a latte, I think.”

Rya raised an eyebrow at me. “You sure? You’re not gonna go for something stronger? A double shot maybe?”

I laughed nervously. “No, I think a latte is good for now. I don’t need to be jittery today.”

We ordered our drinks, and as we waited for them, I found myself staring out the window, trying to calm my nerves. There was a weight on my chest that I couldn’t shake. The insults from the meeting were still gnawing at me, and it made my hands shake a little.

Hoseok and Rya must have noticed, because they both came to sit beside me with their drinks, offering me a sense of calm just by being there.

“So,” Hoseok started, his voice light, “how are you really doing? After the meeting?”

I sighed and rested my chin on my hand, glancing down at my latte. “I’m fine, I guess. It just… feels like everything is my fault. I didn’t want to change the design like that, but Tina pushed it through, and then Jungkook…”

Rya shook her head. “I told you, don’t take it personally. That was a power play, pure and simple. Tina wants to prove herself that she is the best one in front of Jungkook and Jungkook thrives on making people feel small.”

Hoseok agreed. “Exactly. Actually, now that I think about it, both of them  got a way of tearing people down just to get what they want. You’ve just gotta learn to take it with a grain of salt. Jungkook’s an asshole, but he’s not the be-all, end-all."

I nodded, though the pit in my stomach didn’t entirely go away. I had always hated confrontation, and Jungkook's words felt like more than just critique. They felt like personal attacks, especially about my appearance. It was one thing for him to dismiss my design choices, but his mockery had stung in a way I didn’t know how to process. "Now that I think about it, Tina and him are more alike, I am confused he hasn't seen that yet.” Hoseok muttered and Rya slapped him on the shoulder in pure realization. "Holy shit, you are right!" I frowned. Were they actually? I wasn't here long enough to know that for sure.

Before I could respond, Rya spoke out, as if sensing my discomfort. “So, have you heard anything about Tina and her little antics?”

I frowned, looking between Rya and Hoseok. “What do you mean?”

Rya leaned in, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Tina’s been all over Jungkook lately. Ever since you started, she’s been trying to get his attention, especially at meetings.”

Hoseok smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. “I think we all know what’s going on there. She’s not exactly subtle about it. But Jungkook? He doesn’t seem interested. He’s just… indifferent, which drives her crazy.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought they were close.”

Rya snorted. “Close? They’re business partners, that’s all. And Tina’s obsessed with the idea of him.”

Hoseok laughed softly. “He’s too much of a cold fish for that, honestly. I don’t think Tina’s figured that out yet.”

Just as I was about to respond, the door to the café opened, and a tall man stepped inside, scanning the room briefly. I didn’t pay him much attention at first, but then I noticed Hoseok’s eyes narrow and Rya stiffen beside me.

“Uh-oh,” Rya muttered under her breath. “Look who's here.”

Hoseok sighed, shaking his head. “Great. Just what we needed.”

I looked over at them, confused, and then turned to follow their gaze. The man I’d barely noticed at first was now walking toward the counter to order, and I couldn’t help but notice the aura of confidence he exuded—he had a way of moving that made people take notice. He was tall, with brown, disheveled hair and a piercing gaze that didn’t seem to care about anything or anyone. He was the type of guy who could make the world feel like his playground.

“You’re staring,” Hoseok commented, his voice amused.

“I’m not staring,” I muttered, feeling my face heat up. “Who is he?”

“That’s Min Yoongi,” Rya answered, her tone cautious. “He’s Jungkook’s best friend and his right-hand man.”

I blinked, surprised. “Oh? I’ve never seen him around before.”

Rya nodded. “He doesn’t usually come by the office unless something important is going on. But when he does show up, you’ll know.” She gave me a sly look. “He’s a bit of a troublemaker. A playboy. But don’t let that fool you—he’s got a mind like a steel trap.”

Hoseok snorted. “He’s definitely a sly fox, that one. Flirts with anything that moves, but doesn’t really care about anyone’s feelings. Except Jungkook’s, of course. They’re close. Too close, if you ask me.”

As Min Yoongi made his way over to a table near us, his eyes casually flicked over our group, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary on me. His gaze was sharp, but there was something playful in his expression as he took a seat. He didn’t speak to anyone, just settled in with his drink, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the type to draw people in without even trying.

I couldn’t help but feel a little out of place—Yoongi had an air about him that seemed to demand attention, and I was suddenly aware of the fact that I was sitting here, sipping a latte, with two people I barely knew.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Rya warned with a smirk, noticing the direction of my gaze. “He’s not someone you want to get involved with. Trust me.”

I almost choked on my sip. "Are you crazy? That's inapropriate, firstly and secondly . . . he gives off Jungkook's aura so no thanks. Besides, he'd never notice me." I muttered, my shoulders slumped a little. There was something magnetic about him, but I wasn’t sure if it was the kind of attraction I needed to get mixed up in right now.

Hoseok’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Don’t worry. Yoongi doesn’t give a damn about anyone unless they’ve got something to offer him.”

I glanced back at him, still unsure of what to make of the situation. Min Yoongi was definitely intriguing, but not someone I was looking to befriend—especially not with everything going on with Jungkook and Tina.

“Let’s just focus on you for now,” Hoseok said with a wink, nudging me gently. “You’re our priority.”

Rya added, “And remember, we’re here for you. If you ever need anything, just say the word.”

I smiled at them, grateful for their kindness. The world felt a little less heavy with them around. But as I glanced back at Min Yoongi, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

And that was probably just the beginning.

-

A month later since that fateful coffee break with Hoseok and Rya, and in the days that followed, everything had changed. The office felt colder, the walls seemed to close in tighter, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, even as I kept pushing myself to get through the day.

The worst part? Jungkook hadn’t said a word to me since that horrible meeting. Not a single word of apology, explanation, or even acknowledgment. He continued to pass me in the halls, his eyes cold, his expression distant. It felt as if I was invisible to him now—just a nameless face in the office. I was truly deluding myself that this man actually had morals at all. I was slowly starting to get to terms with that.

Meanwhile, Tina was thriving. Her behavior toward me had grown more insufferable. She’d openly paraded around the office, flaunting her "success" in getting the design changes approved and the "good work" she was supposedly doing with Jungkook. I could see the way she watched him, practically throwing herself at him every chance she got. Jungkook, of course, barely gave her a second glance. I was nor surpised that eventually, after Tina's involvments in my designs, something would happen with me and my position. This woman was jealous of anyone Jungkook paid the slightest attention to and it was pathetic. I was determined to focus on my improvement and work and not let anything distract me.

The office was particularly busy that day. There was a big client meeting happening, and everyone was on edge, scrambling to finish last-minute details. I was still trying to make sense of the mess I’d been handed—new tasks, new responsibilities, but all of them felt like punishment for something I hadn’t even done. I sat at my desk, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure where to begin. Every time I thought about how things had turned out, my stomach twisted.

“You okay?” Rya’s voice startled me, and I looked up to see her standing by my desk, her arms crossed.

I smiled weakly, forcing myself to sit up straight. “Yeah. Just… busy.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You sure? You’ve barely said anything since the last meeting.” Her tone softened, and she dropped her arms. “You’ve been keeping your voice down, and honestly, it’s a little concerning.”

I sighed, glancing around the office. Everyone was too focused on their work to notice what was going on with me. I had to keep it together. “I’m fine, really. Just… a lot on my plate right now.”

Rya studied me for a moment, clearly not buying it. “Listen, if you need to talk, you know I’m here, right?”

“Thanks, Rya,” I muttered, though I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the full extent of how I was feeling. I wasn’t sure if I had it in me to talk about everything—about Tina, about Yoongi, about Jungkook and how they were all acting like I didn’t even exist.

But before I could say more, there was a knock on the door, and Tina’s voice echoed from the hallway.

“Y/N! You’re needed in the meeting room right now.”

My chest tightened. I didn’t have a good feeling about this. But I forced myself to nod and get up, trying to ignore the flutter of panic in my stomach. As I walked down the hallway toward the meeting room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was coming. Something that I wasn’t prepared for.

When I entered the meeting room, I was met with the usual suspects—Tina, Jungkook, and, to my surprise, Yoongi, who was standing at the front of the room, leaning casually against the table, a smug smile on his face.

“Y/N,” Jungkook said flatly, not even looking up from his laptop. “You’re late. Again.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, feeling my cheeks flush. I didn’t need another reprimand today.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, observing me for a moment before turning his attention back to the laptop. “Tina, let’s move on,” he said, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “We don’t have all day.”

Tina nodded, a little too enthusiastically. “Right. So, Y/N, we’ve been looking at the latest design you’ve submitted. It’s… disappointing.”

I blinked. Disappointing?

I swallowed hard. “What? I—what do you mean?”

“We reviewed it carefully.” Tina flipped through a stack of papers on the table, not meeting my eyes. “And frankly, it doesn’t fit with what the client wants. I think you’ve really missed the mark on this one.”

I felt the sting of her words, but something inside me snapped. “That’s not true,” I said, my voice steady despite the growing panic in my chest. “I made the changes based on the client’s feedback. If there’s an issue, it’s with the last-minute adjustments—those weren’t my ideas. I didn’t want to change anything in the first place.” I glanced at Tina, who had her eyes glued to her papers, avoiding my gaze. “But you pushed for it.”

Tina’s eyes flicked to me, but she didn’t respond. Yoongi, on the other hand, didn’t look surprised at all. He raised an eyebrow and leaned back, his gaze never leaving me.

“You really think you can blame others for your mistakes?” Yoongi’s voice was calm but laced with sarcasm. “Nice try. But the bottom line is, you didn’t deliver. And that’s on you.”

I froze. This was what was happening? Everyone in the room had already made their decision. I could see the smug satisfaction on Tina’s face, the cold indifference in Jungkook’s eyes, and the subtle amusement in Yoongi’s expression. They were all waiting for me to crack, to fold under the pressure.

But I wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction.

“I did my job,” I said quietly, my voice unwavering. “I did exactly what I was told. If the design didn’t work, it’s because it wasn’t my choice to change it in the first place.”

There was a long pause. Yoongi’s smirk widened, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Tina’s right about one thing,” he said, voice low. “You’re not cut out for this job, Y/N. And after the client’s response, I think it’s time to make a few changes.”

My heart skipped a beat. Was I being fired?

Without giving me a chance to respond, Yoongi stood up. “Effective immediately, I’ll be taking over your responsibilities.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. I felt small, helpless, trapped in a situation that seemed to be spiraling beyond my control.

