#goods elevator suppliers

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Monopoly is capitalism's gerrymander

For the rest of May, my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) is available as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

You don't have to accept the arguments of capitalism's defenders to take those arguments seriously. When Adam Smith railed against rentiers and elevated the profit motive to a means of converting the intrinsic selfishness of the wealthy into an engine of production, he had a point:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

Smith – like Marx and Engels in Chapter One of The Communist Manifesto – saw competition as a catalyst that could convert selfishness to the public good: a rich person who craves more riches still will treat their customers, suppliers and workers well, not out of the goodness of their heart, but out of fear of their defection to a rival:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/19/make-them-afraid/#fear-is-their-mind-killer

This starting point is imperfect, but it's not wrong. The pre-enshittified internet was run by the same people who later came to enshittify it. They didn't have a change of heart that caused them to wreck the thing they'd worked so hard to build: rather, as they became isolated from the consequences of their enshittificatory impulses, it was easier to yield to them.

Once Google captured its market, its regulators and its workforce, it no longer had to worry about being a good search-engine – it could sacrifice quality for profits, without consequence:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

It could focus on shifting value from its suppliers, its customers and its users to its shareholders:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/15/they-trust-me-dumb-fucks/#ai-search

The thing is, all of this is well understood and predicted by traditional capitalist orthodoxy. It was only after a gnostic cult of conspiratorialists hijacked the practice of antitrust law that capitalists started to view monopolies as compatible with capitalism:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/20/we-should-not-endure-a-king/

The argument goes like this: companies that attain monopolies might be cheating, but because markets are actually pretty excellent arbiters of quality, it's far more likely that if we discover that everyone is buying the same product from the same store, that this is the best store, selling the best products. How perverse would it be to shut down the very best stores and halt the sale of the very best products merely to satisfy some doctrinal reflex against big business!

To understand the problem with this argument, we should consider another doctrinal reflex: conservatives' insistence that governments just can't do anything well or efficiently. There's a low-information version of this that goes, "Governments are where stupid people who can't get private sector jobs go. They're lazy and entitled." (There's a racial dimension to this, since the federal government has historically led the private sector in hiring and promoting Black workers and workers of color more broadly.)

But beyond that racially tinged caricature, there's a more rigorous version of the argument: government officials are unlikely to face consequences for failure. Appointees and government employees – especially in the unionized federal workforce – are insulated from such consequences by overlapping layers of labor protection and deflection of blame.

Elected officials can in theory be fired in the next election, but if they keep their cheating or incompetence below a certain threshold, most of us won't punish them at the polls. Elected officials can further improve their odds of re-election by cheating some of us and sharing the loot with others, through handouts and programs. Elections themselves have a strong incumbency bias, meaning that once a cheater gets elected, they will likely get re-elected, even if their cheating becomes well-known:

https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/congress/gold-bars-featured-bob-menendez-bribery-case-linked-2013-robbery-recor-rcna128006

What's more, electoral redistricting opens the doors to gerrymandering – designing districts to create safe seats where one party always wins. That way, the real election consists of the official choosing the voters, not the voters choosing the official:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/REDMAP

Inter-party elections – primaries and other nomination processes – have fundamental weaknesses that mean they're no substitute for well-run, democratic elections:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/30/weak-institutions/

Contrast this with the theory of competitive markets. For capitalism's "moral philosophers," the physics by which greedy desires led to altruistic outcomes was to be found in the swift retribution of markets. A capitalist, exposed to the possibility of worker and customers defecting to their rival, knows that their greed is best served by playing fair.

But just as importantly, capitalists who don't internalize this lesson are put out of business and superceded by better capitalists. The market's invisible hand can pat you on the head – but it can also choke you to death.

This is where monopoly comes in. Even if you accept the consumer welfare theory that says that monopolies are most often the result of excellence, we should still break up monopolies. Even if someone secures an advantage by being great, that greatness will soon regress to the mean. But if the monopolist can extinguish the possibility of competition, they can maintain their power even after they cease deserving it.

In other words, the monopolist is like a politician who wins power – whether through greatness or by deceit – and then gerrymanders their district so that they can do anything and gain re-election. Even the noblest politician, shorn of accountability, will be hard pressed to avoid yielding to temptation.

Capitalism's theory proceeds from the idea that we are driven by our self-interest, and that competition turns self-interest into communal sentiment. Take away the competition, and all that's left is the self-interest.

I think this is broadly true, even though it's not the main reason I oppose monopolies (I oppose monopolies because they corrupt our democracy and pauperize workers). But even if capitalism's ability to turn greed into public benefit isn't the principle that's uppermost in my mind, it's what capitalists claim to believe – and treasure.

I think that most of the right's defense of monopolies stems from cynical, bad-faith rationalizations – but there are people who've absorbed these rationalizations and find them superficially plausible. It's worth developing these critiques, for their sake.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/18/market-discipline/#too-big-to-care

[maretinelli]

I THOUGHT IT WAS YOU

Jake Peralta X fem!reader

Summary: In which, y/n goes on a mission alone, things go wrong and Jake thinks his "best friend" has been murdered.

Words: 3.5K+

Warnings: Criminals, angst, mentions of blood, gunshots, detective missions, protagonists in love, best friends to lovers, happy and cute ending.

Author: Always warning, English is not my first language. I apologize for any mistakes that may occur in the story. And secondly, you can go to my profile and request stories from me, Just see which characters are on my masterlist and ask via chat or question box

Y/s: Surname

MASTERLIST

The weather in New York was starting to cool down, the leaves on the trees had all fallen in the fall, bringing a carpet of yellow, orange and brown colors.

"Hi" Y/n happily approaches Jake, who had just gotten out of the car.

"Hi, honey." He smiles all goofy.

"I brought it for you." The detective holds out a cup of coffee. "I walked from home and stopped at our favorite coffee shop."

"Thank you- Wait, what?!" He asks indignantly.

"I said I stopped by our favorite coffee shop," Y/n says naturally.

"No, before!"

"Ah, I said I came on foot," she says, entering the police station.

"Why?"

"My car is in the shop, and my bike has a flat tire."

"Oh, you're kidding." He throws his head back, walking alongside his friend and coworker. "Why didn't you tell me? I was going to pick you up! It's freezing to walk here. Not to mention how dangerous it is."

"Oh, you're kidding." He throws his head back, walking alongside his friend and coworker. "Why didn't you tell me? I was going to pick you up! It's freezing to walk here. Not to mention how dangerous it is."

"No, Jakie," he says softly, pressing the button for the elevator. "You live on the other side of town. You'd waste a lot of time coming to get me. Don't worry about it."

"I wouldn't waste any time!" Jake grimaces and lets Y/n enter the elevator first. "I could just pick you up, no complaints," he says seriously, and Y/n smiles.

"Tell me the truth, Jake. You would totally go without complaining just because you would be able to show off your new car on the streets of New York." Y/n smiles sideways, looking at Peralta.

Jake wrinkles his nose and smiles.

"Okay, one point for you! But that's not entirely true. You come before my car." He says seriously and the detective smiles. "No jokes now. After shift I'll take you home."

Y/n smiles.

"Okay, Detective Peralta." She walks closer to him and whispers in his ear, just to tease her best friend.

Jake tries not to show that he had closed his eyes, but Y/n notices.

"SERIOUSLY! I SAW YOU ROLL YOUR EYES WITH PLEASURE" Y/n jokes, patting her friend on the shoulder.

"What?? No!!" Jake says in alarm, sipping the first sip of his coffee, as the elevator opens. "Oh my God, my favorite!" He changes the subject.

Y/n, who was following right behind him, smiled.

"Of course, I know my best friend's taste," with that said, she walks past him and enters the enclosure.

Jake watches her walk to her desk.

"Best friend?" Boyle says to Jake. "You haven't told her yet-"

"Holy crap Boyle, I just got here!" Jake grumbles, but the whole squad hears.

"Excellent!!" Terry gets up. "I have news about the 51-BC case that everyone will be happy to hear."

"THIS!!" Jake and y/n scream loudly, clapping their hands together, while the squad looks at them. "Sorry," they reply together.

Jake and y/n had worked on this case for about 10 months and had no progress, and of course, what Terry said was really good news.

With everyone in the squad gathered in the meeting room, and Holt present, the Sergeant began to talk about the case.

"As we know, the criminal Jean had fled abroad. But everything indicates that he is back in New York. His drug supplier was caught with one of Jean's old henchmen. I asked Amy and Rosa to follow them last afternoon in the park and found some clues about where they might be."

"Detective Diaz and I, we found evidence that Jean was hiding in the old abandoned Benny's pizzeria. Because it's a bigger place with more floors"

"No, not at Berry's!" Y/n exclaims disappointedly.

Jake sighs sadly too.

"Something wrong, Y/N?" Holt asks.

"No, no, Captain. It's just that Y/n and I used Benny's as a refuge from our families when we were kids" Jake says and Y/n agrees, sitting in the next chair, with Peralta's feet in her lap.

"You guys grew up together?" Holt asks in surprise.

"Me, Gina and Jake"

"There's something I didn't know about Peralta."

Jake opens his arms and smiles victoriously.

"Okay, back to the point. I'm sending detectives so they can investigate how we can break into the place and arrest Jean." Terry says, flipping through the spreadsheet. "Okay, Amy and Rosa stayed here to review the old information. Boyle will be in charge of the signal from the devices. Y/N will drive Jake to the location and stay in the car, in case the plan goes wrong. Jake, you go in!"

"TRY!"

"NO!"

Everyone looks at Y/n, because her scream is louder than Jake's.

"What do you mean, no?"

"No, Sergeant. Let me go investigate the hideout. Not to brag, but I've been on this case longer than Jake has." She turns and smiles at her friend.

"Stay in your lane, I've been on this case for 10 months." He looks the woman up and down.

"Yeah, but y/s is the one who initially took the case. How many months ago? Like, 5 months earlier than you." Rosa turns and smiles victoriously.

"Damn..." Peralta mutters.

"Thank you so much, Rosa" y/n winks at her friend and she gives a small smile.

"Are you sure you can handle it? If something unexpected happens, you'll have to fight or run."

"Seriously, look at me. With this body here I can put anyone on the ground!" She stands up and shows off the muscles that were clearly invisible.

"Tell me this, Miss Weakling. On Saturday at your house, you couldn't even open a jar of pickles by yourself. You had to ask for my help." Jake throws it in her face, approaching Y/n and smiling.

"Uuuh, what did you do at her house?" Boyle asks, smirking at Jake.

"SHUT UP, CHARLES" Y/n and Jake yell together.

"Well, if Y/N says she can handle it. You can give her the job." Holt says. "If you need anything, I'll be in my office.

He leaves and leaves Jake angry.

"Damn. What am I going to do in that case?" He asks and Terry smiles.

"Simple, you'll stay here and lead Y/n to the places where the criminals aren't, based on security camera images"

Jake pretends to slide off the chair, taking his feet off his friend's lap.

"Cry, but cry quietly so you don't bother me" y/n teases, passing by him and going to change her clothes to pretend she was a mere tourist.

After each of the detectives were at their stations with the case, the journey began.

Jake had lent the car so that y/n could go to the place without raising suspicion.

"For Jake to lend his car, he has to be very much in love" Amy says and Rosa smiles looking at him.

"Total. They looked at his little face when y/n thanked him with a 'thank you, my dear'. He almost exploded" Diaz comments and the people start to scream in euphoria.

"Don't you have anything else to do?" Jake ignores them, asking a question.

"No. We're waiting for you to send us the images from the cameras and turn on the devices so communicate with y/n and start work."

"Oh, right." Jake straightens up in his chair and starts working on the computer. "Detective Y/n, are you listening?" Peralta asks through the microphone that was connected to Y/n's headset.

"Listening in, Detective. Almost there."

"Okay. Guys, Detective S/n said he's close to the location, you can start working" he says and everyone starts doing everything they can to make sure y/n doesn't get caught.

After Y/n parked the car and got out to sneak into Jean's hideout, she passed on information to the detectives at the police station.

"Jake. I went into Benny's. No sign of any drug dealers, apparently."

"So? Just like when we were little?" Jake asks, but the captain listens.

"JAKE!"

"Sorry sir!" He says seriously. "Y/n...?"

"Exactly as we left it. I even bumped into that stove we had built to roast that piece of chicken you brought. Untouched."

"That's it!!" Jake gets a little excited in joy.

"Did she find anything?" Rosa asks curiously.

"No, but the stove we made when we were younger is still there" Jake sends a jewel with his hand and Diaz rolls his eyes.

"Jake, Jake, Jake!!" Y/n speaks quickly and Jake presses the headphones to hear more.

"Tell the squad that I found traces of a package of marijuana, the same ones we found months ago," she says, already putting gloves on her hands to pick up the evidence.

Jake informs the squad of the entire process that y/n had achieved. While Amy was already taking notes.

"I just spotted Jean, he has three goons behind him and I spotted a few more upstairs. Let Terry and Bolt know I'm aborting the mission."

"Okay, be careful." Jake takes care of y/n. "Sergeant!! S/n spotted Jean, but she's coming back here because there are a lot of henchmen there."

"Correct, let us know that with the evidence and information she gave, it is more than enough for us to enter with the entire squad," Sergeant Jefford explains.

"Honey, the sergeant asked-..."

"JAKE, I THINK I'M BEING STALLED." She whispers into the microphone, which makes the sound loud in the police station.

The squad stands on alert, ready to rush out and get her.

"Calm down Y/n, everything's going to be okay" Jake tries to calm the woman who was surrounded by criminals.

"Jake, they're really chasing me." The detective hears y/n's shoes making noise as she runs. "Jakie I--" they end up losing connection with the detective who was in action.

"Y/n?? Y/N??" Jake yells into the microphone and then looks at the squad who were in shock.

"We've lost connection," Boyle says and they don't know what to do.

"Let's go after her," Jake says, already grabbing his coat.

"No, we can't go," Sergeant says. "I know she's in danger, but if we go there, we could all die. They probably recognized her from last time."

"Sergeant! I need to go after her!"

"I ALREADY SAID NO!" Terry shouts, making everyone in the squad jump. "The best thing to do now is to send another police station there. Jean and the henchmen know us and this can only make things worse for y/n."

With that, Rosa starts dialing the nearest police station, reporting the unexpected event that happened on their mission and asking for help.

Meanwhile, Boyle and Terry began to calm Jake down, making him not leave the police station.

Until they start hearing a shrill noise coming from Y/n's microphone. Jake quickly runs to the table so he can talk to her.

"Hey, hey, honey! Y/N talk to us." Jake yells into his microphone.

However, the only thing the squad hears are three gunshots, someone falling to the ground and the loud noise again.

Jake falls into his chair in shock, disconnecting the connection between his and the detective's devices, while not really knowing who those shots were from.

"Oh my God." He says, staring at a fixed point, tears already threatening to fall.

The entire squad was left speechless. No one knew if those shots came from the gun that y/n had taken or from Jean's henchmen.

"What now?" Amy asks Terry desperately.

"Wait for news from the other police station," the sergeant says, sitting in the chair and placing his hands on his face.

Jake just looks at him with tears falling silently and stands up.

"If y/n is dead. It's your fault" Jake says through gritted teeth and points his finger at the Sergeant.

•••••••••••••••••••••

50 minutes had passed, no sign of y/n at the police station, no messages from her and no sign of the other police station finding her there.

"I'M TALKING. IF THEY SHOT AT HER IT'S THE SERGEANT'S FAULT" Jake, who had already been upset for a few minutes, began to scream even more.

"JAKE STOP IT" Boyle says, as Holt holds Peralta from behind so he doesn't jump on Terry.

Meanwhile, the rest of the squad was calling all the police stations looking for news about the group member.

With the sound of the elevator opening unexpectedly, squad 99 looks in the direction and sees y/n coming out with someone handcuffed.

"Oh my!" Jake sighs in relief.

Everyone was shocked when a bloodied detective entered the pen and placed Jean inside the temporary prison.

"I got this piece of shit!" She throws him into the cell and runs her hand over the large cut on his lips.

"Damn..." She whispers.

Holt releases Jake without any reaction, which was also — common. Leaving Peralta to run towards y/n.

"Jake..." Y/n whispers.

"Honey, you're all hurt. Come on, let's fix this." Jake takes Y/n out of the room and takes her to the file room, which was calmer and more refreshing.

Y/n walks the whole way in silence, and sits at a table, while watching Jake take a first aid kit out of the closet.

"For God's sake, Y/n. With those three shots, I thought you were dead." The brunette says, approaching Y/n with cotton and alcohol to clean her skin.

"Sorry, I was trying to get in touch with you guys- Aawww Jake!!" She whines as she feels the alcohol clean her wounds.

"Sorry, honey," he says softly, making her smile at the tone of his voice.

"It's okay. The worst is over."

"Could you tell me what happened there?" Jake asks quietly, now cleaning the wound on her forehead.

"When I warned that I was being chased, Jean's three henchmen came at me, making my wiretap fall off. Luckily, I managed to throw them to the ground. However, Jean came after me, I tried to fight him, but I failed. The shots came from his gun, but the shots ended up going upwards, so I managed to knock him down and arrest him." Y/n summarizes what had happened.

