#Universal Business School Fees

[mbabtechadmissionexpert]

Universal Business School Fees: Comprehensive Guide for 2025

Explore the detailed breakdown of Universal Business School fees, including tuition, accommodation, and additional expenses. Learn about available scholarships, financial aid, and payment options to plan your business education effectively at Universal Business School fees in 2025.

[universalbusinessschool1]

Universal Business School News: Building a Future-Ready Digital Workforce

https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/tech/information-tech/building-a-future-ready-digital-workforce/articleshow/116426736.cms

[khushikumari12]

How Universal Business School Equips You for Success in the Competitive Job Market?

https://universalbusinessschoolnews.blogspot.com/2025/02/UniversalBusinessSchool%20News.html

[mapileonxputellas]

A Blast From The Past (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

I hope you all enjoy...

I've slightly changed the last request but the previous context remains. Let me know if you want a part 2, any requests etc.

.....

Growing up you never used to believe in fate.

If fate was real then why did it feel like nothing ever went your way, why had you been given such a tough hand compared to near enough everyone else?

That was until you met her.

…..

13 years ago, 18 years old.

You’d been stood up. That much was plainly obvious right now. You should have listened to all the warnings from your friends, dating apps never worked. But how else were you meant to meet someone when you couldn’t afford to be going out every weekend and you were only surviving financially due to the waitressing job you’d taken on.

It was meant to be something fun, to take your mind off studying and then you got messaging one girl, Isobel, who seemed keen to go out for a few drinks. And that’s how you found yourself sitting, alone, in a bar on a Saturday night an hour after you’d agreed to meet.

The margarita in front of you was doing nothing to stop your mood worsening by the minute, if not by the second. Barcelona was your favourite city in the world but now being sat alone in a city where everyone seemed to be enjoying life, it was only rubbing you up the wrong way.

You’d been working all day and now you’d wasted a good amount of that money on two drinks without any company. It wasn’t like they were bad drinks but you didn’t have that money to spare.

Medical school had been a dream for you, it was now a reality but that didn’t come with sacrifices, including moving to the other side of the country. You were here on a scholarship but that only covered the university fees and your accommodation, the rest came from the job you had to work every Saturday and Sunday. You loved your parents but they could barely get by with your two other siblings never mind covering your new life in the city.

“Are you just going to stare at that glass all night?” You almost jumped at that soft voice coming out of nowhere before probably the most beautiful person you’d ever seen sat on the stool next to you. The question left unanswered as you basically drowned in those bright blue eyes. “Hello?”

“Sorry, sorry I was just about to leave.”

“Not on my account I hope.”

“No, my night is over.”

“You got all dressed up just to sit on your own all night?” Oblivious to you, Alexia had been watching the girl sat in the little black dress at the bar all night, waiting for you to be joined by someone and once her friends left, she couldn’t help but make her way over.

The question probably wasn’t meant to rile you up as much as it did. “Yeah well that’s not your problem.” You stood up to grab your purse when a hand wrapped around your wrist stopping your movement. “Everything OK?”

“Yes, sorry. I’m sorry.” She noticed the eyes on her hand and removed it immediately. “It wasn’t meant like that, no-one should spend the evening alone. Never mind someone as beautiful as you. One more drink on me?”

“No offence but I don’t even know your name.”

“Alexia Putellas.” Alexia, the name fit. “Now, how about a drink?”

“One drink.”

……

That one drink changed your life. You stayed in that bar all night, the two of you moving into the corner in your own little world until you were kicked out at closing time.

From there it spiralled.

You were only 18 but there was no doubt in your mind that this was love. For six months you spent the best part of all your free time together, which somehow wasn’t even enough. Alexia, who you found out was an aspiring footballer as well as completing a business degree, became a regular in the café as you worked and you spent an awful lot of time waiting for her in the freezing cold following training.

You weren’t surprised when she asked you to meet her family. Alexia made it official within two months and now she wanted to share you. She talked a lot about her sister, Alba, and she worshipped her mother, assuring you they were the loveliest people, but that didn’t make it any less nerve wracking.

“I promise everything will be fine.” Alexia assured you, her hand almost numb from how tight you were gripping it as the two of you sat outsider her home. “They will love you, just like I do.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Now let’s go in before Alba eats all the food.”

If Alexia had it her way you’d be meeting all her family in one go, all the aunts, cousins, extended family at a big family gathering. You’d managed to tone it down to just her mum and sister and a relaxed family meal. The rest would happen eventually.

You’d never met a girlfriend’s family before, in fact you’d never had a girlfriend full stop before Alexia. But you never imagined it would be this awkward.

It was all smiles at first and whenever Alexia was in the room, but the second she left it was like a switch flicked.

“Alexia tells us you’re a waitress.” Alba started, the 15-year-old not hiding her judgement but Alexia had told you all about the teenager’s tetchy mood most of the time.

“I am, I think everyone knows Alexia’s order off by heart now she’s in there so often.”

“We noticed, she was late to her cousin’s birthday last week because she’d been there.” Eli noted. “In fact if she’s not playing she’s almost always there.”

You’d couldn’t miss the disdain in her voice. “I know, it’s the only way we can spend time together.”

“Who’s spending time together?” Alexia asked returning from the kitchen, her hand immediately coming back to rest on your thigh.

“Your lovely girlfriend was just telling us all about her café.” The mask was completely back up.

“I should take you all one week, they all love me in there.” They did. “Now come on, lets eat.”

The dinner continued with no sense of the obvious tension between the three of you, at least in Alexia’s mind. In your mind all you could think about was the glares you would receive every so often, the tuts that were made when you’d make any comment.

“Have you met Y/N’s family yet Alexia?” Eli asked her daughter once you were finished eating.

“Not yet.”

“My family live near Seville, they aren’t able to come and visit me here with my two siblings being in school.” It was partially the truth. The other half was that they couldn’t afford it and what good would it be when you would be working anyway. “Maybe in the summer when it’s a bit less busy we’ll be able to work something out.”

“I don’t think I could live on the other side of the country.” Alba commented. “I just love my family too much to move away.”

Of course that was a burn, you didn’t have a choice in the matter, the best scholarship and medical school was in Barcelona.

“We wish you would.” Alexia joked with her sister. “Family is the most important thing, I’m sure even across the country that doesn’t change.”

Alexia had done a good job, unknowingly, of protecting you from them. That was until at the end of the meal she received a call from her agent which couldn’t be ignored.

“I’ll be back.” She signalled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before moving out of the room. “Shouldn’t be too long.”

Again that switch was flicked.

“Look, we can see it’s clear how much you like Alexia.” Eli started. “We’re just concerned that all of this is starting to have a negative impact on her career.”

“Alexia is always training.” You argued. “She’s playing for Barcelona.”

“And yet when she could be training or analysing the game at the weekend she’s sat waiting for you. She can’t spend any time getting to know her teammates.”

“I’ve never stopped that.”

“She’s distracted right now, she’s blind right now but we’re not. We need to protect her future and if you liked her as much as you claim to do then you’ll see it that way as well.”

“I can’t make her not spend time with me.” You never forced the girl, she just showed up at your work one day and never left.

“No, but you can break up with her.” Alba spit it out. “Don’t ruin her future for the sake of a young fling. You know how much she wants to be a footballer, that needs her focus.”

“What about what she wants right now?”

“She knows football has to be her greatest love, the pain will be less now than in a few years’ time when you have to move back home and she has to stay here. It will never work.”

You could ignore the previous comments, you knew how much Alexia wanted to be the best but you always need a life away from your work. You did however know that once this degree was complete you couldn’t afford to stay in Barcelona. You’d have to move away and Alexia would have to stay here.

That’s how on a cold night in February, you made the sacrifice for both yourself and Alexia, the text was sent breaking both your hearts in the process.

…..

March 2025, 31 years old

Barcelona.

The city where it all began, and the city you found yourself in 13 years later.

Medical school had been hard but from the first placement you knew you wanted to be a surgeon. That adrenaline rush was addictive and you’d never tire of that feeling after surgery when you’d made a difference.

You completed medical school with commendations across the board and managed to land yourself a place in a prestigious training facility in Madrid.

Madrid was an amazing experience, you learnt from the best and built up a reputation for yourself in medical circles, however it wasn’t Barcelona.

Barcelona may have been the place you felt your first heartbreak but it was also the place you made some amazing friends. It was home.

So when you got the opportunity to go back and work in main hospital in Barcelona you took it with both hands. You were home.

“We’ve had a request.” The other senior surgeon came into your office one morning, a few weeks into your new job. “FC Barcelona have a player who’s injured their ankle, we usually treat their patients and I’d like it if we worked on this one together.”

“Really?”

“The only way you learn is by doing. It’s quite a complex case. If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” Of course you didn’t mind the knee replacements, the broken arms. But you wanted more.  “When do we get started.”

“They’re coming in tomorrow. We’ll do the assessment and go from there.”

It’s fair to say the next morning you were buzzing. This is all you’ve ever wanted and it was becoming true. You’d barely slept the night before thinking about everything you’d learnt, ankle injuries were common in football and came in a range of forms.

“They’re here.”

You looked up from where you were positioned at one side of the large table, slowly nursing the strongest coffee you could find. You were expecting to find the harsh glare of an angry footballer, instead you looked up to find those blue eyes you’d fell for over a decade ago. Of course.

Except she wasn’t alone and maybe you let out a breath of relief when it was the other younger woman by her side who was sporting the crutches.

“Miss Nazereth, Miss Putellas this is Miss Y/L/N she will be working alongside me throughout this process.” Your colleague introduced you and it took all your strength to manage to muster a little ‘hi’.

“Call me Kika,” The other woman gave you a comforting smile, probably what you should have been doing. “This is Alexia, I hope it’s OK I brought her.”

That snapped you back, you had a job to do. “Of course, whatever makes you feel comfortable.” You gave them both a smile, greeting the other Barcelona staff who entered the room and taking your seat.

The only thing you could do was avoid eye contact and get on with your job. You might not have seen her in the flesh for over a decade but it’s hard to avoid Alexia Putellas. You could do little else but watch on proudly as she won accolade after accolade.

“Let’s take a look at the scans…..”

It’s fair to say you’ve never been quite as distracted as you were in that meeting. You noted down all the important bits, the plan you made for her recovery, a complex ligament injury which would require surgery in the coming weeks.

Keeping concentrated was slightly harder though when the woman directly across from you was who she was. As the meeting was closing you dared to glance up and was almost surprised when her gaze was already on your own, a slight smile matched by your own before you both broke eye contact.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you.” You shook hands with Kika as you all moved to the exit. “If you ever need anything, I’ll give you my card. Any questions, day or night.”

“Thank you.” You could read most people like books and you could tell she was terrified and upset.

“Miss Putellas.” You shook her hand, keeping things professional. “Good to see you.”

“You too, I know Kika is in good hands.”

“Thank you.”

…..

“What happened to you in there?” Kika asked her captain, Alexia driving the two back to the training ground. “In that meeting the other day you couldn’t stop asking questions.”

“What am I meant to ask? They’re surgeons they know better than you and I what’s going to happen.”

“I’ve never seen you that quiet.”

The words do tend to be knocked out of your head when you see someone again for the first time in 13 years, all the confusion and heart break came flooding back. “I was just thinking.”

“What do you think about that surgeon by the way?”

“What about her?” Alexia immediately responded.

“I’m trying to set Ewa up with someone and she seemed nice. She said she didn’t want a footballer and well, a surgeon definitely isn’t one of those.”

“Let her do her job Kika.” Alexia scolded the youngster, not about to let this happen. “No setting anyone up, I’m sure she’s got better things to do than be with a footballer anyway.”

“If you say so.”

“I do, now let me know when your next appointment is and I’m more than happy to come with you again.”

“Thank you Alexia.”

She’d take the thanks even if it was slightly misplaced. She had questions and they weren’t going to go away any time soon.

“I’m going to need that card by the way.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Miracle IV

Aitana Bonmatí x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're up late

You're up in the attic when Aitana gets home.

That usually isn't a problem.

It's where you usually retreat to after school. You come in, say good afternoon to Aitana if she's in, eat a snack and immediately go up into the attic.

You've become a bit more sullen now that your friends are busy.

Conejita has entered the work force now, working at some florist in town, a few hours away from the little house Aitana bought so you rarely see Marta and Caro's daughter during the week.

Skatt is studying at some top rated school in Norway, drowning herself in her studies of bugs while Ingrid and Mapi fight to get her to go outside and see the sun.

You're still in school though. In all advanced classes, of course, but still school aged and catching the bus to the fancy school that Aitana is paying an extortionate fee to send you to.

You've withdrawn a little now that it's just you and her, disappearing up into the attic to study your star charts and maps and wait long enough for the sun to dip in the sky so you can use the telescope you spent all of last year saving up to buy.

Aitana doesn't have a problem with that.

You're a certified genius and sometimes you need alone time.

What she has a problem with is you being stuck up in the attic when she gets home from an event at gone three in the morning.

The ladder creaks under her feet as she hauls herself up through the hole in the ceiling, head popping up to see you sitting at the desk, documents in hand with your telescope set up through the skylight.

"It's late."

You jolt, dropping the papers in your hand and covering them with your star maps.

You spin in your chair, clutching at your chest.

"Mama," You say," You scared me."

"You should be in bed," Aitana continues, coming to stand in front of you," You've got school tomorrow."

You look away from her with an eye roll.

"We both know I don't need much sleep for school. You always say I'm intelligent."

You've been told you're intelligent for most of your life, a clear superstar in academics since your first year of school and you could already read and write and do simple multiplication and division.

You'd been streamlined into the most academic of classes and if it wasn't for Aitana insisting that you stay with your year group, you'd already be away at university.

"You still need rest," Aitana reminds you," And to rest your brain."

She cards her fingers through the loose strands of hair framing your face.

You're her mirror image in every way, the same eyes and nose and hair.

Aitana wonders briefly if she was ever this aloof with her own parents at your age and if she owes them apologies for it.

"Go to sleep, estrella," She says," We can talk more tomorrow."

You huff, pulling out of her grip and turning back to your maps.

They cover all the walls in the attic, completed and signed at the bottom with your name.

Aitana looks down at the ones on your desk, the ones not yet completed or not yet perfect enough for you to display on the walls of your little sanctuary.

Something peaks out from under one of them and she frowns.

She's already pulled it out before you've even noticed.

"Where did you get this?"

Aitana's voice is stern, one that you're not all too familiar.

You freeze, eyes wide in alarm.

You reach for the documents. Aitana holds them away from you.

"Where did you get this?" She demands again and you scoff.

"In the safe. Under your bed."

"You broke into the safe?!"

You roll your eyes. "It's not the most secure of passwords. Our birthdays? Please, it was easy."

"Drop the attitude!" Aitana snaps," Why were you rummaging around in there?!"

You stand up from your desk.

Neither of you are overwhelmingly tall but even at sixteen, you meet her height so you're eye to eye.

"They're mine!" You say and Aitana laughs.

"I think you'll find they're mine," She says," You certainly didn't sign them."

"Well they're my adoption papers! I deserved to see what they say!"

Aitana sighs, rubbing her temples. "Then you come to me! You don't go snooping around in my bedroom."

You huff, finally breaking eye contact to stare out of the skylight. "As if you'd tell me anything." You shove past Aitana, barging her shoulder on your way to the ladder," You never want to talk about them."

"Well, forgive me for not wanting to talk about my dead friends."

"Forgive me for waiting to know about my dead parents."

Aitana holds your gaze for a moment.

You're already halfway down the ladder, staring back at her with identical eyes.

The wound is still raw even though it happened sixteen years ago. The loss of her friends still weighs heavy. Aitana doesn't even know if she could look at you if you held even one feature of your parents.

"Estrella-"

"I'm going to bed," You cut her off," We'll talk in the morning."

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing. 

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin. 

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club. 

 The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about. 

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met. 

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud. 

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me. 

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home. 

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it. 

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again. 

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

  When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.  

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone. 

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste. 

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time. 

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement. 

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants. 

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges. 

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive. 

“I can too!” 

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?” 

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.” 

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?” 

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.” 

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.” 

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

 “I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated. 

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.” 

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.” 

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle. 

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask,  “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?” 

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours. 

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.” 

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.” 

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream. 

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.   

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.  

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.” 

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years. 

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo. 

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him. 

You 

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night. 

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!” 

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.” 

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.” 

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.” 

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs. 

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?” 

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?” 

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?” 

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind. 

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.” 

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!” 

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes. 

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.  

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops. 

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself. 

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile. 

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo. 

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man. 

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning. 

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.  

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” 

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve. 

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it. 

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear. 

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.    

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in. 

Spanking, five. 

Whips and Crops, five. 

Paddles, five. 

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point. 

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five. 

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel. 

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied. 

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours. 

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you. 

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call. 

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears. 

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs. 

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller. 

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel. 

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his. 

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault  the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips. 

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you. 

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on. 

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently. 

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives. 

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging. 

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table. 

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms. 

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

Next Chapter

[soon-palestine]

Israel, the world’s most innocent country, fell victim to a horrific attack from Iran with zero reported casualties on the same day Israel killed dozens of civilians in Gaza.

Israel had been minding its own business, quietly bombing hospitals, schools, universities, mosques, and an embassy, when the Iranian regime launched their outrageous attack for no apparent reason. Thankfully, the US and UK scrambled jets to defend Israeli airspace because it’s wrong to bomb countries in the Middle East, unless your name is Israel, in which case you can do all the bombing you want.

Every British and American ship in the region is now in grave danger and the risk of terror attacks on our soil has surely increased, but you will be relieved to know our countries have not benefitted in any way from our intervention. Personally, I can’t think of a better way for Israel to spend our tax money.

Our leaders have condemned Iran in the strongest possible terms, which is confusing because I thought we were supposed to remain ambiguous and say we’re investigating the matter when such an attack occurs. Perhaps this is one of those rules that only applies to Israel though.

When informed of the attack, a calm and rational Suella Braverman screamed: “WAR! I WANT WAR!” and when she’d stopped hyperventilating, she added: “This must be the end of western backsliding on Israel,” because she thinks we have not been sufficiently supportive of their genocide. Anyone who is not on the same side of the argument as Suella Braverman must ask serious questions about themselves.

Iran’s unprovoked attack involved giving Israel adequate warning and launching 30-year-old missiles, 99% of which were intercepted, and then saying the matter is closed unless Israel escalates further. The fact Iran would consider retaliating to further escalation from Israel shows just extreme these lunatics are.

Among Iran’s targets was the Israeli air base from which the missiles that struck its embassy were launched, killing 13 on April 1. As of yet, we have no indication as to why Iran carried out the attack, but we’re going to tell you it’s because they want to start World War III. Psychos.

Conspiracy theorists have suggested it’s actually Benjamin Netanyahu who wants escalation, but it’s unclear why the man who faces political oblivion, and possibly jail, would be incentivised to draw his allies into the fight and cause everyone to forget his many war crimes.

Israel, the country that definitely does not want war, has vowed an “unprecedented” response against Iran which will probably kill many more than zero people. If Iran expresses disapproval at Israel’s next mass murder, it’s because they’re trying to destabilise the region. At this point, we’ll have no choice but to help Israel do to Iran what we’ve spent six months helping them do to Gaza - launch precision strikes that destroy 70% of the buildings in the country and leave survivors living in tents.

Worryingly, we’ve just discovered at the most convenient moment that Iran has enough uranium to build 12 nuclear bombs. If it were true that Iran had so much weapon-grade uranium, it would be incredibly stupid to attack them, but we’re going to insist we must attack them because we’re weapon-grade idiots - and we think you are too.

Please just switch your brain off and accept what you’re being told, you simpletons! What matters is rich people can afford nuclear bunkers if this all goes horribly wrong. In the meantime, you can look forward to lots of exciting stories in the media about bringing back conscription and describing how you are likely to die in humanity's final war. Are you looking forward to radiation sickness and nuclear winter? Because they sound like brilliant fun! x

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this outstanding piece of journalism as much as I did, you can support my work here:

[thatsatricky1]

𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐛𝐢𝐞 | Lee Jeno Smau

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Lee Jeno x F Reader.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Angst?, Cursing, Suggestive, more to be added lol.

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬: University au, spin on fight club au, social media au; smau, written parts, angst, fluff, slow burn, humour, (one sided) enemies to lovers, hidden identities.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐞𝐨 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐬:

1. Only grades acceptable are B+ and above.

2. Negative and derogatory wording about Neo is strictly forbidden.

3. Uniforms must be worn exactly as shown in the uniform guide with no alterations.

4. Tardiness won’t be tolerated, there is no excuse for being late.

5. No Female and Male contact is permitted, only during contact sports or circus in circumstances with granted permission.

6. All homework, assignments, projects and school activities must be completed by the set timeline and are compulsory.

7. No outside help is allowed, this includes outside tutors and Ai programs, on campus tutors will be provided with a fee.

If these rules are not upheld, there will be strict consequences such as suspension and/or expulsion. One or more rules could lead to an immediate expulsion if decided by the faculty.

These are the strict guidelines Neo university students must follow without question or backlash through their years at Neo Technology. Failure to comply with said guidelines never ends peacefully. Many students end up leaving Neo Technology in their earlier years in their majors and courses due to Burn out or expulsions.

Those who manage to go through to graduation in their majors/degrees are always guaranteed a good future, having this university campus on one's resume/Cv is an automatic ticket into high end jobs. Previously graduated students have been seen working in higher up positions in multiple different areas. There hasn’t been a recorded failure on Neo Technologies graduated classes so far.

Many students fill out the same requirements that go to Neo Technology, Wealthy family backgrounds, academically well adjusted and above average in multiple areas shown through their previous education and lastly well connected individuals with higher up contacts. With one outlier.

The one student with a scholarship that is picked out every year. AKA the charity case to make the university look fair. However this scholarship is given to a first year, every year in all majors, whether they make it through to graduation is their own hardship. Those who drop or or get expelled will be replaced with a new student in that year they dropped out.

Due to unseen and unfortunate events a scholarship student in their graduation year passed away from ‘natural’ causes, meaning a new scholarship student would be taking their place in the graduating class of 2024 in the business major area and courses.

Many outsiders condemn Neo Technology for their strict ruling and how faintly it seemed to act more like a high school then university due to its strict regulations rather than the relaxed ruling one mostly knows from being a university student on campus. However words and thoughts do nothing to change how Neo Technology continues to move forward with its education agenda.

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛:

1. You don’t talk about Fight Club.

2. You do NOT talk about Fight club.

3. If someone says “Stop” or goes limp, taps out, the fight is over.

4. Only two people, to a fight.

5. No Shirts, No shoes.

6. Fights will go on as long as they have to.

7. If this is your first time at Fight Club, you have to fight.

Those were the rules, you don’t follow them you’re out and that doesn’t just mean a simple blacklisting. Fight Club was built from the ground up by people in their 40’s trying to have some excitement brought back into their mundane lives. Though of course as time progressed the younger generations started pouring in to the point the average ages seen in Fight Club were now no longer 40’s but between 20’s-40’s.

If you happen to be an unfortunate soul who wanders into Fight Club, there’s no point in saying be prepared because no newbie is. It doesn’t matter if it's your first and last day there. Rule number Seven always happens. If it’s your first time at Fight Club, you have to fight. It’s not a choice, it's a must.

Profiles 1 | Profiles 2 | Extra

1. All men =🚩

2. Why she kinda 🫦

3. Freak 🫵

4. Homie hopping

5. Hot privileges revoked

6. I got you bbg 💳

7. Neo T student.

More chapters to come…

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: (Comment,message or submit a request to be added to this taglist.)

Oml first smau finally being done 👀 took me forever to decide to actually do it lol, let’s hope this will actually be good 😭 (constructive feedback is always appreciated so if you have any memo’s or notes feel free to tell me!)

Also a little sneak peak into the boys in this one here you go:

[luvhughes43]

tuition payments | hughes!sister

[luvhughes43 masterlist🌷]

request: hi!! i love your work and would like to know if you could do hughes brother x younger hughes sister as the reader, who is short money to go to college and is afraid to ask her brothers first help hut once they find out they help her out?

word count: 0.6k

with your parents' new jobs, they were off the grid for awhile while they tended to their clients and hockey prospects. you knew that in advance, which is why your parents had paid for your tuition before their schedules became busy. so when you got an email on monday saying your tuition was overdue, you were shocked to say the least. 

there was $3 000 pending in your account, which meant your scholarship hadn’t gotten cleared again. you emailed your school back immediately, asking about the money and if your credit could be used, but you didn’t get a reply. all you received were multiple OVERDUE messages, each promising to add more money as a late fee to your already high balance. 

you didn’t have enough money in your savings or chequings account to cover the remaining balance, and so you hastily picked up shifts hoping you could make enough to cover the costs. your friends downright asked why you couldn’t just ask your brothers for the money - and in truth you could, but it just felt wrong. you felt so bad for being dependant on everyone in your family, so if you could help it you would work for the tuition money.

you had almost saved enough when you got the email that your payment had gone through. you sighed in relief, thinking your credit went through but when you checked the app you saw that the remaining balance was paid via card. 

you didn’t have a second to think before a call from quinn lit up your phone. 

“hey quinny?” 

“why didn’t you tell me about your tuition?” he asks, getting straight to the point. 

“how do you know about that?” “dad told me before he went on his work trip to check your accounts and make sure everything was paid,” quinn states simply, and you wonder briefly how quinn even got into your school account before realizing your parents have your passwords. 

“oh…”

“why wouldn’t you tell us you had tuition due?” your brother asks again, this time his voice full of confusion. “like, we could’ve handled this sooner. at least you don't have any of the stupid fees,” he trails off. 

“i just,” you pause, feeling that your reasoning was stupid now that you were about to vocalize it. “i feel like i'm so dependent on you guys. i picked up a few shifts to try and make the money up but it just didn’t happen,” you sigh. 

quinns quiet on the phone and you shift uncomfortably. “you know we don’t care right?” 

“i care!” you huff before putting the call on speaker and laying down on your dorm bed. 

“i’m a millionaire,” quinn states simply. “your schooling is important. you’re not working full-time so you can focus on your studies” 

“i know but i still feel bad…”

quinn sighs, “literally don’t worry about it. nobody feels like you're dependent. you're a university student it’s normal to need help,” 

“okay…” your voice is quiet, and you feel a pang of guilt hit your chest. sometimes you just wish that you didn’t have to ask your brothers or parents for help. 

“i love you y/nny, if you need anything just call” 

“i love you too,” you reply. the siblings stay on the call for a few more minutes, just debriefing on life and the daily dramas. you always know, despite how guilty you may feel, that you’ll always have your brothers if you need help.

[mahergaza7]

Help Us Rebuild Our Lives After the War in Gaza🍉🍉🇵🇸🇵🇸

Hello, my name is Maher. My family and I fled from the devastating war in Gaza to Egypt. We lost our home, business, and everything we had. Now, we are trying to build a new life and need your help.

Our family of eight faces daily challenges. We urgently need funds for:

1. Education: Covering the high costs of schooling for my children and university fees for my daughters.

2. Debt Repayment: Paying off the debts incurred during our escape from Gaza.

3. Housing: Renting a safe and stable home in Egypt.

4. Psychological Support: Providing necessary psychological care for my children traumatized by the war.

Your donation can make a significant difference in our lives. Every contribution, no matter how small, helps us move towards a stable and hopeful future. Please consider helping us rebuild our.

https://gofund.me/ace114de

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. “ think I need someone older . . . ” : 

﹙ divorced dilfs x reader ﹚. 𖹭 ݁ 

. . . dilf au !! 🍒 : ﹙  dilf!talisen  ˖ dilf!alessio ﹚

a world where streets are bustling with life in the city of elritea, we follow the story of zhào talisen & alessio arias. two ex-husbands in their fourties, that juggle between their stressful work life and their six-year old son, carlos. talisen being one of the world’s most renknowned english literature professors in the world. while alessio lives his life as a secret mercenary with various cover-ups to keep his kid and those he holds dear safe.

it surely would make things easier if the both of them got along. alas, if that were the case, they wouldn't have divorced in the first place. amidst this chaos, they need someone who can take care of their son every now and then, and make sure he is loved just as much like when they are home with him after their long days of work

𖹭. ps : inspired after 781 alessio and talisen 

﹙ cws ﹚: potential explicit content, depends on request ˖ dilf aspects ˖ broken marriage ˖ potential age gap ( depends on request ) ˖ sometimes alcohol use ( tal )  ˖  mercenary drama ( alessio ) 

﹙ receipts ﹚: requests are open for this au. any gender of reader is applicable as per usual simple state it in the ask.

﹙ alessio. ﹚. . . the mercenary, busy dad !! 🍓 : a man of many jobs, they call him. though in reality. alessio arias is a mercenary, who's been around in the business with quite the amount of years experience behind him. now in his fourties, juggling work and taking care of his ( irritable ) ex-husband's and his son — at least one good thing came out of talisen — he tries his hardest to be on time with carlos. however, it can get difficult with the random call-ins for work he can get. which means he needs someone who can be there on the clock when he has to leave his mijo. take care of him, maybe make some good food for him, and all-around be there so that poor carlos doesn't worry too much about his papa when he's out.

the more relaxed of the two. wants to make sure his baby boy gets whatever he wants to compensate for his own inability to be around as much as talisen.

   

﹙ talisen. ﹚. . . the professor, struggling dad !! 🍰 : stressed out, and in need of a break to simply be with his son. the tired english literature professor of the ecu top classes, zhào talisen, now in his mid fourties. Is trying to find the time to be with his son, carlos, more, or for someone to take proper care of him, unlike what he believes his ex-husband does. though it is challenging with all of the universities around the world asking for him to come to their conferences and talk about his experiencs as an elite in his field. Who will come to aid him? will someone please make sure his son is alright and knows how much he means to the world?

the more cautious of the two in every which-way. someone has to take care of carlos properly and not let him run lose. he should have filed for full custody. . .

 

﹙ rishen. ﹚. . . the dual babysitter !! 🍓 : a university student who went into the job of babysitting to earn some money to pay for the school fees. in the midst of his work as a babysitter, she finds herself switching between two particular divorced men, who have a son named carlos. two very attractive, divroced men - at that.

yet they do not know they have been hiring the same babysitter to take care of their shared son. all they know is that carlos is very fond of her and always ask when she's coming back to visit. rishen doesn't seem to mind too much.

[mbabtechadmissionexpert]

Universal Business School (UBS) Fees Structure: Everything You Need to Know

Universal Business School, or UBS, is renowned for its global approach to business education, offering students not only academic excellence but also real-world industry exposure. As you prepare to join UBS, understanding the fees structure is a critical step in your journey. Whether you're enrolling in the MBA, PGDM, or BBA, it's important to break down the costs and see how UBS provides value for your investment in education.

MBA Fees at Universal Business School

The Universal Business School fees is one of its most sought-after courses, especially due to its collaboration with top international universities such as Cardiff Metropolitan University, UK. The fees for the MBA program vary based on the specialization you choose and the international partnerships involved.

For the standard MBA program, the fees range between INR 8 to 12 lakhs.

This fee typically covers tuition, accommodation, and access to a variety of on-campus amenities, including a fully equipped library, sports facilities, and career services.

The global exposure provided through this program, such as international internships and exchange programs, is factored into the cost, making it a comprehensive package for business students.

UBS offers students access to experienced faculty, real-world case studies, and a globally recognized curriculum, ensuring they are well-prepared for leadership roles.

PGDM Program Fees

The Post Graduate Diploma in Management (PGDM) is another flagship course at UBS, designed to equip students with practical business knowledge and leadership skills. The fees for the PGDM program are generally in the range of INR 7 to 10 lakhs.

This fee includes the cost of study materials, on-campus accommodation, and participation in global immersion programs.

With its unique learning environment and extensive industry connections, the PGDM course at UBS is a top choice for students seeking a well-rounded business education.

BBA Fees at Universal Business School

For students aiming to begin their business education at the undergraduate level, the Bachelor of Business Administration (BBA) program at UBS is a great option. The fees for this program vary based on factors such as the course duration and the student's choice of global exposure.

Typically, the BBA fees range from INR 6 to 9 lakhs, making it a competitive option for students seeking a globally recognized undergraduate degree.

UBS ensures that students receive exposure to global business practices through international internships, faculty-led projects, and immersive learning experiences.

Scholarships and Financial Aid

UBS understands the financial challenges students may face and offers scholarships and financial aid based on academic merit, performance in entrance exams, and demonstrated leadership potential. Students can apply for these scholarships, which can significantly reduce the cost of education.

UBS has several merit-based scholarships, ranging from 25% to 100% of tuition fees, depending on the student's academic performance and extracurricular achievements.

Students who excel in entrance exams like CAT, MAT, GMAT, and others may be eligible for additional financial assistance.

Additional Costs

While the core fees cover a majority of expenses, students should be aware of additional costs, such as:

Study materials: Books, case studies, and other learning resources may require a separate expense.

Global Immersion Programs: Students participating in exchange programs or internships abroad may incur travel and living expenses.

Workshops and Conferences: UBS regularly organizes business seminars and workshops, which may have participation fees.

Is UBS Worth the Investment?

While the fees at UBS may seem significant, the institution ensures that students receive immense value for their money. UBS provides:

World-class faculty with both academic and industry experience.

International internships and study programs that enhance global exposure.

A dedicated career services team that assists students with placements, internships, and networking opportunities.

Moreover, UBS has consistently ranked among the top business schools for providing a global business education experience. Graduates from UBS are placed in leading multinational companies, thanks to the school’s focus on practical learning and global exposure. Click Here to get more details : Best MBA in colleges in India

Conclusion

When considering the fees at Universal Business School, it is essential to factor in not only the cost but the immense value students gain in terms of global exposure, industry connections, and personal development. Whether you are enrolling in the MBA, PGDM, or BBA program, UBS offers a well-rounded educational experience that is worth the investment. Additionally, with scholarship opportunities available, UBS ensures that deserving students have access to world-class education without financial barriers.

[universalbusinessschool1]

Universal Business School News: Building a Future-Ready Digital Workforce

As the digital landscape evolves, the demand for skilled professionals in artificial intelligence continues to grow. The founder of India’s first AI University, Tarun Anand, Chancellor of UNIVERSAL BUSINESS SCHOOL, shared “Our focus on hands-on lab work and skill development embodies our philosophy - ‘Educated Minds Create Sustainable Solutions’. With our AI-powered study companion, Guruji, AI-embedded learning pedagogy, we equip students with industry-relevant skills.

https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/tech/information-tech/building-a-future-ready-digital-workforce/articleshow/116426736.cms

[khushikumari12]

Universal Business School Mumbai Achieves a Stellar Placement for 2023

Universal Business School (UBS), Mumbai has achieved stellar placement results for the post-graduation batch of 2023, with the highest package of INR 42.33 Lacs per annum in USA and INR 22 Lacs per annum in India. UBS attracted 229 companies to participate in campus recruitment for final placement and the summer internship process, as a result of its deep corporate relationships and the strong endorsement of industry with the backing of the 60 CEOs. UBS provided a record 1,230 interview opportunities to its students. Notably, UBS has about 21% students enrolled from the Eastern parts of India.

Universal Business School has surpassed the previous year’s performance, on all counts. It has attracted the highest number of international companies and achieved the highest average salary in the last 5 years. It attracted 44 first time recruiters who were thriving during the pandemic is Sustainability Consulting, Gaming companies, Digital Marketing, Fintech, eCommerce, and Business Analytics. The highlight of placement season was the growth in Business Analytics as the most sought-after jobs.

https://www.nktv.in/universal-business-school-mumbai-achieves-a-stellar-placement-for-2023/

[astral-aromance]

Siryawë Telpëa, spouse of Makalaurë Kanafinwë. Dancer and pearl diver.

Character lore under the cut!

Siryawë Telpëa was born to a Vanya mother and a Teler father, in one of the many fisher villages surrounding Alqualondë. They were born with a fëa that never decided between male or female, and embraced both masculinity and femininity. From an early age, Siryawë twirled around the rooms of her parent's wooden harbour home and on the docks of her father's fishing vessel. She would often join him on his boat where they'd fish for squid and lobsters. This brought her family a steady, yet modest income from which they could live a comfortable life. Her mother was a devotee of Manwë, and as such trained and cared for a flock of messenger birds.

When nearing adulthood, Siryawë decided to make a huge change, and moved to the centre on Alqualondë, and enrolled in the Royal University of Performance Arts and Music as a dancer. To pay her expensive tuition fees and housing, they took up pearl-diving part time. Waking before dawn each day and joining other divers on the boat that brought them to the prime diving spots, and immediately after she's rush to town to try and make it in time for her morning classes. It was a busy, and rather hard life, but Siryawë loved every part of it. They made a lot of friends at school, and eventually found a roommate to split the rent with. Amarië was a percussionist for the orchestra and the two bonded over their shared Vanyarin heritage.

She would meet Maglor and one of the school's play rehearsals, where he would take the role of narrator and harpist, and Siryawë was the main character of the tale. They became fast friends, and Maglor taught her how to play the Telerin flute, while she tried to teach him how to dance. That he was a prince, they didn't really register as significant until one day she saw Maglor casually chatting and hugging with Finwë at the banquet that was held after a big performance. Findaráto joined the university a year after they did, and they became fast friends, and with Maglor obviously already knowing Finrod, he fit right into their group of friends. It wasn't long before Siryawë and Maglor noticed Finrod and Amarië were making heart-eyes at each other, and as such they decided to combine their powers of having no social filter and set the two up.

Nearing the end of their education, Siryawë received an offer from Nessa, to become her apprentice and join her dancers, which Siryawë obviously accepted. Unfortunately, not everything in life would continue treating her well. One day, the pearl-diving ship got caught in a rough storm and capsized. No one died, but Siraywë broke her knee, resulting in an open fracture. Despite receiving the best care that the Estë and her Maiar had to offer, she contracted sepsis. The only thing that could be done to save her life was to amputate the leg. Siryawë had stubbornly refused, but her parents eventually changed their mind, and she consented to the procedure. It all went well, and she swiftly recovered, but their life as a dancer of the highest rank had ended, and thus she mourned deeply.

Maglor, seeing his best friend in such peril begged his mother and father to help Siryawë dance again, stating that he could not live with her being so devastated. Nerdanel and Fëanor then noticed that their little boy had fallen in love, but said nothing of it. They invited Siryawë to their workshops, and with Nerdanel's sculpting and Fëanor's brilliance they fashioned her a leg made out of silver, with moveable joints. Nerdanel managed to get Aulë to enchant it to be unbreakable. The leg was a thing of beauty indeed, but Fëanor had warned her that it would not magically cure her, nor would it be the same as her old leg had been, but that this was only a stepping stone he could provide; the rest was up to them.

So Siryawë trained and trained, becoming more and more in tune with her new leg, Maglor taught her songs of power that made the leg bend and twist to her will. She eventually regained her former glory, albeit in an adapted way. Dance was never easy for her again, but they did make it into Nessa's group nonetheless. After their first performance as dancer of the Valar, Maglor finally realised he was in love with them, and confessed. Siryawë was bewildered, but soon realised she had felt the same. Maglor travelled to her parent's dwelling to ask for their blessing, and got it. They wed 5 years later.

They bought a house together in the centre of Tirion, close to all the big theatres, and together they produced many plays and opera's, becoming famed and sought after. They both wanted children, but decided to hold off on it for the time being, enjoying their free life too much to give it up so soon, and didn't they have eternity?

Siryawë didn't join Maglor in Formenos, because she was touring with her group, but they kept in contact. When news of the kinslaying reached her, they grieved and worried for her family, though she would find that they were all safe, they refused to go to Beleriand, and as such stayed in Valinor, but danced no more for ages, instead joining her father on his fishing vessel, but avoiding the beaches and harbour of Alqualondë.

Eventually, as the ages passed, she forgave Maglor and started dancing once more. In the 3rd age, they made several attempts to sail to Middle-Earth and retrieve Maglor by herself, but Ulmo would not let her pass. So, as her Vanyarin side called, she prayed each day for his safe return, which was eventually granted. After many years, they rekindled their love, and Siryawë birthed a set of twins, the crown of their long journey.

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!! Part 15

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove @jessthebaker @bunniboo0015

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 14

Dave could feel the frown forming on his forehead. What the heck was she talking about? You? Responsible for her atrocious behaviour? You? The sweet, kind, smiley, wouldn’t hurt a fly you? How?

Cleo put on the best woe-is-me expression she could muster.

“I don’t really remember my Dad. He died suddenly when I was three. I was a surprise baby. My sister Claire was ten years older than me. My Mom remarried when I turned four. She was lonely, I guess. She was depressed, she just wanted some company. My stepdad was a friend of a cousin or something, but that marriage didn’t last very long.

See, my Dad was a successful businessman, and he left us quite a bit of money. My Mom, of course, was given access to our money, so she gave us the best things we could possibly have. My sister and I both went to private schools. My Dad left more than enough to take us through college and beyond, so everything was looking good. But my Mom got fooled by my stepdad. He took everything and gambled it. He lost all of our money within a few years of being married to her. And then he just disappeared. I was maybe eight, and my sister was about to finish high school.

My Mom got severely depressed and couldn’t really take care of us. We had no money, and my Mom was too out of it to do anything about it. We were about to lose our house, we couldn’t maintain it, we couldn’t afford the bills, my sister and I were about to be kicked out of school, obviously, we couldn’t afford the tuition. We didn’t even have food to eat sometimes. My sister got an after school job at a café to feed the three of us, but of course, she didn’t make nearly enough to pay for everything.

She had a best friend growing up. Yes, her. Lily. That barista. Her stepmom and my Mom were good friends. Her Dad was super rich, he owned the café my sister worked at, and like a bunch more. Her stepmom is super rich too, trust fund baby. They helped us a lot. Moved us to a smaller house, paid our school fees, bills, groceries, clothes, all that. Her stepmom hired some lady to come live with us so that we’re taken care of, seeing as my Mom couldn’t handle much.

Her Dad offered to pay for my sister’s college education, but my sister said no. He’d been too kind to us, she said, she shouldn’t take advantage. She continued working for him instead. Claire fell in love with some waiter and got pregnant. She died giving birth at 20. Where was Lily, you ask? She was thousands of miles away, getting herself a fancy business degree at some hoity-toity college in the UK. She didn’t even come home for Claire’s funeral. Supposedly because she had exams. Pfft.”

She rolled her eyes, looking annoyed.

“Anyway, my Mom took Claire’s death hard. She tried to… you know… and had to be institutionalized. She died there like ten years ago. And me? After my Mom was taken into care, I was still in school, so my maternal grandma moved in with me. She didn’t have a lot of money, but Lily’s parents didn’t want me to change schools or anything like that so they kept paying for everything, my Mom’s medical bills, grandma’s, and that lady they hired. A few years after Claire died, Lily moved back to the States but she was in New York a lot, taking care of her Dad’s franchises there, so she didn’t even check in on me, not that she ever did. We weren’t exactly friends. A few years after I finished college, her Dad died, and her stepmom moved, so we lost touch.”

“There are questions. Should I read them?” Dave asked, looking at the screen.

Cleo shrugged.

“Someone asked why they didn’t adopt you?” Dave asked, reading off the comments.

“Ugh – they tried to apparently, at least become a legal guardian. But my grandma said no. I think she just wanted access to the money as well, and for me to take care of her. She didn’t have anyone else. And of course the judge agrees with her, grieving mother with the suicidal daughter, all that.”

“When did the money stop?” Dave read another comment.

“As soon as I finish college. They told me it was happening though.”

“The lady they hired to take care of you and your family, what was her name?”

“I don’t know. Why is that important? Lulu? Luna? I don’t know. Some immigrant. Next question.”

Dave shook his head off camera. What the fuck was she thinking, saying things like that? Had she learnt nothing?

“There’s one recurring question,” he gritted.

“What is it?”

“How did Lily destroy your life exactly? Sounds like her family helped you a lot.”

Her face snapped, the obviously faux sadness gone, anger took its place.

“Why do you think they helped us? Because Saint Lily begged them to. So her friend didn’t have to starve. And they decided this would be the perfect opportunity to flaunt their wealth! They sent me to an expensive school, but everyone knew we had nothing to our name! Everyone knew we were only there out of the ‘goodness of their hearts’. The rich kids called me CK! Charity Kid! And you know what? None of them wanted to be friends with me! None of the boys wanted to go out with me! They wanted the rich kids.

I was a leper! After Claire graduated, I got bullied! People were throwing bags of their used clothes at me! Brought their leftovers for me to eat! Even in college, her parents got me the best of everything – sent me to the best school, bought me the latest gadgets, clothes, gave me a good amount of allowance, so the rich kids thought I had money, but when the guys found out I am a charity case with no dime to my name, they dumped me!

And when I graduated and discovered how much everything cost? Fuck! Talk about a rude awakening! They should not have helped me. Cause back then I had to survive on my own and could afford nothing that I liked! They set me up for failure! Do you have any idea what I had to do to afford rent before I got my first acting job? I had to move back in with my grandma! And once my grandma died, they stopped paying for the lady to help out! I had to clean my own toilet! It’s demeaning!”

Dave couldn’t believe his ears.

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head a bit to make sure he was hearing right. “What has all these got to do with Lily?”

“She had the easy life! And made her parents gave me one too, only for all of it to stop once I reached a certain age! Why help me if they’re only going to take it all away from me? I bet she didn’t have to do all that once she graduated. I bet they set her up all the way, a house, a car, a business. I bet she had helpers all around, doing her bidding. Why does she get everything and I don’t?”

“Cleo, IF they did help her in her life, she’s their daughter, they had every right to help her. From what I just heard, you would have had a very hard life growing up if they didn’t help. You grew up. They set you up to be someone. Gave you an education. That’s a lot more than most people get. You grew up, now be an adult, be responsible. And just so you know, no, they didn’t help her like that, and she wouldn’t have accepted the help even if they tried. She moved out the moment she went to college, never moved back in. She lived off her salary. Rented an apartment and eventually bought it. Still lives in it!  And no, she didn’t have a maid following her around picking up after her. She cleaned her own messes. Still does,” he said, unable to stop himself.

“How the fuck would you know that? Have you been cheating on me?”

“I dated her for years, you know this. You seduced me while I was still dating her, and I was so fucking dumb I left her for you!”

His body stilled as realization dawned upon him.

“Oh my God,” he said, rubbing his face with his hands, disbelieving. “Is that why you came after me? Because I was with her? Is that why you just fucked around and not dump me? Because you didn’t love me at all but didn’t want me to go running back to her? Is that why you went after Miller? Because he’s with her?”

She didn’t answer. But she didn’t need to.

He was seething. His eyes closed for a moment, realizing something else.

“Wait… you knew them. You knew her whole family. They literally saved your ass when you needed them. Her Dad died. I went to the funeral. You waited in the car as I went to her Dad’s funeral. These people helped you for years, and you chose to stay in the fucking car instead of going to pay your respects to the man who helped keep you off the streets?”

Cleo’s face turned chalk white. She tried to end the livestream, but he stopped her.

“How ungrateful are you? If I hadn’t hugged Lily that day you wouldn’t have even shown your face at all! And even when you did, it was to yell at her for hugging me, at her father’s funeral! Who does that? Who goes to the funeral of the man who gave them everything they needed and made a scene instead of offering condolences? And now you tried to publicly shame them for what? For making sure you were alive and fed? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The comments were going wild. What was the purpose of the livestream? How did that story redeem her? So many comments confessing to recording the whole thing as it streamed, promising to make sure everyone would know what a hideous person Cleo Savvant was. Thousands of people were watching, if not more, as her true personality came out. As far as everyone watching was concerned, she just dug a deeper hole, painting herself as a spoilt ingrate who wanted everything to be handed to her. Who wanted everything she didn’t deserve. Who forcefully took and never gave back. And to top it all off, a racist.

“Newsflash, Cleo. The men who didn’t want you? It’s not because you didn’t have money. It’s because you have a shitty attitude. You did to me exactly what you did to Miller and those guys, only I was too dumb, too drunk and too starstruck to notice. If you had ever taken the time to reflect on yourself and work to better yourself you wouldn’t have to sexually assault men to have someone, Cleo. I’m done. I don’t care anymore. Fuck the one week. I’m gone,” he said, turning around to leave.

“Where are you even going? You have nothing, you have no one. You gonna go running back to that lame barista? You’re really gonna leave me for her?”

“No Cleo. Unlike you, I don’t try to break up people’s relationships. And FYI, on your best day, you are not, and you will never, ever, be half the woman she is. That woman would give the clothes off her back to help people in need, and unlike you, they are grateful for her. They don’t go around holding a non-existent grudge and badmouthing her, trying to make her life miserable. I hope you wake up and live in the real world, Cleo. Goodbye.”

Cleo watched as Dave left her room, seething that her plan backfired. She ended the livestream, going after him. She had no one. No one else. He was the only one left. And he was leaving.

“Please, Dave, don’t leave me. I’ll do anything,” she pleaded as he packed the last of his clothes in his suitcase, grabbing a backpack and a box with him. He had been packing for a while, anticipating the end of his contract.

“Please baby, we can move, start over, just the two of us. Please.”

Dave looked Cleo squarely in the eyes. “I will stay if you can answer two questions.”

Cleo straightened up.

“One. What am I allergic to?”

“What? You’re not allergic to anything.”

“Yes I am. We’ve been together almost five years, and you have no idea what I’m allergic to.”

Cleo visibly swallowed.

“Two. When is my birthday?”

Cleo looked dumbfounded.

“Are you gonna tell me I don’t have one too?”

Cleo hung her head as Dave walked past her, his possessions in his hands.

“Lil?” knock, knock.

You opened an eye. What?

“Lil!” knock, knock.

“Yeah, coming,” you mumbled, getting up.

You efforts were in vain, though, the pair of hands that were surrounding you tightened, refusing to let go.

“No,” he mumbled into your neck. “Stay.”

“Your daughters are calling me,” you laughed.

“Go away!” he semi-yelled. “Later!”

“They’re your kids! Don’t tell them to go away! What if it’s important?”

He groaned, squeezing you tight for a moment before letting you go. “Just wanted to lay in bed with you a while,” he pouted, taking your pillow and smashing his face into it instead.

You got up and used the bathroom, quickly got dressed and went downstairs, Ellie and Sarah at the kitchen counter, looking at you apprehensively.

“What going on?”

“Did you know Cleo before? Like in school?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

Ellie looked at Sarah and showed you her phone. “She went live on Insta last night. She said she knew you. From before. You were her late sister’s best friend? Claire?”

You were shocked. Cindy? Cleo is Cindy? Cindy Salts? You grabbed her phone and looked at the screen. Cleo was not wearing make-up, and you can sort of see remnants of the little girl you hadn’t seen in forever. “God,” you said, “She was like nine the last time I saw her. I don’t recognize her. She looks different though. Her hair colour. Nose. Mouth. Eyes.”

“The wonders of technology!” Sarah said, taking Ellie’s phone back. “Anyway, you don’t need to watch that if you haven’t. We were only checking to see if you were alright.”

“What did she say?”

“Basically, you ruined her life because your parents helped her too much and the real world sucks once their money stopped coming in,” Ellie said.

“And men don’t want her cause she was a charity case.”

“And men don’t want her ever.”

“That’s why she forced herself on men, and oh, she forced herself on your ex too. I think he left her.”

You cringed, frowning a little.

“We’re just worried that you might lea…” Ellie’s words were silenced by a sharp jab to her ribs.

“Morning,” Joel greeted, kissing the girls on the forehead, before kissing you. You kissed him back, going to the machine to make him his coffee. He got the eggs and the pan, Sarah got the bread, Ellie the juice and milk. The four of you had breakfast together, the girls filling Joel in on the events that happened the night before.

“You okay?” he asked you when the girls started cleaning up.

You shrugged, “I don’t think I did anything wrong, my parents helped them. Her Mom was really out of it. She wasn’t well. Sat and stared into nothingness all day or laid in bed crying. I didn’t do anything, really. My Mom was her Mom’s friend, so it was mostly her who wanted to help. I did ask my Dad if he could help with Claire’s school fees, seeing as she had less than a year to finish. Turns out they were already planning to do that anyway, for the whole family, not just for Claire, so, that’s not really my doing.”

He took your hand into his, frowning a little. “I hate that you’re getting dragged into this. I hate that being with me caused your life to be exposed like this.”

“What, that people now know my parents were good hearted people? I don’t care if people know that!” you pinched his cheek. His body language relaxed, coming in for a soft kiss.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?” he asked.

You nodded. “I promise.”

“Hey Beanie.”

“Hey Mom.”

“Heard Cindy tried to blacklist you. To no avail, I hear, but just checking if you’re okay? Tired of Hollywood yet? I would use this as an excuse to coax you into moving up here, but a little bird told me you might not be feeling like leaving anytime soon,” you could practically hear the smile in her voice.

“What do you know?” you asked, incredulously, your eyes narrowing. You hadn’t exactly been telling her about Joel, fearing she might drop dead from a heart attack for being too excited. She had been trying to set you up with men after men ever since you and Dave broke up. “And who is this little bird who’s telling you things?”

“Hey, I have a phone and an iPad, great internet service, and a lot of free time. And Lola’s new stepdaughter got me an Instagram account. I see all…” she swerved.

“Uhuh… you sure that’s all?”

“Eh… maybe my new best friend in the form of your Uncle’s boyfriend and I have been Face Timing too much.”

“Frank! I’m gonna kill him!”

“Honey… why have you not told me about him? He’s really handsome, oh… there’s a picture of him half naked wielding a hammer…”

“Oh my God, MOM! STOP!” you were mortified. “Are you seriously ogling at my boyfriend?”

“Ah… so he is your boyfriend?”

Shit.

“I don’t know Mom, we’re just getting to know each other. It’s been a week. That was a slip of the tongue. I shouldn’t call him that.”

“I look forward to meeting him. Christmas time? It doesn’t have to be a meet the parent situation. I’ll be in LA for Christmas, a friendly drink would do.”

“We’ll see okay Mom?”

“I’m pulling your legs Honey. You’ll introduce me when you’re ready.”

“Thank you. Hey Mom?”

“Yeah Beanie.”

“Did we do wrong helping Claire and Cindy? Should we not have? Should we have done more?”

She sighed, “Honey, listen to me. Are you listening?”

“Yeah.”

“We live a blessed life. So we help others, because we can. That’s what your Dad did, that’s what we taught you to do. But no one successful has done it without hard work sweetie. We helped her, gave her the tools, but we had to stop at some point. We stopped with you, and you are our daughter. You made your own way back then, didn’t even move back in with us, even when we begged you to. Never asked us for anything again, even though you knew we would give you anything you need. And even now, knowing you don’t need to work, you still do. And I’m so proud of you. I know your Dad was too, Beanie. Had Cindy shown any effort to build herself, we would have supported her. But she didn’t. Just waited for more help. She was told the help would end. She didn’t take any steps to get herself sorted. She asked for more money, in fact. So we stopped. Sometimes, you have to be cruel to be kind. It was time for her to make her own way. And judging from her career before all this, she did find her way, but she decided to throw all that away herself. Her attitude is not on us, Honey.”

You released a huge sigh of relief. “Thanks Mom.”

“Anytime sweetie. So… tell me more about Joel…”

You spent the entirety of Saturday with the Millers, lazing around, swimming, cooking (well, he cooked), eating, watching a movie, feeling very much welcomed into their little group. Ellie was looking at cars online, asking you for your opinion.

“I don’t know Ellie, do you need a truck?”

“It’s so cool though!”

“Can you see over the dash?”

“Thanks for telling me I’m short.”

“Get a car, not a truck. LA’s traffic is horrendous. Small car would be better. Like mine,” Sarah chimed in, swiping the screen for more choices.

“Ooh! A pink Hello Kitty car!” you teased, enlarging the picture.

“Eww no! Next!”

The three of you looked at more pictures before Ellie suddenly looked at you, her eyes hopeful.

“What?”

“Are you gonna leave Joel if all this attention on you doesn’t stop?”

Sarah looked at you, that hopeful look in her eyes too.

“What? No! Plus, your Dad and I, we’re still getting to know each other. I tend to want to know the person I might be dumping before I dump them,” you joked, earning a small chuckle from them both. “If your Dad decides to continue being with me, I am more than happy to stay. But if he doesn’t…”

“Not gonna happen. I know it,” Sarah said, hugging your arm.

“Yeah. Never gonna happen,” Ellie concurred, hugging your other arm.

“Er… guys, I need my hands to swipe through this plethora of cars…”

They laughed, letting go, but leaving their heads on your shoulders.

Joel watched as the three of you concentrated on the iPad, his heart full. The girls were flanking you, heads on your shoulder, looking at car after car, laughing at your jokes, and you at theirs.

God, he never knew he wanted this. He didn’t know what it would feel like to see his girls having a special moment with the woman he was dating in the house like this. The house just felt… complete… with you here. His bed felt complete with you there with him. His life felt complete. He couldn’t wait for the year to be over, so he could spend more time like this, with all his girls. He never thought he would feel like this, ever. He legitimately saw himself spending his retirement alone once Sarah and Ellie left the house, an old grumpy man pottering about somewhere quiet, living a lonely life waiting for his girls to come visit.

But now, when he thought of the future, you were there. No matter what his vision was, be it here in LA, the cabin, a ranch, a farm, wherever, you were there by his side. And that thought made him so happy his heart swelled so much he started feeling worried it might explode.

He was worried he might accidentally tell you what he was feeling.

It’s only been a week. One week since the two of you were official, so to speak. You don’t tell people you’ve been dating a week you love them, right? That’ll scare them off, right?

So he kept that thought to himself.

That night, movie night was different. Tommy and Maria on the love seat, you and his girls on either sides of him. He could get used to this, he thought, as Tommy’s eyes met his, Maria in his arms, both men looking content, happy, for the first time in their adult lives, smiling meaningfully at each other.

The next morning, Joel made love to you before kissing you goodbye as he left to catch a flight to New York, telling you he will see you Saturday, his heart heavy to leave you behind, wondering how on earth he was going to sleep at all without you in his arms.

Weeks went by, and before you knew it, you and Joel had officially been dating for two months. You were practically living at his house, spending weekends with him and his family, Bill and Frank joining every so often, finding that you liked having weekends off, after all. Your apartment became a stop for when Joel was out of town. You felt at home with him and his family. You found yourself unable to remember much of your life before him. He was all you thought about.

Yeah… you were in love with him. Not that you told him that, it’s too soon, surely?

He didn’t hide you. Held your hand as you went for groceries with him, kissed you whenever he was at the truck, took you out on dates, not worried that people might see. Cleo’s attempt at a smear campaign didn’t work, so far resulting in you getting more customers, but the hate had been extremely minimal, if any.

It helped that you had people in your corner. His fans seemed to support him dating you, cooing at what a lovely couple the two of you made, how happy he looked with you. There were a few that thought you were not glamourous enough to be dating someone like him, that they got shut down quickly by the others. Your Uncle Bill spent the first few weeks after the Cleo thing helping out at the truck, in case people came looking for you. Sarah and Ellie practically jumped at anyone who made negative comments about you online, so did Tommy, and surprisingly, even Angela.

She had visited the truck and checked on you the Monday after Joel left for New York, asking you if you were okay, assuring you that no one in their right mind would agree with Cleo’s pathetic attempt at defending herself. She checked in on you every time he was out of town, telling you to call her if you ever needed anything. She seemed really excited to know that your relationship with Joel was progressing so well, he even gave you his security code and keys, spending every free time calling you from work, even coming over to help out at the truck whenever he could. Been a while since she saw her old friend this happy, she said. She’s happy for him.

Dave got in touch with you. He had started working as a barista again, having moved into a rental room. Cleo disappeared, shocked that the public didn’t see her defence from her point of view. No one had seen her in weeks, her apartment empty, her social media deleted. There were theories and rumours about her, supposedly seen at some commune somewhere, another that she had become a van-lifer, some even claiming she had an OnlyFans. But the reality was, no one really knew for sure.

You drove your truck through the gate to Joel’s house that Friday, the girls asked if you would go out with them, dinner and a movie. Joel was out of town again, finishing a shoot about 6 hours away, due back the next day. You went inside, taking a quick shower before going back downstairs to wait for the girls. Ellie came down first, excited to try this new restaurant Sarah had gone to for lunch, coming home raving about the burgers. Sarah ran around looking for her keys, swearing up and down that she left it on the console table, only to find them in her purse.

Just as you were corralling the two excited girls out the front door, the door bell rang, a picture of a woman with a suitcase on Sarah’s phone screen.

“Oh. My. God!” she exclaimed, opening the gate. She and Ellie ran out, squealing, practically tackling the lone woman to the ground, smothering her with hugs and kisses, clearly excited to see the woman, asking her what she was doing there. Why didn’t she tell them she was coming? Did Joel know? Was she staying the night?

The woman laughed as she answered, she was here for a meeting. She didn’t call, it was a last minute thing, so no, Joel didn’t know, but he did say she was welcomed any time. Yes, she was staying over.  When the excitement calmed, all three stood up, Sarah excitedly pulling the woman’s hand towards you, the woman eyeing you with interest.

“Lil, I’d like you to meet Tess.”

Part 16