Then, just as I thought the world was closing in on me, Jungkook spoke, his voice cold and distant. “You’ll be working with him now. I’ll make sure you’re briefed on the new tasks later.”

I turned to Jungkook, but he didn’t even look at me. His gaze was focused on his laptop screen again.

I couldn’t breathe. I’d tried. I had really tried to keep my head above water in this toxic office, but now it seemed like it was all slipping through my fingers.

[the-moons-tears]

Scaramouche x reader (Spiderman au)

GUYS GUYS SPIDER-MAN SCARA BRAINROT EIFJEJDCKKEFM gods i CANT

Hot emo spider boy grrr

Not very spicy (a bit at the end) this is pretty much just a plot that I enjoyed writing about

Preview:

"all you have to do is keep your pretty eyes open, and try not to fall behind."

Blues, greens, whites, and reds zoomed by the eye coverings on your mask. Noises from the city and its traffic flared up in your ears and ended as soon as they came. The sharp wind whipping your hair around, and the feeling of your suit moving with your body made you feel alive.

Your hands moved methodically in a pull up, release, and shoot cycle. The strong webbing that was naturally formed in your body shot out through a tiny slit in your wrist, and the cut in your suit fabric made it easy to shoot out of.

The ground seemed so far away every time you launched yourself up into the night air, but became almost touchable when you let gravity take you back down. Your lungs took in large amounts of air and released heavily through the mask fabric.

When you arrived at a certain large skyscraper, you began your ascent. The webbing that flew out hit the glass panels which you used to propel you upwards. The noises from the city below grew quieter as you neared the top roof with the internet tower sitting in the middle.

Your hand grasped the edge of the building and used your upward force to swing over the ledge onto the roof surface. Standing upright, the wind hit you and blew your hair away from your face showing you the view that you never got tired of. The city looked so small from there. Leaning over where you just came from, this was definitely the tallest building in your city.

Planes overhead made their presence known by the blinking lights that were flashing from their bodies. Above them lay the stars, although you couldn't see them because of the light pollution. The silence, even though so many things were happening, was always strange. It just showed how high up you were. The wind was your only company with its occasional howl coming from any direction.

Although, your solitude didn't last long. A cold sensation ran down your spine and an instinctual alert inside your mind told you something was coming. A figure, black as the night above came so fast at you, you didn't have time to react.

In a tangle of arms and at the speed of the impact, you and the figure crashed into the part of the roof that led to stairs to the floors below. A loud grunt came from the figure beside you when their head hit the wall.

Your own body had slammed into the stone pretty hard. Obviously it was much worse for you since the impact sent you into the wall first. A strangled gasp for air escaped your lungs after it had been knocked out and you fell to your side with your vision spinning. Rough hands turned you over, ripped off your mask from your face, and grabbed you over your mouth. The other hand held your shoulder to the ground.

Above you, the figure, who you figured was a male, was breathing hard. The hand over your mouth gripped hard, and your attempts to speak failed. In your panic, you shot webbing onto his face with your free hand and kicked him back once you got a leg up from underneath him.

Immediately once you had enough free space, you made a dash for the edge so you could jump off. Alarms went off in your mind again, making you duck in time to see a web shooting overhead at what would have been your neck. The next one, however, you couldn't dodge in time.

White webbing caught your ribs and pulled you to the man again. Before you could blink, you were wrapped in web that was holding you in all directions. You couldn't move, and your mask that protected your identity lay away from you on the ground. When you finally were still, you could see clearly who he was.

Short violet hair moved in the wind revealing a black mask with purple and blue iridescent web looking designs interlacing it. The body suit also had the same design. The person's mask ended at their hairline, letting the bangs that were there fall over it. Everyone had seen him, he was quite famous although no one knew his real identity. The savior of teyvat city, spiderman.

He ran a hand through his hair rubbing the spot that hit the wall and let out a long sigh. "I really wanted an easy night tonight..." the man ran his hands down his face and walked toward you. Without gentleness, he grabbed you face again and tilted it how he pleased.

"What the hell-do you always treat people this way?"

"Well most people I come across that have any sort of power aren't exactly wishing the city a merry Christmas."

Fair. From what you had seen, every time he made an appearance was when a supernatural threat was in the city, like that one battle with a giant lizard you saw on YouTube. You'd seen what he was capable of, and that he probably didn't have any intention other than protecting the city, so you decided to be compliant.

For a bit, he was silent. He brought a hand up that had your webbing that was on his face on it, and his silver eyes on his mask narrowed.

"I watched you swing up here from a distance before attacking you. You shot this from your wrist."

"Yeah, I'm guessing you want a backstory?"

"Normally I wouldn't care, but your web is the same make as mine. It's not coincidental." He then waved his hand for you to speak.

You simplified the story as needed in your head, and begin to tell about your spider experience.

...

You were in college enjoying your student life when it happened. With your university being so close to ILDOTTORE Inc., a lot of students came to study in the sciences, you being one of them.

In one of your leisurely afternoons at the campus park, you were sitting on a bench just looking at the wind blow through the trees when you felt a sharp pain on your hand. The pain continued to spike when you pulled your hand up and shook it. Looking at your palm, sitting there was an iridescent spider that had its fangs lodged in your skin.

It looked abnormal for sure. Its eyes were bigger and it's legs were longer. A strange symbol was marked on its back, almost like an experimental number you would put on test subjects. Without a thought you immediately slapped the spider.

When it didn't come off the first hit, you took off your shoe and pressed it to your hand, not caring about the dirt because the bite hurt. When you got the spider off your hand, you relaxed thinking you'd definitely killed it.

Feeling something moving on your thigh, you looked down and jumped from your sitting position with your hand swatting at your thigh. The spider, with one less leg now, was crawling up your leg until you swat it off.

"Oh hell no, die hoe." You took the shoe that was still off and put it quickly back on your foot. As the spider was speeding away, you chased it a couple of steps from the bench and stomped on it like you'd never put your foot on the ground before. After twisting your foot back and forth on the spider, you took your shoe off an examined if it was really dead.

It twitched only once even though it was completely crushed, but that was enough to smush it again until you were only looking at a black smudge on the concrete path.

Ever since that day, you had to stay in your apartment with a sick excuse because of the changes your body was undergoing. The pain was blaring. Your hands would stick to things randomly, and your vision would shift from regular to being able to see through walls. You felt feather light, could move faster, and jump higher.

The strangest parts were the fact that you could shoot webbing from openings in your wrists, and that you would get a strange feeling when something was about to happen. Your reaction time had heightened and your body molded itself into being fitter.

After days of change and determining that the spider gave you those powers, you found ways to control your new abilities. You even made yourself a suit from your webbing. After school days, you would practice in a remote alleyway what all you could do. Swinging around and climbing walls wasn't as hard as you thought. Watching videos of Spider-Man's fights also gave you some tips on how to move well. You were around one month into your new experience before this incident.

...

"So that's where it went...And you made sure 100% that you killed the spider?"

"The only thing left was a blot on the ground. Pretty sure it's dead."

"Great. My two problems have been cut to one."

You wondered if the problem he was referring to was you and the spider. You were correct.

"So can you let me out now?" You wiggled the only movable thing your body, which was your hands. Spider-Man laughed sarcastically and stepped backwards to sit onto the edge of the building. The wind picked up swaying his hair, and his eye pieces on his mask moved in a gleeful expression that you knew had a teasing glint in them.

"Nah, you can get out yourself. You're the same as me right?"

The same? You huffed and looked around you spotting the places his web connected to other structures that held you in place. Angling your hands in the direction of the connection, you shot a web and held on to the end. Your web connected to the place his was stuck on and you pulled with your hand as far away as you could.

His web snapped off, letting one arm loose. From there you broke yourself free from all the webbing. Walking with your back turned to him, you picked your mask up off the ground, moved your hair out of your face, and put it back on.

Suddenly, you felt a web come in contact with your back. Turning around, you saw that spiderman wasn't there anymore. A long web was quickly sliding down off the edge, and you noticed too late that the web was connected to you.

With a scream, you were yanked forward and launched off the building. Looking down, you spotted Spider-Man diving down with the web that held you in one of his hands. When his fall had reached around half of the buildings height, we shot a web from his free hand and began a swing.

"You better shoot a web, I'm gonna let go!" Although most of his words got lost in the wind, you got the message. As soon as you shot a string, the web on your back became loose. You quickly yanked it off your back and swung with your other hand to catch up to him.

You synced up your swing timing to match his, but as soon as you did he changed direction. you caught up to him stopping on a building top where he hung off the side waiting for you.

"You're slow." Indigo hair blew in the wind and his head tilted. His arm hung out in the wind beside him while he held onto the edge with his other.

"Well maybe I would have caught up faster if someone didn't pull me off the tallest building in the city. Secondly, I'm still knew to this whole thing." You landed a bit below him with a web holding you to the building. The man above you laughed and spoke in a haughty tone,

"all you have to do is keep your pretty eyes open, and try not to fall behind." His hand left the edge letting gravity take him. Diving after him, you followed him through narrow alleyways and under highways. It was hard to see him because his suit was so dark, but the iridescent colors on his chest guided you.

You didn't know why you were following him, or better yet why he was indirectly telling you to. Chasing him around in sporadic movements soon became easier. It almost felt like he was training you.

At one point, he disappeared from your vision. Coming to a stop in a dark street where no cars were coming, you looked around. A sharp zing went off in your head, making you turn around in time to see a web come in contact with your face. The mask attached came off and your hand shot up to cover your face.

"Hey! You don't know who's around here, and there may be cameras in this area!" You yelled out in the direction the web came from with your hands over your whole face.

"If you can't block a simple thing like that, and by the way that wasn't even an attack, you're not going to survive fights or the media." A sultry voice spoke near your left ear.

You turned pretending to not be surprised by his sudden closeness. "What are you even talking about-"

"You think you can go back to normal society with these powers? You're already all over the media from swinging around tonight with me."

Spider-Man shoved your mask on your hands that cover yourself and you quickly put the mask back on. When you remove your hands, the first thing you see is a phone screen reading,

Another spider joins Spider-Man? Two swinging figures seen around teyvat city tonight, watch the video footage!

With narrowed 'I'm-not-having-it' eyes, you looked at him behind the phone, "you did this on purpose didn't you."

"The point is, you're now obligated to protecting the city whether you want to or not. It would be better if I trained you so you don't end up wasting your abilities by dying early."

My gods. Everything was happening so fast. Your hand came up to rub your temple through the mask because of the headache that rose.

Your hands went out in a calm down motion. "Ok ok give me a minute. I'm in college and I do have a lot of time, but how am I going to balance these two things? And how on earth are we going to meet up, to quote you, train?"

"Well I make it work with my classes. We can set a schedule for you to meet me at the building we first came in contact."

You mean the place you nearly busted my head open you thought to yourself before you caught an important detail in his words.

"You're in college?" You pause and look at Spider-Man who has his arms crossed. Silence before he spoke,

"No-"

"Oh wow you're younger than everyone thinks. I thought you were like 30 or something."

"Do I sound anything like thirty?" He said aggravated as he shot another web in your face making you take a couple steps back and struggle to get it off.

From that spot, you both worked out a plan to meet up three times a week on the tallest building roof. The first few weeks were rough, and they made you realize how tasking his job was. His training was rigorous, but you caught on fairly well. There were a couple times you went to grab his mask in hand to hand combat, only for you to fail and for him to flick your forehead. You tried making conversation, to which he didn't necessarily ignore you, but he kept his answers short and vague.

"So what major are you in since you won't answer which college you're at?" You poked his shoulder from where you were both sitting on the edge of the building.

"I'm an art student..."

"Actually?" You leaned forward and peered into the eyes on his mask. He nodded and went on staring out at the city. "What kind of medium do you like to use?"

"Charcoal most of the time. Occasional graphite or spray paint."

"I'll have to see some of your work sometime when we're not training. I really enjoy art."

"hmm..."

Over the next few times you two met, Spider-Man would let himself be more carefree with you in your now frequent conversations after training on top of the building. On one of your more tiring training sessions, a thought came into your head. This is merely training, what about real fights. Getting beaten and bruised with the media filming all of it. Was it ever lonely or stressful all by himself?

When you both sat down on the edge, you asked the question.

"It is lonely, being the only one in this position? Saving the city all by yourself?"

"It...was lonely, but now I'm too preoccupied dealing with your annoying ass to be like that."

"Aww, did my 'annoying ass' fill the void in your heart?" You exaggerated the last bit and poked his shoulder.

"Pshh." He pushed your poking hand off of him and tried to shoot a web at you again, but you dodged it. When his hand shot the web, you took the opportunity to try to grab his mask again. It had honestly become a thing to tease him with.

This time however, was different. He just seemed to sit there and let your hand wrap around the edges of his mask, taking it off and exposing his face. His hair whipped around in the wind, the violet bangs brushing his forehead. Long eyelashes and eyes that blinked slowly, almost teasingly so. His irises, like the color on his suit, but with depth and a color you could only describe as mesmerizing. Skin soft and a rosy pair of lips that parted slightly as you took the mask away. You almost reached out to touch him.

"Your eye pieces are wide open, what's the matter~?" His hand extends a bit and closes your slightly open mouth. He doesn't even bother to take the mask back from you, and instead just leans back on the ledge and throws his head back. Adam's apple moving as he swallows slightly.

"Uh-" you cleared your throat and tried looking at him again to speak, but when you did his eyes were locked with yours making your lungs close up.

"Scaramouche."

His voice brought you back. "What? Like Bohemian rhapso-"

"My name dumbass. You can use that instead of Spider-Man. Of course, not in public..."

You took off your own mask and set it beside his that now lay between you both. The wind felt good on your face, you hadn't taken it off in a while up there. There was a silence that hung from that point. You both rested there in your seated positions, and scaramouche could have sworn he heard you try out his name on your tongue.

...

The next month was peaceful. Winter break had begun, so you were able to rest at your apartment and spend more time with scaramouche. He actually started letting you into his life. You learned where he went to college and got to see a lot of his art projects in his own living space, although he kept some of them hidden from you for reasons unknown to you. Of course, you couldn't leave him alone about them and would always be trying to search for them when he wasn't looking.

"Hey, what do you say to getting a drink at- what the hell do you have in your hand?"

You stood there at his sketching desk, with papers that made your eyes wide. On the parchment, were graphite sketches of...you. The way the details on your face were so accurate made you blush furiously. All those times he would just seem to stare at you when your mask was off, was he looking so intently so he could draw you? The answer was right in front of your face.

Gods you were in deep. Not only did you develop feelings for him when you started training, but seeing this made you realize it was probably not one-sided.

Quick footsteps came behind you and a hand reached out to take the papers from you. Turning to him, you were surprised to see scaramouche's face close to yours with glaring eyes and a red that reached his ears.

"Did I not say that you weren't allowed to see those?"

Nothing came out your mouth. Your lips only parted to try and give an apology, and you didn't miss the way his eyes flicked down to your parted mouth. His eyes said so much, but you could see there was a fear in them as well.

...

After that incident, not much was said between you. The very next day you met on the tallest building once more. It was the day that you two would spar, like every other time right?

Wrong. You were both distracted. Every grab on your arm shot electricity through your soul, more than before. The same could be said for him. The distraction caused an accidental blow to the face, which knocked your mask off.

"Ah shit, are you al-" his voice cut short. You were leaning back against the wall behind you that he first encountered you on. Your chest was heaving and visible breath from the temperature came from your mouth. You looked too good to him in that moment, so he let his desires take over.

"Yeah I'm good...it just knocked my mask off-" a strong grip pushed you against the wall.

"Hey what-" Looking up at him, you saw his hand reach up and rip off his mask, his violet hair messily flowing around. He threw it to the floor before grabbing your face and smashing his lips on yours.

Your hands instinctively grabbed his suit turtleneck collar and pulled him into you. He wasted no time pushing his tongue past your lips and putting his body flush against yours. Surprised sounds left you as you could barely breath. He was desperate, hungry, and could no longer hold himself back.

The drawings were his only cope to deal with the feelings. Gods he was scared, scared that you would want to end the whole partner thing if you knew. Now all those doubts dissipated when he felt you meld your lips back with his when he tried to part your mouths.

Hands ran down your ribs and to your waist. His fingers were gripping you with need, and his mouth kissed you with abandon. Scaramouche never wanted to take his lips of yours, not after he'd waited so long gazing at you, watching the way you tried to do what he did, and feeling your covered skin when you fought.

Neither of you needed to breathe. You believed you could be sustained solely by each other's lips.

Only after several minutes of pure bliss in each other's mouths did you break apart for much needed air. You gasped and panted, and scaramouche did the same. He rested his head on your shoulder in the aftermath, just feeling your warmth that enveloped him despite the cold winds.

"Want to head to my apartment? We can um...continue there if you also want to-"

"Yes.”

You blushed when his hands wrapped around you and his face turned to kiss your jaw.

"I wonder if the media would like to know that Spider-Man is a romantic."

"Shut up..." He gave a slight laugh and slowly drew away from you. His eyes were clearly glazed over with a need for more, but he'd save it for when you were both warmer in your home. After picking up your masks off the ground, you both quickly made your way to your home where you couldn't stop scaramouche from starting to kiss your nape and skin before you even got into your apartment room.

Masterlist!

[whowrotethenote]

Warnings // Angst // Grief // Profanity // Talk of death and murder

Word count // 7.8k

Disclaimer // The Tribal Killer Masterlist // Chapter One // Chapter Three // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Main Masterlist //Join My Taglist

The atmosphere in the dimly lit cigar lounge was nothing if not grown and sexy. Seductive and luxuriate. The exact space where surgeons, finance guys, CEOs and anyone else who wore designer suits to work—ironed to a trace of no flaws—went to bide their unwinding after a stressful day.

The usuals scattered about. At the bar, seated in the booths or standing at the high tables that were dressed in pristine white cloths vacant of any stain or wrinkle. White collar hustlers and whoever they report to. Men and women in pantsuits of all colors. Black, brown, blue, grey—and sleek as all hell despite the wear and tear that comes with working enduring hours in the city. Suit jackets most likely hanging off the back of their chairs or left in the car altogether. Dress shirts unbuttoned and ties loosened. 

Cathedral-like ceiling with nostalgic decor and timeless paintings splattered on the walls. The buzz of enlightening chatter and glasses clinking on the bar top, being dished out in almost a robotic fashion—all leveled out by the live jazz band. That earthy and almost leather scent of Mayan Cigars, mixed with the cologne and perfume you could only find in stores where the workers get paid on commission. 

In a less than quiet corner of it all, sat two young women. Breaking through to their late twenties, and trying to navigate in a world where the odds were stacked against them. They clinked wine glasses for the third time that evening, drawing attention from nearby patrons. A bustling force they were. They could have been as quiet as church mouses, and still would’ve captivated the attention of the room. Young, vivacious, and hungry as hell in spirit.

A single lamp and two lit candles set up on the table before them, illuminated their exotic beauty. 

“So,” Naomi started. Cheeks burning with anticipation as she set the wine glass down. “I met another guy.”

She had been waiting all week for this. It’s tradition. Every Friday night, they’d meet. Same spot—same time if their schedules allowed it. 

Their worlds collided in law school just five years prior. Both interpreting the world through roseate eyes, despite being two women of color sneaking through the backdoors of a predominantly white-male dominated field. 

They yearned for the same things out of this little life. Access, a bank account that was never in short of commas, and to earn a name for themselves that would supersede the surnames of their fathers. Two paths that outside of law school, would’ve never intercepted one another in the way it did—despite them growing up just two hours from each other. Naomi pushed to the outskirts, due to her heritage—loved to hear the recounts of how Juno grew up. In the big and kinetic city of Detroit. But as of late their roles had changed. It was now Juno who became the listener. She marveled at the endless tales Naomi would relay to her about the men she intertwined herself with—for almost every reason outside of love. 

Juno’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. She should’ve been used to this by now. It's not an abnormal confession coming from the lips of Naomi. In fact, it's usually the ritual that comes before the night takes that juicy turn. Right after the routinely and courtesy, how have you beens—what’s new at work—or how’s your family questions. 

Every man that tangled themselves within her web was different from the last with only one shared trait amongst them. Wealth. 

“Another one? I thought we were happy with the law guy?”

Naomi waved a French manicured hand. “Oh, he’ll be fine. He won’t even notice if he shares me. Believe me, he has more than enough on his plate.”

“So what does this one do? Or should I say which skyscraper does he work in?”

They never addressed her collection of men by name. Always by occupation instead. Mostly because the bulk of them were either unhappily married or just too high-risk for Naomi to proudly attach herself to. Controversial and problematic politicians. High ranking officials who over the years earned themselves a significant amount of enemies. Men seeking out the company of a young beautiful woman who didn’t mind cutting ties at any given moment. Naomi was a middle-aged man’s dream.

She grabbed her friend’s hand after another sip of wine. “That’s the thing, friend. There is no skyscraper.”

Juno’s perfectly lined eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Excuse me?”

Naomi nodded with a cheeky grin. “That’s right. This one is…different. Definitely not my usual type.” She quickly surveyed the room. The band and consistent chatter concealed anything being transpired between the two, but still a girl could never be too careful. So, she leaned in closer. “He’s a truck driver.”

“A truck driver.” She repeated the words back to her in a flat tone, waiting for her to reveal it was a joke, but all she got back was that equally wicked and innocent grin only Naomi could give. “And where the hell did you two cross paths?” 

“He was bringing in supplies and stuff for the office.”

Juno entertained the idea, but she knew her friend. She was into prominent men. Men whose last names held weight. Men who could get her to where she dreamed of ending up. Normal guys—normal anything wasn’t Naomi’s taste. It just wasn’t in character. Whatever spell the ordinary truck diver had enchanted her with, would be gone in a matter of time. A few more good quick fucks and she knew it’d be back to regular programming. 

Judgement wasn’t a factor within this friendship. Understanding took its place. As a black woman, Juno recognized the struggle of having to break down doors that were locked and always being looked at as if she didn’t belong. Naomi being a Native and growing up on the Isabella Reservation, these same adversities had attached themselves to her life. It seems the rest of the world got away with mediocracy, while they had to be exceptional just to be considered. The game was rigged. So, if her friend had to cut corners and break rules, then so be it. She was standing ten toes behind her. 

“When I saw him,” she continued, “I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off of him.” Her big lakes of brown seemed to grow wider as she relived the first moments of seeing him. “I could see his back muscles through his shirt. Ju his arms—oh my god, you would’ve melted. He looks like one of those fallen Demigods kicked out of Olympus or something. The literal definition of tall, dark and handsome.”

“He sounds like a literal character. You sure you didn’t imagine him?”

“I thought I was imagining him. Until he caught me staring and said something to me.”

“What did he say?” Juno teased in a hushed tone.

“‘You must like what you see, sweet butt.’”

“Ugh!” Juno recoiled earning a hearty laugh from her friend. “Fantasy over. Fucking forget it.”

“I know—I know. But trust me—I couldn’t even focus on what was coming out of his mouth. I was too busy picturing him naked. And his eyes—oh, his eyes, Ju. There’s something very dark and dangerous about them, yet so innocent and luring. I don’t think I ever saw a more beautiful man up close like that.”

“He’s from the Reservation?”

She shook her head. “He lived there for a while he said, but he was born not too far from you.”

“Miss Nodin, are you dipping into chocolate again?”

A red hue casted over her small face. “No, he’s not black,” she confirmed. “I’m not sure what he is actually. Maybe from the islands? He has tribal tattoos. He’s older too.”

“Of course. How much older?”

“Late thirties,” she answered. Juno bore a hole into the side of her face. She was going to make her ask.

“I know you hit already.” Naomi failed miserably at trying to conceal the grin with another sip of wine. “On a scale of one to ten?” She pressed.

“…Fifty. The scale has been broken.” 

“God bless you—and the truck driver.” 

“It was weird though.” Naomi’s energy shifted from her natural ray of sunshine to something else, as she picked at the left over Caesar salad on her plate. “He wouldn’t let me touch him.” Juno’s eyebrows turned down. “He tied my hands up. At first, I thought it was just this kinky thing. BDSM and all that. But then after when he untied me, I tried to touch him and he almost lost his shit.” Juno’s face cinched as she listened intently. Naomi shook her head and waved. “I don’t know. Men are weird.”

“That they are. Remember Reese?” Both women burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Yes! How could I forget? Neat Freak Reese. He used to make me shower before and after.”

“I told you your labia was going to fall off from all that damn scrubbing.” They leaned in closer, releasing the last of their giggles. 

“Oh god,” she expressed. She grabbed the wine glass once more—the corners of her lips lifted like her spirit as she eyed her friend. 

“What?” Juno battled a smile of her own.

Naomi shook her head. “Nothing. I just love you. That’s all,” she confessed at a whisper. Even though it wasn’t a secret. She just had grown so enamored with their bond in that moment. She hadn’t felt her best that week. Work was—well work. And she was having the normal battle with her mother that all girls do at that age eventually. When are you going to settle down and get married? Jumped with all these questions surrounding her future. Naomi had no longing in her heart to start a family. She had trouble most days just getting out of bed and doing for herself. A silent battle she kept hidden. To everyone else, she was the ray of sunshine tasked with lighting the entirety of Michigan up. She couldn’t fathom the burden of having to get up everyday and cater to children and a man she vowed to love forever. It was too far fetched. 

She thought most of her adulthood that something might’ve been wrong with her. Why was she always running into so many more hurdles unlike her peers who seemed to be gliding through life? Why didn’t she dream of the perfect white dress and walking down the aisle to the man she couldn’t live without? Why didn’t she daydream of what her face might look like on a little girl? Maybe she just wasn’t made right. She chalked it up to her wires just getting crossed during childbirth. That was until she met Juno. The other half of her.

She had everything she wanted right at that table. A girl who understood her—seen her. To be seen and understood is to be loved. She didn’t need nor want for anything else except that which she already found in Juno. Men were just these beings to have fun with and satisfy her sexually and financially. 

They clinked glasses for the fourth time that evening. Hearts full and worries emptied for the time being.

“I love you too.”

Juno wiped the hot tear like it was made of acid and burned her cheek. And she was burning up—inside. Her soul. Her conscience. She felt responsible. She knew the lifestyle that Naomi carried on with and she knew it would inevitably catch up with her. She just figured she had more time. More time to convince her that there might be another way—a safer solution to all of her problems. 

And now she was dead. Memories. That’s all Juno had to show for the near five year friendship she shared with one of the most exhilarating human beings she had ever met. Her smile could’ve brought life back into a funeral home. Whoever sought out to end it was nothing short of pure evil. And Juno felt in her soul that she wouldn’t know rest until she sought him out. 

That memory alone was enough fuel to light her fire back up. She had been sitting unmoved like she was paralyzed for nearly thirty minutes inside the parking garage of the Oakland County  Prosecuting Attorney’s office. Engine still running in her Honda Accord coupe—trying to build up enough something to just go in. 

Memories of the two of them—full and making something out of nothing. Laughing until their stomachs ached and reaping the benefits of their hard work in spaces others didn’t think they belonged—was like the electric shock of a defibrillator. She was doing this. 

She hastily pulled the mirror down to clean up any mess she had made from crying tears she hadn’t meant to. Nothing Nars concealer couldn’t hide. She slammed it shut, grabbed her LV Neverfull and the car door slammed not long after. 

Head held high to the sky—she implanted Naomi’s boisterous laugh in her membrane the whole way through the lobby—past the older receptionist that usually greets her with the warmest smile and ‘good morning,’ whose head was bowed down today instead. Heels clicking on the marble floors in pursuit of the double elevator doors. The whole way up she pictured her friend lying on the floor of her home—lifeless under the hands of someone she trusted. Not even knowing that day was going to be her last.

And when the ding of the steel doors sounded and they separated—it was Naomi’s voice whispering ‘I love you,’ that pushed her to keep walking. In the buzzing hallway—despite it being seven in the morning—amidst the ringing phones, people moving about with coffee and paperwork—it was the crime scene photo of all those poor young women that shielded her from the nasty and apprehensive stares. The chatter. People she used to go out for drinks with after a long night in the office, covering their mouths with a stack of papers to talk to another colleague, as if the papers and shifty eyes were any less indication that she was the topic of conversation. 

In her own office, she rested the left over empty box on the desk, amongst the overflowing ones she had started to fill some days ago when she came in for her exit interview. She packed everything up mostly that day. All she had left was to clear the glass desk full of ornaments that gave insight to who Juno was as a person—not just as an attorney. The framed graduation picture. She stood all smiles, cap and gown, with the mock degree in hand—in between her mother and father. Her older sister beside their father with her oldest niece on her hip—pacifier stuffed in her mouth. 

The sun shone down on them that day. One of the most memorable days of her life. Everyone in the picture had cried at least once that day—even her hard ass of a mother. Tears for Juno and all her hard work and how much further she vowed to go. Graduating from Howard wasn’t the finish line. It was the starting point to a new race. 

She wondered what everyone in the picture would think of her now. Would they still be proud of her? Would they support her? Would they think she was making the worst decision of her life? Would they disown her? Doubt and the cousin of fear crept into her mind everyday since she went in to interview Roman and came out as his defense attorney. None of it had hit any of the news outlets yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. 

Especially now—after today, as she came to collect her things and move out of her office. This made it official. The exit interview and the resignation letter was one thing. Blanch had kept making it a point to remind her that it wasn’t too late to change her mind with every day that passed her by. The offer more daunting and threatening than it was comforting. But she was determined. Some called it stubbornness. Since she was younger that same bug had affected her. People doubting her and already counting her out since she was a girl. It was all the push she needed to keep going. Even if in the middle of her persistence, she realized that she may have went the wrong way, it didn’t enable her to turn back. She just couldn’t. Ten toes down was the mantra she lived by. 

She laid the frame face down at the bottom of the last empty box, not entirely sure where the picture would end up now. She wouldn’t be strong enough to look at their proud smiles until she was able to bear fruit of this drastic change and present it to everyone who had a helping hand in getting her this far. 

The elaborate holder of pens, pencils, highlighters and sticky notes came next. With every little movement she could feel their eyes on her. All sides of the office were glass. A change that came with Blanch’s reelection some years ago. Transparency was his motive—and transparent she definitely felt.

Three knocks had her lifting her head up from the tedious task of packing. In the doorway stood the man she spent many days in this office with. They had been hired within a year of one another. He aided in her basic training. Partied together—shared war stories from law school and failed in this very office together—while also learning from said failures together. Her colleague and who she would like to consider a friend—but she knew that ship was sinking considering the circumstances. Myles Baldwin.

“Baldwin,” is all she said after a beat. Continuing her pursuit of packing after dismissing the pity on his face. The nasty stares she could manage, but pity? No—she despised it.

“Accardi,” he greeted back. “He wants to speak with you before you go,” he informed. 

“Of course he does.” She tucked her bone straight hair being her ears, scanning the room for any strays of her belongings, until she felt his presence growing closer. 

“Don’t.”  She didn’t even spare him a glance. She knew him all too well. 

“How long, Ju?”

Her arms lowered slackly at her sides, dreading eye contact. “How long what?”

“How long have you been cooking this up?” He spoke in a hushed tone. Eyes weren’t just everywhere. There were ears too. “I know you.” His light eyes accentuated under the bright lights of her old office mixing with the natural daylight from the window—pierced her in a way she had grown immune to. “You are not a spur of the moment girl. You think about everything before you do it.”

It's not that she felt compelled to explain herself to anyone—especially no one inside these walls. She was now the enemy. But her and Myles shared a bond that transcended work hours. She felt a sense of loyalty that she only hoped he did too. 

Rubbing her forehead she breathed deep. “I knew Naomi…she was my friend,” she confessed. 

“Wait.” He stepped closer, closing the space between them and shielding her from anyone who was watching. “Naomi? As in Naomi Nodin? The latest victim?”

She nodded. “We went to law school together. We took two different paths afterwards, but still friends nonetheless.”

“Holy shit, Ju.” The wall of apprehension he had built before speaking to her was now decimated. 

“This is personal,” she continued with a hardened jaw. “Blanch is ready to close the whole thing because of one man that knew a couple of the victims. Yeah, he was fucking Naomi. Big whomp. And I get it. Roman Anoa’i is as sketchy as they come. He’s the perfect suspect. But that’s why I’m not convinced. It was too easy. I can feel it in my heart that he’s not our guy. And I won’t stand by and watch an innocent man be executed. I couldn’t help Naomi.” She swallowed the tingle threatening to restrain her words. “But that—that I can help.” 

The hand previously rested on his hips, extended outward to invite her small frame into his much larger one. No more words needed. So she accepted it. It felt like a sip of hot chocolate on a snowy day. The hug of a lover after a long stressful day at work. 

Their bodies conformed to one another. His woody cologne wrapping her the same way his muscular arms had. Juno didn’t want to let go, but the reality of it all hit her. Her eyes popped open as she peaked over to the right through the glass.

“They’re staring,” she mumbled into his arm.

“So, let them. I made it very clear last week that I won’t tolerate any Juno Accardi slander in this bitch.” He pulled back with two big hands still planted on her shoulders. “You’ve done too fucking much for this office. They all know it. Regardless of how they feel about this—they can’t deny that.” After his words settled in like lotion on the skin—Juno finally nodded and he mirrored it. “He’s in a meeting now. That’s why he sent me out here to get you.”

“I’m not even his employee anymore and I’m still waiting on him. Lovely.” For a white man, Hunter Blanch sure does run on CP time. Every department meeting delayed in anticipation of his arrival. Mornings where he’s jogging in an hour behind everyone else, tie not all the way done, with the Starbucks emblemed cup serving as evidence to his tardiness. 

Myles revealed his perfect smile, snickering. “Just consider it his final act of love.” In his stride to the door he looked back one final time. “Good luck, Juno.” He offered what he could now that  they were officially playing for opposite teams. A minute grin and words of encouragement even if they were in vain. Because he knew just like she did, that this was not the office anyone wanted to go up against.

Juno sat in the cold and sterile waiting area outside of Blanch’s office. The grandest and most intricate of the whole building. She could see him through the glass. Hands going, glasses on the brim of his nose as he spoke with whomever was on the HP monitor. 

His controversially young, Russian and very blonde, executive assistant sat behind her extensive desk—not offering any words to Juno since she sat down. It didn’t bother her. They never got along. It was no secret amongst the office that Hunter Blanch had a thing for young assistants and secretaries that his wife so redundantly made him switch out every few months. A pointless enforcement if he was going to hire a young and exotic one to his liking every time. Even if he didn’t do anything with them, everyone knew they at the very least, served as eye candy for him throughout his more than stressful workdays. It's cheating to some degree.

Juno didn’t get into anyone’s business in the office, but one too many sly remarks from the twenty-one year old new hire, implying that Juno had gotten her job from offering something to her boss, was enough to put a bad taste in her mouth about her. 

No one knew the real reason she was able to snag this job so swiftly, so fresh out of law school and even after her incinerating first trial as a defense attorney. That’s how she preferred it. That reason opened a completely different door of even more controversy.

The phone rang causing Juno to jolt a little in the quieter than usual enclosed space. 

“Yes…she is… okay.” She hung the phone up and continued her game of solitaire on the double monitors before her, that anyone watching would get tricked into thinking was actual hard labor. “He’s ready for you,” she announced. Not even sparing Juno a glance. 

Juno laughed to herself before rising up to enter the glass doors of his office, but not before stopping to give her one last piece of her mind. “If I were you babygirl, I’d take a break from the games and start building that LinkedIn profile.” She cheesed and held her Apple Watch up. “According to Mrs. Blanch—your time is almost up here. Looks like we are both out of a job.”

“Juno,” Blanch called out with more enthusiasm than what was necessary—considering the circumstances. Something of a smirk danced on his mouth as he relaxed in his desk chair. He held a hand out. “Please, have a seat,” he offered. 

She was temporarily distracted by the floor to ceiling windows behind him that gave view of the entire city. His office housed the best view in the building. Absolutely breathtaking. The exact motivation one would need to carry out the heavy burden of governing freedoms and juggling the lives of the innocent or guilty. 

Concrete jungle designed with skyscrapers full of Oakland County’s finest. The hub of the working class. Everything moving and functioning as intended—only it was Juno’s life that had taken a slight pause.

Easing into one of the two leather chairs stationed in front of his desk—something dawned on her. She had faced everyone today, except the giant she dreaded most. 

“Where’s Leah?”

“Well,” he started. A hand came up to relieve himself of the glasses he only used under his wife’s advisement or rather her enforcement. The name plate on his desk and on the outside of his door read Attorney General Hunter Blanch, but everyone knew who really ran shit. “She took the week off.” She nodded feeling the pang of guilt again, making her shift in the seat. 

In Juno’s entire time in the DA’s office, Leah Williams had only taken off for two occasions. A mandatory leave after her breast augmentation and her late father’s funeral. Now a third time presented itself. When the young girl she took under her wing betrayed her and made her to be a fool. “It seems your new ambitions has everyone on…edge.”

A deafening silence took over his spacious office. Horns from cars intermittently filling the void of their words but the silence was louder. Juno bowed her head to fool with her manicure. Lips twisted to one side as she thought of what she would say to Leah when she saw her again. She prayed it wasn’t in the courtroom. Leah Williams was the Chief Deputy Prosecutor for a reason. She was a beast in the courtroom. Only one loss in her current role under her belt. No one had slain the beast and lived to tell the story really. That’s what made Juno’s unforeseen move that much more agonizing. She was studying under Michigan’s finest. Anyone else would’ve quite literally killed to be in her shoes and she took them off with ease it seemed. God, she really hoped someone else was taking her place. Please, anyone but Leah.

“You really are sure about this?”

“I am.” She met his intense gaze once again.

“I hope so. Cause after today…” His shoulders went up and then down with raised brows. “I can’t extend any more olive branches.”

“You keep them for someone who actually needs them.” She sealed and signed her fate. 

Another long and uncomfortable silence crept into the room. Blanch squinted and rested an elbow on the armchair to smooth his growing dark beard. He analyzed Juno like he would a case study. She was exceptionally smart, ambitious and her curiosity was unyielding. She was always the one in meetings asking the questions no one else thought of. The cross her I’s and dot her T’s, no corrections needed, can recite the case front to back, kind of student. None of it meant anything in their world. 

“Do you remember what I told you on your first day?”

“You told me a lot that day.”

“Well, what stood out the most?” He quizzed. 

She thought long and hard abut her answer. It was no secret that Blanch was one of the most cutthroat  attorneys Michigan had ever seen. He—unlike most of his peers—had actually earned the title he claimed. He and Leah were like Shaq and Kobe. They obliterated their enemies and left no space for remorse. The verdict almost always in their favor. They dealt in facts and effortlessly swayed the jury. How many of those verdicts were in line with the truth? No one will ever really know. It’s irrelevant. 

“Sometimes the bad guys win.” He snickered and tucked his bottom lip in to control it. Only, Juno wasn’t amused. “Not what you had in mind, huh?”

He shook his head and leaned forward on the desk between them. “No—not at all.”

Her head tilted to one side. “So tell me, Blanch. What do you think the most important thing was that you told me that day?” She probed. Oh so ready to get the fuck up out of there. She was in enemy territory now. She could feel it. No matter how many olive branches he extended or deep chuckles that escaped his throat. They had different agendas now. One’s success meant the other’s failure. No way around it.

“Courtrooms don’t weigh morality. They balance reality.” The room grows colder. Goosebumps form on her smooth skin. His eyes, dark and enticing, are like pins—holding her in place. “What can be seen. What can be heard,” he continued. The pace and ease in which he was able to go from warm to ice cold was off putting. Made her second guess every smile he ever flashed her way. “Your soul has no place in the house of justice.”

Suddenly, Juno was uncomfortable. She thought ethics to be the foundation of law. She was wrong. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Her eyes bounced around the office, no longer able to play tennis. “Anything else?”

“Good luck, Juno.” While Myles’ words were encouraging with an undertone of grief for the brief moments they shared as colleagues—Blanch’s was sinister. He spoke like a man who had already seen the verdict. 

Leaving Juno is suspense of two things. If the bad guys would really win this time—or if all morality had been compromised in this office. 

Juno sat in the mess of all the new paperwork she had to obtain since transitioning from the prosecution to the defense. All case files had been returned to the Prosecuting Attorney’s office and in their place were the generic untouched ones. Files absent of her and her previous team’s notes. She was literally starting from scratch.

Pulled an all nighter to get everything somewhat organized to the way she had it before. If anyone walked in, they’d be floored at what she considered organized. Papers and files everywhere scattered about. On her coffee table, the couch, some on the island in her kitchen, and decorating the floor to the point where you could barely see the pebble-colored vinyl flooring. 

The first rays of morning—coral and apricot lines—danced over her apartment through her white sheer drapes. Reminding her of how sleep-deprived she really has been. It didn’t start with the switch up. It started the night her phone rang in the dead silence of one in the morning. Her apartment pitch black. Alarm set for four hours later, but the ringing shocked her awake before her time. It was Leah calling to inform her that they had another victim. Juno’s heart ached at the thought of this bastard taking the life of another woman. Her blood had ran cold when she received the address of the latest crime scene. A home she had been plenty of times before and didn’t need to utilize the GPS for. A home she had spent countless nights—cooking, drinking, playing cards, binge watching Law & Order, and gossiping about everything under the sun. 

Walking up to the house full of strangers—absent of the owner she knew and loved—flashing lights of blue and red dancing on the outside of the single floor cabin-like house and the pine trees surrounding it. Windows grand enough to see inside the residence. The burnt orange ceiling lights giving way to the interior—specifically the kitchen. Juno’s car door shut as her stomach went hallow. Lump in her throat, making it nearly a task to just breathe and swallow normally. The small rocks crackled under the weight of her Uggs as she put one foot in front of the other, through all the people crossing paths in front of her. Men and women in uniforms—all oblivious to the very discombobulated Juno. 

That’s when she saw her. Sprawled on the kitchen floor. Shiny, black tresses extended over her face. Stiff as a board. 

Her knees went weak as she barely made it back to her car and emptied out whatever was in her intestines and more. Bile, sweat and tears mixed as she hyperventilated on the side of her Honda. 

She stayed crouched over like that for too long. She had a job to do. Rearranging herself back to as normal as possible—she walked back up and inside the house on autopilot. Everyone speaking to her, asking her questions, and she could barely hear a thing. She avoided the corpse like it was a mini fire in the woods. 

Juno sniffed, shaking the worst memory she’s ever conjured back to its rightful place. Locked in a dungeon of her psyche. Her phone ringing aided in helping her brush it off.

“Hello—” She quickly cleared her throat to mask the cracking of it. “Hello?”

“Please tell me what they’re saying about you on the news isn’t true.” Her older sister tumbled through the speaker of her phone. Her and the rest of her full house already live and moving about. 

“Good morning to you too, Jamila.” 

“Juno, I’m serious—” A banging followed by a guttural cry. “Oh, fuck me.”

“What is going on over there?” Juno tried her best to suppress a laugh. Every time she spoke to her sister it sounded like she was the ringleader of a circus. It was safe to say her circus was running her this morning. 

“She fell off the bed. That’s her new thing. And we’re teething now.”

“That sounds fun.”

“The news, Ju? Please tell me they have the story wrong?” She pressed. 

“Well, what are they saying?” Juno only halfway listened as she thumbed through more files seated on the plush rug in her living area. Hair tied up in a loose bun and glasses constantly slipping to the end of her nose.

“You left the DA’s office?!” She sounded like she might burst into flames—or tears. Juno could never tell. “To defend that nigga that killed all those women? I don’t understand—I thought Naomi was one of the victims? Have you talked to Mommy? And what does Papa think? Didn’t he get you that job?”

Juno continued to read with her sister’s mild crash out as background noise. Jamila wasn’t just the ringleader in her own household. First born girl of her original family had made her the stick that kept everything and everyone around her in place. Her younger sister always serving as her toughest challenge. Juno didn’t follow rules that went against her own will. Stubborn little thing she was from birth. The two girls always clashing because of this. 

Petty fights over dolls and who got the last bit of cereal turned to arguments about who would get the car for the night or stolen clothes from either’s closet. All escalated to Jamila chastising her sister for not wanting to settle down or her dangerous career path. It wasn’t jealousy. Most people who didn’t know the girls personally would think so. Jamila settled for a quiet and simple (not so quiet and simple) life of marrying rich and defaulted to a stay at home mom. Four kids later she seemed to be working the same strenuous and chaotic hours Juno had. She couldn’t imagine doing any of it while trying to maneuver a career path. So she eased up on her little sister after growing up a little and realizing the necessity of choosing one or the other. In adulthood, a newfound respect for the newborn she remembered holding in the hospital with a toothless grin, ripened. 

So, yeah, it wasn’t jealousy. It was genuine concern rooted in unconditional love. Jamila loved the fuck out of her baby sister. Every time Juno didn’t answer the phone she thought of all the crime shows she watched while her kids were off to school—where the convicted yearned for payback from whoever was responsible for putting them away—and thought the worst. She was well aware that her sister’s career called for her to piss a lot of folks off, but she also knew her sister had a calling for justice. She was gifted. So, she let it be.

“It's still on. Turn on Fox.”

Juno reluctantly grabbed her remote. Fox being left over from the previous day and sure enough there she was. It was footage from the press conference held on the steps of the holding facility just a couple weeks before. Blanch gave his statement to all the microphones of the world while she and Leah stood on either side. 

“Former Assistant District Attorney, Juno Accardi has resigned in her role as the lead prosecutor in the state of Michigan vs Joe Anoa’i. Anoa’i has been the number one suspect in a nineteen count homicide and sexual assault case. He’s been in holding for the past month awaiting trial. Not only has Accardi resigned but she has taken on the role as Anoa’i’s defense attorney amidst her departure from the DA’s office…”

Juno watched, not even blinking as they zoomed in on her frame. The voice of the news reporter fading to black. Heart beating erratically. She knew it was coming. No amount of preparation could tranquilize this feeling. They switched abruptly to a more recent press conference. Blanch in the forefront as usual. Black hair sleek and luscious, dressed in an expensive designer suit—but, no Leah. She could tell from the background it was held on the steps of her former job. 

“We just want to assure Oakland County and Michigan as a whole, that the priority amidst the chaos— is and always will be, the pursuit of justice. We are confident that we have all we need to bring clarity and a peace of mind back to the victim’s families and the rest of the young women of Isabella. The recent loss of one of our own does not deter from that. If anything it’s given us the extra push we need to flush out anymore bad apples in preparation for trial…”

“Bastard.” She heard Jamila spit. “—No, Tootie! You don’t repeat mommy!”

The news woman carried on as a picture of Roman’s mugshot presented itself next to the footage of him being taken into the holding facility the day of his detaining. Cameras flashing, more than enough microphones shoved in his face as he tried his best to conceal himself with a broad shoulder amongst the swarm of reporters and belligerent patrons. SWAT team trying their best to keep everyone at bay and off the unsolicited superstar. 

His eyes—just as Naomi exemplified. Dark and dangerous, yet innocent and luring. Paradoxical. Nothing about this man made sense to Juno. The news broadcast rocked her. And for the first time since this whole thing—she questioned if she had made a mistake.

"Ma'am we ask that you stay at least six feet from the cage at all times. He shouldn’t be in the possession of any items, but in the unusual case that he—”

“Do you mind if we skip the formalities? I’m kind of on a time schedule here.” Juno fished a plastic smile for the guard ready to read the list of protocols off and bore her to death. She came here with a purpose and she had more than enough already stacked on her plate. 

The familiar shiver from the arctic atmosphere of the room they held the beast in, greeted her the minute she took her first step on the concrete. She found him the same way as last time. Hanging from the bars pulling himself up. Jumper hanging loosely above his hips. Hair clinging to his broad shoulders. Back muscles slick with sweat—waving at her.

Leaning all her weight on one foot and crossing her arms, she stood by as he finished his last set and released himself with a thunderous thud. His dark eyebrows knitted together and chest heaving as he turned to focus on her. 

“Juno.” The upper corner of his lip turned up as he tried to bring his breathing patterns back to normal. “So the rumors are true.”

“I’m a woman of my word.”

“I can see that.” His menacing eyes made a trail from the two open buttons of her black jumpsuit, down to her red bottoms. She cleared her throat. “So, what’s next?”

“Well, I’m working on getting you moved to a better facility. Something not as secluded and closer to the city.”

“And how long will that take?”

“I don't know. Could be weeks. A month.” She shrugged. “When I left the DA’s office, I left all my connections so—pushing paperwork is gonna be a bitch.”

“You did all that for me?” He got comfortable, leaning his back into the corner of the cage closest to her. All his attention on her. 

“I did it for me—following that voice in my head,” she confessed. The voice was Naomi’s, followed by a horrific montage of all those girls, pale-faced and bleeding out. “I did it for them—all those girls he murdered. And yeah—yeah, I guess I did it for you too.”

He used his long fingers to smooth the unkempt beard down. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell your secret. Lil’ Juno has a soft spot for Roman.”

Silence enveloped the two strangers whose lives were now inevitably entangled and dependent on one another. Juno was the first to break.

“Is there anything that I don’t already know, that I should?”

His lush bottom lip poked out. “Nope. You know as much as you should,” he lied. He bit his lip looking her up and down again. He was seeing her with a different pair of eyes. This wasn’t the same woman from weeks ago. That girl was timid. Unsure. This one housed fire and she was  a force. It turned him on as much as it intimidated him. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she could see through his cracks—his flaws that weren’t so obvious. “You and I have a long road ahead of us. We are going to have some fun, sweet butt.”

“I have two rules.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Never lie to me.” The first rule landed like wrecking ball. “The only way this works is if we have full transparency. Whatever I ask—I need an answer. None of that cat and mouse bullshit from the other day. We’re officially on the same team now,” she declared. “Doesn’t matter how big or small. Anything. It all means something. We have attorney client privilege. Anything you say has to stay between us. I can’t judge you for it.”

His head bowed as he pursed his lips. “Yeah as my attorney you can’t judge me. But as Juno? The person? You’ll definitely be judging…” There was weight in his words that made Juno’s heart feel heavy. “What was the second rule?” He requested, pulling her from whatever rabbit hole she was ready to go down. 

“Don’t ever call me sweet butt again.” The deep tenor of his laughter filled the vast room and she couldn’t help the grin that painted over her face.

But as it settled she slid off the temporary cloud and was faced with reality. The air around the two growing thick. He could sense it as he looked back in her direction. 

“Last chance,” she warned. Jaw tight. No more games. “Did you kill Naomi Nodin?” Her nose burned as she remembered her. Full of life and light. Reduced to a corpse. She had so much life left to live. So much more to offer this world. 

Roman’s perfect teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he regarded Juno. His emotional intelligence whispering to him that this was not the time for his smart ass remarks or deflective riddles. So he told her flat out, “no. No I didn’t.”

She nodded. Accepting it for what it was. She didn’t know why but she trusted that he was telling her the truth.

“Same time, same place tomorrow?” 

He nodded once. “I’m here all day and night.”

She turned to leave but halfway she’s halted in place due to her name being called. “Juno,” his baritone voice hurdles through like a boomerang. She turned. “Thank you.” He stared not blinking. The gratitude was intense. Still, Juno didn’t think of herself as deserving just yet. All she had done was follow her heart like she was taught. Selfishly, it had more to do with her and not him. 

“Don’t thank me yet.”

This is what her life had become. Unpredictable the sharp left turn it was, but it was now her new normal. She didn’t believe in coincidences. She believed she was exactly where she needed to be. A character in an already well written story. She didn’t believe in miracles. She knew in order to get to the other side she wouldn’t be unscathed, but she had to put the work in. The journey ahead was long just as Roman professed. It had twists, turns, boulders and barricades placed intentionally with thorns and potholes to add insult to injury. And as someone who was no stranger to grievance—it still strained her to think of. It was like locking the last piece of a Lego house just for someone to come and kick it down. Yeah, you can start from scratch and familiarity of the process once done, should make it easier—but easier is subjective. Especially when they’ll always be someone lying in wait to come kick the Lego house down again at any given moment.

She couldn’t save her friend. Naomi was dead. She wasn’t coming back. That much would haunt her until her mind was dust. But she could salvage one life and that was Roman’s. So she focused on what was possible to fix and buried—literally and figuratively—what wasn’t. 

A/N // If you read this or even a portion, I am extremely grateful. As always feedback is welcomed💗

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[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Pastel Colors

Pastel Colors - pale variations of primary colors and exhibit lightness and low saturation.

To create a pastel shade, blend white into the original color, mixing the pigments until they fully combine.

The more white you add to the original color, the lighter the pastel shade becomes. 

Examples of Pastel Colors

As tints of primary colors, pastel hues are not on a traditional color wheel. Their limited saturation and pale shades create a soothing and romantic atmosphere. Common shades of pastel colors include:

Baby blue: Similar to sky blue, baby blue is a light shade of azure that pairs well with pastel yellow and pink. Baby blue is also a signature color scheme for nurseries and children’s rooms.

Lilac: As a mix between mauve and light blue, lilac is a pale shade of violet that resembles the lilac flower. This pastel color creates a bright contrast alongside shades of olive green and gray.

Mauve: Like lilac, mauve is also a pastel variety of the color purple. There are different shades of mauve, with some tints containing pale pink hues and others containing light gray shades.

Mint green: A blend of blue, green, and white, mint green is often a staple shade on a pastel color palette. Different tints of mint green vary according to the proportions of white, blue, and green.

Peach: A bright summery tone, peach is a pastel color in the orange family. Its warm hues resemble a bright cream, making it an ideal color base upon which to build.

How to Use Pastel Colors

By matching the right colors, you can effectively incorporate pale tones into different design trends. Try these steps for working with pastel colors:

Create a pastel color scheme. As an arrangement of complementary color combinations, a color scheme is a foundation that balances bright and dark shades. Start by choosing a pastel color as your base. Select complementary colors by pairing this main color with tints on opposite ends on the color wheel. If your color wheel does not include pastel colors, find the primary color closest to your pastel and then note which color is across from it. The pastel version of this second primary color is your complementary color. For example, if pastel blue is your main color, use pastel oranges as your complementary colors in your color scheme.

Test your shades. Before applying any color to a new space or template, test your color scheme. Pastel colors appear differently depending on how the light hits them. Consider doing a small patch test to ensure you like how the color looks after you apply it.

Incorporate contrast. Contrasting colors enhance different aspects of your design. Pastel on pastel can result in a faded look the eye has trouble viewing. Instead, layer your pastel background with color contrast. For instance, in a pale yellow web design, consider using a saturated hue for the lettering so the text is eye-catching. Darker tones that pair with pale colors include magenta, eggplant, navy blue, and dark green.

Add an accent. For a more dramatic look, you can incorporate accent colors in your template. Soft pastels amplify the appearance of bright colors. To make a statement in your design, consider incorporating a primary color shade into your palette. For home décor, use primary color throw pillows as an accent to a pastel-colored couch.

Tips for Using Pastel Colors

Consider these styling tips for using pastel colors in graphic design or interior design:

Add intrigue with metallic shades. Since pastel colors have less saturation, shimmery colors, such as gold and silver, are attention-grabbing against pastel backgrounds. Experiment with different metallic shades to add texture to your pastel look.

Play with patterns and shapes. Pastel backgrounds are an opportunity to incorporate bold shapes and interesting textures. Consider adding a geometric pattern to a wall with a pastel color scheme. The soft gradient of the pale colors allows the unique shapes to stand out.

Use neutrals for balance. Adding a pale hue to a neutral color palette creates a fresh, eye-catching look. Neutral colors, such as white, gray, and beige, ground pastel shades and prevent an overwhelming blend of color. This technique works well for business cards and logo designs.

Graphic designers, interior decorators, and artists incorporate pastel colors into their work to blend color palettes, build texture, and balance bold patterns.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

- masterlist

AU masterlist - right here

disclaimer: these are collections of scenes that happen with one couple within their story / verse, not traditional chaptered fics. you can read them standalone or in whatever order you please. they're organized in chronological order here

and I will do the best I can, with the little that I know tim drake x reader x conner kent - please just stay with me tonight (and please don't let tomorrow come) - this shadow is not my shape anymore (and I fear it will swallow me whole) - there is a weight in this heart of mine (and it leaves space for nothing else)

bloody nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone) tim drake x reader - my life does not belong to me (but these secrets are my own) - these hands may be bloody (but they're still mine and I'm still yours) - have I trapped you in this web of mine? (will you let me pull you out?) - I've let this wolf into my home (I feed it even when it bites) - like a watchdog at your door (like a veil over your heart) - there has never been enough of me (and I have nothing left to give) - this devotion of yours is misplaced (but this love, perhaps, is not) - is there a point to those teeth of yours? (do they bite for me, still?)

carry me slowly, my sunlight (these colours, they fade for you only) damian wayne x reader - like a lamb led to slaughter (my heart held in your hands) - ask me about my sins (and I'll tell you about my love) - reach for me in the dark (and I will always take your hand) - even without an answer (perhaps the search will be enough) - is this my soul, still? (is this my ghost, again?) - this goodness hurts (and I'm drowning in it) - are these my hands, still? (scrubbed clean as they are?)

comfort came against my will dick grayson x reader - there's nothing here for you (and there's nothing left of me) - I'll find you always (but I'd rather go alone) - nothing in my life is as easy as you (and nothing in my life is as hard) - you've been holding out on me (but I can't find a way to hold onto you) - it isn't always easy (but how lucky I am to be known) - remember me as small (I fear I've swallowed the sun whole) - Is it worth it, this love? (is it fair to you, this life?)

damn your love, damn your lies roy harper x reader - was I supposed to be easy? (is this supposed to be love?)- we're strangers these days (but that has to be enough) - will you come when I call? (will you answer when I beg?) - is there a home here for me, still? (is it the heart inside your chest?)

hope here needs a humble hand platonic bruce wayne x reader, platonic batfamily x reader - it comes and it goes (but it always comes back) - the past is not dead (you buried it while it still breathed) - there's an anger in me (I think I learned it from you)

I caught a glimpse of heaven in the whites of your eyes jon kent x reader - is that greatness that I see in you? (do you know who it belongs to?) - this is everything I'm meant to be (and you are all I'm not) - coming soon...

love is not designed for the cynical jason todd x reader - there is no home for me there (and no solace for me here) - I'm not me anymore (and maybe you're not you) - this pain is inevitable (it sleeps with me while you're elsewhere) - remember me, please (don't let me die a second time) - this may be my grief (but it's you who's made a mess of it) - do you know that I love you? (do you know that that you shouldn't?) - and I will search for you (in every home I've ever made) - my love has no direction (and my anger is a vice) - is it my heart that hammers in my chest? (or is it just a memory?)

born into the world with two left feet in the grave barty crouch jr x reader - maybe you're just not worth it (maybe you're worth a little more)

let me wrap my teeth around the world poly marauders x reader - I don't know you anymore (maybe I never really did) - please forgive this fear of mine (it used to keep me safe) - there is love in me, I swear (tell me there's something in you, too) - Is there hope in us, still? (is there something worth believing in?) - you are not poison here (and you never really were) - but I'm not much of anything (but you're everything to me) - let me stay small, please (let me wait a little longer)

this is how it feels to take a fall takami keigo x reader - are we human, still? (have we become something more?) - this sweet plague that follows me (this violence that I call my one) - I just wanted to be something (I wanted to be good)

you will know me, though I have no name kuroo tetsurou x reader x kozume kenma - may I build myself a home here? (may I please call you mine?)

your small hands in the palm of mine gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru - please save me from this light of mine (please stay with me in the dark)

but isn't bite also touch? simon riley x reader - I need an altar to pray to (I need a hand on my shoulder)

this lust is a burden that we both share din djarin x reader - this fear is a part of me (please don't take my hope away)

[cgunderwearstories]

The Lambda House Halloween Party

The Lambda house Halloween party at Ashford College was in full swing, the house decked out in its usual haunted decor—flickering lanterns, spider webs stretching across doorways, and a thick mist rolling from a fog machine. The music boomed through the rooms, and dozens of college guys dressed in everything from werewolves to gladiators packed the space, laughing and shouting. Some of the Lambda brothers had their eyes set on making the night memorable in a very different way. Every year, they prided themselves on pulling pranks that left guys feeling more than a little exposed—especially those who arrived unprepared or overconfident. Tonight, they had their eyes on Jason.

Jason is wearing a toga that is supposed to drape down to his knees, but it barely covers his meaty thighs. The material is a thin, gauzy white that shifts easily with movement, lifting higher and showing more with every step. As he moves, the toga flutters, and the sides part to reveal a glimpse of his underwear—a skimpy pair of lacy blue panties. The lace pattern is intricate, with small floral designs that contrast sharply against his skin, and they’re cut high on the sides, exposing a lot of his hips. The waistband is thin, and when the toga rides up, you can clearly see the blue lace riding above his thigh.

The guys at the party erupt into laughter. “Nice toga, dude, but I think you forgot to dress for the occasion!” one of them shouts. “Those are some fancy panties you’ve got under there!” another guy adds, grinning. A guy nearby shakes his head and laughs, “Guess you wanted to be the ‘Greek god of lingerie’ tonight, huh?” They lift the back of his toga, exposing the full lace design. “Oh man, you’re showing off more than you think!”

Jason, feels his face heat up as the frat guys start pointing and laughing at his predicament. His toga, already too short, has ridden up enough for everyone to see his blue lacy panties, the thin material barely covering anything. He desperately tries to adjust the fabric, pulling it down, but every time he does, the lace waistband peeks out even more. The frat guys are relentless, crowding around him, their laughter echoing through the room.

“Hey, man, nice choice! Are those lace panties?” one of the frat guys jeers, reaching over to lift the side of Jason’s toga even higher. “Looks like someone’s got a secret.”

Jason, flustered and trying to save face, stammers out an excuse. “It’s—it’s part of the costume! You know, like ancient Greek underwear, uh, they wore—fancy stuff back then, you know?”

The guys roar with laughter at his attempt. “Greek underwear, huh?” one of them scoffs, tugging at the back of the toga so it rides up higher, giving a full view of the lace against his skin. “Sure, dude, because all Greek warriors fought in their girlfriends’ panties.” Another guy doubles over, clutching his stomach, “Oh man, next you’ll be telling us you’re wearing a bra too!”

Jason tries to pull the toga back down, but the frat guys aren’t letting him off that easily. One of them pulls at the waistband of his panties, snapping the elastic against his skin. “Nah, man, if you’re going to wear something like this, you’ve gotta show it off!” he laughs. Another guy joins in, lifting the front of the toga to expose the full lace detail. “Check this out, boys—looks like Jason’s gone all out tonight!”

Jason’s face is burning red now as he feels the lace cling to his skin, the panties barely hiding anything. “It’s—it’s a joke, okay? It’s just for fun,” he tries to say, but the frat guys are having none of it.

“Yeah, right,” one of them sneers, pulling the back of his panties and letting it snap. “You’ve been caught, dude. Just admit you like it!” 

Another mischievously smiles, “Why not just take the whole thing off if you’re so proud of your ‘costume’?”

He grabs the side of the toga and gives it a tug, pulling it off entirely. The group hoots with laughter as Jason stands there, desperately trying to cover himself. One of the frat guys holds up his phone, snapping pictures. “Smile for the camera, lace boy!” he says, grinning.

“Yeah, show everyone your ‘ancient Greek’ look!” another guy taunts, pushing him forward so he stumbles in his lacy panties.

Jason’s attempts to regain his dignity are futile. “You know what, maybe he’s right,” one guy says, pretending to consider Jason’s excuse. “Maybe this is just how the Greeks did it. All lace, all the time. What do you think, boys?”

As Jason tries to make his escape, one of the frat guys steps up behind him, snickering. Without warning, he slips his finger into the waistband of the panties. His finger lingers for a moment, running along the waistband as if inspecting the lace pattern. “You know, this lace really suits you,” he teases, giving a slight tug that pulls the fabric into a wedgie. “Bet you didn’t think you’d be showing off your cute little panties tonight, huh?” he adds with a smirk.

Jason’s face burns as the guy continues. “Honestly, dude, you should just own it. Walk around and show off those cheeks—you’ve got nothing left to hide anyway.” The other guys around him burst into laughter, egging on the one who’s teasing Jason.

Feeling the humiliation, Jason doesn’t dare reach back or try to fix his wedgie. He walks away, face down, while the guy shouts, “There you go, show off that lace! Everyone’s loving the view!”

As Jason tries to make his way through the crowd, cheeks burning with embarrassment, one of the frat guys steps up behind him. Slowly, he slips his finger into the waistband of Jason’s lace panties, tugging them just enough to expose his ample behind. Jason feels a shiver run through him, his body betraying the thrill he feels as the lace is lowered. He knows he should push the guy away, but he’s frozen, heart racing.

The guy leans in, his breath warm against Jason’s ear. “We can all see your pretty little panties, man…and your pink hole” he whispers, his finger brushing against Jason’s sensitive hole. The light touch sends a jolt through Jason, and he bites his lip, struggling to suppress the excitement he feels. The teasing touch moves closer, grazing areas that make his knees weak. The lace panties hang below his buttocks, intensifying every sensation.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, grinning as he sees Jason’s reaction. “Bet you love showing off for all the guys.”

Around them, the other frat guys laugh, their voices echoing in Jason’s ears. “Dude, looks like you’re really enjoying this!” one shouts, and another adds, “Guess he wanted everyone to see what he’s packing under that toga!”

The guy’s finger continues its teasing journey, lingering on Jason’s hole. The sensation is electric, and Jason can’t help but let out a soft, involuntary gasp. Jason’s head spins, caught between humiliation and the undeniable thrill of being teased and exposed. The frat guy behind him presses a little closer, his finger still teasing along the edge of the panties. “I think he loves it,” he says loudly, making sure the whole room hears. “Let’s see just how much.”

Jason’s body feels alive, every touch amplified by the attention from the group. He knows the guys are watching, laughing, taking it all in—and, deep down, he loves every second of it.

[happywebdesign]

Studio Röder

[luxfuxxvii]

things that help me write in case anybody else hasnt found their process and wants a little inspiration:

clean room = clean mind = brain empty = BAD = writers block. have the perfect amount of messy in your room, but an organized writing space. for me, i associate a clean room with a clear mind. empty room, empty mind. if i have a clear mind, im probably thinking thoughts my therapist would be proud of, im also probably thinking about wellness and cleanliness and happy things and spiritual wellness and hmmm maybe i should do yoga. well guess what? writing is messy. writing is having bad thoughts, bad ideas. writing is thinking "how can i hurt my character the most?" or "how can i comfort my character after being hurt?". in order to figure that out you have to let it be chaotic. but EVERYTHING has a spot, okay? for me, i have a pile dedicated to clothes, all tossed into a reusable bag, with a few shirts artfully spilling out onto the floor. but other than that, my floor is relatively clean. you want chaotic, not crowded.

have a spot dedicated to writing. im not talking "this is the only place im allowed to write", im talking a writing shrine. all of my writing stuff is on my nightstand, this way i can write in bed or on the floor, whichever i deem my designated writing space for the day. my notebooks in the same spot. my bluetooth keyboard is also there. i have a cup for pens and highlighters. i have pages ripped out of notebooks filled with tips for revising. passive vs active voice. varying sentence structure. i have an old notebook i used for my creative writing class that i can go to for finding poetic devices. i have a blank sketchpad that ive been using to make little charts or timelines. the books i need for reference are all in my little spot. also thats where my snacks go (offerings to the gods, aka the evil tarantula in my brain making webs of LIES ((bad, bad headcanons)))

have a special writing thing. basically the equivalent of lucky socks or lucky charms or literally whatever, except its for writing. i have a shirt i specifically wear when i plan on writing. its literally just a cream white button up. i dont NEED to wear it in order to write, but on days where i know i can write but am still struggling, putting it on really helps. i struggle to write in special outfits because most of the time, if im wearing a cute outfit, i am performing. well writing isnt a performance. i am a scatterbrained rat. so its usually pajama bottoms and my writing shirt. booya.

water. idfc. idfc. water. water. drink it. chug an entire 20 oz in one go unless you think youll get sick. if youre not gonna get sick, get to chugging. "i always forget" cool me too. adhd sucks man. but i have POTS, so i have to drink 120 oz of water a day. the thing is, i NEVER remember its there. everyones always taking sips at a time and then forgetting they even own a water bottle. solution? drink the entire thing in one go. do it coward. its the only way. if drinking water gives you a stomach ache, i promise you, thats because youre dehydrated. you will get used to it. im sorry it hurts. but the more water you drink, the more it starts to go away. the headaches stop. suddenly you actually start to crave food, and it doesnt even hurt to eat it?????? what???? yeah man. water helps pretty much everything. i might make a separate post to talk about this actually.

find your medium. paper? keyboard? you do both, but for different things? for me, i like to write in notebooks. idk, it just works. i discovered this in my creative writing class. she had us use notebooks and i discovered that writing by hand really gets me in the flow. writing with a keyboard makes me want it to be perfect, and overall, i really struggle to read things on a computer. however, i do like using keyboards because the words get typed faster. problem is, when im using a keyboard on a hard day, my brain cannot keep up with my fingers, and so i stop typing to think of a word, and then im out of the flow. writing it by hand takes longer and gives me ample time to come up with sentences. also the cursor isnt blinking at me menacingly. but also, if ur a paper person, ONLY EVER WRITE IN PEN!!!! ITS LITERALLY A GODSEND!!!!!

some days, you just need to write different things. what i mean by this is there are days when i can absorb information and give instructions, and then there are days when i can follow the instructions. i say "im going to take notes on how to use passive vs active voice", and thats what i wrote for the day. other days, i look back at my notes and i say, "yes im going to put this into practice", and then i DO. writing is writing man. learn as you go. no matter what, youre writing. some days its a notes day. some days its a letter to your best friend. some days its a poem. some days you actually sit down and write the fucking shit you wanted to write (finally). also remember that you dont need to write the same amount of words every time, too. i wrote 18 pages by hand all in one day. the next day? i barely wrote 3. the day after that, i didnt write at all. THAT IS PERFECTLY ACCEPTABLE.

find your system. no im not talking about this writing routine im informing you of right now, im talking do you plot or do you have vibes? are you a very weird, confusing, and inconvenient mix of both? lol. me too. you CAN plot. you CAN just have vibes. but which one actually gets you to start writing? figure out which one you are. think on it rq, cuz it leads to the next one.

timelines can suck it. for me, if i figure out a consecutive timeline, my motivation goes out the fucking door. this is because i FUCKING HATE HATE HATE HATE time crunches. EVEN THOUGH IT'S NOT MY TIME CRUNCH????? ITS THE CHARACTERS?????? basically, for the first draft, i cannot have any concept of time in my story, otherwise i will feel trapped, like i HAVE to do it in the way i originally planned, and then I'll never write it. so how i solve this, is i get an idea. just one. one idea, for one scene. i write that idea down as a little summary (and i really mean little, guys) and add a couple notes to give it vague vibes (moonlight shining through branches, water droplets on skin, laughter, etc), and THEN i write that scene down from memory. this is because i primarily write based on vibes, even though in my head i know exactly how this scene is going to serve the plot, and where exactly this bad boy will fit in my plot. but i know i might change my mind later, so i dont write that down. i recommend doing this if you have adhd, because if youre only writing down ideas one right after the other, chances are, you are not elaborating on them enough for your future self to go back and fall in love with the little note you made. we are just too forgetful. so you write down one idea, add little notes on the vibes you want to incorporate in your idea, and then you go and write the scene. thats it. one at a time. if you come up with another idea as you go, write it at the top of the page where the title goes and pray to god it sticks in your brain when you find it again.

i hope this helps a little in a very adhd way? this is my process (its not really process, more like a rulebook). i hope it inspires you guys to find the things that work for you, or at least opens your mind to the more chaotic organization your brain might need. i know i really struggled with the advice that suggested i do things neurotypically???? like no thanks. nuh uh.