"I thought the sound of someone falling was someone falling dead." Jake says and uses the cotton to clean the wound on the woman's lips. "...and I thought it was you." He looks at her woman's eyes.

"Sorry... I couldn't text or anything, my phone was broken. And the bug too. Sorry to worry you guys, Jake."

"You worried ME. I thought I was going to lose you forever. Do you know the despair that ran through my veins when I heard those shots and didn't know who they were?" Jake lets the tears fall, making Y/n cry silently too. "I really thought I was going to lose you today. And I don't want that, ever." He wipes the woman's lips and looks at her intently.

"You love me, don't you?"

Jake smiles awkwardly.

"Sure, I'm your best friend"

"Jake, no." Y/n smiles and then says seriously. "You love me romantically."

Jake is silent. Because that really was true.

Damn, that was so true.

"I've noticed it in the last few years. The way you show it is clear, just not to me until Amy said the way you look at me. The flirting, the unnoticed glances..."

"Y/n, no"

"Yes. After all, you wouldn't be staring at my mouth and with your hand lightly squeezing my thigh if you weren't in love with me," she says jokingly and they laugh.

"Okay, young lady. You win, I'm so in love with you. I've loved you since we were 15 and it hurt so much not to be able to tell you this secret. And the thought of losing you today, without ever having had you, broke my heart into so many pieces. Damn, Y/N. I love you so much!" He smiles with tears.

"For your information. I love you romantically too." She smiles and closes the gap between them. Sealing their lips in a kiss they had been waiting for over a decade for. A passionate kiss, but at the same time hungry for what they had lost over the years.

"The squad is asking how you are- OH, I'M SORRY, I CAME TO SEE HOW YOU ARE!" Amy says, desperate after catching Peralta and Y/N kissing.

Jake steps away from y/n smiling, trying to hide it by looking at the files. Y/n hides a smile.

"I'm fine, Amy. It was just superficial cuts, Jake's taking care of them for me." Y/n says, holding back a smile.

"Oh yeah, taking care." Santiago raises his eyebrows and smiles. "I'll let the squad know that you'll be up soon and that you're okay."

Y/n nods.

Before leaving, Amy turns to y/n and smiles, showing a jewel with her fingers while whispering. "That's it, good job. Finally."

Y/n rolls her eyes and Jake turns back to her.

"I know she did something while I wasn't looking, what did she say?" He asks smiling, approaching y/n and placing his hands on her thighs again.

Y/n laughed.

"She whispered 'Well done' and 'finally.'" The detective smiles.

Jake laughs.

"For her to talk like that, it's because you've really been in love with me for a long time." He jokes, making her roll her eyes and smile.

"A long time ago." Y/n smiles, approaching Peralta's lips again. "Ask Gina, she knows exactly the day I told her I was in love with you."

"And of course she knows, she keeps everything"

"Yeah" Y/n chuckles into Jake's lips.

"Now come here, I haven't finished kissing my new girlfriend and future wife's lips." Jake says, making y/n smile big and press her lips against his.

[apollophanes]

"[...] the anagogic, or elevating, Hermes indeed is the supplier of philosophy, and through this elevates souls, and by the dialectic powers, sends upward both total and partial souls to the good itself. But Aphrodite is the first-effective cause of the amatory inspiration which pervades through wholes, and familiarizes to the beautiful the lives that are elevated by her. And Apollon perfects and converts all things through music, convolving, as Socrates says [in the Cratylus], and through harmony and rhythm attracting to intellectual truth, and the light which is there."

- Proclus' Theology of Plato at Book 6, Chapter 22

[chibrary]

ARTICLE: "How to stay friends when you're F1 rivals" (Autosport Plus, 2019)

There's always one, isn't there? Just after you've comfortably settled into your seat, clicked the seatbelt across your lap, and are scanning for a decent film on the seat's screen in front of you - someone asks you to move.

It was on the late-night flight out of Bahrain after this year's race that F1 Racing became aware of such a scenario unfolding: passengers being politely asked if they wouldn't mind moving seats so two chums could take up seats together. The architects of this kerfuffle, the two friends who became reunited at 30,000 feet, were none other than Pierre Gasly and Charles Leclerc.

"We grew up together," explains Gasly. "We first met in 2005, when I was about nine and our parents became really close. As families, we spent holidays, staying on boats together in the south of France and five years later we became team-mates in karting. That year I probably spent more time with Charles than I did with my own parents.

"One of my first F1 memories was when I went to visit Charles at his Monaco home during the grand prix weekend. His parents' house was miles away from the track and yet I could hear the cars, 3-litre V10s, in morning practice. We were so far from the circuit - yet it was super impressive."

Perhaps it was no surprise Gasly was so enchanted by the sound of a racing engine, as he comes from a family steeped in motorsport. In fact, he is the third generation of Gasly to become successful on four wheels.

"I don't think a lot of people know this, but my grandmother, Yveline Gasly, was a karting champion. My father was also a racer in karting, rallying and in endurance events - and a French champion too. I also have four older brothers and three of them raced in karting.

"So, from three years of age, my mother used to take me in a buggy that she pushed around and I would make engine noises. From a very young age, I was always part of motorsport."

Gasly won the French karting championship in 2010 driving for Sodikart when he was team-mate to his younger friend Leclerc, who was runner-up that year. It is the pictures of the two of them together (aged 14 and 13) that Gasly has shared with F1 Racing this month.

"We had a really good fight for the championship and it was a good time testing on tracks together and racing," says Gasly. "Although I moved on to single-seaters before Charles, we still have a very close friendship as he's a nice, kind guy."

Fifteen years after they first met the pair find themselves racing together in Formula 1, and following their recent graduation to Red Bull and Ferrari, they could easily find themselves sharing a podium once more.

In the early part this year, it's been Leclerc that has made more of an impression with his assured performances for Ferrari, while Gasly admits he still isn't yet fully comfortable behind the wheel of the Red Bull RB15.

Pre-season was blighted by two large accidents in testing and it's taken him time to get up to speed.

"It's fair to say that I don't feel as comfortable in the Red Bull as I was in the Toro Rosso last year," concedes Gasly. "In a way I found a direction quickly in the Toro Rosso to get the best out of it.

"But I've found it's a bit tricky in the Red Bull. I don't feel I can have the input I want inside the cockpit - it's quite inconsistent. It doesn't do what I expect it to do in one corner and then in another it's different again. The main thing is trying to drive the car as I would like it to be."

The environment at Red Bull is notably pressurised, as former drivers and power unit suppliers will attest, but Gasly hopes he will be afforded the time to adapt. Before the season began, team boss Christian Horner admitted Gasly has been "elevated 12 months before we'd ideally like" but more recently suggested his confidence had been growing.

"He had a tough pre-season, with the two incidents in testing putting him on the back foot, but at each grand prix he's got stronger and stronger," says Horner.

"I think more seat time will be extremely beneficial to him and as we come back to circuits that he's more familiar with, I think we'll see him make further progress."

The continuity for Gasly after his first full season at Toro Rosso has been the Honda power unit - which Red Bull is using for the first time in 2019. In addition, his engine engineer has moved over from Faenza to Milton Keynes with him.

Gasly has a familiarity with the Japanese manufacturer's working practices and culture, learning much when he spent most of 2017 racing in Super Formula in Japan.

Gasly made a surprise F1 debut in Malaysia that year when Daniil Kvyat was dropped by Toro Rosso, and he was surprised again when he was promoted to Red Bull for this season when Daniel Ricciardo made his unexpected decision to quit the team for Renault.

"When [Red Bull consultant] Dr Marko called me I could not believe it," says Gasly about the turn of events last August that led to his drive at RBR.

"I was so sure he [Ricciardo] was going to stay at Red Bull. At first Marko told me they were going to take their time and look at the options for next year - he said to enjoy the summer break and to try and disconnect from everything.

"Of course, it's not possible when you have something like a Red Bull drive in your mind.
I was waiting and there were two clear options, either to stay at Toro Rosso or move to Red Bull. Then Helmut called me back about two weeks later to say they had decided to take me for this year and that they thought I was the best option for the team for 2019."

Gasly's promotion has pitched him as a direct rival to his old friend Leclerc, but don't expect their on-track duel to come between their friendship. Indeed, don't be surprised to see the pair holidaying together again this year.

"We still text a lot, although it's harder now with our agendas to organise things, but every year we try and plan a trip away together in the summer," says Gasly. "It didn't happen last year, but we'll try again this year."

Better make sure they book the plane tickets at the same time then, to avoid any more last-minute seat-swapping...

[aqupistau]

— ☕️ⸯⸯ : unintentional﹙dks﹚

warnings: implied smut, profanity, fingering, and masturbation

genre & trope: suggestive and neighbors!AU

pairing: do kyungsoo x f!reader

word count: 3.03k (edited)

synopsis. your first impression of your neighbor didn't end well for you, but it was the opposite for him. after eavesdropping his conversation about you next door and him singing a song of romantic interest for you—lyrics filled with undressing you off in your Versace dress, you gain the same pining for him and end up following every lyrics of his song.

Surely, this state will be enough to cause a hangover once you wake up tomorrow. You thought to yourself, palm on your forehead, wishing for the elevator to reach the current floor you're staying temporarily. 

Oddly, the air in the hallways felt warm, so you removed your coat, revealing a body-hugging Versace chainmail dress your generous friend who offered you to wear tonight for clubbing.

Earlier morning, you had a petty argument with her. When she would give you her Versace things, it would always consist of you not accepting them since they were very expensive, to passive-aggressive threats you'd receive from her, then to her gleefully seeing you in Versace, your bag heavy with her gifts. You didn't have to buy clothes at all. You had a supplier of your things for free. 

You were on a business trip for this month, consisting of attending board meetings, reviewing proposals, and sharing a drink and good conversation with special sponsors. Since everyone was given a week of rest, the same friend insisted on taking you out clubbing tonight and also invited your other friends. It took you a minute to contemplate if you should take today to only sleep, but you loved a good drink and company, so you eventually agreed. Leading you to this bad state of headache from alcohol.

As you safely reach your room and input your pin on the door lock, you feel a figure on your right, and you take a look only to see the dreaded person you didn't want to meet during your stay in this hotel—your neighbor.

You're staying in a good small three-star hotel, and all of the services were fair quality, so you hadn't thought of any disruption when staying here, except for one. Your neighbor, a great singer, truly, is a nuisance just by singing karaoke in the dead of the night. The walls of the hotel rooms were thick enough not to hear conversations, so it meant that your neighbor was just that loud.

Imagine going back to your bed only to hear your neighbor disrupting it with their hobby of singing karaoke heartily before going to sleep. Honestly, you also guessed that you would be sleeping at the same time as him, ruining your sleeping schedule. Even some point on those nights, instead of being irritated when you were already prepared for a good night's sleep, you would wonder if they just recently had a breaking point like a heartbreak with those sad ballads. He was singing his heart out to Bruno Mars, but you needed your goddamn sleep.

You thought of some options to stop this, and it only led you to the solution of switching rooms. But it would be far-fetched since the only available ones were far from your budget.

And there you were, waiting for a good chance to complain about the noise, but the noise your neighbor has been making isn't that loud for the other neighbors to complain. You also didn't have any proper decorum at night to complain to your neighbor, and you were always busy during the day, so you had to shelve all of your ill temper inside you. 

Still not noticing your presence, you take in all the information of him. Average in height and an all-black comfy outfit of hoodie and sweatpants. Understandable for someone who would sing the blues in the middle of the night. Yet, your senses start to tingle. Your knack for recognizing attractive people could detect that he was more attractive underneath this cover-up, even if we were from a bird's eye away.

Strong hands and fingers with years of experience as a musician swiftly type down his door pin, and his hand forms firm fists, his knuckles prominent as he holds down his door handles. He's about to enter his space when he notices your presence. And finally, you know the face of your nuisance of a neighbor, which might turn quite a turn starting this moment.

The neighbor was a new face of attractiveness you'd never seen before. Dark and formed eyebrows beneath the straight black fringe, drawing you down to his large moon-shaped eyes with full black irises that sparkle from the light reflected off your dress. You trace your eyes down from his nose to the most striking aspect of his face; his heart-shaped pink lips parted like cushions of velvet when caressed.

He realizes a bit late of your stares, making him bow, a gush of warmth rushing up to his ears as he greets a good evening.

Snapping back to reality, you also bow, struggling to straighten yourself from the alcohol in your system.

"Good evening," you greeted back as you stood straight up, and he smiled idly, reciprocating the greeting.

"Kyungsoo? Is that you?" a man from his apartment called out. 

"Yeah," he replied back, quickly bowed at you again, mumbling a goodbye, then entered his room hurriedly.

Too bad, you thought. A part of you wished you could observe him more to satisfy the curiosity that the 'once' dreaded neighbor was actually a sight to behold, but the remaining half just wanted to take a good hot bath and bury yourself on the soft mattress of your bed. 

You shrugged it off, deciding to surrender to the latter choice, and entered your apartment, dropping your purse on the couch and your body followed.

As you looked around your space, you feel a bit empty just from the difference of the fun energy from clubbing and this bare hotel room. Nothing was in your room to feel like you were home, and you were feeling like you were living in a blank space these past few days.

Empty tables and countertops greeting you every morning is starting to suck off the energy you regained *barely* from sleep. Missing the familiarness and coziness of your home, and most importantly—"Fuck. All this clubbing makes me wanna get laid so badly." 

I mean, how could you blame yourself? Lewd scenes in the club of people getting drunk and making out on the dance floor, and then when you're fed up with that scene and decide to take a tinkle, you go to the restroom only to see another cluster of people getting drunk and making out. The worst is hearing grunts and skins slapping in the women's bathroom.

Just how are you supposed to compose yourself? Being surrounded by horny people made you horny too. You're human.

Ding. Notifications from your phone on the couch pop up, and you check out what's happening. They were pictures sent by your friends in the group chat, all of you just having fun drinking in the VIP section, along with texts if everybody got home safely, and you noticed yourself in those pictures. 

The long deliberation of wearing this iconic Versace chainmail dress your friend told you to wear and ending up wearing it was worth it. This dress attracted many lookers on you tonight, and your friends teased how you were practically glowing with the dress.

You can't help but take advantage of the remaining glamor you feel with yourself and also the desire to please yourself tonight. So you dim the lights of your room, and you hear the noise of an electric guitar chord tuning from your beloved neighbor.

You groaned in frustration and punched the air toward your neighbor's place. "You may have attracted me on our first encounter, but you're still good at being an ass." But this action alone of trying to argue with your neighbor's walls is helpless, so you slumped on the couch again and stared off into space. 

"The guitar solo on this song is so good, I swear. It's good that you picked this song for a starter in your plans to be a musician." The muffled noise turned clear, hearing them from an unmistakable sound of speakers. They were using fucking microphones. 

"Yeah, hopefully this would be a good song for my audition. I've been practicing my vocals for a while now, so I might as well pursue it." You almost calmed down hearing the neighbor's deep calm voice, followed by the melody of a familiar intro of a song on a synth piano.

The sound of romantic and dreamy enter your senses, and you place your ear on the wall to listen more closely. You can't pinpoint what this song's title was, but you know that it is pretty famous.

The other voice that wasn't your neighbor interrupted, "Let’s start filming the practice? I think we’re ready to record." Then the synth stopped, a pout on your lips formed unconsciously, and you strayed away from the wall in defeat.

"Sure, but before we start recording, I saw my neighbor by the door earlier…." 

Me? you thought, eyebrows furrowed with curiosity.

Silence and a deep sigh engulfed it. The neighbor continued, "I think it was her first time to see me and her dress tonight…it looked so perfect on her, like it was tailored for her only. It also looked expensive like all of the past clothes she wore, and there is always the familiar scent of—" 

"Versace?" The friend finished.

"Yes. Exactly." 

"That's why you picked this song. So then, what did you do?" The friend continued, full of expectations. 

"I bowed, greeted a good evening, and immediately went inside since you called out for me."

"Kyungsoo?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You're an idiot."

"Pfft—" you snorted, glad that you held yourself back by covering your mouth.

"What do you mean?" Kyungsoo asked innocently, clearly showing no signs of remorse for his actions. You never knew your neighbor was so naive, especially when his songs, besides the ballads, were always passionate soul and R&B music. 

"What do you mean? Are you serious—You're hopeless, Do Kyungsoo" and silence. The friend was too stunned to speak, even to inform Kyungsoo what he had just lost.

“...”

"Would you like to practice before we record?" Kyungsoo blurted out.

"Yes, please."

The dreamy tune of the synth goes again, and a specific key of the synth feels like Kyungsoo was about to start singing until you hear the first stanza. You're frozen, silenced. This is Bruno Mars' song, but neither is it about the blues nor the music of a broken-hearted man.

So this was it, the reason why this melody was so familiar. It’s Versace on the Floor. The dim lights of your room, the smooth and sensual synth piano, and his voice, like the color of the finest silks of green, set the caress atmosphere. You've always heard him singing passionately, but this vibration and temperature of emotion were much unlike his past way of singing. 

As you struggle to catch your breath, a growing sensation builds, the feeling of weight getting heavier as you struggle to dedicate yourself to listening to his serenades alone. Thoughts of him on your first meeting start to swarm up every corridor of your mind, and you lean your back to the wall. Eyes closed and hands to your chest, grasping the hem of your dress to fully immerse yourself with the walls that seem to be the only separation of your longing and lust for pleasure.

Realization of reality opens your eyes to the current situation. Was this just a coincidence? Versace, the conversation about you, and this song. Wait—is this song actually for you? 

A fit of laughter of disbelief escapes from your lips, the tip of your tongue poking your inner cheek. The alcohol must have reached your rationality, though this doesn't stop you from entertaining the thought of just hearing his intentions to undress the sight of you in your Versace dress, tingling you with excitement.

But this isn't right. You convinced yourself. This is uncalled for. How can you lust on a man you just met?

The headache from the alcohol disperses and a new sensation replaces it. Your legs and arms go weak, and you slowly fall on your carpet as the chorus ends and another verse comes.

There was nothing to stop you, yet still you worried if this song was supposed to be dedicated to you. You groaned in frustration, and gave up, following his explicit instructions, unzipping the zipper from your back, the sound of a smooth zipper gliding down along the lines of your spine. In a trice, the nipple covers on your breasts are long gone, and you shiver from the nakedness of your chest; the tip of the nipples achingly hardens from the coldness of visibility. 

Kyungsoo's voice still reverberates clearly despite the thick walls and sensual lyrics of the following verse of the song filling the air as he sings about tender intimacy. You lick your fingers and imagine him kissing you bold, tracing down from the curvature of your neck to the enticing slopes of your shoulders. It didn’t matter how graphic and lewd he’d sing about the curves of your body, the assurance of your unquestioned beauty heard sincerely. 

To him, you were his muse. He reveres and divines your every composition, turning you into hymns of his desperation to touch you. You were a spec of his imagination in his eyes, the belladonna of what he can’t even grasp his dreams to be with. The sultriness of his voice chants of kissing you naked, undressing in your dress, and you hum in contentment, brushing your agitated nipple, igniting a symphony of pleasure within you from the light contact.

Every inch of you quivers, delicious temptations of touching yourself, hypnotizing your sanity, and the morals you've put yourself to protect crumble down. A great requirement of satisfaction has been set upon you, earning for you to yearn more, itching to caress the warm existence between your legs.

You wanted to feel his emotions. No, instead, you needed him to look at you with those large radiant eyes to look straight into yours without any hint of hesitance behind them and touch you with those carefully carved hands on every part of you. And with that voice, that heavenly blessed voice, if he was here with you, you'd fawn over him as he barely touches his velvet lips on your ears, whispering sweet praises slowly leading to merely sweet nothings of your existing beauty.

Amidst the yearning for him, do you hear the sweet guitar solo you've forgotten existed in the song, the long tolerance of your refusal of self-satisfaction vanishing. You readied, your hand busy teasing your erected breast and the other pulling down the remaining dress that covered the rest of you. You shut your eyes closed, feeling your hesitant cold hands go near between your thighs, landing to touch your clit, and a hiss comes out of your mouth from the touch.

Hallucinations of Kyungsoo in front of you, observing you just like how you imagined him to be, with anticipation, with eagerness. You spread your legs wide and leniently stroked your clit, capturing you with an airy moan, a rush of ecstasy from your cunt to your arms. Shortly, your patience goes dry, gaining more momentum and force to your strokes, knees buckling, and your legs surging from high. 

You feel it coming close, and you stop yourself from the pleasure as he sings the song's ending chorus. Quickly you grab the nearest pillow from the couch and sit on it, legs on either side of the pillow and start humping. The interrupted orgasm recovers, and you think of how erotic and ludicrous you are, pleasuring yourself just by the voice of a neighbor you once hated, which turned out to be the man of your ideals. 

Kyungsoo belts out the song's last note, and you whimper, nearing your orgasm. You stifle out a noticeable mewl as you orgasm, and you immediately cover your mouth, hoping that it wasn't heard, especially by your neighbor. 

"Fuck, no, no, no," you mumbled repeatedly and lay dead on the carpet, body weak from bliss. 

"That was amazing! I think you're good to go for the audition already, Kyungsoo. Would you like another go? Just to make sure," The friend complimented Kyungsoo, but Kyungsoo remained quiet, and you felt every nerve of your body growing cold. 

"Soo?"

"Yeah. Can we record in your studio instead? I wanna hear my voice clearer." 

"Sure. I'll just meet you on the ground floor since I'll be starting up the car." 

"Okay." The sound of a door swinging open next door is the last sound you hear. 

It was just the two of you left, and it felt awkward even though you were technically in different rooms, but it felt like you were in the same space, feeling the tension and being the only ones aware of it. You pursed your lips and exhaled to relieve your nerves, neglecting your eavesdropping. 

Better take a bath, sleep in the comfort of your bed, just like you planned, and pretend nothing happened. Yes, that's good for now.

Knock knock. That sound definitely didn't come from your phone, nor was it an alarm clock you hopefully set by this hour for no reason. It was from the door. Your door specifically.

You hastened in wearing your nipple covers and wore your dress again, wearing a cardigan from the hanger near the door. You braced yourself from what you might see from the door viewer, and you tiptoed, seeing from the small hole the neighbor, in the same clothes earlier, his chin rested anxiously on his hand.

Shit, you cursed under your breath and tried to fix your hair and cover the skin showing on your chest with your cardigan. You slowly opened the door, and the neighbor didn't expect you'd even open the door.

"Uhm, can I help you?" You asked, and he opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and he attempted again.

"I…" Your eyes grow larger as you expect his response, looking straight to his eyes that wander around, trying to find answers from everywhere until he meets your eyes, and something bursts.

The both of you crash into each other's lips simultaneously as if knowing each other's pursuits of lust, rashed and rough, inhaling only the oxygen that suffices from one another.

Kyungsoo grabs hold of your waist and pulls it near, an indecent sigh coming out from the kiss. 

"Sir—" 

"Kyungsoo." he breathes deeply, out of breath. "Call me Kyungsoo." 

© aqupistau. all rights reserved. ↬ masterlist

[asma-al-husna]

Allah calls Himself Ar-Razzaaq— The Provider, The Bestower of Sustenance— on one occasion in the Quran. He is the One who creates all means of nourishment and provision. Ar-Razzaaq provides all of His slaves with sustenance no matter how many they are or how great their need!

The Provider, The Supplier

Razzaaq comes from the root raa-zaa-qaa and points to three main meanings. The first main meaning is to receive something beneficial or to receive a portion or share. The second main meaning is to be provided or supplied with the necessities of life.

This root appears 123 times in the Quran in four derived forms. Examples of these forms are razaqnaakum (“we provided you”) and al-rizqa (“the provision).

Linguistically, Razzaaq has the structure of intensification, indicating a complete way of providing and sustaining. Ar-Razzaaq bestows all means of support and growth, both for the body and soul.

Ar-Razzaaq Himself says: Indeed, it is Allah who is the [continual] Provider, the firm possessor of strength. [Quran, 51:58]

What is rizq?

Rizq (provision) is what benefits you and it includes not just money but also knowledge, good manners, security, peace of mind, and spiritual enhancement. Allah Ar-Razzaaq created your rizq, and He delivers it to you in the way He wants: And there is no creature on earth but that upon Allah is its provision [rizq], and He knows its place of dwelling and place of storage. All is in a clear register. [Quran, 11:6]

The test of rizq

Ar-Razzaaq told us that if we don’t rule with justice, there will be corruption on earth. These days resources are overused, people are abused, and wealth is not being distributed justly. People ask: why is there poverty? Why are people starving? Our actions have consequences. We human beings created a system that went against the way Allah the All Wise instructed us to live. Wealth can be a trial and poverty a reason for elevation in the Hereafter; these are the ways of Ar-Razzaaq.

How Can You Live by This Name?

1. Be content.
Be satisfied with all the rizq you are given. Umar ibn al-Khattaab radiyallahu ‘anhu said: If something is meant to go elsewhere, it will never come on your way, but if it is yours by destiny, from you it cannot flee. Complaining about your body or your wealth means you complain against Ar-Razzaaq; strive for ridaa (contentment with His Decree).

2. Work hard.
Provision has to do with honesty and uprightness. What you see of wealth given to some and poverty to others is only superficial; Allah ‘azza wa ljal will bestow the best types of rizq on the best types of people. You need to work as if your rizq depends on how hard you try, but in your heart you know that nothing will come to you except what He has written for you. Knowing that rizq is guaranteed is not an excuse to be lazy. Ar-Razzaaq recompenses you according to your intentions.

3. Understand the ways of Ar-Razzaaq.
Some people do good deeds and practise their religion, yet they don’t feel much spiritual comfort. This motivates them to hasten to do more righteous work, which helps them to go to the higher and better spiritual state that Allah Ar-Razzaaq wants them to reach. So you might feel deprived of spiritual rizq (like tranquility in the heart), but this is a way Allah ‘azza wa jall causes you to be motivated to do more and therefore be elevated even more.

4. Trust in Ar-Razzaaq.
Never commit bad deeds in the name of seeking provision, and trust that all provisions will come from Allah ‘azza wa jal. A beautiful example is the baby raven; when it hatches, it looks white and therefore its mother (black in color) denies it and doesn’t recognize it. Then Ar-Razzaaq sends it insects to feed on until its feathers grow and turn black for its mother to recognize it. As a baby this bird is left forsaken, but Allah sends it its provision. Just as He provided for you when you were in the womb, He will provide for you after you are born.

5. Ponder what Ar-Razzaaq has given you.
Ar-Razzaaq placed us on fertile lands with countless blessings; even without care the green crops grow, flowers blossom, fruits and vegetables come out of the soil, and the blue oceans are bursting with fish. Ar-Razzaaq places the meat of most animals and birds at our service and gives them pure milk and honey. Contemplate your environment and grow your love for Ar-Razzaaq and your will to please Him.

6. Remember the counterparts in the Hereafter.
All the blessings from this world have perfect counterparts in the Hereafter. Remember the food and drinks in Jannah and ask Ar-Razzaaq for them each day. The people of the hellfire will have the most horrific foods and drink; ask Ar-Razzaaq to protect you from these.

7. Use your rizq in the right way.
Be trustworthy with Allah’s provisions; don’t seek haram means; this also prevents your supplications from being answered. One of the things that prevent your rizq from reaching you is your sin. So if you see people disobeying Allah who have material rizq, Ar-Razzaaq may have denied them their spiritual rizq, which is much worse.

8. Learn how to increase your rizq!
In the Quran and Sunnah ways are mentioned for you to increase your rizq; look out for them. Examples are striving for taqwa, praying with khushoo’, having tawakkul (reliance on Allah), upholding the ties of kinship, being thankful, asking for forgiveness and repenting, giving charity, and reading the Quran. When Fatima radiyallahu ‘anha complained to the Prophet salallahu ‘alayhi wa sallam about her heavy work, he said: Shall I direct you to something better than what you have requested? When you go to bed say ‘Subhan Allah’ thirty-three times, ‘Alhamdulillah’ thirty three times, and Allahu Akbar’ thirty four times, for that is better for you than a servant. [Al-Bukharee] Benefit from this advice.

O Allah, Ar-Razzaaq, we know that You are the one and only Provider. Make us of those who are content with Your provisions, guide us to work hard and use Your provisions wisely, and make us ponder them. Lead us to deeds that increase Your rizq and enter us into Your gardens by Your rahmah so we can enjoin the best of Your provisions, ameen!

And Allah knows best.

[tavyliasin]

Fooling An Incubus - April Foolishness One Shot! Haarlep x Multiple

Haarlep is bored... They manage to organise another little event, a buffet of desire to feast upon all night as various couples and groups enjoy their aphrodisiac tainted wine and specially prepared rooms. However, the wine was a gift from one Volothamp Geddarm. The wizard seems to have something other than tall tales up his sleeves, as Haarlep finds themselves experiencing pleasure through a different lens. It still feels good, of course, but there's something different to normal...

---

This is the April Fools "write terrible smut" challenge to use as many awful words for genitals and sex as possible. I gave it a paper thin plot as an excuse to throw Haarlep into the ring with a bunch of favourites.

5,157 Words (Split into 5 Chapter headings)

Click Here for AO3 Version And Click Here for the AO3 Collection with everyone's wonderful terrible works for the challenge! Pairing: Haarlep with: Astarion/f!Tav/Halsin, Dammon/Karlach/Wyll, Abdirak/He Who Was, and a passing mention of Volo/Blurg/Omeluum at the end SPICE Rating: 3.5/5  Content Warnings and Tags: Intentionally Bad Smut, Biting, Blood, Vampire Bite, aphrodisiac, Oral Sex, Group Sex, Restraints, Power Play, BDSM, Hand Jobs, Spitroast, Pegging, Sex Toys, magic sex toys, Cockwarming, using tails for sex things, furniture play (mild), Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, pain play, riding crop whipping, Anal Sex, overstimulation

Spoilers Barely a thing besides characters and the House of Hope existing. Canon Compliance HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA no. Other Notes I gave myself psychic damage writing it and now you can join me as you read it.

Song Pairing Ok maybe this time I'm being less interesting, but I tried looking for something with fitting lyrics and came up short. So instead, listen to the elevator music that I put on while writing it, that should fit the mood just fine~

FULL ONE SHOT BELOW THE CUT!

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Chapter 1 - Boredom and Wine

Haarlep was bored.

A known dangerous state for an incubus to be in, they were not only bored but they were hungry . Few guests had entertained them of late, so their mind turned over their options. No events they were aware of were due in the near future, and after their last little party Raphael had said in no uncertain terms that he would not be entertaining another orgy. They rolled their eyes. Surely there was something…

—

A week later, the rooms in the House of Hope had been prepared and a banquet thrown. A Spring Feast, Haarlep had argued, a way to bring together those who should be reminded of Raphael’s influence and affluence. They even invited Volothamp Geddarm to ensure that the fiend’s grandeur could be properly recorded in his rise to greatness - or that’s what they told him to soothe his ego and push him to allow the event to go ahead.

The incubus stalked the banquet hall, observing with no small amount of pride the couples, throuples, and other groups of guests that were slowly falling to the spiked wine. They sipped from their own glass, allowing themselves a slight smile of satisfaction as Volo himself strolled over.

“Ah, there you are! Are you enjoying the wine? I had it imported over myself, you know, from a very special supplier. I assume you’ve already tainted it? The flavour has a distinct edge of spice that I don’t recall from my last sampling.” The bearded wizard was already talking a mile a minute asking plenty of questions without awaiting a single answer. 

“You are already aware, then, of its effects? My usual guests should be retiring shortly~” Haarlep grinned a little wider, glancing down at the strange little man who had far too bright a look in his eye as he took a sip himself.

“That’s exactly what I’m counting on, my friend! A fine experiment, I should say, though it was not entirely of my own devising. You see there is a custom in a far off land for pranks at this time of year - nothing harmful of course, and I wouldn’t dare to interfere with your own particular feedings. I’m actually rather looking forward to a little dalliance with my fellow inquisitive minds.” He waved across the room at a hobgoblin standing next to an illithid, the sight itself making Haarlep relieved that Raphael had chosen to sequester himself away from the festivities for a change to focus on his contracts. “Now, do tell me everything tomorrow, I shall be very interested to hear of your experience.” 

Before Haarlep could so much as enquire what in all the hells the odd little man was on about, he was already walking away. With several of the couples already making their way to their rooms, the incubus chose to finish their glass and begin to visit the rooms they had arranged earlier.

---

Chapter 2 - The Pleasures of Elves

The first door opened to a sight that Haarlep drank in like a well aged spirit. 

A familiar looking elven rogue was on the bed, her vampire lover on one side and their druid on the other. All three looked as hungry as the incubus felt, licking their lips as they padded softly across the cool floor to the bed where the trio were waiting. 

“That didn’t take long, you owe me 5 gold.” Tav smirked, her body an open invitation which had been addressed to everyone in the room, and Haarlep was ready to lick the edge of her envelope to seal the-

They shook their head for a moment. That wasn’t right, was it? They looked back at her, admiring how her heaving bosom danced arousal with every breath. 

“Come on, Haarlep, there’s room for everyone.” She beckoned them over, as her lovers began to ply her with kisses. 

The incubus blinked away their confusion, savouring the rising lust in the room. Halsin was already guiding her hand towards his growing meatstick, while Astarion favoured pressing his mouth-hole against Tav’s neck, sharp points chomping down into her soft flesh. Tav moaned as his fangs penetrated her pale skin, legs spreading to reveal her moist garden of delight.

They felt their own ridged phallus beginning to try the strength of the leather harness that held them in place, though they were not concerned about seeking their own pleasure yet. They climbed onto the end of the bed, lifting her legs over their shoulders, savouring the little gasp as their spiked clothing pricked the underside of her thighs. Haarlep coiled their arms around her hips, fingers reaching around to dip into the well of her desire before using the ample lubrication to circle her hardened nubbin of pleasure. 

Tav’s sounds grew ever more lewd as Haarlep began to taste the nectar of her private rose, with a tongue that could put a hummingbird to shame. They glanced up, seeing her head thrust back into the pillows, her own dirty pillows quivering with excitement as Astarion’s bite had moved down to her chest. The larger of the two elves was enjoying the ministrations of Tav’s clever fingers dancing waltz along the length of his organ, the chord sounding from his throat still far from its crescendo. 

“My heart,” Halsin began to find his voice, “I need…more…” 

“My, my, darling, greedy today are we?” The vampire looked up, a thin trickle of body ketchup trickling over his bottom lip making his teasing question outright hypocritical. “Whatever shall we do?” 

“Astarion,” Tav moaned, cheeks hot and flush with arousal, “I have an idea…” Haarlep didn’t hear what it was that Tav whispered, but they saw the pale elf’s ears tint red.  A moment later, he was kneeling on the pillows, straddling Tav’s head but facing towards where they were still drinking in her sweet love-juice before it could spill down her thighs. They slowed their motions, holding her back from finishing while her lovers rearranged. 

They were almost disappointed that Tav’s soft little moans were being muffled by Astarion’s firm peach, her tongue clearly occupied with finding the pip at the centre of his forbidden fruit. Meanwhile, Halsin was eager to follow the vampire’s lead as he guided his lover’s head to devour his pink banana with a ravenous appetite. 

Seeing all three giving way to such intense desires only served to whet Haarlep’s own already drenched hunger. They curled their tail around to tease a line up from Halsin’s knee, teasing the soft and tender flesh of his juicy ham hock, feeling a thin trickle of oil slick betraying his readiness for what they were planning. 

The incubus was delighted to feel that the huge elf’s nether pit was ready to receive a fiend. They teased at his heated taint for a moment, relishing how he moaned his desperate need around the length of Astarion’s schlong bulging in his throat. The delicious noise only grew louder when they slid their tail several agonisingly slow inches into his tight and welcoming cave… They took a moment to imagine how good it would feel to slide their turgid meat-popsicle deep inside the druid instead, but that would have to wait for another day.

Haarlep refocused their efforts on Tav now, shifting slightly to change how they were teasing her planes of pleasure. Their fingers reached to curl inside her, tongue tracing out limericks on her sensual protuberance, sharp teeth just grazing her skin as she keened a wail deep into Astarion’s pleasure pocket. 

She was, of course, the first to break. The incubus was well versed in how to reduce Tav to a quivering mess of flesh, her liquor of desire coating their lips and tongue as they sucked every last moment of her climax into full and shaking overstimulation. Her lovers were not far behind, Astarion spilling his essence into Halsin’s waiting throat, the larger elf happily devouring it all as his own orgasm began. For a moment, Haarlep was concerned their tail might be bruised by the clenching of the druid’s muscular sphincter, a volcano of spicy mayonnaise spurting forth from his thick tally-whacker as Tav continued to pump it in a tight grip. Satisfied that the three would be more than able to continue without them, Haarlep licked the last of Tav’s personal syrup from their fingers. Above them, Astarion was doing the same for Tav’s hand which was dripping with Halsin’s honey-milk. Everyone had eaten well, and their shared pleasure had easily risen the incubus’s greed to sample something from as many rooms as they could before the dawn brought an end to the festivities. Although, as they stepped back out into the hallway, they couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it was that Volo had put into the drinks. Or, perhaps more concerningly, how they were becoming accustomed to the pervasive strange mood permeating their sexual exploits. 

---

Chapter 3 - A Tiefling Roasting in Hellfire

The second room was hot. Hotter than usual, which Haarlep soon realised was due to the presence of a certain one-horned Teifling who was eyeing them suspiciously. Wyll’s eyes almost mirrored Karlach’s asymmetrical horns as he leaned back on the chair with his arms folded behind his head, watching as the incubus closed the door. 

“You look…comfortable~” Haarlep greeted the pair, before indicating the third in the room with them. “Though he looks distinctly less so.” 

They were referring to the other Tiefling, peach hued skin completely devoid of clothing as he was on his hands and knees, blonde strands falling from the messy bun tied high at the back of his head. He didn’t turn to look at the new entry to the room, nor did he make a sound as his head was completely flush with Wyll’s lap. “Not to worry,” Wyll smiled, “Dammon’s fine where he is for now.” The blacksmith’s tail twitched slightly at the mention of his name. “Shh you stay where you are, good boy.” Karlach shifted in her own seat, bringing her legs up to use her lover’s back as a stool as she addressed Haarlep now. “Listen, demon-” 

“Incubus.” They corrected her, a little annoyance in their voice only quieted by the wave of arousal that beckoned to them, drawing their eye to the dripping manhood beneath Karlach’s footrest. 

“Whatever. I don’t usually associate with your sort, but given we are here on your invitation, and I’m able to breathe pretty freely here, you can stay.” Her brow furrowed, the glow in her chest looking all the more like a flashing warning. “But there are ground rules.” 

“And what would those entail?” Haarlep began walking towards the trio, inspecting the slightly trembling limbs of the man on the floor with interest. 

“First, no touching me. Look all you like, but I don’t want your hellish rod anywhere near my womanhood, and if even one drop of your infernal splooge gets near my minge I will personally incinerate you.” Her tone left no room for argument, and beside her the warlock was nodding. 

“Him you can touch, me perhaps. But it might be best if you sit back and watch.” He paused for a moment in thought. “You don’t need to be a direct participant in fornication to feed from it, right?” 

“I do not.” Haarlep nodded. “Although most find it far more enjoyable when I am an active player in our little games~” Wyll idly stroked the his lovers horns, pushing him down a little further onto his semi. “Good boy, a little more tongue now.” A slight mewl sounded from the blacksmith, muffled but carrying the taste of his lust in the noise. Haarlep licked their lips, savouring it. “Be that as it may, we have enough pieces on the board without your assistance, no matter how capable that might be. Do you agree to our terms?” 

They took a moment longer, considering the offer, and the other offers that awaited them in the other rooms. “Very well, entertain me.” The incubus pulled up their own chair, choosing a position with the perfect view of the trio. 

Karlach removed her feet from the blacksmith’s back and leaned over to lay a sloppy smooch on Wyll’s waiting lips, guiding his fingers to find the pearl of her dripping clam. “I’ve been waiting all day for this, soldier, please -” 

He wasted no time in drawing her to breathlessness, the man below still warming his swiftly stiffening pipe and shifting to accommodate the growing swelling in his mouth. Wyll made short work of whipping his lover into a frenzy, expertly twiddling his thumbs around the nether-nipple between her folds. He added to her sensation with his fingers hammering into the meat of her snatch, savouring the howl that fell from her lips as she creamed over his hand. Haarlep licked their lips involuntarily as they watched Wyll devour the splooge from each finger in the manner one might enjoy the last hint of icing from a slice of cake. They continued to watch, enraptured, as the Tiefling woman recovered her senses and began searching through her pack that had been left carelessly on the floor nearby. Their eyes widened as she pulled out several metal dongs, increasing in size until she was finally satisfied with the one she held. 

The final one she chose was almost impressively large - even by their own standards. She held it out towards the warlock first as she sat back in her chair, legs spread and feet resting on Dammon’s back again. Her weeping quim was clearly desperate to be filled, and Wyll obliged by casting mage hand to grip and manipulate the huge steel tickle-stick. “Gods, more!” She cried, gripping at her own heaving bosom as the mage hand increased its thrusting with a motion from Wyll’s hand. “We have to get it…good…good and warm…for him…” She panted heavily like a dog with its head sticking out of the window of a fast moving carriage, her hips bumping around like the carriage was going down 3 flights of stairs with the thrusting of the toy. 

The tiefling on the floor remained as still as he could, his tail betraying his excitement as it quivered behind him. Karlach managed just enough presence of mind to coil her own tail beneath him, taking a grip of his turgid knob to give it a good yanking. 

She jizzed with the force of a typhoon, barely releasing the blacksmith’s favourite hammer in time before she risked ripping it clean off his body with the force of her explosion. Her breasts danced erotically, nipples spinning with delight in the waves of pure bliss that took over her mind and body.  

Haarlep raised an eyebrow as they watched, not entirely certain what tricks reality was trying to play with physics, but it didn’t seem to matter to the three. Wyll was holding Dammon’s head gently, soothing the blacksmith while he still did not empty his mouth of the warlock’s mighty staff. Karlach took a few minutes to recover, finally fishing the leather harness from her pack and fixing the huge unit to it with ease, though it seemed a little difficult even for the barbarian to move around with it swinging about in front of her drenched muff.

She made sure to spread more of her slick moistness over the ridged metal before taking hold of the blacksmith’s tail and lifting it up. She pulled out a plug that was about half the size of the massive wanger she was wearing and tossed it casually to one side. It didn’t take much longer for her to knock on his backdoor, taking his muffled approval as invitation to thrust all the way in with one strong motion that made him almost choke on Wyll’s skin flute. 

The barbarian soon set a pace that could be described as barbaric, her breasts dancing to the rhythm with enthusiasm. Her tail curled around again, taking a grip on the blacksmith’s wing-wang and guiding his tail underneath herself to stuff it into her flesh pocket. Meanwhile, Wyll had his hands wrapped around Dammon’s horns, imitating a pole rub as he continued to have his soul sucked out of his ween. 

Haarlep felt a little pang of jealousy, but the lust in the air tasted better even than the lingering hint of Tav’s body on their lips. The licked them, straying one hand over their harness as they watched the trio spill out across the floor - or in Wyll’s case down his lover’s throat as he held the man close in place, hips bucking into him as he spooged enthusiastically. 

The incubus stood to leave while the trio were still regaining their breath. “Done so soon? I thought you devils had more stamina.” Karlach called out, still thrusting slowly as her overstimulated lover whimpered into Wyll’s groin, twitching and dripping onto the floor below. She slapped his toasted buns and drew a longer, muffled moan. “You could keep count if you like, see if we break our record with him.” 

“A tempting proposition,” they replied already turning to head to the door, “however I have plenty of other guests to attend to. Ones who are not averse to my participation.” 

“Suit yourself,” Karlach shrugged, looking back towards Wyll. “Ready, soldier?” 

“Gods, Karlach, give me a minute…” He stroked the loose hair of the man betwixt his thighs. “Good boy, keep me warm a bit longer…mmmyes right there, your tongue-"

---

Chapter 4 - A Dictionary of Discomfort

Haarlep strolled down the halls, passing through a few rooms as they went. They spent some time with Shadowheart and Lae’zel, helping them to settle an argument about who was taking which role by taking their Archduchess form and allowing the two to compete. It was a spirited debate, and it was nice to finally have their own personal Cania flooding at last.

The gith and the half elf were not done when they left though, the ‘argument’ turning into a full battle of stamina. The incubus made sure to leave them with plenty of water in reach, neither seemed willing to back down until the other passed out from the exertion. 

The next though… They paused in front of the next door, hearing the sounds of a far more intense session. They could almost taste the desire emanating from behind the solid wood, the door creaking open to reveal the sounds of the penitent and the priest beyond. 

— 

The scene was even more enticing than Haarlep imagined. He Who Was balanced on his toes, ankles chained to a sturdy pole with the hint of the toy at the top of it between his pale rear cleavage. At least a third of its length was filling his tight hole, a little oil trickling down his thighs. Abdirak was stalking around the nude Shadar-Kai, still fully clothed and wielding a thin crop that was leaving reddened welts across pale skin. 

“You are here to witness his penance? Or to join it?” Abdirak turned towards Haarlep, a wicked light reflecting off the cold steel of his face orbs. He had a way of looking right through Haarlep that sometimes put even their iron nerves on edge. They closed the door behind them, the click of the latch adding to the metallic mood of the room. 

“That depends~” The incubus stalked forwards, tail swishing behind them, wings rising and stretching in anticipation. “Do you wish to remain in this role? Or to endure your own pain for your Maiden’s blessings?” 

“I will not object.” He Who Was gasped, still trying to stay upright on his toes as Abdirak walked around to his front, tilting his chin up with one finger to observe his reaction. 

“You are certain, Dear One, that you can endure the agony delivered by another’s hand?” The priest checked, still watching closely even as Haarlep stalked around behind him to peer at the bound elf balancing on his toes. The incubus leaned over the spiked pauldrons of his shoulder, sliding their arms around his waist and savouring the jealousy in the green tinted eyes of He Who Was. 

“You need not concern yourself with what I can endure.” The Shadar-Kai responded firmly, the inky void of their gaze meeting the fire in Haarlep’s own eyes with a dauntless intensity, despite his current predicament. 

“Then so be it.” Abdirak leaned back towards the incubus. “I trust you will not disappoint. He has been… prepared , as have I.” 

Haarlep caught the meaning of his words - there would be no need to butter up the back alley of either man, nor would they need to be concerned about an abundance of pain. That was what they both wanted most, after all. 

It was the work of a few moments to pull the strands of the Weave in a spell that summoned a handful of red imps from another part of Avernus. The creatures sprang into the air with a brief and acrid scent of smoke and sulphur, and issuing orders in the infernal tongue was just as swift. Haarlep stepped back from Abdirak, though their hands drifted across his bare torso first, lingering and dragging a hint of claws as they moved away. Before parting completely, they slipped the crop from his hand, tapping it against his side to make a point.

“You won’t be needing any of this either~” They commanded the imps to remove the priest’s clothes, stacking though they saw no point in reminding the creatures to be careful with the sharp edges. Abdirak appeared pleased that the blades and points of his outfit tore at his flesh. Next, the imps wrapped their tails around his body. Some on the legs, some on the arms, a couple around his tender belly meat, fully supporting him as he was lifted into the air and suspended in a manner similar to the intricate rope patterns he often enjoyed. Haarlep stood facing the pair as they were held apart, eyes locked on one another. First they gave He Who Was a little whippy whip with their tail, striking his legs and watching with delight as the elf struggled on his toes, the end of the pole sinking deeper to probe his desperate prostate. Abdirak was granted a firmer slap to his nip nop with the whip crop, a deep grunt of appreciation reaching Haarlep’s approving ears. Both men were clearly craving the sweet agony of well applied domination, which the incubus was more than happy to provide. They continued a while in the same manner, alternating which got the crop and which took the hit from their tail instead. They were like a cat toying with its prey, adding their claws and teeth to the mix when the impact became dull.

They needed more though, more than just the panting and keening of two masochists who were about ready to nut if someone bit them in the gonads. Although…there was an idea. The imps followed instructions well, lifting Abdirak and turning him face down, bringing his face close to the elf’s twitching stiffy. Haarlep moved behind the priest, pressing his legs apart and digging their claws into the soft meat of his rump.

Their height worked to their advantage, finally dismissing their harness to let their gurt wanger flop out - although if there was one thing to be said about their sex right now it was certainly not floppy . They pushed into him, feeling how tight his ring felt despite the ample preparation, commanding him with a simple motion to begin to give He Who Was a little sucky-sucky. 

The incubus stretched their wings behind them, pleased that the only sounds they could hear were the wet slaps of their bollocks smacking against Abdirak’s ass, and the keening wails of both men enjoying and enduring their session. They made sure to provide the priest with as much pain as Loviatar demanded, sinking claws and teeth into his back and arms, commanding the imps to tighten their grips and pull at his joints so he moaned with a mouth full of elf-boner. They wrapped their tail around his hot manhood and teased at his leaking hole with the tip, threatening to plug it before it could spill, yet not following through on that threat either.  

He Who Was appeared to be struggling to control his voice, calling out long and loud, torn between succumbing to the pleasures of Abdirak’s skilled mouth and trying to prevent the pole he was balanced on from driving too deep and filling him completely. Eyes flashed from inky black to bright glowing green and back again, names Haarlep didn’t care for leaving with his composure presumably through an open window somewhere. Did the room have windows? Did it matter? Eventually Haarlep felt the building peaks of both men, licking the flavour from the air and savouring it before they blew their respective loads. Abdirak dutifully took every drop of his lover’s protein shake, swallowing with a satisfied moan as Haarlep filled him from the other end, the pulsing inside finally shattering him into squirting his jizz across the floor. 

Once all three had regained their composure - hardly a tough task for the incubus, though they did enjoy teasing both past their limits before they were done - Haarlep commanded the imps to set Abdirak on the floor once more, even motioning for a couple to support He Who Was. The Shadar-Kai was drunk on pleasure, the shaped end at the tip of the pole now fully seated within him. 

“You were both…delicious…” They mused, taking a moment to caress the cheeks of both men in an almost loving gesture. Almost. “I trust you can take care of yourselves from here?” 

“Until next time.” Abdirak nodded, before releasing the ankle restraints and taking He Who Was into his arms, lifting him from the pleasurable prison he had been placed upon. “Ah, Dear One… Let me savour your pain like a fine wine. You still wish for more, do you not?” Haarlep left them to it, knowing the screams of pleasure and agony entwined would echo from the walls from both for hours to come.

---

Chapter 5 - Coming to an End

“There you are, my friend!” Volo beamed excitedly as Haarlep finally arrived at the last room. Their other guests had all been attended to and left more than satisfied, though the remnants of the wizard’s particular wine still left their head full of strange words and thoughts. “Come, come. We have been awaiting your report rather eagerly.” The incubus followed the excitable man inside, noting the mindflayer and its partner were sat, fully nude, discussing a notebook whilst filling its pages. “They’re here.” The hobgoblin spoke plainly, turning to face them. 

“Take a seat, my good incubus, I have been so desperate to hear how inspirational the evening has been!” The wizard’s grin spread to every whisker of his beard, pulling a chair close to where the lovers sat together, Omeluum’s tentacles idly caressing Blurg’s body as it greeted them telepathically. “The wine has been of great interest to our studies. One has been taking note of everything within your mind, recording it, for posterity. Do all of your kind possess such an appetite?” It regarded them, with what they could only assume was a judgemental gaze, though something in its eyes also looked…impressed? Curious? Haarlep wasn’t entirely sure how to read the expression of a being with tentacles for a face and no genitals to speak of. 

“You’ve been…writing what’s in my mind?” Suddenly things began to make more sense, and they turned to Volo who was still smiling like a fool. “Is this what you poisoned the drinks with?” 

“Oh, no! No no no, picking up on thoughts is a particular skill of our tentacled friend here. I just added a little of my personal supply, a particular potion developed in the far lands of-” “The point, if you please.” Their tail batted at his shin like an irritated cat. 

“No appreciation for a good story these day-” Another swipe, higher up his thigh and dangerously close to the end of his personal staff. “It’s one I drink when I wish to write the more…erotic literature, you see. I find it makes the words flow far more freely, dissolves away all those nasty little blocks where one can’t find the right word to describe the situation.” “So you end up with the wrong words…” Haarlep sighed, the plethora of wizard sleeves and tickle-sticks running through their mind finally adding up to the sum total of fuck this guy. Although, that might not be such a terrible idea… “Tell me, do you have any other uses for that mouth other than running it a mile a minute?” 

“We do have room for another chapter.” Omeluum addressed the room through their collective minds. “One might wish to experiment with the effects of an incubus…” 

“Agreeable. Fine data to add, while the opportunity presents itself.” Blurg agreed, dutifully presenting himself as another point of data. 

“Hmmm I have yet to bed such a collection of creatures at one time, but I shall endeavour to please one and all, in the name of research!” Volo ejaculated, from his mouth this time but it was clear he was quite keen for other options with the speed in which his clothes hit the floor. 

Haarlep contemplated their options. By now, Raphael would be passed out over his desk, drenched in sweat and his own emissions from the amount of stimulation through their deal’s connection. They had planned to go there soon, wake him and make him beg for a their full attention, to feel pleasure firsthand and not just ecstasy’s lingering echoes through Haarlep’s copy of his form. But…this was an intriguing proposition, and it would be a way to take a little revenge on Volo for tainting their night’s pleasure for his own gain. Not that they hadn’t enjoyed their time, of course, but…

“Agreed.” They nodded. “But the wizard will need a gag.” 

—

By the time Haarlep was in the baths in the Boudoir, the light of whatever passed for dawn in Avernus tinting the room a brighter orange, they were entirely satisfied. Raphael’s stomping around and complaining washed over them like the scented soaps that smoothed their skin, as they completely ignored his rampage over how they had taken far too many lovers in one night and ruined his favourite underclothes. A copy of the manuscript, complete with the final chapter with the wizard and his cohorts, was already tucked safely away under the bed. Perhaps they could bind him to the bed and read it to the furious Master of the House later. He might quite enjoy hearing about how his Little Mouse had let her breasts bounce boobily as she squeaked with delight… They shook the thought from their head. Later. For now they continued to wash the kisses of a hundred lovers from their skin whilst trying to scrub the last of the terrible literature from their mind.

--- --- ENDING NOTES --- --- Thank you for joining me on this misadventure! Be sure to check out the other works in the collection or tagged on here with "BG3AprilFoolishness" This was...an experience? Let's call it that~ Really though it was fun to play with things being silly and using the worst terms I could drag from the depths. If you found this erotic, I'm not sure if I should thank you or apologise, either way NO REFUNDS! Until next time, loves, I promise I will never write anything this intentionally awful again. Probably. Until next year.

[possibilistfanfiction]

I absolutely adore the chef/sommelier au and always find so much comfort in your writing. i have a few questions/prompts if you’re interested in any of these:

1) how did they meet? were they part of the same circles and crushing from afar until they finally had the chance to work together? or did they have a more classic meet cute?

2)Ava mentions that she knows Beatrice prefers to eat in the kitchen rather than the restaurant and I would be curious about any backstory behind how Ava came to learn this.

3) one of those foodie travel adventures where they eat their way through X city or cities

ok so this is no1 but has hints of the other two (which i love & will maybe write later!)

also i guess... this turned into platonic bea & lilith are in love. who knows lol

//

you've known beatrice for so long now, you really should've seen this coming.

for as annoying as she is, she's remarkably talented — something that had made you frustrated with her, and yourself, for years during culinary school. beatrice's food is true to who she is: wholly precise and quietly playful, elegant and creative, and really, really warm. thoughtful. surprisingly fun. you've always been able to tell: your technical skills are the best in the world, better than hers or anyone else you've ever met, and your palette is exquisite; you run a kitchen with quiet authority, and each dish comes out on time, exactly as it's supposed to. you are very good at your job. but beatrice makes food — elevated chinese and european fusion dishes, whatever she's most interested in at the moment — that makes you want to cry in its capacity to comfort. not that you would ever admit it, but you have stepped away to the bathroom on a handful of occasions to do just that.

she's more your sister than anything else — your little sister, you make sure to remind her — and so when chef superion had essentially ordered — encouragingly — beatrice into opening her own restaurant after five years of being chef de cuisine and, really, being the quiet driving force behind those three michelin stars, it hadn't even been a question to you that you would go with her. that you would help with the menu and everyday operations; the design and hours of operation; the sustainable sourcing for all of your dishes that she's always been so invested in. that part, while exhausting, had been fairly easy: mary and shannon, who own an urban farm, had been thrilled to partner, and you came up with a collaborative menu together. you were able to secure local seafood from a few suppliers, local ethical meat from your favorite butcher. camila, admittedly your favorite chef from superion's, young and absolutely kind, had agreed to come on and do pastry. you and beatrice had hired yasmine as your sous, trustworthy and smart.

you've been elbow-deep in planning — food, interior, front of house, all of it — for months. you're pretty sure beatrice works, like, twenty hours a day, and doesn't do anything but that. she eats takeout quickly in the kitchen, standing over a trashcan. every friday you barge into her condo and force her to eat greasy pizza and watch reality tv and share a joint. a year or so ago she had asked you to buzz her hair for her and you still do now, weekly, because she's neat and confident and loves efficiency and, according to many, many women unfortunately saying this to you directly whenever you drag her out for drinks, it's hot. she takes you to doctor's appointments and picks up your dry cleaning; she's the only person you let sharpen your knives for you, and the only person you'll share a bed with overnight if you're too drunk or stoned or tired to go home. she never says anything, never minds, just grumbles when her alarm goes off and grumbles sleepily in chinese while she makes herself an espresso.

and so, really, it's your fault. you should've known. you're not sure how you should've known, but you definitely should have.

'so,' you say, lowering yourself into the chair across from her immaculately neat desk in her office in the back, 'i think i found us a sommelier.'

your drinks menu is one of the last things you have to finalize, and beatrice has been so fucking picky about who to bring on to do so. cocktails hadn't been that hard; hans is competent and creative. but the wine pairings have been a pain in your ass: one sommelier was too old to have fresh, exciting ideas; one was a cis white man so beatrice automatically vetoed that, which, honestly, you didn't hate and definitely should've seen coming.

'and who is it?'

'ava silva,' you say, flick open your tablet to his profile: ava is young and renowned already, and has experience with local, natural wines and restaurants all over the world, especially europe, brazil, and east asia. she is, you realize later with a heartfelt deep annoyance, beautiful.

'ava silva,' beatrice repeats. she reads through ava's profile, her accomplishments and accolades and references. 'they worked with taian table.' beatrice hums. 'i've heard of them.'

'yeah.' you force yourself not to roll your eyes at her reluctance.

'ava is available to meet for a consult?'

'tomorrow, if you want. i can take care of the oyster tasting if that helps.'

she laughs, and you let yourself crack a smile. 'i don't even want to be a part of your oyster tasting, lilith.'

'just because i have fun —'

'sleeping with our supplier better not backfire on us, that's all i have to say.'

and maybe you should've realized right then, when beatrice's eyes lingered on ava's professional headshot on her website, on her impressive accolades. 'i am a consummate professional,' you tell beatrice.

she shakes her head, fondly, and leans back in her chair, runs a hand over her hair. 'fine,' she says, 'i'll take the meeting with ava.'

'great,' you say, relieved in the moment. 'what's the worst that can happen?'

/

very soon, unfortunately, you find out: beatrice is fucking insufferable. ava is even more insufferable, flirting with horrible humor and fond, relentless teasing. beatrice is, somehow, blushing and stumbling around like a schoolgirl, despite her attempts at being a serious, focused chef. she burns her hand on a pot, sets a towel on fire, and spills a red wine reduction all over her favorite apron the first time ava is coming to try a few dishes on the menu.

'jesus christ,' you say, maybe a little bit of a prayer, 'what the fuck, chef?'

beatrice groans. 'ava is... pretty.'

she says it reluctantly, like it's terrible to admit. ava is definitely annoying, but even you have eyes. 'yes, we all know after having to watch you fumble around during one meeting that you think ava is pretty.'

'and,' she says, a blush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck, 'he's smart, and funny, and has an amazing palette.'

'well, he better.' you deflate a little; it's disarming to see beatrice this nervous, especially when it has nothing to do with her food being reviewed or rated. 'listen, beatrice,' you say, trying your very hardest to be gentle, just this once, 'this menu is gorgeous. i came up with eighty percent of it —'

'— you did not —'

'— so i can assure you that ava will love it, and that we can pair wines that will be excellent. and don't tell anyone i said this, or i legitimately will kill you, but you're an... impressive person. you're a remarkable chef. ava would be a fool to not see that.'

beatrice lets out a big breath. 'okay.'

'plus, it's kind of fun to see you trip all over yourself because of a crush.'

'i'm going to go change now.'

'yes, because you spilled because of a crush.'

'see you later, lilith.'

'yeah, yeah,' you say. 'i'll make sure to overcook the egg noodles, just for you.'

/

it's your fault, for sure, because you said yes to doing the food at their wedding — to make it worse, excitedly. it's gorgeous and it's a huge pain in your ass because there's, like, every cool chef in the world there, and a ton of Wine People, and beatrice has been traveling with ava filming something, so you've been running the restaurant. but still, beatrice gives you a hug and ava, terribly, kisses your cheek. they're both beautiful, and their backyard is full of edible flowers and herbs and vines with wine grapes. at one point, beatrice snags you by the hand to dance with her, which you protest for posterity and eventually give up on, as you always would have anyway. as you always have.

'thank you,' she says, 'for this. it's the best meal i've ever eaten.'

'i'm certain that's not true.'

she shakes her head; she's tan and has more freckles than you've ever seen on her, stretching across her cheeks — they'd gotten to film in brazil, apparently, where ava is from. but here it is, really: the whole world, right there, and beatrice has chosen to love you. she's chosen to want you as her sister, and you have always chosen her back.

'i'm really glad you're happy.'

'thank you,' she says. 'i am so happy.'

you roll your eyes. 'i know. it's nauseating.'

'lil.'

'after all of this, i want two weeks off when you're back from your honeymoon.'

'done.'

'well, a positive outcome, at the very least.'

she laughs.

'it's my fault, anyway. if i had just found a less beautiful, boring, straight sommelier...'

'i'm going to go dance with my wife now,' she says. 'love you.'

'yeah, yeah.' you squeeze her hand, linger for a moment in how softly she says wife, just because it's gentle and sweet and you don't hate seeing her this happy. 'love you too.'

[ohnothisisathing]

Deadlines

FitPac fanfic, fashion au. Fit has a project he needs done and he has just the place to get it done. He’s keeping it very professional with the floor manager.

Character: Fit, Pac, Mike, minor Bagi, mentions Missa, Madagio, and Lullah

I originally wrote this for Hideduo week, but got busy. It’s based off aspects of my job because I thought I could write something quick enough if I knew the subject well and I was wrong. Wasn’t going to post it, but I re-read it today and liked it.

Fit takes a moment to himself in the elevator to just breathe for these precious few seconds because as soon as he is on the correct floor it is back on the grind.

He’d just spent the last two hours sourcing zippers because one of the ones they’d ordered custom broke when it was being sewn in the day before but the jacket needed to be shipped today in order for it to be in London in time for the red carpet. His usual place only had one zipper with black, plastic teeth in stock so he had to go shop-to-shop in the fashion district until he found something good. Thank fuck Pac can cut the zipper and chage out the pull for him. Speaking of.

Fit walks out of the elevator and walks into Atelier Jorge. Pac is on his sewing machine still working on the dress, which would hopefully be done today. Fit would have to fly it there himself if it wasn’t and he’d prefer not to spend half a day on a flight just to handover the garment to the stylist team.

“Oi Pac!” Fit says rushing into the factory. Pac looks up from his work and smiles at him and Fit feels a bit more eager to be there.

“Oi Fit!” He says, lifting a hand from where he’s skillfully sewing a line of stitches to wave at him.

“Brought you a gift,” Fit says, holding the zippers up and then placing them in Pac’s hand, their fingers brushing slightly.

“Oh Fit, you shouldn’t have. This is too precious you know?” Pac say with fake seriousness, dramatically putting a hand on his chest. Fit snickers at his joke and Pac laughs with him.

“What can I say? I live to serve,” Fit jokes but turns to the task at hand, “I was able to find 15.5 cm so we won’t need you to shorten them like we thought.“

“Oh thank God,” Pac responds more sincerely.

“Yeah, so we save some time there, but we still need to put our custom pull on the zippers, but you can do that, right?”

“Yes! Absolutely! It will take, eh, maybe 10 minutes.”

“That’s incredible Pac!” Fit says genuinely, feeling relief at having one less step to worry about.

“It’s not that incredible,” Pac says in that doubtful way of his that Fit has never understood. He sews the highest quality and manages all the other sewers and fixes all the machines. He’s so blindingly talented that there is no way anyone doesn’t see it.

“Really Pac, you are saving us so much time and money. Most places don’t offer this. I’d have to get it done at a zipper supplier. Really, you’re too good to me.” Fit smiles down at him.

“Thank you Fit,” Pac says with a shy smile. Fit feels warmed by him accepting his praise and putting any weight behind Fit’s opinion.

“Stop flirting and get back to work!” A familiar voice says behind them, “we have a deadline, you know?”

Bagi smiles at Fit as Pac bristles.

“We are not flirting! We are talking like professionals”

“Yeah, we’re just having a professional conversation,” Fit assures her because they were only talking as colleagues.

“Uh huh,” Bagi says with amusement though Fit doesn't know why, “Well. Can you talk professionally and work? We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Yes, Bagi. Of course, sorry,” Pac says, going back to sewing.

“I’ll get out of your hair. Sorry to distract your floor manager and best sewer Bagi.”

“It was only a moment so it was okay. I just did not want him to be distracted too long. You two can do that after the deadline,” the owner of Atelier Jorge says and Fit feels his face turning red, which is extra embarrassing for a bald man

“Do you want to see the dress so far? It’s nearly done.”

Fit did not, but his boss would want photos, even if it’s best practice to not take pictures until it’s fully done. It should be fine since they already fit the muslin sample weeks ago and Madagio was happy with it then.

“Yes please,” Fit says taking out his phone to text his boss that he was taking pictures.

Pac stops sewing and snips the thread before handing the dress to Bagi. Pac then gets up and moves to the small work bench area with the zippers. Fit is tempted to stay and watch him work, but his job comes first.

He follows Bagi to a door and after she finishes knocking they walk into a small office with a large window and a large drafting table.

Mike is hunched over the table, measuring a circle with a ruler, turning it in a precise measurement. No doubt working on their next job. Mike is a brilliant patternmaker so it could be anything from a maxi dress to a tailored coat.

“Oi Mike, Fit is back and wants to see the dress.”

Mike looks up from his work, frowning and sneering at being interrupted but that  quickly changes when he sees the dress.

“Oh, yes! Fit, it's amazing. You’re gonna love it,” Mike says, taking the dress from Bagi and putting it on the form. They didn’t have a child’s form so it didn’t fit at the waist correctly and did not zip close at the shoulders, but the overall look was easy to see. They’d already made the dress to the measurements of their client and when Lullah came in for her muslin fitting she was completely delighted from the experience and the dress.

It did look amazing. The skirt was completely purple organza ruffles with sleeveless embroidered tulle on the bodice. It was elegant and fun and his niece was going to love it, but he had to make sure his boss, who was paying for it, also loved it.

“It looks really good,” Fit says while taking pictures of the front and back and sending them to Madagio, “I want to take a picture of it with the jacket on.”

Bagi, smiling, leaves the room to go get it. When she leaves Madagio texts him back.

Wow!

Let me see it with the jacket

“The boss likes it,” Fit tells Mike with a relieved grin, not conveying the second part because it’s already handled.

“Good. He did not give us a lot to work with, you know?” Mike says with understandable irritation considering that Madagio didn’t have almost any experience in this and Mike ended up practically designing everything because of that, but that’s why he hired Fit as a production manager since he did everything else. 

“We usually do T-shirts and sweatpants and hoodies, not all this.”

Pac walks in instead of Bagi, but he’s holding the jacket so he figures that Bagi must have gotten busy with something else. Besides, he's always happy to see Pac.

“Bagi asked me to bring the jacket,” he says to the room and Fit walks up to take it.

“I’ll take that. Thank you Pac.” He pauses to smile at him and Pac smiles back and it’s always such a nice smile to look at that everything else falls away for a moment. Fit realizes that he’s staring and clears his throat and awkwardly says, “uh, yeah thanks”

He misses Pac’s embarrassed look when he forces his eyes away but he does not miss Mike’s snigger. 

Fit puts the child size jacket on the form and takes a picture, front and back, of the jacket. It was the most important piece since it tied the two looks together and has the most visible branding for this pet project Madagio gave Fit. It’s a leather jacket embroidered with flowers with their new high luxury brand “Stranger in Paradise” embroidered on the back collar. It looks incredible. Fit immediately gets a text from his boss.

Beautiful!

This will definitely sell

Good job Fit

Tell the team thank you

Send me pics of suit when ready

Fit smiles at the response. When he got this job at Vacuus, a hearing aid brand, he’d basically been hired to make merch. They made colorful, art printed cases and designs for hearing aids that were popular with children and the fashionable set so they updated their merch along with updates in their hearing aid designs. The job had its own problems but it was consistent and Fit was good at it. The opportunity with the current project came up when his ex-brother-in-law, Missa, needed a red carpet look for himself and his date, his daughter Lullah. He’d told Missa about this atelier that could make him whatever he wanted, but when Fit mentioned it to Madagio his boss saw it as an opportunity to expand their clothing line with a few luxury pieces and said he’d like Vacuus to be involved. Lullah already wore Vacuus hearing aids and Missa was relieved to work with Fit so they’d said yes. Luxury was not at all like everything else he was doing before for Vacuus, but he still had his connections and experience from working for Wasteland and nothing can be worse than working for his previous company.

“So Fit, what do you think? It’s pretty, yeah?”

Fit looks up from his phone to Pac.

“Yeah the boss likes it a lot!”

Pac’s smile falters and Fit scrambles to think about what he said that caused that until Mike speaks up.

“He wants to know what you think of it Fit, not your dumb boss. He wants you to say ‘ah Pac you’re so talented! I want to stick my-“ but Mike gets cut off by Pac covering his mouth with his hand. If looks could kill a tragedy would have happened. Fit just smiles at their antics. Those two are just like this.

“I think it’s beautiful. I can’t thank you enough. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without either of you. This project will change everything for me. For the better!” Fit adds, meaning every word, “I’m lucky to have such talented friends. Thank you Mike. Thank you Pac.”

They both seem stunned silent for a moment, Pac’s hand still over Mike’s mouth, but only a moment. 

“Mmmmm hmmm hee,”  Mike says under Pac’s hand but slaps it away with a chuckle, “you’re welcome Fit. You’re very easy to work with. It would be good to get more jobs from you.”

“If all goes well, you will be seeing a lot more of me.” Fit smiles. If they get sales after the red carpet Fit’s whole job will change and he’ll need all the help he can get.

“Ooh Fit, that would be amazing. We would like to see you here a lot more,” Pac says with an admiring look that makes Fit’s heart beat faster. He has to remind his stupid heart to stay professional. Pac is a friend but also a colleague.

“I would like to see more of you,” he settles on what he hopes sounds more neutral to them than it does to Fit. Not just that he likes spending more time with Pac. Just in case it comes off weird he adds, “If this luxury line does well I’m getting a promotion! More money for Ramón’s college fund!”

“Oh Fit! Speaking of Ramón, I’m making a present for him, if that’s okay. I’ve been too busy with the dress and jacket and the suit, but you know very well what I’m working on, right? You don’t need me to tell you what we’re making for you. But anyways I made one for Richas and-“

“One for Richas? Only if counting has changed. He spoils him, Fit,” Mike says with a conspiratorial stage whisper.

“Me?” Pac immediately turns to Mike, “You let him have a chocolate fountain in his room! I don’t want to hear about spoiling our son from you!”

Fit just watches amused. These two are like a comedy act together. Their son Richas is a lot like them. Fit has met five of Richas parents, but he knows there’s at least one more, and he’s sure that between all of them he’s plenty spoiled. He doesn’t say that though.

“So you made something for Ramón?” Fit interjects between their domestic spat.

“Oh, yes! Yes, it’s not ready and I want to keep it a surprise if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, I’m sure if it’s fine for Richas then it’s okay for my boy. I trust you Pac.”

Pac seems pleased with his words and that makes Fit feel like a giant. Making Pac happy feels like a high and he’s only too happy to continue doing it. In the confines of professionalism of course.

“Thank you Fit,” Pac says a little in awe, “I should be finished in a couple days. When is he coming here with you again?”

Ramón has been staying with his twin, Dapper, adopted separately but Fit and Dapper’s dad found each other and have made sure to set up time for them to be together.

“He’s away for another week. I have him staying with family while I’m busy with this job.”

“Perfect! I miss seeing him. He always likes to show me all the little things he makes. He’s so cute”

Fit just smiles to that, enjoying the praise to his beautiful baby boy.

“I’m sure he’ll love it. He thinks you’re great.”

“He does?”

“Mmmhmm,” he hums in the affirmative. He doesn’t mention his cheeky little son asking if Pac will be his new dad. It has been a little lonely with him away and after today he won’t have this deadline to take up his time and a full week without his son at home.

“Would you, uh, would either of you want to do something next week? Outside of work? We haven’t hung out in a long time and Ramón isn’t back for a week.”

“I’ve got Richas next week, but we’re going to the zoo on Wednesday if you want to come along,” Mike offers and Fit nods.

“That would be fun. It’s been so long since I’ve been to a zoo. Is Richas as crazy about birds as you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Mike lies to his face.

“I mean the 10 birds you were fostering for half a year. How many do you even have now?”

“Oh you hate saving the lives of birds. You’re jealous that they have feathers and you’re bald. I see how it is,” Mike says, suspiciously not answering him, “Can you believe him Pac?”

“How could you Fit?”

“I just prefer them grilled,” Fit jokes, enjoying the banter, “but I’m in for going to the zoo. What about you, Pac.”

“Oh, yes!”

“You know since I’m watching Richas, Pac’s schedule is empty. He will be sitting at his apartment alone all week.”

“Oh, uh Pac, would you like to do something? Besides the zoo that is. Not that we can’t do the zoo again or something if you really wanted to.” Fit rambles, to his own embarrassment.

”Oh, yeah, we could hang out or something. We can even go to the zoo again if you want! Yeah, just the two of us hanging out. Just two bros. Haha!”

”Yeah, we can go to the zoo again. Or maybe we can go to that Bakery Etoiles is so crazy about, “The Dungeon” but in French.”

”Isn’t it “Le Dungeon”? Actually I don’t know what it is in French either,” Pac laughs nervously, “Ignore me. But I would love to go with you to the dungeon bakery sometime next week Fit.”

”Cool, it’s a date,” Fit says and only processes a second too late what he said, “I didn’t mean it like that! It’s an expression, an expression.”

”It had better be a date. It’s the only reason I haven’t told you all to get back to work,” Bagi’s voice suddenly interrupts them. Pac and Mike both actually jump at her voice. Fit is grateful for the distraction from him wanting to fall into a hole from embarrassment.

”Right, sorry Bagi. I’ll get to work finishing the dress. I already gave Batista working on the jacket to put the new zippers in.”

”Good, good. Now go stop getting distracted by your boyfriend.”

”Bagi!”

”Go Pac.”

Pac Grabs the dress and heads back out to the sewing area of the floor. Mike has already moved back to his drafting table without a word, pretending that Bagi’s intervention hadn’t been needed. Bagi smirks in amusement at them before turning her gaze to Fit.

”I’m surprised it’s you of all people who is distracting them.”

”Why? I’ve known to be distracting by many people.”

”Because if these clothes don’t ship on time you are the one who will have to answer to your boss and your family. Two kinds of people you never want to let down.”

“Fair enough,” Fit grimaces, because he really can’t afford to lose this job and he’d hate to disappoint Missa but especially, Lullah. Then Phil would never forgive him. There’s a chance that if this doesn’t ship then Fit loses his job, gets deported, disappoints his family, and loses one of his most reliable friends, “ you make a good point.”

Bagi smiles amusingly at him and makes her exit, presumably to get back to her job doing what it takes to run this place.

It’ll all work out. He has faith in these people to get everything done in time. Bagi is good at her job and Pac is exceptionally good at running his floor, speaking nothing of his own skill as a sewer. 

Fit smiles to himself.

And he has a not-date with Pac to look forward to once this is all done. Not bad at all.

[boogeyalltheway]

guys. i think we should talk about the Presentable Liberty and Expotable Money character lore.

SPOILERS!!!

Theres two endings to Presentable Liberty: one where you leave your room to find out your prison cell was the elevator the whole time (Mr Money moneysaving tactics tm), and one where you don't. the leave ending is obviously sadder, but the stay ending give you so much more info? Like, Mr Money explains his whole plan to you (classic villain, very chefs kiss). of course, I think it can be said both games are about loneliness? yes?

PRESENTABLE LIBERTY:

Prisoner was trapped there because they're one of the few who's IMMUNE TO THE VIRUS, that's why Mr Money says "you're worth every penny". He fed them and a few others one of the only working versions of the antidote, which means there's more ppl like them (potential to explore aftermath of the game). I feel like ppl dont know about this? and he was all planning on harvesting their organs and all that for money, which he does, but yknow. we can pretend. one can explore whether or not all the prisoners were in the same building, whether you meet prisoners on the outside, or you could talk about the fact that a lot of the Happy Buddies were being fired because the prisoners were killing themselves and all that. Trapped lonely.

Salvadore's cool, the Prisoner and him were friends before, that seems like an obvious place to arrive. Loneliness of freedom? Room to explore backstory for him and the Prisoner. I got a headcannon: he picked his name for himself because he wanted to sound cooler. Seems par for the course for him, and that would be a cool little detail. I'd love to explore his relationship with the prisoner, and if any of you watched Sanders Sides, he gives BIG Roman energy.

Charlotte has "pick your poison" type loneliness. It somehow seems like both of them are very good at loneliness, however you wanna interpret that. She also gives "person who loves the colour purple".

Mr Smiley's my favourite, but that's only because there's so much about him. He was hired to be the prisoner's happy buddy, Mr Money was holding his two daughters hostage to keep him working, turns out they died ages ago, you wonder what his life and work day was like, and with all the lore, you wonder what kind of person he was. The fact that his name is Mr Smiley is just salt in the wound.

LETS TALK ABT EXPOTABLE MONEY.

prequel to Presentabe Liberty.

Youre Mr Money's organ supplier. so. immediately, added layer of depth. you, Mr Money, and Madame Sinclaire, whos a baddie, we love her. I like how it explores the opposite side of the fight, the moneys side. I believe its about one's obsession with earning money, and in fact about how when you're anxious about money, no amount seems enough and you use everything you can to try to get more. the "I need to keep earning more money or it'll all disappear if I look away" mentality. (If you haven't read the short story Johnny Mnemonic, it feels like that is what this game is based off of, or maybe theyre just coincidentally thematically similar in which case read it anyways,)

I feel Madame Sinclaire was one possible future for Mr Supplier where she also used to be hyperfixated on money but was able to turn away from that, while Mr Money is the opposite possible future. you earn money even when you don't click, and i'm not sure but can someone comfirm whether or not the clicking is slowing down your money production? THAT would be a great element of the game to further represent the money-obsession theme I theorize. its also your choice whether or not to send your cat on more trips, and in the end, one can argue its Mr Supplier's fault his cat got killed. One could also argue Madame Sinclaire somehow knew the cat was theirs and killed it to prove a point.

Also just a side note, it seems that the organ failure was an accident that Mr Money didn't expect, but he managed to make it work in his favour still. somehow. perhaps he wasnt concerned because of his secret weapon, the Prisoner.

I do think I will need to watch or play Menagerie: Archive if this obsession continues, I hear theyre in the same universe.

[buttercream-princess]

The First Night In Rio (Oneshot)

Summary: Last year you had more losses than wins, so when the opportunity to go to Carnival in Brazil came along, it was the healing getaway you needed. Along the way, you meet a beautiful stranger at the club who provides you with the sexual healing you also needed.

**I’m terrible with summaries but you get the gist. 😉

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing, Peeping Tom Behaviour, Unprotected sex, SMUT, interactive, public sex, cheating

Word count: 7.7K

Paring: Alfred Enoch x Reader

(Only slightly edited | only proofread once!)

Thank heavens, the year was finally over. 2022 was filled with nothing but heartbreak, worrisome regrets, and waves of pain that kept you up every night, leaving puddles of tears on your childhood plushies that always knew how to soothe you. Without your plushies, your go-to sappy playlist on Spotify, and your favorite California red wine, you were sure the earth would've swallowed you whole.

In March, your fiancé of two years, Elijah, called off the engagement without explanation or closure. He left you standing there speechless, surrounded by the half-empty apartment the two of you shared, with just a brief goodbye and dirty dishes in the sink.

 "I think it's best this way. We were never gonna make it," he said bluntly.

As Elijah's belongings were already packed and out of sight, you were left to cancel the wedding invitations and hires alone. Elijah didn't even bother to help cancel the suppliers and planner, leaving all the nitty-gritty, heart-aching tasks to you. Your best friend of ten years, Iyana, was by your side the entire time, helping you tick everything off the wedding disaster checklist. That was the easy part.

Administrative tasks come naturally to you, but the hard part was the inevitable loneliness and continuous questioning of "Why?" when you slept on his side of the bed at night, smelling his cologne in the sheets and trying to hold onto what was and the remnants of his love that was no longer there.

The endless headaches from crying and lack of self-care due to the cold sting of depression left you in a mess.

In November, you finally received an answer to your "why" about Elijah. It was during a wine and movie night with your friends, and you were beginning to forget about him, even if only for the moment. That is until Iyalna asked you to call her phone because she thought she had left it in her car.

"Got you, girl. I'll call it now," you said, tapping open your phone and dialing her number.

"Thanks, lovely," Iyalna said as she headed out the door.

You could hear muffled buzzing coming from the kitchen. "Iy, I think it's here!" you called out, but there was no response. "Oh, she can't hear me. She must have gotten on the elevator already..." you thought, following the sound of her phone.

You peeled back a bag of chips that was hiding her phone and pressed down on the home button to turn off the vibration.

Elijah - 2 Messages

Wait, Elijah? Your Elijah? Why would he be texting her?

Two seconds hadn't gone by, and your curiosity got the best of you. You usually respected boundaries and were not a nosy person, but this called for investigation. You unlocked her phone. You didn't know what to expect, but nothing could have prepared you for what you saw next.

"Can't you just cancel on Y/N tonight? I swear she asks to see you almost every week. She's so needy, like a sad little puppy 🙁"

"I miss you. Come home soon."

"Also, I'm staying up for when you get back. I may or may not have bought you something that I want to use on you. 😏"

Hell broke loose when you confronted Iyalna with the texts. Extensions were pulled out, and blood was drawn that night. Your other girlfriends had to pull you off of her. 

It was a nasty sight but you felt no regrets. A good ass-whooping was all the closure you needed. In a way, you were grateful for the falling out. It answered all of your questions and remedied the painful nights you experienced daily. From that moment, you were completely done with fiances, dating, best friends, and overall letting people into your vulnerable and annoyingly soft heart. 

Although you were satisfied with the end result of the whole situation, you felt the burn of two heartbreaks double-time over. You painted on a happy face every day, but you were subconsciously in agony, mourning people who you thought were your soulmates.

Something as devastating as what you experienced called for a life cleanse. By December, you challenged yourself to enjoy life without dating or romance, and without allowing people to toy with or manipulate your heart behind your back. Your emotional wall was up like a barricade on a battlefield.

Sure, this choice of yours had some toxic holes, but it kept you safe. And that's exactly what you wanted: a sense of comfort and "peace".

The agreement you made with yourself did have its perks, you must admit. You learned the beauty of saying "No" to things you had no desire to participate in, whether romantically or platonically. But this boundary was bittersweet; friends started inviting you out less and less, and eventually, you forgot what it was like to be touched by someone with the desire to connect with you on a deeper level.

January was kicking off with a bang. You had taken all your energy and put it into your job at Beleza Do Mar, the most prestigious beauty and wellness company in North and South America. As a social media marketing manager, you spent day and night pushing out magnificent results that exceeded expectations. So much so that work had become your crutch, a rewarding replacement for any kind of relationship.

In fact, you were working so hard that your boss took note and became both pleased and worried. You were working from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m., beyond the usual hours. Psyched up on caffeine and adderall, you sometimes even forgot to clock out and return home. But your presence and dedication were definitely noticed.

One afternoon, after another sleepless night at the office, your boss, Maya, called you into her office.

"So, Y/K, your performance has been phenomenal," she said.

"Thank you. I just want to make sure everything is perfect," you replied, your finger jittering with the hem of your skirt due to the five black coffees you've already downed that morning.

"Yes. Everyone appreciates all the work you've been doing. You've raised our sales numbers just from your insight." A thin-lipped smile formed on her lips. "But..." she lingered, her smile slowly fading into a stern gaze.

"Yes?" You knit your eyebrows together in confusion.

"But at Beleza Do Mar, we can't possibly - or legally - allow you to work more than 38 hours a week. I looked at your clock card online, and you've been working 45 hours per week."

"I don't see the issue. I've been acing every project that's come my way, plus handling the extra tasks of everyone in my team and picking up slack in Communications."

"That's the problem. You're working seven hours beyond our full-time employee bandwidth, and that's not even including the wellness seminars and out-of-office engagements that have been assigned to you." She showed a downward smile as her brows narrowed together. It was as if it was painful to present you with this news.

"So...am I...fired? Please don't tell me I'm fired." Your stomach churned. "This job is all I have left." you say, feeling a teensy bit pathetic, but you couldn’t help being so transparent, it was the truth. This job was your be-all and end-all at the moment.

Your boss quickly jumped to your relief. "Y/N, I know you've had a difficult year. I share my sympathy with you. I know things haven't been easy for you. Beleza Do Mar is a wellness company, and we don't find pleasure or joy in overworking our staff..."

You stared at her, eyes wide open and heart racing, waiting for her to continue.

"We are giving you an all-expenses-paid holiday in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, with three extra invitations for guests of your choosing. It's a yearly trip that the higher-ups go to for Carnival. One of the vice presidents called in sick and couldn't go, so it's been passed down. I figured, out of everyone, you would benefit from the trip the most." She paused, breathing in, and a fixed grin grew on her face. "This is off the record, but my love, you need a break. You've been working yourself to the bone. This would be an enlightening time to go to Rio, smell the flowers, and connect your feet to the welcoming soil of the mother..." She smiled with a glint almost shining off her holy teeth, "Mother Earth, that is."

Of course, she would say that. She's a homeopathic vegan doula turned executive president for a company that was in Forbes' "The Global 200" list. This was something that you could never quite get your head around. She's a product of the company, you guessed.

"I understand...and am extremely grateful. I just can't up and leave my job. I have bills to pay," you said, mumbling the last bit.

"No need to worry about that, flower child. We are covering all the days you are on holiday. You'll be paid for every workday, limitless room service, plus per diems that are quite gracious, if you ask me."

Your posture relaxed in your chair as you heard this. This sounded like a dream. Almost too good to be true.

"What about my projects?"

"Not your problem while on holiday. I'll have Jennie in Socials take care of everything. All you have to worry about is what you're wearing for Carnival and lathering up on Beleza Do Mar 50+ sunscreen while you're there. The South American sun takes no prisoners, trust me." She cheerfully informed you.

You let out a sigh of relief while pondering over your options. Though you had arising work questions and tried to fix made-up dilemmas to protest about, you took a minute to sit on the idea of a holiday. You looked back up to Maya, who had her computer screen turned around to show you the five-star resort you'd be staying at.

A plunge pool and limitless room service didn't sound too bad. You hesitated to respond, quickly gathering your thoughts.

"I mean...I have nothing to lose. Why not..." A thought of consolation eased into your mind as you eyed the kind luxurious bed shown in the photos on the laptop.

You couldn't help the goofy smile as you gave your answer. "Okay, I'll take the holiday."

Maya let out a high-spirited "Fabulous!" followed by reassuring elements about the trip that were sure to put your anxiety-driven mind at bay.

Carnival in Brazil? That was an event you'd always wanted to go to. Once you put your over-eager girl-boss demeanor aside, you were shyly beaming with joy.

What were the odds of this trip falling into your lap? If you needed a sign from God that you deserved some sense of calm after the storm, this was it.

_________________________________________

"Okay, and are you wearing the skin-toned sheer tights I bought you with your carnival outfit?" your mom blissfully asks.

"No, Mom. My legs look fine just as they are," you say.

"Sweetie, I told you your cellulite looks like a striped Bengal tiger. It's beautiful, I just love it! Nature, gorgeous. But don't you think you'll catch more bees if your honey is hidden? Or however that saying goes," she blurts out, not even thinking once to mince her words.

"Mom!"

"What? I'm only saying what I think is right. Plus, it's your father's fault you have that backside. Those Y/L/N genes are too potent."

"Oh my god, I'm not speaking about this right now," you blatantly state while shaking your head as the bellboy at the luxurious hotel you're staying at packs your bags onto the luggage carrier, guiding your group into the entrance of the accommodation.

February whined around, and eventually, you found yourself in Rio, ready to get blind drunk, dance until your hips go numb, and practice the Portuguese that you've been learning on Duolingo for the past month. Unfortunately, with the price of unbreakable boundaries, you've burned more bridges than you could count on your fingers, so those three extra tickets you were given were going to waste until you mentioned the trip to your family in a group Facetime. By the time you accidentally mentioned that you didn't have anyone to attend Carnival with, your little sister and mother already volunteered themselves to fill the spot, along with your mother's best friend, Tamara. There was no turning back when they decided they were coming, plus you could use the familiar company. You've been lonely in the city for what felt like centuries.

You near the front desk, tapping the bell as no one is around to attend to you.

Your little sister, Nia, already has her phone out, capturing every second to post on her Instagram story.

"Nia, delete that. Now."

"What? No way. This is funny as fuck. It's only going on my close friends."

"We just landed like 30 minutes ago, and you're already airing out my business? You are unbelievable." You aim to take her phone, but her hand slaps your movement out of the way, and suddenly, the two of you were squabbling over her phone, making a scene in front of everyone watching.

Embarrassment was an understatement, but you were more embarrassed at the thought of her friends in your hometown reporting to their older siblings that your whole derriere was up for shits and gigs.

"Girls stop, you're being ridiculous," your mother says as she takes selfies with Aunt Tamara, already basking in the vacation vibes.

Who would have thought you and your 20-year-old sister would already be bickering over Instagram posts at 7 PM in the afternoon of the beautiful paradise that is Brazil? You were grown but not too grown to put your little sister in her place.

From an earshot, you hear the concierge clear their throat and speak out loudly.

"Boa tarde senhorita (Good Afternoon, miss), how may I help you?"

You instantly end the debacle and give your attention to the front desk, straightening out your clothes and readjusting your hair.

You force a toothy smile as you respond, "Hi, I'd like to check in. We are under Y/L/N. There are four of us."

"Si, let me just check…alright, we have you in our presidential suite. I'll just have to grab identification, and I can get the keys for you."

Presidential suite? Maya wasn't lying when she said this was 5-star, damn!

The handover happened swiftly, and soon you and your family were unlocking the door to the suite.

All you could hear were gasps as you stepped into the room. Soaking in the rich greenery and smell of sea salt water, you run to the deck outside and take in the beautiful scenery. Your heart welled with lovely goodness; this is exactly what you need.

You were a 10-minute stroll from the beach, the sun was setting in a pink-hued orange bake, and the sound of early festive parties for Carnival was all happening on the beach. You were speechless, just in complete awe.

"This is better than I expected. I'll give it to you. This is amazing," Nia says as she comes up from behind you, joining you at the rail of the suite.

She was right; this is beyond amazing.

"Thanks. I'm just happy we're here." You childishly raise a brow and look over at Nia, not being able to hide your giddiness; a smile creeps up on your lips.

"What? Not mad anymore?" She asks.

"How could I be? Do you see this? I'm just…grateful." A single tear escapes your eyes, exhaling out all the stress, worry, and heartache that you carried with you to Brazil, in complete gratitude.

"Aweeee, look at my big baby. It's okay, let it out." Nia wraps her arms around you, embracing you in a tight squeeze as the two of you look out to waves crashing on the shore.

Feelings stirred and brewed in you; you didn't know what it was, but everything coming into place just made you emotional.

"Y'know, even though you're a bitch sometimes, I'm happy you're here. And I love you," you mumble into her hair, hugging her back.

"I know."

"And I know we might both be jet-lagged, but how does 'First night in Rio, getting fucked up off some shots and funk carioca' before Mom and Aunt Tamara crash our night sound to you?"

"I don't know what funk carioca is, but I heard shots, so I'm in." Nia laughs, resting her head on your chest. "And it's better we fuck off before they start getting into the bar. I don't wanna hear Mom singing any Prince to us tonight."

You and Nia giggle to yourselves at the memory of your mom doing karaoke whenever she gets drunk.

"Let's unpack and take showers. Tonight we get fucking scattered." She exclaimed and cheekily smacks Nia's bottom before heading inside to the suite.

—------------------------------------------------

Thanks to Nia's research on the best nightclubs in Rio for young people from Tiktok, the two of you were able to find a hidden gem that played tasteful R&B tunes and served delicious cocktails. As most tourists did not know about this club, the Y/L/N girls were able to stand out, and locals were dancing with and buying drinks for you all night.

After three margaritas and three shots, you were feeling your skin and your confidence was skyrocketing in the outfit Nia picked out for you. She suggested ditching the heels for some flats, as this is something true Brazilians would wear to the club. Thank god you listened to her, as all the girls sported sneakers or sandals.

A local boy who had been buying you drinks all night asked if you wanted to dance, but you declined, saying you were taking a break and feeling tired. He nodded and went to dance with his friends. Although he was cute, he was young, and you would pass him off to your sister. Meanwhile, Nia was preoccupied with a girl with sun-beached curls pressed against the wall of the club, trying to lay some game despite not speaking an ounce of Portuguese. You chuckled to yourself, watching the interaction like quality comedy television.

After a few songs the girl leaves and you mindlessly watch Nia approach the bar, crossing your legs as you waited for her to get you both a drink. A man with a fine muscular build stood next to Nia. He was tall, rocking a bleached platinum blonde buzz cut, wearing green cargo pants and a fitted singlet with a singular necklace hanging off his neck. He was fine.

He said something in Nia's ear, and she laughed. It seemed that this girl was on a roll, as she had almost every good-looking person at the club trying to make a pass at her. Nia listened to him with a look of confusion on her face, turned, and pointed to you, replying back to the man. He nodded and glanced over at you, a sly smirk on his face. You felt heat rise on your cheeks, wondering what they were talking about.

You awkwardly look down at your phone and press away at random apps, distracting yourself from the handsome strangers gaze. Moments later all you hear is rows of drinks being placed on the table in front of you. They looked like nice fancy cocktails, not the cheap stuff. It turned out that the tall guy Nia met at the bar, who was now sitting in VIP, had ordered every cocktail on the menu for you and Nia. He asked Nia what drink you liked, and she told him cocktails so now you were getting a taste of everyone. You were flattered by the gesture.

Looking up at the sexy stranger, you caught him staring you down with a smug smirk on his lips. It was like he knew his attention had you feeling a type of way. You smile and raise one of the drinks up to him, chucking him a thumbs up as if to gesture that it was a good choice. He licked his lips and nodded his head, not sparing you from his effortless sensual gaze.

You clench your thighs together, already feeling your bud starting to buzz. You glance up at him again, but he was no longer sitting at his table. You look around the club, trying to spot his platinum cut, but you couldn't see through the crowd of people. A sigh escapes your lips. "Well, that was nice. For the short time it lasted," you thought.

"I gotta pee, can you mind the drinks?" You ask Nia.

"Of course!" She says, sipping away on a blue cocktail.

You get up from your seat and head to the restrooms, only to find a long line outside the ladies bathroom. You’ve had too many drinks to wait for 20 minutes; you’re just about ready to make a puddle in the club right now.

You decide to make your way to the male bathroom and barge in, throwing the men in the quarters off guard. 

"I’ve seen it all before, there’s nothing you have that could shock me. Eu eu? Eu só tenho que fazer xixi! (Me me? Me just have to pee)" You exclaim as you walk in. You were 100% sure what you said didn’t make sense, but that was the least of your worries.

The male clubgoers in the bathroom remark sentences to you in Portuguese that you couldn’t make out, but they clearly weren’t pleased, apart from the flirty foreign catcalls and whistles in the mix.

Most of the men clear the room when you entered and you lean against the wall next to a urinal, waiting for a free stall. Out of the corner of your eye, you can just make out the frame of a tall somebody.

You dare to look, finding that tall somebody to be the sexy stranger who bought you the row of cocktails. "Oh…my…god. Fuck." You think, as he lines himself up with the urinal right next to you.

You knew he was attractive but didn’t know he was this fine. It was almost criminal how beautiful he was up close. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your core starts setting off fireworks. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to snap yourself back to reality, but your eyes remained on his beauty.

He lifts his shirt, revealing his marbled abs. He was cut to perfection. A body so heavenly sculpted, it would put Michelangelo’s work to shame. Your eyes fall to his curled snail trail as he unbuttons his belt, peeling the hem of his boxers down. 

He stands completely oblivious to you gawking, as if you blended in with the neon lights and concrete restroom wall. A breeze of his vanilla musk cologne sucks you right back in, and that’s all it takes for you to go feral. Your eyes shamelessly flock down to his manhood, catching a glimpse of just how much wood he was packing.

A low gasp leaves your mouth. You couldn’t hold it back. His member was a shocking 9 inches of lust and astonishing girth. Even on soft, he had a weapon that could demolish your walls, which were already flooded with your slick. Your heartbeat begins racing, matching the beat of your pulsing clit, which had become its own entity at this point, yearning to be fiddled with and sucked on by him.

You look away to hold on to whatever was left of your dignity. Yet when you look ahead, you automatically glue to his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his back muscles flexing as he takes care of his business.

You tightly press your thighs together, trying to put a damper on waves of juices drenching your thong. He chuckles, a sly smirk on his lips. You quickly look away, knowing damn well he caught you out. Heat flushes your cheeks as you throw your hand over your face in embarrassment.

“Shit.” you murmur.

"Eu te mostro o meu se você me mostrar o seu. ('ll show you mine if you show me yours.)"

His voice was deep and warm, inviting even. You didn’t understand what he was saying, but whatever it was, you liked it. 

“Oh- I…shit. I’m sorry!” You apologize, not able to find words for your behavior.

He tilts his head and finally looks at you, smug written all over his face while putting his goods away and zipping up.

“I didn’t mean to look.”

You definitely did.

“I’m just waiting to use the toilet. The line for the women's toilet was packed. I, ah… eu preciso urinar? (I need to use the toilet.)”

He shakes his head, laughing at your attempt to speak his language. He walks over to the sink, not saying a word nor responding to your dramatics. Judging by his silence, you can only assume there was a language barrier.

Going off the fact that he or anyone else in the restroom wasn’t processing a single english word you were saying, you thought, “Fuck it. No one's listening anyways,” then went on to babble your train of thoughts out loud.

“Why? Why do these things happen to me? Why couldn’t I just mind my business? No, I had to be nosy.” 

He watches you in the reflection of the mirror while washing his hands with a pleased look plastered on his face. You want to run away and hide, but his gaze is pouring unholy thoughts into your mind and you like all the nasty things he was making you think.

You just want him to take you to an alley behind the club, pull your skirt up and put all his 9 inches inside you. You know it would hurt, he's too big, he’d leave you creamed with rug burns for days - you're sure of it.

You snap back to reality when a door to one of the toilers opens, and a man exits. Still thinking out loud, you drunkenly narrate to yourself, burping out giggles here and there as you enter the stall.

You relieve your bladder and wipe multiple times, having to thoroughly clean up the vat of slick on your slit. The disgustingly horny effect he had on your body was evident. You were a mess. Drenched panties, swollen clit, and stained inner thighs from your juices. Even your asshole was lubed up enough to pop a plug in.

“What the fuck? I must be ovulating because how did he make me this wet?…There’s so much, so much…”

After using a week's worth of toilet paper, you flush and head out. The nameless sex god was still present, adjusting his chain in the mirror.

You sigh in frustration, walking towards the sink furthest away from him. You can’t help but feel the nasty sting of regret from your sloppiness. He was by far the most attractive person you’ve seen in your entire life. You're sure any chance with him is out of the picture, all because of your cocktail-fueled actions. You're gutted. Although, it doesn’t hurt to look at him. Shit, if anything, it feels good to look at him, you thought.

Pressing the dispenser for soap, his reflection in the mirror is all you can focus on. Your mindless narration isn’t done; you still have thoughts that need to be spoken out loud.

“I just know that dick is crazy. I would’ve fucked the breaks off him.”

You hear the beautiful stranger snort.

"For what it’s worth, I’d rate your Portuguese pretty good for a foreigner." He says, this time in clear English, looking back at you in the mirror.

Your muscles tense up, and your breathing comes to a hitch. God, no…he understood English the entire time? What the fuck.

You can’t believe it. The possibility of him listening to every crazy thought you word vomited out was too much to process.

“And,” he walks over to you, nearing so close you were engulfed in his cologne and could feel heat radiating off his body, “I’d fuck the breaks off you too.”

An English accent drips off his words like honey. You're just about filled to the brim with surprises, but you’d let him fill you even more if it meant hearing that sexy accent moan your name.

“I didn’t mean to say that. I thought you didn’t speak English.”

He places his hand on the wall behind you and leans his face down to yours.

“I beg to differ. I think you did mean it.”

“It was an accident.”

“Right. I think I recall hearing, “How’d he get me so wet?” Was that also an accident?”

You swallow hard, feeling the pulse in your core pick back up.

“Acci-Yes. Accident.” You stutter.

His eyes wander down to your nether region.

“Well, I’d love to taste this accident.”

Fuck, he was smooth.

He retracts his hand from behind you with a fist of paper towels and dries his hands.

You're speechless. So much happened in a matter of seconds that you were lost for words, your mouth fell open but not a single word came out.

He laughs and leaves for the door, leaving you there standing in a state of shock. Your gaze shifts back to the mirror, your face was red and you were almost shaking of pure embarrassment. Before you could debrief and gather yourself, you hear his voice again.

“So, you coming or what?” He leans against the door with an awaiting look on his face.

You look around the bathroom to see who else he would be talking to. There was no one else in view, only you. He wanted you and he was making it obviously clear. You point towards your chest and mouth, “Me?”

“Who else, a namorada? (Sweetheart)”

Goddamnit. That's all you needed to hear.

You take no time to jump to the opportunity and follow the stranger out of the bathroom. He takes your hand which was twice the size of yours and leads you through the cramped crowd of the club. You didn’t bother to ask where he was taking you, you’d follow this man anywhere, anyday.

He guides you to a red VIP queue barrier and nods to the security guard.

“She’s with me. Also another girl.”

He scans the crowd behind you and points out Nia in the crowd to which the guard nods and heads in amongst the dancing bodies towards Nia’s direction.

He whispers in your ear, “Your sister, right?”

You smile. How sweet of him to remember Nia, you like that kind of consideration in a man.

“Sim (Yes), little sister. Thanks for inviting her too.”

His hand was still clasped with yours, he gently squeezed it and flashes you a wink.

You wave at Nia who was now following the guard towards the VIP area you were in, she waves back at you and starts giggling once she sees you with the sexy stranger from the bar. She knows your type, so she knows you’ll be glued to him all night.

You bring you attention back to him and he continue walking down a hall behind the section, and guides you to a room. It was empty besides the aisle of liquor on the wall and couches and seats. You let go of his hand and walked in the room, it was much more fancy and well decorated compared to the rest of the club.

“So what’s this room used for?”

“Depends on the occasion.”

“Is this a part of the package for the section you were in?”

“No.” He clicks the door locked.

You walk to the bar, eyeing down your drink of choice.

“So we’re stealing rooms tonight, are we?”

“My best mate owns the club. We can go to any room of your choosing. I just thought a pretty lady like yourself deserved the best one.”

You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest at his words. He was charming, but there was something genuine about the way he spoke to you that made you feel special…and seen.

"Well, I appreciate the gesture. So what do you recommend we do in this fancy room of yours?"

"I can think of a few things," he murmurs.

Before you could grab yourself a glass, you feel his body near behind you. You were stuck between him and the bar and it felt amazing to be against his body.

Your heart races as he leans in closer. He clearly wanted you right now but you weren’t gonna give it up that easily, you already made it too well known how eager you were in the bathroom, it’s time to slow down this burn. His breath is hot against your ear.

"But first, let's have a drink. What can I get for you?"

He grabs the glass you were going for and digs into the ice bucket in the sink with it.

“Tequila. And let’s start with the basics...names. We don’t even know eachothers names.”

“I mean I was fine with callin’ you a minha rapariga.”

He grabs the bottle of 1800 on the top shelf.

“And that means?”

“My girl. But I’d love to put a name to your beautiful face”

You snort.

“Good one. It’s Y/K.”

“Y/K? Oh Y/K. I like the way that feels on my lips.”

He pours the 1800 into the glass, no mixer.

“And yours?”

He rotates your hips so you were now facing him, a smirk on his face.

“Alfie, my mates call me Al.”

He moves closer to you, his hand resting on the bar beside yours. "You know, I've been watching you all night," he says, his voice low and seductive. "And I have to say, I've never had anyone steal my attention like you."

Alfie pulls your hips closer to his and lifts the drink up to your lips to which you swallow. He doesn't pull away, he continues feeding you the alcohol until it was finished. You shiver at the sensation, feeling a rush of desire wash over you. 

“All, all, all of it. Good girl.”

The alcohol burned your throat but you didn’t wince, there was something about him talking you through it that gave you all the motivation to stomach the tequila.

Alfie places the glass on the counter and leans in, his lips hovering just inches away from yours.

You feel his breath on your skin and your heart races in anticipation.

"Can I kiss you, Y/K?" he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You nod your head, unable to find your voice as your eyes lock onto his. With a gentle touch, he cups your face in his hands and presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is fiery, sending a jolt of desire through your body as his tongue traces your lips, seeking entrance. You open your mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss as he pulls you closer to him.

His hands roam over your body, tracing the curve of your hips and the swell of your breasts through your clothes. You moan softly into his mouth as he pulls away, his eyes dark with desire.

"God, you're so beautiful. I’ve been wanting to do this all night to you" he murmurs, his hands trailing down your body to the hem of your dress. With a swift motion, he pulls it up and over your head, leaving you standing there in your underwear.

You blush at his intense gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable in front of him. But his eyes soften as he takes in the sight of you, his gaze tracing every curve and dip of your body.

"Perfect," he says, his voice filled with admiration.

He steps forward, his hands tracing the outline of your body as he presses his lips to your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. You let out a soft moan, arching your back as he moves lower, his hands trailing down your sides to your hips.

He hooks his fingers into your underwear and pulls them down, leaving you completely exposed to his gaze. You feel a rush of heat between your legs as he dips his head down, his tongue flicking over your clit, overwhelming you in waves of ecstasy.

Your back spans against the bar as you let out a cry of pleasure, your fingers going over his buzz cut hair while he continues to pleasure you, his tongue and fingers working in perfect unison, slurping on your clit and tugging on your g-spot in perfect movement. You feel your body start to tense, your orgasm building as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"Alfie," you moan, your hips bucking against his mouth as you finally fall over the edge, your body shaking with pleasure.

He stands up, a satisfied grin on his face as he takes in the sight of you, sated and blissed out.

"Ready for round two, Bebê (Baby)?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You nod, unable to resist the allure of this gorgeous stranger as he picks you up from the bench and places you on one of the couches, eager to explore every inch of your body.

You lean in, pressing your lips against his ear, "I want you to make me cream," you whisper.

He grins, "I can do that," he replies before capturing your lips in a kiss.

You can feel his hands sliding down your body, his fingers trailing over every curve and dip. You moan into the kiss as his fingers, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck as his hands continue to explore your body. You feel his teeth graze against your skin and you let out a whimper, your body already tingling with pleasure.

He pulls back, a wicked grin on his face. "You like that, don't you?" he asks, his voice husky with desire.

You can only nod, lost in a haze of desire and lust.

He leans in, his hot breath caressing your inner thigh before his tongue makes contact with your core. You gasp, your hands gripping onto the cushions as he begins to work his magic.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building inside of you. And just when you think you can't take it anymore, he stops.

You open your eyes, looking down at him with a pleading expression.

"Don't worry, baby," he says, his voice low and seductive. "I'm just getting started."

He stands up, his eyes locked on yours as he starts to undress. Slowly, he removes his shirt, revealing a toned chest and abs that make your mouth water, the way he’s built he definitely had to be an athlete, his arms were chiseled to perfection. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you watch him, feeling a delicious anticipation building inside of you.

He climbs onto the couch, positioning himself above you as he leans in for another kiss. This time it's deeper, more urgent, and you can feel his need for you as his tongue takes over your mouth.

His hands roam over your body, teasing and caressing as he works his way down to your pussy, before positioning himself at your entrance.

He enters you slowly, his body pressing against yours as he begins to move in a steady rhythm. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through you, and you can feel yourself building towards an explosive orgasm already.

“I’m already cumming!” You moan.

“I know baby, I know.” He groans while his eyes are closed shut, lost in the pure pleasure of your sex.

He picks up the pace, his movements becoming faster and more intense as you both reach the brink of release. And when you finally come undone, he's there to catch you, holding you tightly as you ride the waves of ecstasy, grinding against each other's bodies together.

When it's over, you lay there, panting and spent, wrapped in his arms. You look up at him, feeling a deep sense of connection and satisfaction that words could never fully describe. He leans back and looks down between you two, at the mess you made on his dick

"Look at that. That’s all for me, huh?" He says, a smirk spreading across his face.

You look away smiling, feeling vulnerable and whisper, “Yeah, only you.”

He chuckles, his hand stroking your hair. "I aim to please," he replies, a contented look on his face.

Just as Alfie leans back into your slit for round 2, there’s an abrupt knock at the door.

“Fuck!” you mutter under your breath, reaching for your panties and dress which was scattered across the floor.

Alfie stands up and fixes his pants which had a sight of hard pulsating wood. He quickly fixes it so it was tamed down before checking in with you.

“You alright?” He asks.

“Yes, who’s at the door?” You say fixing up your shoulder straps.

Alfie walks to the door, unlocking it to find a security guard waiting.

“Estamos fechando quartos. Só verificando os quartos. Tudo bem Al? (We're closing rooms. Just checking. You all good Al?)” The security asks.

“Sim, estávamos prestes a sair. (Yeah, we was just about to leave.)” Alfie responds while motioning for you to come over to him.

You follow Alfie out the room back to the open space of the club to the VIP area which was filled with Alfie’s friends and Nia, who was busy chatting up with a boy on the couches. This girl was on fire! Well, who are you to be judging, you just got your cat demolished out by a man you just met.

As you walk towards the VIP area, you sit yourself down next to Nia.

“Girl, I know you didn’t just do what I think you did.” Nia says in your ear.

“What are you talking about? We just talked and drank.”

“Oh really?”

Nia catches your eye and gives you a knowing smile, “Babe. Your dress is on inside out.”

You feel a little embarrassed, but more so exhilarated at the thought of people knowing he gave you probably the best dick of your life.

“Oh my god. Okay you got me there!” You laugh off the awkwardness. Nia rubs your back, laughing too.

“It’s okay, we’ve all been there before.”

Alfie makes his way back over to you and introduces you to his friends, who all seem friendly and welcoming. They offer you drinks and chat with you about Carnival and asked questions about America. Most of them spoke English along with Portuguese which made it easy to connect with them, they were lovely and easy to get along with. But your mind keeps drifting back to the intense chemistry you shared with Alfie just a few moments ago.

As the night wears on, you find yourself getting more comfortable around Alfie's friends. They share stories and jokes, and you can't help but laugh and enjoy yourself. But every time Alfie touches you or leans in to whisper something in your ear, you feel a jolt of electricity course through your body.

Eventually, it's time for the club to close. Alfie offers to walk you out, and you gladly accept. As you exit the club, It was almost sun up outside and the nearby cafes and business’s were beginning to open for the day. He takes your hand and pulls you close. "I had a great time tonight," he says, looking deep into your eyes, “I hope to do this with you again sometime, a minha rapariga (My girl)”

"Me too," you reply, feeling your heart rate increase.

Alfie leans in and kisses you, and for a moment, it feels like the world fades away. It's just you and him, lost in each other's embrace amongst the rest of the noise. And as you break the kiss, Nia calls your name.

“Y/K, our ubers here!”

You pull to let go but he hesitates to release his grasp, squeezing your waist tight.

“I have to go…” You shyly say, pulling from his arms. Feeling giddy, you run to the car Nia hopped in and get in the back seat

“Get home safe.” He says, waving you down before throwing his hands in the air and yelling, “Wait, I didn’t even get your number! What’s your instagram?!”

You stick your head outside the window, “It’s Y/KsWorld!”, hoping he heard you. By the smile on his face, it seemed he did because he quickly pulls out his phone and tapped away. Not even 2 seconds later you felt a buzz on your lap and there was a notification: LewisAl88 followed you.

You fall back into the seat, smiling to yourself. You was exhausted and it wasn’t just from the jet-lag, he blew your back out into another time-zone himself. Sure it was just a hook up at the club, which is something you’ve never done before in your life, but you couldn’t deny the tension between the two of you. 

You feel another buzz from your phone.

LewisAl88 sent you a message

When am I gonna see you next? 

You laugh to yourself, here you thought you were the thirsty one yet he was just as keen to be all over you. Ahhh, that feels like balance to me, you thought.

“What’s got you smiling so hard?” Nia asks.

You show her the notifications on your phone screen, she covers her mouth and joins you in laughter.

“Oh he wants you…bad!”

You roll your eyes, but can't help the smile that creeps onto your face. "I don't know," you say, "I just met him. But there was definitely something there."

Nia nods, understanding. "Well, whatever happens, just be safe and have fun," she says, reaching over to give your hand a squeeze.

You nod, grateful for her words of encouragement. As the car drives away from the club, you lean back in your seat and close your eyes, replaying the night's events in your mind.

[uses-for-fics]

Can't Get Enough

Darren x Reader

a/n: i think this drags on but whateverrrrrr i finished it and im proud i finally finished soemthing. 6 hours. 6 long miserable hours she had to endure in a cramped plane all because her boss wanted to be a bitch and make her miss out on her weekend. Y/n should’ve been out on her two day-relaxing wilderness retreat but instead she was stuck here, carrying all of her boss's luggage as she hauled ass right behind the terrifying woman. Luckily, she managed to put her phone into her purse before all the luggage was assigned to her. If she was going to be forced to be here, the least they should let her do was listen to her audiobook by the hotel pool.

She had safely made it into the giant glass box of a hotel without tripping and stared in awe. The hotel was lavish! She looked forward and there stood a giant waterfall in the middle of the lobby. The splashing water made it feel refreshing inside and brightened the already very luxurious place. Maybe she could find time to come back to the lobby and pretend she was far from work. She zoned out imagining all the fun she could be having right about now, failing to notice the dastardly woman calling her name until she saw old wrinkly fingers snap in her face.

“HELLO!!! Are you going to get my room keys or not?” Her boss’s shrill voice ringing in her ears. “Sorry, Ms. Featherington.” The older woman snapped her fingers and held out her hand. The assistant looked over to the receptionist and put down some of the luggage. “DONT DO THAT! These carpets are utterly dirty with everyone’s steps, my bags should NEVER touch the floor.” The shrill voice spoke up again.

The younger woman took in a long breathe. “I’m sorry, I won’t let it happen again.” She hobbled over to the desk with the bags all hanging on her, grabbing the key from the stranger. The receptionist gave her a small pity smile and pointed them in the direction of the elevators. “Your room will be that way.” Y/n noticed how the keys were different. One was a shiny goldish color, while the other was a plain grey color.

“Where will I sleep?” She asked. Ms. Featherington smiled. “The expenses could only cover for ONE penthouse suite, you’ll be sleeping in the ‘quainter’ rooms underneath. Now take my bags to my room and organize my things. I’m going for a trip to the spa and I’m expecting a spectacular reservation at the best restaurant around here at 7pm WITH a car pick up and I better not see a single thing out of place in my room when I get back.” With that the older lady put on her sunglasses and walked away. The poor assistant could just sigh and carry the heavy bags to the elevators.

She successfully managed to put all the bags into elevator and push the button to the 16th floor without falling over. Now she just needed to make it to the room...easy right? She had stacked all the luggage she could carry in a straight pile in her arms and weaved her way through the long hall. 'A few more steps and I'm there.' She thought to herself. She let out a sigh and started to feel the bags wiggle in her arms. 'Fuck.' It's all she could think of as she tried to catch the bags before they hit ground. From across the hall, Darren, Alexx and Joel had all finished cleaning the penthouse and were grabbing their cleaning items. Darren stretched his arms up until he heard a satisfying 'CRACK'. "I think we did a great job with this room. We deserve a little prize." He reached into his shirt's pocket and pulled out a pipe. "Dude! Seriously?" Joel reached out for the pipe. Darren extended his arm above Joel, making it hard for the scrawny man to reach it. "Come on man! Thats not good for you." Joel huffed. "Dude, if Darren wants to get shit faced, I think we should let him." Alexx said as he patted Darren's back. Darren nodded and took a hit from the pipe. Joel shook his head in disbelief. "You only think Darren should continue cause you're his supplier!" Alexx hushed Joel. "Not so loud man! Someone is going to hear you!" Darren blows out a ring of smoke and smiles. "Oh please, we're the only people here." Joel looks behind Darren and points. "Us and that person." The two other guys look behind themselves and see a giant stack of luggage wobbling. "Woahhhh technology has come so far! Luggage's can deliver themselves now." Alexx beamed. Joel rolled his eyes, "Thats obviously a person. Come on let's go help." