#Top universities in England

[rimaakter45]

سیستم آموزشی بریتانیا: مروری جامع

معرفی

بریتانیا دارای یک سیستم آموزشی غنی و متنوع است که به دلیل کیفیت و اهمیت تاریخی خود شناخته شده است. سیستم آموزشی بریتانیا با سنت دیرینه تعالی دانشگاهی و تعهد به تقویت رشد فکری، طی سال‌ها تکامل یافته است تا نیازهای یک جامعه مدرن و جهانی شده را برآورده کند.

ساختار سیستم آموزشی انگلستان

این  سیستم آموزشی انگلستان  به چندین مرحله کلیدی تقسیم می شود که هر کدام اهداف و برنامه درسی خاص خود را دارند. این مراحل به شرح زیر است:

مرحله اولیه سالهای اولیه (EYFS): EYFS برای کودکان 3 تا 5 ساله طراحی شده است و بر ایجاد یک پایه محکم برای یادگیری آینده متمرکز است. این بر یادگیری مبتنی بر بازی، رشد اجتماعی، و مهارت‌های اساسی حساب و سواد تأکید دارد.

آموزش ابتدایی: آموزش ابتدایی در انگلستان معمولاً کودکان 5 تا 11 ساله را پوشش می دهد و شامل مراحل کلیدی 1 و 2 است. در این مرحله دانش آموزان با طیف وسیعی از موضوعات از جمله ریاضیات، انگلیسی، علوم و هنر آشنا می شوند. مرحله کلیدی 2 با آزمون های SAT (آزمون های ارزیابی استاندارد)، که پیشرفت دانش آموز را در این موضوعات اصلی ارزیابی می کند، به اوج خود می رسد.

آموزش متوسطه: آموزش متوسطه شامل مراحل کلیدی 3 و 4 است و برای دانش آموزان 11 تا 16 ساله است. مرحله کلیدی 3 ادامه برنامه درسی ابتدایی با طیف وسیع تری از موضوعات است. در پایان مرحله کلیدی 4، دانش آموزان معمولاً در امتحانات گواهی عمومی آموزش متوسطه (GCSE) شرکت می کنند.

تحصیلات پس از 16 سالگی: پس از تکمیل GCSE، دانش آموزان می توانند با ورود به کالج یا فرم ششم، ادامه تحصیل خود را انتخاب کنند، جایی که به مدت دو سال تحصیل کرده و در آزمون های سطح پیشرفته (A-Level) شرکت خواهند کرد. از طرف دیگر، دانش آموزان می توانند دوره های حرفه ای یا کارآموزی را انتخاب کنند.

آموزش عالی: تحصیلات عالی در بریتانیا در دانشگاه ها و کالج ها ارائه می شود و معمولاً یک برنامه سه ساله در مقطع کارشناسی است که منجر به اخذ مدرک لیسانس می شود. گزینه های تحصیلات تکمیلی شامل برنامه های کارشناسی ارشد و دکترا است. بریتانیا به دلیل دانشگاه های معتبر و ارائه آموزش عالی با کیفیت بالا مشهور است.

ویژگی های کلیدی سیستم آموزشی انگلستان

تست استاندارد: سیستم آموزشی انگلستان برای سنجش پیشرفت و پیشرفت دانش‌آموزان بر آزمون‌های استاندارد متکی است. شناخته شده ترین آزمون های استاندارد شده آزمون های SAT در پایان مرحله کلیدی 2 و آزمون های GCSE در پایان مرحله کلیدی 4 هستند. این آزمون ها نقش بسزایی در ارزیابی توانایی های تحصیلی دانش آموزان و تعیین مسیرهای آموزشی آینده آنها دارند.

لباس فرم مدرسه: لباس فرم یک ویژگی رایج در مدارس انگلستان است. آنها نه تنها احساس تعلق و برابری را در بین دانش آموزان ترویج می کنند، بلکه به یک محیط یادگیری مثبت نیز کمک می کنند. لباس فرم مدرسه اغلب مختص هر موسسه است و ممکن است شامل کتانی، کراوات و تاج مدرسه باشد.

شرایط مدرسه و تعطیلات: سال تحصیلی در انگلستان به طور معمول به سه ترم پاییز، بهار و تابستان تقسیم می شود. مدارس در طول این ترم ها تعطیلات منظم دارند، از جمله تعطیلات نیم ترم و تعطیلات تابستانی طولانی. این استراحت ها امکان استراحت و تفریح را هم برای دانش آموزان و هم برای معلمان فراهم می کند.

مدارس خصوصی و دولتی: سیستم آموزشی انگلستان بین مدارس دولتی و مدارس خصوصی (مستقل) انتخابی را ارائه می دهد. مدارس دولتی توسط دولت تامین مالی می شوند و به برنامه درسی ملی پایبند هستند، در حالی که مدارس خصوصی دارای استقلال بیشتری هستند و اغلب طیف وسیع تری از فعالیت های فوق برنامه را ارائه می دهند.

اهمیت فعالیت های فوق برنامه: فعالیت های فوق برنامه نقش مهمی در سیستم آموزشی انگلستان دارد. مدارس دانش آموزان را به شرکت در فعالیت های ورزشی، باشگاهی و فرهنگی تشویق می کنند. این تجربیات به دانش آموزان کمک می کند تا طیف گسترده ای از مهارت ها و ویژگی ها، از جمله کار تیمی، رهبری و آگاهی فرهنگی را توسعه دهند.

آموزش فراگیر: آموزش فراگیر یک اصل اساسی در سیستم آموزشی انگلستان است. هدف مدارس حمایت از دانش‌آموزان دارای نیازهای آموزشی خاص و ناتوانی‌ها برای اطمینان از دریافت آموزش برابر و باکیفیت است. هماهنگ‌کنندگان نیازهای آموزشی ویژه (SENCOs) با دانش‌آموزان، والدین و معلمان همکاری نزدیکی دارند تا حمایت لازم را تسهیل کنند.

برنامه درسی متنوع: برنامه درسی در انگلستان متنوع است و شامل طیف گسترده ای از موضوعات مانند ریاضیات، علوم، انگلیسی، تاریخ، جغرافیا، زبان ها و هنر است. این رویکرد جامع تضمین می کند که دانش آموزان به یک آموزش جامع دسترسی دارند.

چالش ها و اصلاحات

در حالی که سیستم آموزشی بریتانیا بسیار مورد توجه است، با چالش ها و اصلاحات مداوم روبرو است. این چالش ها عبارتند از:

نابرابری آموزشی: شکاف مداومی در نتایج آموزشی بین دانش‌آموزان با زمینه‌های مختلف اجتماعی-اقتصادی وجود دارد. تلاش‌هایی برای رفع این نابرابری از طریق طرح‌هایی مانند حق بیمه دانش‌آموزان صورت گرفته است که بودجه بیشتری را برای مدارس دارای دانش‌آموزان محروم فراهم می‌کند.

کمبود معلم: بریتانیا در سال های اخیر با کمبود معلمان واجد شرایط مواجه بوده است، به ویژه در دروسی مانند ریاضیات، علوم و زبان های خارجی. این موضوع باعث نگرانی هایی در مورد کیفیت آموزش در این مناطق شده است.

بازنگری برنامه درسی: برنامه درسی در انگلستان در سال های اخیر با تغییراتی در محتوا و ساختار GCSEs و A-Levels دستخوش بازنگری های متعددی شده است. این تجدید نظرها با هدف همسویی سیستم آموزشی با نیازهای نیروی کار مدرن و چالش های جهانی انجام می شود.

شهریه دانشگاه: شهریه دانشگاه موضوع بحث و مناقشه بوده است. در سال 2012، هزینه های برنامه های کارشناسی در انگلستان به طور قابل توجهی افزایش یافت، که منجر به نگرانی در مورد دسترسی به آموزش عالی برای دانشجویان با پیشینه های کم درآمد شد.

نتیجه

سیستم آموزشی بریتانیا به دلیل تاریخ غنی، تست استاندارد و تعهد به ارائه آموزش با کیفیت بالا شناخته شده است. از سال های اولیه تا آموزش عالی، این سیستم برای آماده سازی دانشجویان برای آینده ای موفق طراحی شده است. در حالی که بریتانیا با چالش‌های مربوط به نابرابری، کمبود معلم و اصلاحات در برنامه‌های درسی مواجه است، آموزش را به عنوان یک ستون اساسی جامعه خود در اولویت قرار می‌دهد و دانش، مهارت‌ها و رشد شخصی دانش‌آموزان را در سراسر کشور تقویت می‌کند. لطفا به اینجا مراجعه کنیدسیستم آموزشی انگلستان  برای اطلاعات بیشتر.

[musicalchaos07]

Jancy + Academic Rivals to Lovers AU

[eccentrichumanbeing]

Various top gun & top gun maverick characters as what they would teach and what year would they teach

Ice- would be a head teacher, nice guy but would have u quaking in ur boots if u had to go see him

Mav- would teach an aviation course at a college

Hangman- maths at high school and sixth form, would teach at a school with both. He just gives obsessed with maths as a kid vibes, may teach physics if needed

Bob- either computing at a high school (he seems like a computer nerd) or would teach like year 4 at some primary school

Phoenix- would teach sixth form English, idk why just vibes, maybe pe in which case she would be terrifying

Fanboy- geography teacher at a high school, idk why

Payback- physics or dt again vibes

Rooster- probably music but at a primary school and would probably do like one on one lessons there too

Goose & carol- goose would teach year 3 carol year 2 at the same primary school

Idk if I missed anyone important or not but idc

There is very little reasoning or even thought behind this so take what you will

[manisha999]

#GodMorningSaturday

#Mere_Aziz_Hinduon_Swayam Padho Apne Granth

कबीर, पानी केरा बुदबुदा, अस मानुस की जात।

एक दिना छिप जाएगा, ज्यों तारा परभात ।।

♦️Get Free Sacred Book GITA TERA GYAN AMRIT +917496801825

[meoun-uk]

London Calling: The Top Universities in England's CapitalLondon is renowned worldwide for its rich history, cultural diversity, and high-quality education sy... https://www.meoun.uk/london-calling-the-top-universities-in-englands-capital/?feed_id=9921&_unique_id=6655d00827375

[heljar-heimur]

Had a 'awakening' moment while abroad with work recently. Made a comment on an object in museum and well, apparently things I have started to consider basic knowledge are apparently not so basic.

Like its not an echo chamber of one correct opinion or political stuff or anything but nope. Echo chamber of everyone knows these things about history and art, that are actually very highly specific pieces of information that only a small percentage of people actually knows.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Miguel w/an Innocent S/O

Warnings: Protective Miguel, Slight Yandere Miguel (if you squint), Implications of Smut, Fluff, More Fluff, Spooning, Mentions/Implications of injuries, Insecurity, No Pronouns used for Reader Except 'You'.

Him being fiercely protective of you 24/7.

If someone even so much as looks at you wrong, he stares them down until they either break down and start apologising, or their heart gives out.

You’re the only person he shows any affection to. You’re also the only person allowed to touch him. Period.

He’s so touch starved; please hold him and tell him he’s your big guy :-(

Goes FERAL when you rake your fingers through his hair; his eyes roll into his skull and he can’t help but moan a little, even if the context isn’t sexual.

Don’t bring it up or he’ll punish you for it later 👀.

He finds your innocence both endearing and worrying.

On one hand, you believe in the good of everyone, which, considering how insecure Miguel can be, is what initially drew him to you; your ability to empathise and sympathise with others, to not judge them.

However, he knows people would take advantage of your kind and giving nature.

One time, he found out that one of the Spiders – a Victorian England era ‘gentleman superhero’ – had tossed you a used coffee cup and told you to dispose of it on his behalf. When you tried to say something, to tell him you were busy and had better things to do, he just dismissed you.

Of course, Miguel had seen this. He has eyes on you every second of the day.

You never saw that Spiderman again. Nor did anyone else. All that seemed to remain of him was his suit thrown haphazardly into the storage room, where a great big tear edged with blood was ripped into the chestpiece, the hero’s signature top hat abandoned and crumpled beneath it.

He also broke another Spider-Person’s arm when they tried to steal one of the fairy cakes you’d lovingly baked for him; poured your heart and soul into.

Miguel also growls at people he thinks are looking at you strangely. Full-on bares his fangs like a rabid dog and watches them cower.

He purposely grows his fangs out and lets you play with them.

He’s careful to make sure you don’t get hurt, though, guiding your hands away from the pointed tips.

His guilty pleasure is when you kiss his fangs and tell him he’s “The coolest, most handsome man in the world!”

“Just the world?” He says, smiling, raising an eyebrow. His heart melts in his chest as your smile widens, eclipsing your eyes into crescents.

“In ALL the worlds!” You say, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him, laughing. He brings his arms, thick and muscular, around your waist and pulls you into him, pressing ticklish kisses into your neck, revelling in your laughter.

Intimacy-wise, Miguel is horrified at the prospect of hurting you.

He’s ever so careful, as if handling glass, holding back his strength.

It’s worth it, though. The strain.

Especially when he hears you mewl and try to hide your face in his chest.

“Oh no, Sweetheart,” he says, tangling a hand in your hair and pulling your head back. His pointed fangs flint as he gives a smile. “I want to watch you like this.”

Loves your gentle kisses – they give him life.

Nothing can get him down when you’re around; especially when you’re sitting in his lap.

Though, issues have arisen as a result of your oblivion to…compromising positions.

More often than not, Miguel’s had to bite his lip and tongue when you shift in his lap, catching him, making his heart start and his breath shutter, electric anticipation jolting through him.

He takes you aside in the bathroom to deal with the issue you’ve unknowingly caused, but you don’t complain. Not that you can with your mouth full.

He looks at you with eyes which have seen the deaths of countless individuals, yet when he finds yours, he sees love and light spanning infinite universes within them. And they give him hope that there is more to life than loss and grief; more to him than his failures.

He revels in the feeling of you hiding behind him whenever you’re scared.

Sometimes he takes you to areas of the facility where he knows you’ll be easily frightened – for example, where captive villains are held – so he can feel your hands tightening around his arm or gripping the back of his suit. It makes him feel useful, like he can take on the world.

And he gets off on being the only person who can truly protect you. But he’d never tell you that, of course.

Loves demonstrating his strength around you. He can pick you up single-handedly and carry you anywhere without so much as thinking of breaking a sweat.

He prefers to be the big spoon, curling around you like a shield and protecting you from the outside world, his warm, broad chest to your back.

Tells you how much he loves you through hushed post-intimacy whispers and soft touches. Shows it through acts of service and the insurmountable adoration that fills his eyes whenever you’re around.

He can’t imagine being with anybody else. He can’t even remember the last time he felt anything save for contempt before you showed up.

And he’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. No cost is too great for the love of his life <3.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[fixomnia-scribble]

WOW.

Scientists found an amazingly well-preserved village from 3,000 years ago

Text below, in case article access dries up:

LONDON — A half-eaten bowl of porridge complete with wooden spoon, communal rubbish bins, and a decorative necklace made with amber and glass beads are just a handful of the extraordinarily well-preserved remnants of a late Bronze Age hamlet unearthed in eastern England that’s been dubbed “Britain’s Pompeii” and a “time capsule” into village life almost 3,000 years ago.

The findings from the site, excavated in 2015 to 2016, are now the subject of two reports, complete with previously unseen photos, published this week by University of Cambridge archaeologists, who said they cast light onto the “cosy domesticity” of ancient settlement life.

“It might be the best prehistoric settlement that we’ve found in Britain,” Mark Knight, the excavation director and a co-author of the reports, said in an interviewThursday. “We took the roofs off and inside was pretty much the contents,” he said. “It’s so comprehensive and so coherent.”

The reason for the rare preservation: disaster.

The settlement, thought to have originally consisted of several large roundhouses made of wood and constructed on stilts above a slow-moving river, was engulfed by a fire less than a year after being built.

During the blaze, the buildings and much of their contents collapsed into a muddy river below that “cushioned the scorched remains where they fell,” the university said of the findings. This combination of charring from the fire and waterlogging led to “exceptional preservation,” the researchers found.

“Because of the nature of the settlement, that it was burned down and its abandonment unplanned, everything was captured,” Knight added.

“As we excavated it, there was that feeling that we were picking over someone else’s tragedy,” he said of the eerie site in the swampy fenland of East Anglia. “I don’t think we could smell the fire but the amount of ash around us — it felt close.”

Researchers said they eventually unearthed four large wooden roundhouses and an entranceway structure, but the original settlement was probably “twice as big.”

The site at Must Farm dates to about 850 B.C., eight centuries before Romans came to Britain. Archaeologists have been shocked at “just how clear the picture is” of late Bronze Age life based on the level of detail uncovered, Knight said.

The findings also showed that the communities lived “a way of life that was more sophisticated than we could have imagined,” Duncan Wilson, head of Historic England, the public body responsible for preserving England’s historic environment, said in a statement.

The findings unearthed include a stack of spears, possibly for hunting or defense; a decorative necklace “with beads from as far away as Denmark and Iran”; clothes of fine flax linen; and a female adult skull rendered smooth, “perhaps a memento of a lost loved one,” the research found.

The inhabitants’ diet was also rich and varied, including boar, pike and bream, along with wheat and barley.

A pottery bowl with the finger marks of its maker in the clay was also unearthed, researchers said, still containing its final meal — “a wheat-grain porridge mixed with animal fats” — with a wooden spatula resting inside the bowl.

“It appears the occupants saved their meat juices to use as toppings for porridge,” project archaeologist Chris Wakefield said in the university’s news release. “Chemical analyses of the bowls and jars showed traces of honey along with ruminant meats such as deer, suggesting these ingredients were combined to create a form of prehistoric honey-glazed venison,” he added.

Skulls of dogs — probably kept as pets and to help with hunting — were also uncovered, and the dogs’ fossilized feces showed they fed on scraps from their owners’ meals, the research found.

The buildings, some connected by walkways, may have had up to 60 people living there all together, Knight said, along with animals.

Although no intact sets of human remains were found at the site, indicating that the inhabitants probably fled the fire safely, several sheep bones were found burned indoors. “Skeletal remains showed the lambs were three to six months old, suggesting the settlement was destroyed sometime in late summer or early autumn,” according to the university’s news release.

Ceramic and wooden vessels including tiny cups, bowls and large storage jars were also found. Some pots were even designed to nest, stacked inside one another, Knight said — evidence of an interest in aesthetics as well as practicality.

A lot of similar items were found replicated in each home, Knight added, painting the picture of completely independent homesteads for each family unit rather than distinct buildings for shared tasks — much like we live today.

Household inventories often included metal tools, loom weights, sickles for crop harvesting, axes and even handheld razors for cutting hair.

The roundhouses — one of which had almost 50 square meters (nearly 540 square feet) of floor space — had hearths and insulated straw and clay roofs. Some featured activity zones for cooking, sleeping and working akin to modern-day rooms.

The Must Farm settlement has produced the largest collection of everyday Bronze Age artifacts ever discovered in the United Kingdom, according to Historic England, which partly funded the 1.1 million pound ($1.4 million) excavation project.

The public body labeled the site a “time capsule,” including almost 200 wooden artifacts, over 150 fiber and textile items, 128 pottery vessels and more than 90 pieces of metalwork. Some items will go on display at the nearby Peterborough Museum next month.

Archaeologists never found a “smoking gun” cause for the fire, Knight said. Instead, they suspect it was either an attack from “outside forces,” which may explain why the inhabitants never returned to collect their possessions from the debris, or an accidental blaze that spread rapidly across the tightly nestled homes.

“Probably all that was left was the people and what they were wearing; everything else was left behind,” Knight said of the fire.

But the preservation has left a window for people to look back through in the future. “You could almost see and smell their world,” he said.

“The only thing that was missing was the inhabitants,” Knight added. “And yet … I think they were there — you certainly got glimpses.”

[erwinsvow]

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬

summary: how you and rafe got started <3

author's note: if i could stop losing my brain cells over rafe cameron for a minute that would be great but i can't so here it is <3 this is mostly cute but in the shea cinematic universe this establishes the beginning of what can only be a hopelessly codependent relationship <3 more parts to come! also none of this would be written without the surge of inspo i get from reading every single one of @princessbrunette's posts but in particular this one, this one, and this<3 one!

now spinning: one of the girls by the weeknd & jennie

Rafe’s always thought you were cute. 

Cute, he’d think to himself in passing, on a hot summer day when he was getting ready to take beers from the fridge and go find the boys at the country club. He didn’t need to steal anything, the waitress at the club always gave him whatever drink he asked for, but he just felt like taking them from the house today. 

You were dawdling around the house with a bored Sarah, all dressed up with nowhere to go. Sarah was texting on her phone, likely engaging in a virtual fight with Topper. He’d feel bad, but the two of them did it to themselves. You were at the counter with Wheezie, leaning on your elbows while the two of you discussed something. He didn’t really care, until he met your eyes for a second. 

Cute. The way you met his eyes and then looked away, face heating up. You were in a bikini and a coverup, probably waiting for his sister before spending the day on the beach or at the pool. The cover up was white and see through, covering everything to the point where no one could see anything but the faint yellow of your bikini underneath.

Leaning on the counter, when you looked away, he got a glimpse into the top of your dress. He could make out little yellow flowers on the material of your bikini and the outline of your tits squeezed against each other. 

He grabbed a beer and opened it with his back tooth, spitting the cap out on the counter next to Wheezie’s book.

“Ew, Rafe, get your spit molecules away from my book.”

“Who reads in the summer anyways? You should be glad for my spit if it makes you stop.”

“It’s my summer reading, Rafe, not everyone can just skip their assignments and get away with it.”

“Please, what have I skipped?”

You and Wheezie turn to look at each other and start laughing. He cracks a smile too, unexpectedly.

“Actually, it’s a great book. You’re missing out, Rafe,” you say, with a smile gracing your face, and he realizes he’s never actually heard the sound of your voice. You’ve maybe said hi to him twice, and both times Sarah had dragged you away within seconds. You even sound cute. His name on your tongue sounds even cuter.

“Really? Maybe I need to give it a try.” You laugh again, meeting his eyes this time. 

“You can’t have my copy, I already put my annotations in this one-“

“Stop yapping, Wheeze. I’m not gonna take yours.”

“Actually you have a copy in the library upstairs. I borrowed it last summer.”

“Really, kid? Wanna come find it with me?”

Your face heats up so much you turn away. He smiles then, and he smiles again when you follow him up to the library.

“This one is fantastic too, it’s about this young girl in England-” your voice continues to describe the plot of the book in your hand. You shelve it and then your eyes immediately land on another, another classic, another favorite. You ramble off the description but Rafe’s hardly paying attention.

He’s trying to recall when you had become so cute, so pretty. He thinks he’s never noticed you after you walk away with Sarah, or when he walks away from you two lounging on pool chairs, your nose in a book like always.

This is different. When had you become so irresistible?

Your pretty hair falls down your back. It sticks to your neck when the two of you are outside in the sun, in the heat. He has an urge to lick the sweat off just to see how you’d blush and feel how you’d squirm. Your eyes are warm and bright, but you’re still too shy to meet his blue ones, even when it’s just the two of you.

And it has been. Just the two of you, recently, almost all of the time. Sarah’s always off with her stupid friends and Wheeze is at home doing her summer work. 

The two of you travel to every ice cream parlor in the eight in the next few weeks. Conversation comes easily, even though you have nothing in common. He hasn’t picked up a bag from his dealer since he started talking to you, he realizes. Hasn’t felt the need to get high.

You’ve never even smoked weed, much less snorted coke. You’ll drink at a party with Sarah, but not too much, and you always end up being the sober friend holding back the vomiting girl’s hair. At the bonfire that he invites you to, your eyes keep darting around, seeing if anyone needs your help. 

Rafe moves so he’s standing right in front of you, blocking your view.

“Hey, kid,” he says quietly, leaning in. You’re boxed in, with Rafe and only Rafe on your mind. The clean, attractive scent of his cologne. The way it lingers on his clothes, like the button up you’re wearing over your pink dress.

He picks up the red cup in your hand and places it on the log beside you, balancing his beer next to it. His hands are cold from the bottle but you don’t mind much. He takes your wrists first, holding them in place, and then slides down so your hands are touching. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” You were looking down at the hands, where the two of you were connected, but his voice makes you look up. He’s looking at you, and you want to hide your face. Your fingers twitch beneath Rafe’s grip. He holds on even tighter. “Don’t look away, princess. We gotta work on that, huh?”

You feel your face heating up at the nickname. You wish you were home so you could scream into your pillow.

“Sorry, sorry,” you scramble, trying to look up but you can’t find the strength or the will.

You’re embarrassed. Of course you are—this is Rafe, and you’re just you. Rafe is the one you’ve had a crush on since you knew what crushes were, and you are still the awkward little thing you were the first time you met him. 

His gaze burning holes through you makes you want to run and hide. Because this is Rafe, and right now you’re one of his girls. The ones Sarah’s complained about the whole time she’s known you—they get too attached, act all clingy, and then are replaced before long. 

You hear Rafe’s quiet laughter. You’re still boxed in, feeling hot and clammy even though he’d given you his button up not thirty minutes ago because you felt cold. 

“What’re you saying sorry for?” You look up quickly, and then look back down. Then Rafe’s hands leave yours, and he holds up your chin until you’re looking right into his eyes. “Hmm?”

You feel like puking. 

“I-I just, well I just-”

“You just what?”

“I don’t think I can be, um, be one of your flingy, uh fling-type girls. So, you know, maybe all of this isn’t a good idea.”

“Fling-type girls?” he questions. He’s holding back a laugh, which makes you irrationally upset. You shove hard against his chest to free yourself from the cage of his arms. 

“Yes, your fling-type girls. You have a new girl on your arm every week, and everyone knows it, and I refuse to be one of them, because it’s just embarrassing and dehumanizing,” he watches you ramble on. He smiles, but you don’t notice. “And frankly, I deserve better than that.”

“Are you done?” You glare back at him.

“Yes, and not because you said that. I was done anyway.”

“Good.” Your face drops for a second, thinking you overstepped and totally overreached regarding his intentions, but then Rafe surprises you—he leans in and kisses you. 

You weren’t expecting a playground peck, but the way he’s kissing you completely surpasses any and all expectations (and fantasies) you’d dreamt up. His grip on your hips is hard, and his tongue is almost down your throat. It’s messy, and wet, and when he pulls away, there’s strings of spit connecting you to each other. 

You should wipe your mouth before anyone sees, but you don’t. Your heart is racing, and you can barely speak, much less move. 

“If I wanted you to be one of my girls, I wouldn’t have spent the last three weeks listening to you blab about books and buying you ice cream. You’re gonna be my only girl, and that’s that, okay?”

You nod dumbly—words and motions still not quite back yet. You feel flushed. People’s eyes are on you both.

“Now, do you wanna head out and go get a cone?” You nod again. “Good girl. And watch your mouth.”

[enwoso]

SUNSHINE — alessia russo x child!reader

*same universe as grumpy. i’ve had a lot of requests asking for more of grumpy so here’s another little one!”

navigation

alessia’s day started in a way she was not expecting or wanting and a lot earlier than she would have liked.

"mummy, mummy, wake up!" you shouted jumping on top of the blonde, as alessia lay still asleep. groaning at the sudden weight falling on top of her, rubbing her eyes before opening them to see you sat beaming with a big smile on your face.

"what are you doing up so early, lovie?" she asked, the room still being dark was a clear indication it was early as she rolled over to check the time on her phone. 6:44am was the time it displayed. "it's game day!" you cheered.

since arriving at camp, you had been really excited for the game against sweden. alessia was unsure of why you were but nevertheless she didn't want to dampen your enthusiasm, so she let you be excited. she much rather deal with you being overly excited then sit grumpy all day like a moody teenager.

"lovie, it's still early. why don't you go back to sleep for a few then we can go get breakfast when everyone else wakes up." alessia suggested not really asking more hoping that you would as the last thing she wanted was to be up all day.

your smile dipped a little, "why? me not tired anymore" you spoke quietly playing with the label on your blankie.

"c'mere" your mummy cooed, pulling you into her embrace and under her covers as you snuggled into her as she began to draw tiny little circles on your back. knowing that it wouldn't be long until hopefully you were back asleep.

after wiggling around a few times, you finally settled as alessia relaxed back into the sheets of her bed hearing your breathing begin to get heavier as you fell back asleep. alessia sighing as she knew this was going to be a long day.

after a long morning of you being overly excited and a small tantrum because you had decided to get yourself ready, an england shirt and shorts with your crocs, now alessia wouldn't of minded that outfit if you were on holiday or it was actually hot but it was the middle of end of march and still very cold in england.

however you had demanded that you were a 'big girl who can dress themselves' alessia finally had won the small battle of getting you to change the shorts by telling you that you could change into them later knowing you would most likely forget and alessia would save herself from you catching a cold. it was the small win, but a win nevertheless!

you were now about half the way to wembley on the bus and you had spent most the time watching your ipad much to your mums surprise as she thought you would get bored of watching it after a while.

you'd had a few little fusses and your mum had solved this by letting you out of your seat and giving you a few seconds to wander the isle of the bus which is exactly what you were doing now by chatting beth and mary's ears off about the film you were watching.

"and she becomes a ballerina" you told to two as they both nodded along as you told the story of the film, "mummy says i can start dance lessons!" you smile getting sidetracked as the two gasp as you look at the two with a frown.

"what?" you ask innocently your head cocking to the side slighting in confusion as the two look at each other shaking their heads.

"i'll pretend i didn't hear that!" mary whispers but still loud enough that both you and beth hear her as beth hums in agreement as your eye brows furrow further.

"that i'm starting dance lessons?" you ask a small smile appearing on your face at the thought of joining them it being something you had been asking your mummy about for a few days now.

"i thought you were joining the local football team" beth asks as you shake your head, "no, dancing!" you argued back.

the two older women turn to your mummy, "less! is she actually joining dancing?" mary asks as alessia looks around to see where the sound of her name was coming from before her gaze landed on mary and beth’s head peering over the seats on the bus.

alessia nodded, "after this camp yeah, don't worry it won't last long. it was gymnastics last month" your mummy told the two, saying the last part a little quieter.

it was true, you had begged alessia to let you do gymnastics for three weeks straight and when she finally took you to a session you told her after when she asked you if you enjoyed it that you didn't want to go back because turning upside down made you tummy feel weird.

"well let's just hope she hasn't inherited your two left feet then!" mary joked, looking to you who had returned to your seat next to alessia, as the blonde rolled her eyes at the goal keepers comment knowing she couldn’t exactly argue with the statement.

as the bus pulled into wembley, your excitement levels hit another level, your mummy carrying you into the stadium a huge grin on your face you it was getting more and more closer to the start.

“mummy look there’s stina!” you pointed to the swede as she waved to you before heading to the changing room with her team. “yeah lovie she’s playing with sweden today, cause that’s where she was born!” your mummy explained as you nodded slightly.

“so like i was born in england and im english that makes stina swedenish?” you asked as mummy looks as you with a small smile, “close lovie, stina is swedish” she corrected you as you nodded before feeling someone tap you on the shoulder seeing millie and ella behind you.

“hey!” you frowned, crossing your arms over your chest - well trying to. “hey!” millie mocked you with a grin on her face as your frown deepened.

“oh don’t be all grumpy again, you’ve been little miss sunshine all day” ella commented as she poked at your side as the four of you got closer to the changing room.

“anyways who’s names on the back of ‘ere then?” ella asked pinching your england too you were wearing as alessia placed you down having reached the changing room, moving your coat to your shoulders to show ella, who sat on the bench letting your mummy begin to get ready for the match.

“my name!” you beamed as your back had ‘russo’ displayed on your back but instead of the number 23 you had four, for your age.

“i thought your name was y/n, not russo!” ella joked knowing what you meant but wanted to create a little joke to keep you entertained for a few moments to allow alessia to at least begin to get ready for the warm up.

“it is! russo my last name, like mummy silly!” you corrected ella, shaking your head as the brunette smiled.

“of course, silly me!” ella laughed as you did with her.

alessia had managed to get ready for the warm up as you sat playing with a small ball you had found back at the hotel and being with you, ella had given you a mission to try and see how many people you could nutmeg in the changing room, promising you a prize if you got a few people.

“gotcha!” you beamed, giggling a little as you rolled the ball through grace’s legs. hearing her gasp seeing the ball go through her legs making you giggle more.

“you little troublemaker!” she whispered with a smile, picking up your ball handing it back to you. “you’ve declared war now tiny!” she narrowed her eyes as you took your ball back looking for your next victim.

managing to get a few more people, including lotte, georgia and chloe before you heard mummy shouting your name.

“y/n!” mummy called you over as you ran back to her, as she sat you down on the bench in front of her. beginning the usual routine of telling you that you had to be on your best behaviour sitting on the bench, and to tell whoever you were sat with if you needed anything. you always sitting still, nodding you head along to each thing your mummy said.

"and remember you must stay with leah, okay?" your mummy reminded you, as kneeled down to your small height as she tugged your coat back onto your shoulder before finding the bottom of it and zipping it back up, to ensure that you didn't get cold while sitting in the dugout.

"yes mummy" you beamed, looking around the changing room as the rest of the girls were beginning to get ready to walk out. "are you gonna score today?" you asked, as alessia laughed a little.

"i will for you" the blonde smiled, as you cheered a little before embracing your small frame in a hug as she kissed your cheek. "good luck mummy!" you smiled, the blonde smiling too as you both pulled away from the hug.

"off you go, look, leah's waiting for you!" alessia pointed over to where leah was, standing in the doorway of the changing room. "bye!" you sung out, blowing kisses to your mum until you got to leah who scooped you up and walked you to the dug out.

you watched as your mummy walked out with the rest of the girls cheering your mummy's name as she waved at you at the end of the anthem singing, blowing you a quick kiss before she ran to her starting place on the pitch. you stood tall on the dugout seat. leah holding onto you to make sure you didn't fall.

the sound of the whistle went and leah helped you to sit back down in your seat wrapping a blanket around your legs to stop the cold london air getting to you as you helped to cheer them on.

you were no stranger to sitting with leah on the bench or in the stand when your mummy played for arsenal, the defender often watching you while your mummy played as when was not allowed to play because of a big ouchie on her knee.

you had helped leah making her knee better by putting a peppa plaster on it one day, the blonde admitting it had made it feel a lot better leaving you feeling very accomplished.

but one thing leah did like to do while the girls were playing was talk, she often helped you understand what was going on. but sometimes the blonde would begin to ramble and start with some really technical words and you think she would sometimes forget your only four and didn’t have a clue what she meant.

she often said that some of the front line, like the likes of hempo were a fox in the box but you didn’t know what she meant by that because there isn’t a fox even there nor a box which would leave you confused but you didn’t want to upset your auntie leah by not knowing what she meant as mummy had told you it not kind to upset people so you let her ramble on.

you knew that if the team your mummy was on was scoring then that was good thing and that was good enough for you.

“pass it g, that’s it! keep pushing forwards!” leah was mumbling to herself as the girls pushed towards the sweden goal, it landing in alessia’s feet as she smashed it into the back of the net not without falling on the ground.

you watched intensively your fingers in your mouth, along with leah as you were sat on her lap as she shot up with you in your arms, the two of you cheering for your mummy.

the rest of the game went a little boring for you, no team scored anymore after sweden equalised and your mummy came to sit on the bench with you during the second half of the game and before you knew it you were finally aloud on the pitch.

as mummy and her teammates walked around waving to the stranger in the stands, you running along side with your little ball again trying to see if you could nutmeg anymore people before trying to beat mary and get the ball into the back of the net.

“watch me gee, mummy” you yell, as they stop their walking around the pitch to watch you. you line up the ball and step back and run and kick it as mary moves the opposite way to the ball is going as you cheer and run to where your mum and gee were standing copying the same jump and first bump in the air that your mummy always does when she scores.

“did you see that mummy? gee?” you ask as you run up to them, your mum picking you up in the arm to two beaming with smiles and excitement just as you were.

“that was amazing tiny!” georgia cheers, holding her hand up for you to high five as you did slapping georgia’s hand.

“your getting so good at scoring lovie” your mummy complimented, kissing your forehead as you saw mary jogging over to the three of you. “that was a perfect goal tiny!” mary said ruffling your hair as you gave her a stern look resting your head on your mummy’s shoulder.

“see that was so much cooler than doing a dance lesson!” mary smiled as alessia looked over shaking her head at the goalkeeper a small laugh coming from georgia.

“mary! i’m trying to encourage her to try new things!” alessia scolded as mary shrugged her shoulders as the four of you walked back to their others.

the three began to talk but all you could heard was boring adult talk as your eyes were beginning to feel tired probably from all the running around you had done. having your blankie snuggled up to you, before alessia got to the tunnel you were asleep.

the blonde picking up your little backpack in her hand, as she walked down the tunnel with beth. “is that her down for the count?” beth asked as alessia nodded moving the hairs from your face to behind your ear.

“yep, it’s hard work being four and being and sensational footballer and dancer at the same time!” alessia joked shoving beth a little who rolled her eyes at the comment mumbling something about how you would learn to love football just like your mum.

“oh how i dread to imagine!”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Wolfsburg

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Wolfsburg vs Bayern

"If we keep our heads down," Magda mutters," We can pretend that she's not with us."

"Magda!"

You're walking ahead of your parents, practically skipping as you wear an old Wolfsburg Harder jersey. It's much too big for you so Pernille had to tuck it into your shorts this morning when you refused to wear anything else.

This match was all you'd been talking about for weeks, ever since you'd seen the fixture schedule for this month.

Even if you loved the Bayern jersey because it had red, it did not supersede your deep love for Wolfsburg.

It was slightly embarrassing and Magda stubbornly kept her head down as she headed out to inspect the pitch.

"Do my eyes deceive me," A voice that you used to be very familiar with says," Or is that the future of Wolfsburg?"

You grin. "Alex!"

Magda watches as Popp picks you up, spinning you around as Pajor appears over Pernille's shoulder.

"She's grown."

"Kids do that," Pernille laughs.

"She still supporting the right German club?"

"Unfortunately," Magda mutters.

"What position are we talking? We need to start training her up young."

"Goalkeeper," Pernille answers," Zećira's been training her for a while now."

Pajor laughs. "Then I'm sure she'll be great when she grows up."

Your hysterical giggle echo around the pitch as Popp turns you upside down and shakes you.

You stick by the Wolfsburg girls all throughout the pitch inspection and Magda has to actually drag you away when it's time to go in to change.

"I'm going to play for Wolfsburg one day," You tell Momma when she walks you out for warmups," Like you did."

Momma gently strokes the hair out of your face. "And I'm sure you will. Now, remember, you may support Wolfsburg but we're still Bayern so you can't celebrate too hard if they score a few goals, alright?"

You huff but agree.

Scottish Sam and Georgia laugh uncontrollably when you join them on the bench, happy in your Wolfsburg green.

"Don't be too sad when Wolfsburg loses," Georgia teases, ruffling your hair.

You shrug. "It's okay if they lose now," You say," Because when I play for them, they won't."

"Wow," Georgia says," Someone's sure of herself."

"I'm going to be really good," You reply earnestly, brows drawn together as if to stress how much you want this," Because Zećira is taking a lot of time to teach me and I don't want to let her down."

Georgia's face softens a fraction. "I think you're going to make her and your mums very proud."

You smile.

Georgia's right. Wolfsburg lose to Bayern but you're still in a good mood because it means Morsa and Momma are happy.

You let them both give you celebratory kisses but escape pretty quickly to see Alex and Ewa.

Ewa picks you up instantly, holding you on her hip as she and Alex speak with one of the Wolfsburg girls that joined after you and Momma left for England.

"I hear," Alex says," That you've started to collect jerseys."

You nod. "I got a Keira Walsh one at the world cup and I've got a Leah Williamson one on my wall."

"Wow," Ewa says," Have you got any more?"

"I do! My Tia Tana sent me ones for everyone on her team! And Daan gave me a Lyon one when I last saw her! Daan used to play for Arsenal before she moved to France, which is how I know her. I like Arsenal almost as much as I like Wolfsburg!"

Ewa laughs. "Good. Keep it that way. Wolfsburg's got to stay on top, right?"

"Uh-huh!"

Alex grins at you. "You know," She says, lowering her voice like she's telling you a secret," Pernille's jersey is kind of old."

You look down at it, tugging on the collar. "It's from when Momma used to play with you."

"I know," Alex says," How about we get you a new one?"

She grins at you and pulls her own shirt up and over her head.

"Really?"

"Come on, take it. I'll see you in it next time we meet, agreed?"

"Agreed!"

[meoun-uk]

London Calling: The Top Universities in England's CapitalLondon is renowned worldwide for its rich history, cultural diversity, and high-quality education sy... https://www.meoun.uk/london-calling-the-top-universities-in-englands-capital/?feed_id=9494&_unique_id=66522f397da89

[blueiskewl]

Gigantic Skull of Prehistoric Sea Monster Found on England’s ‘Jurassic Coast’

The remarkably well-preserved skull of a gigantic pliosaur, a prehistoric sea monster, has been discovered on a beach in the county of Dorset in southern England, and it could reveal secrets about these awe-inspiring creatures.

Pliosaurs dominated the oceans at a time when dinosaurs roamed the land. The unearthed fossil is about 150 million years old, almost 3 million years younger than any other pliosaur find. Researchers are analyzing the specimen to determine whether it could even be a species new to science.

Originally spotted in spring 2022, the fossil, along with its complicated excavation and ongoing scientific investigation, are now detailed in the upcoming BBC documentary “Attenborough and the Jurassic Sea Monster,” presented by legendary naturalist Sir David Attenborough, that will air February 14 on PBS.

Such was the enormous size of the carnivorous marine reptile that the skull, excavated from a cliff along Dorset’s “Jurassic Coast,” is almost 2 meters (6.6 feet) long. In its fossilized form, the specimen weighs over half a metric ton. Pliosaurs species could grow to 15 meters (50 feet) in length, according to Encyclopaedia Britannica.

The fossil was buried deep in the cliff, about 11 meters (36 feet) above the ground and 15 meters (49 feet) down the cliff, local paleontologist Steve Etches, who helped uncover it, said in a video call.

Extracting it proved a perilous task, one fraught with danger as a crew raced against the clock during a window of good weather before summer storms closed in and the cliff eroded, possibly taking the rare and significant fossil with it.

Etches first learned of the fossil’s existence when his friend Philip Jacobs called him after coming across the pliosaur’s snout on the beach. Right from the start, they were “quite excited, because its jaws closed together which indicates (the fossil) is complete,” Etches said.

After using drones to map the cliff and identify the rest of the pliosaur’s precise position, Etches and his team embarked on a three-week operation, chiseling into the cliff while suspended in midair.

“It’s a miracle we got it out,” he said, “because we had one last day to get this thing out, which we did at 9:30 p.m.”

Etches took on the task of painstakingly restoring the skull. There was a time he found “very disillusioning” as the mud, and bone, had cracked, but “over the following days and weeks, it was a case of …, like a jigsaw, putting it all back. It took a long time but every bit of bone we got back in.”

It’s a “freak of nature” that this fossil remains in such good condition, Etches added. “It died in the right environment, there was a lot of sedimentation … so when it died and went down to the seafloor, it got buried quite quickly.”

Fearsome top predator of the seas

The nearly intact fossil illuminates the characteristics that made the pliosaur a truly fearsome predator, hunting prey such as the dolphinlike ichthyosaur. The apex predator with huge razor-sharp teeth used a variety of senses, including sensory pits still visible on its skull that may have allowed it to detect changes in water pressure, according to the documentary.

The pliosaur had a bite twice as powerful as a saltwater crocodile, which has the world’s most powerful jaws today, according to Emily Rayfield, a professor of paleobiology at the University of Bristol in the United Kingdom who appeared in the documentary. The prehistoric marine predator would have been able to cut into a car, she said.

Andre Rowe, a postdoctoral research associate of paleobiology at the University of Bristol, added that “the animal would have been so massive that I think it would have been able to prey effectively on anything that was unfortunate enough to be in its space.”

By Issy Ronald.

[cheralith]

vogue — 「 boss/fashion designer!geto suguru x reader 」

synopsis ; even without much knowledge in the world of fashion, you decide that it's in your best interest to work for the country's fashion magazine powerhouse. however, you begin to second-guess your decision when you're faced with the grueling labor of its one and only editor-in-chief who expects nothing less of perfection. can your efficiency meet his standards or will you be out the door before you can even blink?

content tags/warnings ; gn!reader, use of they/them pronouns, mild language, traditional japanese basis of (l/n) (f/n) used, reader wears glasses, makeup, and heeled boots, some mild manga and jjk 0 spoilers (three minor characters from each are introduced), uhhh suguru being a dick lawl, some parts not edited/not beta read

contains ; editor-in-chief!geto, fashion designer!geto, assistant!reader, assistant turned ****!reader, platonic roommate!ino, modern au, mild angst, some crack if you squint

word count ; 10.2k

notes ; heavily inspired by "the devil wears prada" and "paradise kiss", so there'll be some references i've dropped within this—see if you can spot them! also the censored is spoilers so until then, hehe.

now playing ; seven days in sunny june - jamiroquai

It’d be foolish not to know the household name of Geto Suguru, the ultimate male muse of Jun Takahashi whose title has yet to be reigned by another. He was the ultimate breathing mannequin of the iconic Yohji Yamamoto piece he had worn on the Milan runway back when he was just a teenager. It was one of the most staple pieces of the new century that helped open the gates of the mixing of world culture and avant garde fashion—an England-Japanese punk fusion of an ashen and tattered kasaya layered under the contrasting statement piece: the earth-toned gojōu-gesa splattered with weaves of gold—and it was that very piece that rose him to the top of the fashion world as one of the most powerful names in global fashion.

And how could he not? At seventeen, he was scouted as a model for Gaulthier and became his muse at the ripe age of twenty before several other worldwide designers began to fight for his eyes. It was only a few shrewd years later that he’d open up his own successful fashion line, RIIKO, named in honor of his late sister, resulting in it becoming one of the fashion line pillars in the modern century. 

It didn’t take long after that, due to his fame and distinct education from Jujutsu University, rising to the top for Kaizen fashion magazine and ruling it with an iron fist and several cups of coffee with almost all his designs on display for all to see in the office. It was due to his work that Kaizen became the powerhouse of powerhouses of fashion editorials and magazines and it was solely his work that made fashion what it was in present times. 

Whether it was direct or indirect, Geto had impacted the industry in all sorts of ways. Be it blossoming an upcoming supermodel’s name or setting new fashion trends, everything could essentially be traced to Geto Suguru. 

So it’s understandable that many had called you a fool—a dimwit, even—for not understanding how big of a deal it was to become his junior assistant after lazily submitting your resume. Originally, you had just wanted to become a simple lifestyle journalist for papers like Sankei Shimbun or The Japan Times, but seeing how it was between a seemingly mysterious fashion magazine that mentioned, received gasps, or the measly and homely newspaper of The Hokkaido Tribune, a magazine you knew would only give new journalists the scraps of what they earned, the choice was obvious. 

Whatever gave you more money, you’d take. Survival of the fittest, was this world not?

“Do not tell me you’re going to your interview at Kaizen wearing that?” Ino barks out a laugh as he finishes his morning cereal for breakfast, scanning your outfit. “You’re going to work in a fashion magazine, not some dingy corporate office.”

You sneer at him as you shove on your loafers (don’t mind that the leather is peeling slightly on the side). You think that there’s nothing remotely wrong with your overused gauntlet gray matching set of trousers and blazer with a slightly wrinkled button-up underneath it. 

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes at your roommate and parttime brother figure. “What on earth do you know about fashion?”

“Enough of it to know that outfit is atrocious for that type of environment,” he states simply as he shoves a donut in his mouth. He kicks his feet up on the table, making you cringe at their nakedness. “Trust me, change if you can. Make a statement for ‘em.”

Ino Takuma sighs and glances at your thick spectacles that you’ve worn since early college. “And at least change your glasses for your contacts. Heard they don’t like those sorta things over there. At least not the prescription kind.”

“Can’t find them,” you grunt when you feel the weight of your shoulder bag heave down your body. “I’m already late, anyway,” you sigh, “Listen, if I don’t come back alive, which I will by the way, then you can dance on my grave all you want.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he chants before he lets out a haughty snicker that gets muffled instantly when you slam the door on him. 

You throw insults at Ino in your mind, grumbling about how a mere job hopper like him wouldn’t even know the speck of fashion, how you refuse to take advice from someone who wears the same thing every day. There’s nothing wrong with the gray, you think. It’s safe and presentable, ordinary and professional, and you’d much rather blend in than stand out as you believe standing out and making yourself known is just a recipe for trouble. 

Stretching out a hand on the street, you call for a taxi and humbly enter as you smooth out your trousers. The taxi driver eyes you in the rearview mirror with a questioning glint in your eye. “Job interview?” he asks.

“Oh, um,” you nod your head. “Yep! I'm a little nervous, haha.”

“Really?” he says as he gratefully steps on the accelerator a little faster. “Better get you there quick, then. Would hate to have you late. Where are you planning on working?”

“Kaizen Magazine,” you declare confidently, an affirmative look on your face.

“Kaizen?” questions the driver slowly as his eyes go to scan your outfit in the mirror again, his brows raised. “As in the… the fashion magazine?” 

You nod with visible apprehensiveness. You think that maybe you truly were the only person in the world that didn’t know the impact of Kaizen, seeing as how a mere taxi driver even knew about the name and you didn’t up until a few weeks ago. 

“I see…” he mutters. The drive there is a mix of silence and everyday morning conversations, before he pulls up to the building that held the key to your dreams. “Well then, here’s your stop.” 

You let out a little gasp of excitement. “Thank you so much,” you reply as you shove some cash into the slot. 

“Hm, well,” the taxi driver counts the money carefully, barely looking just before you close the door as he mutters, “Good luck, Plain Jane.”

You turn back to the taxi, your hearing a little awry. “Sorry, what was that?”

But when you turn back to the yellow cab, all that’s left is a billow of smoke and cinders. Dazed and confused, you quickly shake those feelings off before you head inside to the building that was now your shining beacon of hope with a determined smile still plastered on your lips. White is the first thing that greets you when you enter the building as it was essentially aired out onto every corner. White marble counters, white tile flooring with white grout, white frames of fashion icons—the white screams pristine and perfection to you and its message went very much noticed. You haven’t even met Geto Suguru yet, but you understood already that he expected nothing but excellence.

You ride up the elevator quietly and alone, trying not to focus on how your anxiety increased with each ding of the passing floors. The elevator screen seems to almost taunt you as it closes in on your doom, the numbers getting closer to the designated floor until it slowly pauses and shone brightly the number 21 in stippled red.

The doors slowly open and the light seeps itself back to your vision, white flooding your senses again. You carry yourself carefully down the hallway whilst taking your time to admire the many framed pictures of past magazines, multiple runway models, and scraps of newspaper articles. One specific piece catches your attention, however; it was large, almost half your body size and framed in a gilded black frame. It was a picture of a mannequin wearing a tawdry gray-black robe with the kanji characters of “summer” painted with purple messily atop. Layered was a loose, but well-fitted piece of thick green and gold cloth that looked much more refined to the messiness of the other materials. 

You stare at it for what seemed to be forever whilst admiring the contrast and beauty of the work before your name is called out.

“(Y/N) (L/N)?”

Your trance breaks from the voice approaching you. You turn to see a short and young woman with dark blue eyes staring at you with a raised brow. “That’s you I presume?” she asks.

“Oh! Uh,” you nod furiously and smooth out your trousers again. “Yes… yes, that’s me. I assume you’re Manami Suda? The one I spoke with on the phone?”

She nods slowly, her eyes going to study your outfit which was a rather stark contrast to her own attire that highlighted an emphasis on shades of opal and navy. Her eyes have a similar glint in the way that Ino’s and the taxi driver’s had, further enunciating the message that your attire was rather… something.

“I see you’ve dressed up for the occasion,” she murmurs. Sarcasm going undetected by you, you grin as a response and think that a compliment from her was a sign you did something right. Her eyes go to rise back and meet yours again before she turns and redirects you to the end of the hallway where some rooms belonging to subordinal editors sat in, clacking away at the computers. There was one singular room that held the only door on the floor and it doesn’t take you long to assume who it belongs to considering the large letters of GS frosted onto the glass.

Two desks stood on each side of the door, one completely devoid of life and decorations. Manami guides you to the empty one and patted the top of it. “This will be yours if you manage to miraculously pass.” 

Manami taps on her clipboard a couple of times, listing off a couple of requirements that you were most likely going to need in the future: efficient time management, ability to fight for what Geto wants, sharp memory, quick feet…

“And uh…” Manami flickers her eyes to you and the details (or lack of, in this case). She mutters under her breath quietly, “... a good wardrobe.”

You turn to her, internally wondering if you were going deaf today. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“A good, warm…” she squints, obviously finding the right word to keep that ignorant smile on your face. “... welcome to start off his day.”

She succeeds in her task as you merely nod with the same blatant grin attached. “Got it!”

Manami tours you around the floor of the office, letting you say hello to your future coworkers that work in the cubicles that send you worried looks behind your back. They obviously seem too pitying of you, knowing that your fate would be sealed as Geto’s potential right hand man the moment you signed that employee contract.  

“This is Human Resources,” Manami gestures over to a room filled with chattering employees who seemed to be getting their gossip out before their day started. “You’ll contact them if you have any—” her phone dings suddenly. Casually, she pulls it out, only for all of her resolve to disappear in an instant. Manami then abruptly blows a whistle with her teeth, alerting everybody in the radius.

“Everybody! His morning facial was canceled!” Manami hollers. “Geto is coming in…” her phone pings again with another notification, and you can tell Manami’s heart instantly drops. “Oh God… he’s in the lobby! Everybody, places! You,” she snags the sleeve of your blazer and drags you along with her, your clunky loafers nearly tripping you. “Come with me.”

Manami takes back to where you first started and orders you to stand in the front of the blank desk with a look that screams both fright and anxiousness all in one. She lists off too many tasks that you need to do before he comes, but you’re so frazzled with trying to remember how to act in front of your future boss that you can’t even remember the first thing she told you. 

“Help me arrange the drafts of the magazines from most recent to least recent before he—”

The elevator dings and all goes quiet; Manami tosses the magazines over her shoulders and positions herself firmly in her place, gesturing for you to do the same. The doors open and unveiled from two bodyguards is a man—a tall man, around six feet or perhaps even taller—dressed in noir fitted pants and a matching button-up closed only halfway to reveal a silk navy turtleneck. Caped behind him is a black velvet trenchcoat that you’re sure is worth half your rent and a watch plated on his wrist that is well over your life savings. He’s slightly sunkissed, with blue-black tresses of hair with a soft bang sneaking through and large plated earrings to match. His eyes, however, show a tint of color—a sharp dark amethyst that you think could cut through you like crystals.

But he’s almost hauntingly attracting—like a spirit. Something about him was an enigma and his aura was nothing less than powerful. 

“Good morning, Geto,” Manami chants with an artificial happiness to her tone.

Geto doesn’t reply, just merely giving a silent blink before he sheds his coat off and tosses it aimlessly towards Manami. It proves to be heavier than anticipated, giving how she fights to groan from the weight of it. He’s handed his briefcase from one of the bodyguards and begins to open the door to his office until he pauses and turns and glances at you, the stranger.

“Hello,” you state with a slight bow. “I-I’m one of the interviewees for your junior assistant. My name is—”

“(Y/N),” Geto murmurs; his voice is soft and low. It’s all knowing, with indigo eyes boring into your own. “(L/N) (Y/N), I know. The one that graduated from Jujutsu University recently, yes?” 

 Adjusting your glasses to wave away the blurriness, you nod with anticipation. “Yes, that’s me.”

Geto turns back and opens the door, to which he only replies back, “In my office.”

You glance at Manami for confirmation, only given back with a jut of her head towards the door. All the unease you felt in the elevator comes hurdling back to you in an instinct and you feel as if you were no more than a peasant to someone that was essentially royalty in the fashion world. 

Geto turns his chair to face away from you, shuffling a few papers over each other that appears to be your resume, before he spins it slowly towards you. He kicks his feet up lazily on his desk. 

“It’s nice to have another Jujutsu alum to join us,” he says. His voice is still the same—a little baritone with a wisping edge of a whisper to it, but it almost sounds… bored. Unamused even. “A bachelors in print journalism… same as mine, hm. Tell me, is Professor Tengen still as loose as ever with their practices?”

You fight to fiddle with your glasses as you watch as Geto tangibly toys with his own, with his focus angled on the papers in front of him rather than you. “Um, I assume so. Though I believe they’re actually retiring this year.”

“Good,” he sighs in what seems to be relief. “Shame that the university had wasted time and money by hiring them. Truly, I hope they can find someone much better suited for their position.”

“Really?” you quietly question. You had only taken their class a few semesters ago and thought despite their rather… all too lenient disposition… you did learn quite a lot in their class. “I thought they were a rather alright teacher…”

Regret pools in your mouth from the moment you have finished your sentence. Geto finally goes to look at you from the edge of his glasses with a sharp look, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. 

“Tengen was merely a sorry excuse for a professor. They were rather nothing but a nanny who gave their students too much leeway,” Geto declares. “Though, I’ll admit, I am pleasantly surprised that you managed to take something out of that class.”

A laugh that’s just dripping with nothing but nervousness leaks out of your lips. “I suppose I had learned just a few things…”

“Mmh,” Geto nod nonchalantly, eyes drawing back to the papers. “Well. Let’s start with the basics. Why exactly do you want to work here?” 

Geto already feels the cliche comments erupting. Had the person in front of him say at least one of them, he was ready to insert the papers he was holding into the nearby shredder. Or maybe out the window this time, he wonders—something nice for a change.

“I was inspired by your work.” 

“It’s been my dream to work at Kaizen.”

“Fashion is my absolute passion.”

“I want to—”

“I’m just in need of a job, really,” you say lifelessly. 

He goes to raise his head slowly from the packet and turns to you slowly. Geto doesn’t say anything, but his facial expressions indicate a blend of confusion and intrigue. A slithering tongue darts out to slick his lips, indicating you’ve piqued his interest. “Well, obviously. But why this job specifically? What about it stood out to you?”

You clear your throat. “I had learned recently that Kaizen is a rather prestigious mag—”

“‘Recently’?” Geto repeats quietly. “You hadn’t heard of us before?” 

Lips thinning, you shake your head slightly. His eyes go narrow again to your dread, serpent-like. “My specialty is more in newspapers rather than magazines, I-I’m not too knowledgeable in that area.”

Geto goes quiet and the silence makes the air go thick. It’s then that familiar glint sparkles in his sullen eyes when they go to examine your choice of clothing—it confirms Ino was truly right in the end, as he lets out a smile-less chuckle that doesn’t do much to ease your brain. 

“Continue,” Geto gestures and takes off his glasses to look at you, or you suppose your outfit, more properly. He folds his hands and places his chin on top of them. “You said you only learned about us not too long ago?”

“Yes, and I realized that perhaps working here for a while would, at least I hope, grant me access to other media houses,” you explain. It’s only then you realize that your declaration sounds absolutely ludicrous and almost disrespectful to the editor-in-chief of the most iconic fashion magazine in the nation. “Connections are quite powerful in this day and age, haha…”

“I suppose,” Geto mumbles with not much interest in your poor humor. “What about me? I do hate bragging but surely, you know about my name or at least my fashion line?”

Your hesitant countenance and silence tells Geto all he needs to know. He thinks that it’s almost some sort of marvel that no one has heard of him or his works before.

He sighs. “Do you have any experience working in any fashion-related activities at least?”

“Well, I once worked in a department store for a few months back in high school,” you say thoughtfully (and ignorantly).

Geto gives you a blank look. His blinks are apathetically slow.

“Um,” you clear your throat again and shake your head, timid. “N-no…”

“Then tell me,” he continues smoothly. “Why exactly should I hire you? You obviously have no taste in fashion and you hadn’t even heard of my name, let alone my magazine, until recently. What is there within that makes you want to work here other than you just… what was it that you said?” He air-quotes mockingly, “‘needing a job?’”

Your throat runs dry and limbs go stiff. A heat rockets to your face when you seemingly can’t get any words out to excuse yourself, much too caught up in the same of your ignorance towards Geto’s profession. And that’s all the response he needs to make his decision. 

His hand takes the packet again and to your horror that you fight to keep in, inserts it into the paper shredder. The groan of it rumbles through the room agonizingly and you realize that Ino is going to have the time of your life planning your doomsday. 

Geto gives you the mercy of breaking the thick silence first. “You may go.” 

With a swift flick of his wrist, Geto dismisses you with a slight edge to his murmuring as he puts back on his glasses to examine the morning newspaper to not waste any more incessant time in the day. 

You don’t even attempt to fight back with any poor excuses. Tears prick the corner of your eyes, the sting of them frustrating you to your wits end. Instead, you gather the last of your resolve and bid him through a strained throat good day and make your leave, humiliation and disappointment trailing not too far behind. 

You hope that Ino will give a nice eulogy, at least.

Out of all the miracles that await you in life, you do not expect the one that comes in the form of an early morning phone call that wakes you at the ass-crack of dawn. When you pick it up with sleep still very much embedded in your eyes, it dissipates in the instant you hear Manami’s voice. It’s only then that it hits you why on earth she was calling so early and why she was demanding to know your whereabouts, claiming you were going to be late on your first day of work. 

You think it’s some sort of cruel joke maneuvered by Ino, especially with how his comforts from last night were mixed with taunts. But when Manami’s voice finally registers in your brain, by some sort of miracle or stroke of luck, you have gotten the job as Geto Suguru’s junior assistant. 

You don’t know how, but you don’t waste any time questioning how on earth you landed in such a position because you leap out of bed at 7:23 a.m. and manage to do your morning routine in the matter of what you think is a record-breaking fifteen minutes. Your ruckus manages to wake up deep-sleeping Ino, who, when you excitedly tell him to postpone your funeral, gives a groggy thumbs up before drooling back into his pillow. It’s 7:38 a.m. when you shove on your shabby coat and you realize you only have a mere twenty-two minutes left until you have to officially clock in for work. 

At 7:40, you’re out the door and sprinting to the located coffee shop that thankfully wasn’t too far from where you lived.

At 7:47, you’re at the designated cafe whilst attempting to swim through the crowds of morning bustlers to pick up Geto’s coffee.

7:50, you’re sticking your hand out waving desperately for a taxi and tip extra to make the driver speed through as you attempt to make sure the coffees don’t spill out of their containers.

7:58, you arrive at the building and just barely make it into the narrow gap of a tight-fitting elevator, earning stares from the others from your rather… frazzled appearance.

At 8:02 a.m., you dash out the elevator and officially clock in for your first day at work at Kaizen Magazine amidst a birdnest of hair, clothes that were plucked out of your hamper, and what you pray to the heavens above are hefty layers of deodorant and perfume since you were given no time to shower.

When Geto comes in that day, all suave and composed, he takes one good look at you before sighing and focusing his attention to the more refined Manami and lets her take the gears for the day. The only attention he gives you that morning is the rough toss of his heavy coat—a cashmere pearl peacoat today—flung at your arms that nearly makes you tumble from its weight.

You quickly learn that working for Geto requires high demand and maintenance, as he is not one to skip over any details in his day. Not even three hours in your first day, you already have to plan out his future meetings, reschedule one with a rather feisty and insistent client, edit a forest of emails, finishing by dashing out five blocks on foot to the two michelin star restaurant to retrieve Geto’s weekly steak for lunch. Had this been your old corporate job, you only would’ve gotten half the tasks you had completed by the end of the usual eight hours, but you realized early on that you had barely scratched the surface of your future in Kaizen.

You think that after plating his steak with the shakiest of hands, you finally have time to relax during lunch time when you see the small hand of the clock finally hit 12:00 p.m. , especially since you and him were left alone in his part of the office together. But the moment that Geto saunters into the office again, he tends to you once again with a final task by himself.

“(Y/N),” he calls from the office, the scrape of his fork against ceramic cluttering your ears agonizingly. 

You fight the urge to cringe from the sound as you scurry to the doorframe, hands stiffly intertwined together. “Yes, Mr. Geto?”

“No need for such formalities,” he remarks with the dab of a napkin to his lips. “They make me feel old, and I’m surely not much older than you are…” you think that’s the longest he’s spoken to you since the day had started. “Did Leibovitz confirm?”

Blinking, you tilt your head ignorantly. “D-did who confirm?”

He pauses and does that taunting slow rise of his eyes from his steak to you. “Leibovitz. Did she confirm?”

Silence fills the office, much like the silence that drowned you back at the interview. He clicks his tongue and dismisses you with a disappointed shake of his head. “Just go on your lunch,” he mutters, sighing.

Manami, the savior that she is, is called into the office after her break and is asked the same task and you watch with humiliation whilst packing your things to go on your lunch as she picks up the telephone and speaks to someone over the line before confirming to Geto that, “I’ve got Annie!”

“He hates me, Taku!” you cry out whilst flopping onto the dinner table. It’s ten in the evening and you’ve just come home after what was supposed to be an 8-5 shift. You suppose you should be used to this already after two months of working for the Lucifer donned ritually in white in the building, but you don’t know how much your sanity (and body) can take. 

Normally, Geto is usually cold to those who he wasn’t familiar with, but you think that his distaste for you sours everyday. You notice that he’s beginning to pile you with the more urgent and busier duties and that he often stares you down more menacingly in the morning with those piercing purple eyes of his, like you were gum stuck on the bottom of his shoe. You thought it was just him being normal Geto Suguru, the man with the expectations higher than the clouds, and that you just were still adjusting to such a high-intensity environment, but it was today that your world came crumbling down when you overheard him muttering to his associates about you, tone icier than ever.

You were on the other side of the door, a fist going to rap on the glass with the other holding his afternoon coffee pick-me-up when you heard it.

“... can’t even do the most miniscule things right,” Geto had groaned. “I ask if Lanvin’s models are all good to go for next Thursday’s shoot and somehow, they have the nerve to ask ‘How do you spell Lanvin’? For fuck’s sake, I can feel my goddamn conscious just wither away by the second.”

You hadn’t heard Geto swear since you had started working there, but something about his venomous tone enunciating such words had made your blood run cold from the other side of the door. Not having the courage to face him after that, you left his coffee on Manami’s desk for her to tend to with a post-it note saying a sorry excuse for yourself before letting your eyes sob frustratingly in the bathroom, isolated from others.

The last time you had cried that hard was way back in childhood, where you had broken your arm from falling down a tree branch. But you think that Geto’s words had twisted through your skin and bone much harsher than that pain ever will. 

“It’s a miracle how I haven’t been fired yet… I don’t even know why he hired me!” you wail.

Ino sighs from across the dinner table and you can’t tell if it’s a sigh of pity or a sigh of criticism. You learn that it’s both when he rolls his eyes at you whilst simultaneously pushing a plate of much needed food towards you. 

“First off, you need to eat,” he presses, staring at your gaunt features. “The way your face is swallowing is making me feel like I’m living’ with a ghost. You’ve lost some weight, I’ve noticed.”

Awareingly, you touch your cheekbones and realize he’s right, for you feel the small disc of sharpness from them prick your fingertips. They’ve never been so cavern before. You suppose it’s because of the lack of proper meal time between your days and how you often eat small and very late dinners back at home, truly not enough needed fuel for you.

“Secondly,” Ino chews his tongue, wondering if he should really say what he’s about to say because of your current disposition but goes through with it anyway. He might as well rip the bandaid off now to let more time for the wound to heal. “You won’t like what I’m ‘bout to say, but you need to up your game. Severely.”

An aching body rises up from the table. You go to stare at Ino through glazed eyes and a pouty lip, asking him what he meant.

“Ah nope! Don’t give me that face and don’t play coy with me,” he hisses, looking away to not give in to your helpless puppy eyes. He can’t—he shouldn’t give you the easy way out and just say to quit—not when you’ve been earning so much bank that rent isn’t a problem for either of you anymore. He wonders, though, for a moment if so much money is worth your rationality.

He drags a hand down his face before placing his chin on it, examining your haggard appearance. “What I mean is that you need to see through Geto’s eyes. See what he sees when he looks at you. Tell me, if you had an assistant that showed up wearing things that looked like they were plucked from the clearance bin at a thrift store and didn’t show any respect for your brand, which just so happens to be a fashion magazine out of all things…” Ino eyes you with a raised brow. “You startin’ to follow me?”

Your fingers fiddle with each other. “... sorta.”

“Now listen,” he raises his hands up lazily in surrender. “I already know what you’re ‘bout to say about me not knowing’ how to dress in shit other than black and more black, but even I know that you should put in more effort into your appearance. That’s the first step.”

“But I have—!” you exclaim helplessly, “I-I swear, I’ve been trying to… but it’s not my fault that it isn’t up to his standards.”

Your roommate groans and rubs his forehead, not really knowing what else to do for your situation until an idea pops in his head. “Free up your weekend,” he demands with a sly grin that makes you a little uneasy. “I’m no fashion connoisseur, but you know who is?”

“And remember, we never touch anything with chevron on it, especially in today’s fashion world,” Yuki chimes as she slaps on a navy blue pageboy cap on your head and she prances about your bedroom that’s been littered with spare clothes from her very own closet she graciously gifted to you for the past weekend. “I’m so utterly relieved that the trend has dug its own grave.”

The past weekend had been filled with endless shopping trips and you shuffling in and out of clothes every minute, practicing how to pair items and colors together by Yuki’s teachings. Of course you should’ve known that Ino was going to contact the one person that he was within reach that was essentially a walking encyclopedia when it came to fashion. You’ve met Tsukumo Yuki before, found her to be quite delightful even, but you never anticipated she would be this giddy, especially about clothes of all things.

And she used her brain to good use for not only clothes, but the entirety of yourself. You never knew how much just a simple haircut could do your face along with small hints of makeup to emphasize the best parts of it. Dared not your hands go to a lash curler, but here you are now, making sure your powder compact and lipstick for the day was in your bag before you went out. 

“Uh, I don’t think I ever mentioned this before yet, but thank you for helping my wardrobe out, it really means a lot,” you say just before she slides on a pair of gold bangles on your wrist. “Are you sure you wanna give these clothes to me? I’m okay with just borrowing them.” 

“Nonsense, babe,” she wavers off before shuffling through your now-hearty closet, a closet that’s now bursting with many clothes given by her. “I needed space in my closet anyway, so take as much as you need.”

So (Y/N)’s closet is basically her trash can, a particular shaggy brunette thinks with a roll of his eyes. Ino fiddles with the piece of toast in his mouth as he leans on the doorway, watching as Yuki essentially treats you like her very own Barbie doll at such an odd morning hour. 

“(Y/N)’s not a doll, Yuki,” Ino lazily calls aloud through a tired yawn. “You better get ‘em out the door soon or else they’ll get late for work. Especially need that money since the landlord’s been on our ass about increasing our rent…” he mutters, sniffing. “Damn bastard.”

She snaps at Ino to be quiet and let her work before she shuffles on a regal blue overcoat over your shoulders that completes your look. When you look at yourself finally in the mirror, you almost think there’s a stranger in your house from the way you look so dignified compared to the you just three days ago. It’s a simple outfit with not much layering, but it’s still enough to ooze charisma and elegance to wandering eyes. You’re adorned in a white weaved sweater with flared, light-wash jeans and white boots to match. Over the outfit lies the coat that drapes almost like a king’s mantle behind you and the pageboy cap as your crown.

Yuki creeps up behind you, her manicured hands on your shoulders affirmingly. “How’re you feeling, hun?” she asks quietly as she shares the same sight with you in the mirror. “Don’t you look wonderful?”

You know that it was all her work, it was all her creativity that made you into the artwork that you are now, so breathlessly laugh with a smile on your painted lips and thank her quietly once more before whispering, “Yeah… yeah, I do.”

Her eyes study you for another minute, going to stare at the glasses still atop your face. Yes, they were new and much more modern considering she quite literally called your old pair atrocious, snapped them in half, and tossed them over her shoulder, but she was still quite dissatisfied when you told her about your hesitance about using contacts. “Are you sure you don’t want to give contacts another chance?” she sighs. 

You shake your head with a small smile, “I’ll feel completely naked without them,” you murmur, “Besides, I think they actually compliment this look, if I’m being honest.”

Her lips stretch out into a grin, too absorbed in her fashion education finally being used. 

“Well then!” she begins to drag you by the sleeve out your room. “We wouldn’t want you to be late then for your first day as the new you, right? Let’s get you a cab!”

Somehow, you think you really are at your first day at work again from the way you feel that same fluttering in your stomach and from how the people you’ve once grown accustomed to seeing in the early mornings are not merely passing you with mundane nods of their heads but instead, greeting you with wide-eyed gawks and open-mouthed smiles. Some of them, a few who you knew but never spoke a word to, even do a double take and compliment you aloud on the new look. Even the cute barista in the lobby that never bothered to spell your name right at last did after finally taking a good look at the holder of the card.

When you exit out of the elevator, Manami nearly drops the pile of magazines she’s holding when she spots a refined and refreshed you. You offer a bright smile to her and you watch as her gasp slowly forms into an affirmative grin when you round your desk.

She laughs softly. “And who might you be?” she asks with a tease in her voice. “‘Cause last time I checked, that’s my coworker (Y/N)’s desk.”

“I murdered them,” you shrug nonchalantly, earning another chuckle from her. You take it as a good sign, great even, considering up until now, Manami had been rather stoic and a little indifferent towards you because of your amateurism; but now, you suppose that ditching that Plain Jane from just two days ago is finally beginning to do you good by finally grounding a proper relationship with her. “Shame, isn’t it? Poor thing.”

“Truly,” she nods. Her eyes trail further down until they spot something that makes her gasp. “Don’t tell me those are—”

“—the new calfskin gold studded Louboutin boots?” you finish for her. You flex your ankle and show off the ravishing red bottoms of your shoes. “Oh yeah.”

Manami squeals in excitement and rushes over to your desk, begging to take a look at them. “How on earth did you manage to get your hands on these?! I’ve been looking for them fo—”

The elevator dings again but with a tone that makes you and Manami flinch. Both of you stiffen and straighten out your posture, falling into a thick silence when out comes Geto traipsing out like he usually did—his aura being nothing less than dominating. You and Manami chime out in sync a good morning to him as he saunters towards his office as he begins to shuffle off his coat as usual to toss to you until he looks up and catches you in his field of vision.

He stops all of a sudden with his eyes dancing about your figure, a stark contrast to the rest of his paralyzed body. Geto’s lips thin all of a sudden, and so do his eyes when they scan your outfit. He takes in a sharp breath and opens his mouth to say something to you, yet nothing comes out, even as your eyes glisten with anticipation.

It merely instead zips itself close and he finally whisks himself into his office, coat still on and briefcase still in hand, and slams the door shut. 

But not without glancing at you one last time.

Much has changed in the past month for the better.

Yuki was a godsend—she had been your guardian angel, your fairy godmother of sorts—because you swore your career life had taken a complete 180° the moment your closet was revamped. Ever since that makeover, you had felt so much more confident in your actions, so much lighter on your feet. The price of your efforts was beginning to pay off as well, as Geto began to slowly thaw his icier sense of self when you began to actually put effort into your appearance. His thrusts of his coat towards you began to become less aggressive, was significantly more lenient when it came to more of the impossible tasks, and had at one time actually muttered a ‘good morning’ to you and Manami after months of greeting with silence and judgemental glances.

She’d occasionally check up on you every once in a while, usually to offer new clothes that she didn’t want anymore. And by offer, it actually just meant packing them in a box from her place to yours with a post-it that’d usually read “With love, YT ❤” in neat cursive. Along with forming a close bond with Yuki, your relationship with Manami improved significantly, especially when you gave her those white Louboutins she was eyeing. She often invited you to lunch with her other friends, Larue and Remi. 

The iconic John Galliano once said that, “The joy of dressing is an art.” A month ago, you would’ve never believed what you would think is a rather tacky statement, but now, you can truly see it to believe it. It never occurred to you to actually look at your surroundings closely, but you often would sometimes take a few seconds out of your day to admire the many colors and materials that would adorn your coworkers. Whether it be admiration for their sense of style or mild jealousy over luxurious pieces, you were finally understanding what makes fashion, fashion.

And your epiphany was awarded today with the task that you thought would never come into the light of your days working for Geto—being tasked with dropping off The Book.

The Book was a collection of pieces that were needed for the upcoming edition of the magazine, regarding it as being the most important item in the entire company. It was a duty that usually Manami tended to, but she hypothesized that you managed to finally get on Geto’s good side after a while and congratulated you. Manami spoke to you briefly about how trivial The Book was to both Geto and Kaizen. She told you about how you must guard it and Geto’s key to his penthouse with your life, and that you were to remain absolutely invisible to him if he was in the apartment. Manami told you because it was usually the hour he needed most concentration—it was during the later hours of the day that he usually mended last minute edits to the edition or he was working on his latest fashion collection since he was only able to work on it during the weekends as Kaizen took too much of his time.

Manami told you he would most likely be found on the second floor of his penthouse, and you were to remain on the first floor at all costs. 

“The editors will finish The Book around 10:30 or 11:00 at night, wait in the office until then. Then, drop the book off at his penthouse at no later than 11:30 with his dry cleaning, too.”

Her words echo in your mind as you tiptoe out of the cab and look up to see a gleaming, glamorous building sitting in the heart of the city. It’s one you’ve passed a plenty of times—hell, you pass it on your way to work—but it never occurred to you that it’d be this antique white, Parisian-styled building that would be the abode of your boss. 

“Take the elevator to the top floor and enter his apartment. Do not call out his name, don’t wander around, don’t even make a single sound. You are nothing more than a ghost when you step foot into his house.”

The only doors that are on the very top floor of the apartment complex are two large metal doors that sit before you. You enter the key into the keyhole and push them open with controlled force, closing them as quietly as possible with Manami’s whispers still floating about your head. You knew that Geto was certainly a man of luxury, but to see that wealth exempt in a form other than fashion was a sight that you weren’t sure if your eyes deserved to feast on. Sculptures and paintings decorated the foyer and hallway, adding occasional splashes of color to the ivory-adorned apartment. After hanging the dry cleaning in the designated coat closet, the first room you enter - and perhaps the only one you’ll ever be in - is the said living room with the glass coffee table sitting in the center of it.

“Place The Book on the coffee table in the living room. That’s it. Do not toddle any longer in his house and get out immediately. Don’t let curiosity get the better of you and just simply go afterwards. It’s for your own good.”

But oh, how curiosity is just a little devil of temptation that sits far too easily on your shoulder. A house holds the most of a person, and Geto is just an all too mysterious enigma for you not to at least dip your toe in. The doors at the end of the hallway are waiting for you, but so are the picture frames that sit atop the TV stand. You suppose… maybe another minute wouldn’t hurt.

Your feet carry you slowly to the stand and you crouch, adjusting your glasses to get a better look at the pictures. There’s only two of them—six by fours, both in oak brown frames. The first one is a picture of a smiling young girl with short chestnut hair sporting a smile with a cigarette between her teeth. Beside her are two boys taller than her, both making similar faces at the camera. One of them, the one that’s a little taller with silvery snow hair and opaque black sunglasses, throwing a forced, all-too wide grin that almost looks maniacal. It doesn’t require much brain power to know the other figure in the photo is a younger Geto Suguru, his hair shorter in a tight bun with a rare, but soft grin on his face, his gaze affectionate to the others.

The other picture is of the same two boys arm in arm with each other. Both of them are grinning now, with the white haired boy still smiling a little more largely than the other. It doesn’t take long for you to assume who the other boy was considering that the shade of purple sheathing his twinkling eyes is unique to only one individual in your life. 

Best friends, you suggest in your mind as you study the pictures a little longer than needed. A minute, you thought, wouldn’t do much harm, but how utterly wrong your thoughts prove when you suddenly hear the slam of a door from the floor above. The crash of it makes you yelp and breaks you out of your trance from the pictures and your gaze suddenly snaps to the open stairs above you, as well as two voices echoing aloud. 

“Y-you can’t—” an unknown voice wheezes. “I’ve been your muse for years. You possibly can’t just abandon me out of nowhere…”

“You say that as if I’m not doing that right now,” a familiar one replies back boredly. It’s Geto, and his voice makes your nerves electrify in fear because it’s in that moment that you remember that you can’t get caught inside of his house. “This is the last time I’m telling you, Shigemo. Get out.”

The man that you assume is Shigemo heaves heavy breaths. “You need me,” he declares.

“Needed. Past tense,” Geto corrects as he almost forces Shigemo down the stairs with an invisible force surrounding him. You can see their figures above you, Shigemo slowly stepping backwards with each step Geto takes forward. “You’ve done me well these few years, I admit, and I do thank you for that. But I suppose your expiration date has finally come.”

“I’m not a food,” Shigemo snivels. “I’m a person. Most importantly. I’m the reason your fashion line flourished, I was the inspiration for almost all your works. We’re essentially a team.”

They’re towards the end of the staircase, towards where you are still present in plain sight. Your eyes scatter about a place to hide in the meantime, but there are seemingly no places to hide that would hide you well without the notice of Geto’s eyes.

“A team?” Geto barks out a sarcastic laugh, one that makes shivers run down your spine from both the rarity of the sound and how utterly intimidating it is. “I work alone and I always have. There is no point on relying on anyone of any kind when my independence obviously pays off.”

“Who will you have then?” Shigemo retaliates with a whimper in his voice. “You know that I’m the only one that will tolerate you. It’s not like you can go crawling to Goj—“

“Finish that sentence and see what happens,” Geto hisses, causing the other man to fall into a forced silence.

Your eyes finally land on the small space between the fireplace and a pillar. It’s a space large enough for you to fill and efficient enough to hide you from sight. Unsticking your feet from the ground, you make a run for the small space, only for you to forget about the obstacle that was the ottoman sitting spitefully on the floor.

The thud that comes from your body almost rivals the volume of the door slamming open moments earlier and just like the door, it attracts unneeded attention. Geto and Shigemo stop their bickering for a moment to search for the cause of the sound, only to see you humiliatingly face first on the floor. Geto narrows his eyes at the sight of you, an unwanted visitor in his home. 

A pained groan slips from your lips accidentally. You silently curse yourself for not taking the time to properly break into the tantalizing loafers Yuki bought you the day prior and wince at the pain blooming from your knees and chest. When you finally get up, you can’t help but notice that everything around you seems rather… hazy.

“Who is that…” Shigemo mutters.

Geto bites back a sigh and instead, pinches the bridge of his nose. He supposes that despite your improved mannerisms, your clumsiness still has yet to dissipate. Annoyed, he grunts out, “One of my new assistants.”

Shaking his head, Geto decides to deal with you later. His home is already suffocated with one individual, he doesn’t need another clogging the atmosphere up. He returns his attention back to Shigemo. “I thought I told you to leave,” he states, shoving his bag towards him.

Shigemo’s face paints a horrified expression once again. “Geto, please rethink this,” Shigemo pleads. 

He lets out a chain of pleads and excuses for himself as Geto essentially escorts him out with just walking towards him, his face still icy. Shigemo ends up on the other side of the door to his penthouse and it’s there where his patheticness exudes the most—he falls on his hands and knees like a beggar, claiming he’d do anything and everything just to be by his side. 

But his voice is suddenly cut short when Geto finally slams the door in his face, the thickness of them guarding him from Shigemo’s whines. He lets out another sigh and locks up the door securely before dealing with the other parasite in his house.

“I don’t think dropping off a book should take longer than thirty seconds,” Geto drawls as he saunters towards the living room, where you’re still on all fours on the floor, your hands tapping around. “So tell me, why are you still here?”

At the sound of his sharp tone, you freeze. You’re sure you looked utterly stupid and a mess right now, considering that you had just lost a fight to an ottoman out of all things, but you couldn’t let Geto see you in such a state. It didn’t take you long to realize that the reason why everything around you looked so blurry was because of your now-missing glasses that you attempted to look around for. But you pulled a Velma, and just like her, you can’t see without your glasses.

Everyone thinks it’s an exaggeration when you state that you felt utterly naked without them, but you truly did. You’ve been wearing glasses ever since childhood and you really didn’t appreciate the looks you had gotten when you were younger when at times you’d take them off. Some complained that your eyes were too small, too big—others mentioned you looked “off” and “weird” without them. Either way, comments from the other children stuck with you like scars, and ever since then, you refused to be seen without them. 

“I a-apologize,” you stutter, shuffling your body to hide behind the recliner so Geto wouldn’t see how much of a clutter you are. You’ve humiliated yourself too much already in the office and the last thing you truly need is for you to get fired merely because your curiosity got the better of you. “I was about to head out and th-then I heard your voice from upstairs and—”

Your words fall deaf on Geto’s ears. He lets out another groan while stretching the aching muscles in his neck as he closes in on your disorderedness. A hand goes to shield your face—you don’t want him to see the bareness of your face, especially since you didn’t bother wearing makeup today. You can’t even bear the thought of him looking at it. In a rushed state, you wander around for your glasses with your head tucked in, using the remnants of your hair to curtain your face.

A jumble of excuses tumble out of your quivering lip, but Geto is too preoccupied with the gleam of something catching his eye. Laying flat on the floor are a pair of glasses that doesn’t take Geto long to presume who they belong to. He plucks them from the ground and examines them for a brief moment before holding them above you. 

“I assume these are yours,” he asserts with a cocked brow.

Your head snaps up at the sound of his voice directly right above you and through your foggy field of vision is the seraphic figure of Geto holding what seems to be your glasses. Lips escaping a relieved gasp, you hurriedly scramble to your feet. Your eyes are too poor to see it properly, but Geto also shares surprise, but for an entirely different reason.

He doesn’t give you the sanity that is your glasses right away, because he’s much too preoccupied studying your face. It’s so… fresh. Your glasses were hiding such a view, like curtains to a window that unveiled the utmost rare and breathtaking sights. The way your eyes are wide open, pupils blown with a touch of singularity makes him even more intrigued because of how they’re uniquely placed onto your face along with the rest of your features. Your lips, plump with a natural sheen to them—your cheekbones, perfectly rounded. The slope of your nose fell just right. Geto studies it like an artist to a blank canvas, devoid of anything yet holding just the perfect amount of space—wanting, waiting to be filled with anything and everything.

When his eyes stare at you in what seems to be bewilderment, you swallow thickly and look away. But you can only glance at your surroundings for less than a second before Geto takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning your face toward him again. It’s then that you realize that Geto isn’t staring at you, but your face as a whole. His eyes flick with small movements, dancing about as they go from eyebrow to lips, freckle to lash, examining each and every single particle that your face has to offer.

You feel a heat creep onto your cheeks. You’re not sure whether it’s because of the closeness you and him share or the fact that you can’t detect his opinions on the one thing you’ve been disclosed about for years, but either way, you feel weak in the knees; it only worsens when Geto’s thumb brushes over the entirety of your bottom lip, feeling the plushness of it on his the pad of his finger.

“Has your face always been this open…?” he murmurs softly as he studies the various angles of your face. 

You aren’t sure whether it’s a compliment or insult, either or neither. Geto’s tone always had a sort of bleakness to it, but in this very moment, you truly can’t tell what he’s thinking. 

“My glasses…” is all you manage to squeak out, fighting the urge to squirm in his grasp. Another gulp goes down your dry throat when Geto’s face contorts to an irritated confusion before he realizes his other hand holds the one thing dear to your heart. 

“Oh,” he mutters and hands them back to you. His opposing hand finally goes to release your face. “Right.”

Shaking hands go to put them back onto your face again. Sighing internally of relief of your now crystal-clear surroundings, you dust yourself off with your head once more, tucked into your chest. 

“I’m so sorry for this,” you whisper. The heat on your face has now spread to the entirety of your body, your nerves alight with the rush of adrenaline. “I-I’ll make sure this never happens again… good night.”

With that, you scurry yourself out before Geto has the chance to falter. All words to urge you to stay to either scold you or excuse you evaporate on his tongue. He can only watch in a strange silence as your figure rushes down the hall and out the doors, the click of them ringing out in his penthouse.

After moments of self-paralysis, an unknown feeling boils inside the pit of Geto’s stomach. He thinks he’s seen your face before with the familiarity of it unsettling him. The ghost of your face prances about in his mind as he slowly climbs the stairs to his sewing room, ignoring the shattered wine glass on the floor thrown by Shigemo. He instead, refills his own glass again with the nearby bottle of merlot wine and savoring the thickness of it running down his dry throat, embellishing in its warmth.

A single, large window faces the busy nighttime street and Geto walks and stills near it, watching carefully as the speck of your figure on the street below calls for a cab. He eyes how you turn towards the building one more time, doing your usual adjustment of your glasses (it’s a habit you often do in times of nervousness, he’s picked up) before you shuffle yourself into a cab that speeds off into the night.

Geto lets out an annoyed click of his tongue. Something about your face seems haunting and he doesn’t enjoy it. The last thing that he needed for today was even more plaguing thoughts in his head after the loss of his muse not even just ten minutes ago, but now with your face staining the back of his head, his jaw grits in irritation. In a poor attempt to take his mind off the excursion of today and the future, he shuffles about his many sketchbooks to look for any designs he could pluck out for his latest collection. 

It’s an hour in, two glasses of wine later, and somehow, he still hasn’t found a single piece to begin working on that fits into his theme. Miraculously, through the vast array of what is thought to be thousands of sketches, Geto hasn’t found one that stood out to him until he gets to the last sketchbook. It’s an early one—he thinks it dates back to his early college days, when he was just beginning to peek into the world of fashion. A pang of nostalgia hits him all of a sudden when he flips to a specific page that was the start of his history.

It’s the very design that had the attention of many designers. The sketch featured a gold and red embellished outfit, a sheen of glittering flickers adorning it. The shirt features a mosaic of gold and small flecks of color here and there, imitating the many church mosaics he’d often admired as a child. The skirt and collar of the shirt were the same shade of blood red, crimson gems bespeckling them. 

It’s not the outfit, however, that makes his eyes harden. Why would it? He’s seen it many times before. It’s been brought up over and over again—in interviews, in magazines. It’s one of the staples that made Geto the pillar that he is. He knows every detail of it, much like his other designs, so it isn’t the design of the outfit that made him appalled. It’s instead, the person that’s wearing it. 

Because somehow, the eerie sketch of the model’s face that he had drawn years ago…

… somehow replicates your own face perfectly.

a/n: first jjk fic in forever! wowie it's been much too long... also if u need a refresher on who shigemo is, he's the guy with the ponytail that nanami pulled kekeke

10.2k is hefty i know but i couldn't help myself my bad lolol T_T currently just a test run of what i hope to be is a series that some may be interested in because clearly this barely scratches the surface of what i want to embed haha so please let me know how you like it so far :))

continuing, i hope you enjoyed and thank you for taking time out of your day to enjoy my craft, whether it be your first time or your hundredth! once more, likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and are always appreciated (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ !!!

[xsaltburnx]

Don't leave me

Comforting Farleigh after Felix's death

Farleigh Start x female reader

a/n: I really wanted to write this because I feel like Farleigh needed someone to comfort him and tell him everything's going to be alright after he got yelled at and he definitely deserved better, poor baby, (also that's what I think the scene is about, if I got it wrong, sorry)

warning: Felix dying, swearing, everybody treating Farleigh like shit, drugs, Farleigh crying a lot

word count: 3,299

You have known Farleigh for as long as you can remember. He's always been there for you. Your rock, your shoulder to cry on, someone who knew all of your secrets and all your problems, always ready to help you. Even if it was 4 pm or 4 am, you called and he was there.

And you were always there for him. Even though most of the times you two were on different continents and hours and miles away from each other, you never let something like that ruin what you two had. Then things started getting a lot easier because Farleigh came to live in England and since then you were inseperable. Yes, you did spend quite some time at Saltburn even when Farleigh wasn't here because you were really good friends with Felix and then later met Venetia, who you've clicked with just like that. Yes, sometimes they had their own opinion on Farleigh and sometimes you hated the way they talked about him but he somehow learned how to shake that off and not take it too seriously, so you did exactly that even though deep down it hurt to listen.

When you joined Oxford university, you and Farleigh became even closer and you eventually fell in love with him. You kept it a secret for quite some time because you were afraid to talk about your feelings because you didn't want to lose him. He was your home and you weren't planning on losing that, but luckily he felt the same and that was it. He was everything you always wanted and you swore you would never let him go or do anything that would harm him or let him battle his problems alone. No fucking way.

Everything was going great. You finished another year at Oxford, celebration obviously planned there and then later at Saltburn. Summer was about to begin and you had a feeling this summer was going to be one to remember. And oh boy it was.. but for very different reasons.

"Hey baby." Farleigh walked into your dorm, closing the door behind him, his arms immedistely wrapping around your body, hugging you from behind. "Did you finish packing?" He aks gently as he looked around the room, your clothes still splatered across the floor and your bed, messier than the first night you came here.

"Shut up." You playfully hit his arm as you heard him chuckle in your ear, his lips connecting with the top of your head in a gentle kiss. "I still have so much to do, I'll never make it in time."

"Yes you will, I'll wait for you, you know I'm not leaving." He spun you around, his hands resting on your waist as he pulled you closer and hugged you tightly, one of those as you called them grizly bear hugs.

"Then help me pack?" You batted your eyelashes at him and made a pouty face, hoping it would work.

"Oh no, that's not fair, don't do that, you know I can't resis that face" He said and kissed your lips swiftly, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Of course I'll help."

"Is anybody else coming with us?" You asked while folding your t-shirts, placing them neatly inside your suitcase.

"Oliver fucking Quick." Farleigh trailed off.

"What?" You quickly turned around to look at him, unsure if you heard that correctly. You obviously didn't like him, I mean Fekix though he was a very inspiring person but you and Farleigh? You didn't get the hype and always held him on his toes.

"Yeah, Felix invited him. I don't know why, something about him not wanting to go home because of his parents."

"Do Elspeth and James know that?" You asked, crossing your arms.

"Yes, apparently Elspeth is extremely excited to meet him. That'll be interesting." Farleigh closed one of your bags and placed it on his shoulder. "Damn, what do you have in here, rocks?"

"Very funny, no, all the vibrators you gave me." You said, laughing, seriousness washed over his face.

"Oh really?" He dropped the bag on the floor and grabbed your waist, hoisting your body up on his shoulder, his large hand smacking you on the ass. Your laugh echoed throughout the room, probably audible outside too, but that's how Farleigh always wanted you to be. Such beautiful laughter, it was like music to his ears, like daisies adorning a beautiful meadow. He gently put you down on the bed and laid on top of you, his thumb caressing your soft cheek.

"I love you." He whispered, a special kind of sparkle in his eyes, a smile plastered on his face.

"I love you too, Farleigh." His hot breath washed over your face, his lips slightly brushed yours before he kissed you gently, a moment of bliss before the big storm.

~ ° * ° ~

Summer at Saltburn? Always crazy and busy, but the busy part? Partying and laying out on the freshly cut grass or swimming in the pool. That was all you did there every summer. Not a bad life, you always thought to yourself, but sometimes it was nice to go back to reality and to a real life.You'd be lying if you said you didn't get used to this kind of life, the glamour, the dinner parties, dressing up,it was quite fun to a certain point. When it was too much, you and Farleigh packed your bags and left for a week or two, all alone, away from all of it. But to someone, this life was inviting them in more and more as each day passed.

And then the Cattons decided to throw Oliver a birthday party. 200 people? 300? You lost count. I mean if it's a party then it's a great idea, but for the entire night Farleigh had a very strange feeling about everything that night. He watched Oliver just skulk around almost every room in the house, people not paying too much attention to him. Most of them only knew him as "the birthday boy" but only a few of them knew his actual name. There was something strange about him, Farleigh always kept an eye on him.

...and he was right...

Around 11 am you felt someone shaking your body, trying to wake you up. You opened your eyes and saw Farleigh standing in front of you and you immediately knew something was wrong. His eyes were wide and his hands were shaking, his mannerisms completely different than how he usually is.

"What is it?" You asked and instantly sat up on the bed, fear in your eyes and in your voice, your heart suddenly picking up its pace, a sudden wave of ringing filling up your ears.

"Felix is missing." Farleigh trailed off.

"What?" You quickly got up and didn't even bother to put on shoes. You ran outisde and saw Venetia in the water, walking around, waving her hands underwater. You ran towards her with Farleigh, both of you joining her, hoping he's not in here and that he's fine. Then you heard a gut wrenching scream coming from the maze. You looked at Farleigh and instantly felt tears well up in your eyes. You shook your head and walked as quickly as possible to the edge, climbed and got up, the three of you running towards the maze.

You knew the maze like the back of your hand so it was easy to get to the center, but at that moment you wish that you could just get lost in there because what you all saw was something you would never be able to forget as it was buried inside you mind very deeply.

Felix was laying there on his stomach, golden wings still attached to his back. His body a pale colour, almost a hint of blue, his beautiful eyes now without that incredible spark that you got so used to seeing. His lifeless body was something you never thought you would have to see in your life nor did you want to but for some reason you couldn't look away.

Venetia, you and Farleigh fell to your knees, grasping onto one another, looking for comfort as tears just started coming out, the pain in your chest unlike anything you've ever experienced before. It was as if someone ripped out your heart, a huge hole right in the middle of your chest. Your ears started ringing and you felt like you were going to pass out. You suddenly felt like you weren't on this planet anymore, completely disoriented and if Farleigh and Venetia weren't grasping onto your body, you don't know how you would have dealt with this alone. You let out a loud scream, your chest convulsing from all the sobs that kept coming out of your body.

You don't know how or when you got up, left the maze and changed your clothes or when on earth did everybody gather for lunch, but there you were, sitting at the table with James, Elspeth, Venetia, Farleigh, oh and yes, of course, Oliver.

The curtains shut as the room plunged into darkness, making it look red like blood, not a hint of daylight. It somehow looked terrifying and gruesome, very unpleasant. You were sitting next to Farleigh, his face kind of emotionless as he kept staring at the table, not moving his gaze from the same spot. You reached out to him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it, making him snap out of his thoughts, a sob suddenly falling from his lips. On your left was an empty chair and an empty plate. Felix's spot and when you first walked in and saw it, you broke down again.

Suddenly there was a hint of a squeaking gurney on the outside, meaning they were passing the window with Felix's body and then there was a sound of doors closing. A tear rolled down your cheek as you closed your eyes, your hand suddenly slipping away from Farleigh's.

"Oh my God... May I be excused, please?" Farleigh whimpered and got up from the table, his cheeks stained with tears.

"No. We haven't finished lunch." James replied, not even looking at Farleigh.

"Lunch is cold. You want me just eat it like nothing is happening?"

"What else is there to do, darling?" Elspeth looked at him, sadness noticable in her eyes.

"Anything! Anything-" You looked at him as he screamed out, a whimper escaping your lips as tears started falling from your eyes again. The pain was unbearable and seeing Farleigh like that broke your heart and how everybody acted like nothing ever happened, like Farleigh was the only one who actually cared and the only one who saw how messed up it was that everybody was acting like this. James slammed his fists on the table, the plates clattering. You jumped, your body shook from fear, the sudden change in tone almost too much.

"Farleigh! Will you be quiet?! Sit down and eat the bloody pie! Just eat it! Eat it and shut up! Eat the bloody pie!"

Farleigh sat down and grabbed his fork, placing the pie in his mouth but unable to chew through the meat. Small pieces flew out of his mouth and onto the plate, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"You're not the only person here with feelings. None of us wants your bloody American feelings!" James trailed off and suddenly there was silence inside the room. You didn't even try to put anything in your mouth because you felt like you were going to throw up.

"I think it’s delicious." Oliver suddenly said, Farleigh snapping at him.

"What the fuck are you still doing here?" you look at Oliver and his expression and there was nothing on his face. Like he didn't care. You wiped away your tears and placed your hands in your lap.

"Wait, does no one else find it weird?.. No one else finds that weird?"

"Farleigh.." you whispered and placed your hand on top of his, your fingers grazing his in a comforting way.

"I wouldn’t throw stones if I was you, Farleigh." Oliver replied in a strict tone, a fork in his hand.

"Excuse me?"

"Please stop." Venetia sighed and said quietly.

"What is he saying?" James asked and looked at Oliver.

"I..I've no idea." Farleigh said, clearly confused what Oliver wanted to get with all of this.

"What I'm saying is that I'd feel guilty too."

"Guilty?"

"If I was the one racking up lines the night someone died."

"Fuck you." Farleigh stared back at him, cursing, only hate for Oliver in his body at that very moment.

"That's not a denial." Oliver replied as he leaned forward a little bit, his gaze moving between you and Farleigh.

"You took it too far, Oliver." You interrupted them, defending Farleigh.

"Is that true?" James asked, pale with fury. He looked towards Duncan signaling him to leave. "Search Farleigh's room."

"No." Farleigh crumpled into his chair and started sobbing. Now you were a little bit scared. Your eyes widened, not surely understanding what they were going to do about this situation. Seeing and hearing what was happening was making the situation even harder. You couldn't take your eyes off Farleigh and when you saw tears continuously welling up in his eyes, you couldn't help but start sobbing as well. Your heart was breaking.

"Get out." Sir James said angrily.

"Please, he didn't do anything.." You looked at Sir James, begging, trying to make him see that it really wasn't his fault and that he had nothing to do with all of this. Of course he didn't believe you, he didn't even acknowledge you.

"No, wait-" Farleigh whimpered and wiped away his tears with the sleeves of his jumper.

"What's happening?" Elspeth asked after wiping her mouth eith a linen cloth.

"Aunt Elspeth- Elspeth-" he said desperately but got interrupted by James.

"Don’t you dare look at her!"

Elspeth looked liked she was now ignoring Falreigh, not wanting to look at him at all. Could she ever look at him again after this? Who knows.

"Get out!"

Farleigh looked around the table, searching for somebody to look at him, to see they were making a mistake but no one looked at him except for you. Not even Oliver. He got up your hand slipped off, hanging next to your body. Your lip trembled at the sudden empty feeling, your head hung low as you kept staring at your fingers. Farleigh grabbed onto the chair, picking at the stitching.

"I won't mention this to the police. That's all you get. Nothing more. Ever again." James trailed off and that was the last thing you heard from him that night. Farleigh turned to the side and left the room, leaving you alone with the Cattons and Oliver. You wiped away your tears with the back of your hand.

"You didn't have to do this. It wasn't his fault." You snapped back at Oliver, his eyes quickly looking back at you. A hidden smirk adorned his face, a sinnister look in his eyes.

"You know he did it. He was racking up lines the whole night. Felix could've taken whatever Farleigh was using." Oliver replied, his plate now half empty. "Even when you two were fucking outside. It was like a freak show."

"Fuck you." You quickly got up and threw the linen clot on the table, your legs feeling like jello. "If you'll excuse me, I can't be in the room with someone who cares more about a fucking stranger than a member of this family."

You turned around on your heels and walked out of the room. The second you closed the doors, you let out the biggest sob, a long hallway making it echo throughout the house. You felt like you were falling apart from the inside out.

You stood outside Farleigh's room as you quietly knocked on the door, only a quiet sob audible. You silently opened the door and what you saw broke your heart completely. Farleigh was laying on the floor, his knees pulled towards his body, his arms wrapped around them as loud sobs fell from his lips.

You looked around his room and saw how big of a mess it was. Everything was scattered on the floor. His clothes, his books, all of his belongings on the floor. You bit your lip in hopes it would stop you from crying, but it didn't help.

You walked over to his sobbing figure and knelt down, your arms immediately wrapping around his body.

"Farleigh... baby.." you whispered, his body shaking.

"They think I killed him." He whispered through his cries, his tears soaking the carpet underneath him. "I didn't do it." His cries kept getting louder and it was harder for you to stay quiet because you couldn't stand him being like this, broken, like he didn't mean anything to anybody. Like it was all his fault. You wanted to fix everything and make it all okay for him because that's exactly what he deserved. He deserved better and to be treated right.

"No, Farleigh, you didn't do it. It's not your fault, please don't think that. You didn't kill Felix." You told him, your hands caressing his arms, comforting him, hoping it would help him even just a little bit.

"Now I feel like I did." He cried out, his face now buried in his hands.

"Hey, come here." You grabbed his arm and gently pulled him, moving his hands from his face. You intertwined your fingers with his and helped him sit up, his knees once more pulled towards his body. You wiped away his tears with your thumbs, gently caressing his cheeks before you cupped his face, making him look at you directly in your eyes.

"You didn't do it, why would you think that? Because of Oliver?" He just nooded and closed his eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek. It felt like someone was sitting on your chest, the pressure and the pain in your heart from seeing Farleigh like this was unbearable.

"Fuck him, Farleigh. He's a nobody, a fucking leech and if I could get rid of him, I would. You're so much more than all of this. You deserve everything in this world and if they can't see it, fuck 'em." You trailed off, tears welling up in your eyes and your voice breaking every other word.

"Everybody is leaving me, pushing me away like I mean nothing." He sobbed and quickly got up as he started pacing around his room, his cries so loud that it seemed like he was fighting for air. You jumped up and stood there in place for a few seconds, somehow unable to move.

"Are you also going to leave me?" His voice cracked and right then he looked like a little kid. You dare to say that he looked absolutely defeated. "Please don't leave me."

A loud cry fell from your lips, his words hurting you, hurting how he thought that you would actually leave him after everything. You shook your head and practically ran towards him, your body smashing into his

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, your face buried in his chest as you sobbed quietly. His arms squeezed you, almost as if he was afraid if he held you lightly or if he let you go, you would somehow slip away.

"I will never leave you, Farleigh. I could never. You're a part of me and if I lose you, I'll lose myself. Please don't ever think that I would leave you." He kissed the top of your head, one hand still wrapped around your body while the other gently caressed your hair.

"Now let's get out of here. Okay?" You kissed him on the lips gently, his arms resting on your hips. You had to get out of this house, had to get away from Saltburn as soon as possible. The only good thing about all of this? Farleigh by your side.

"Okay."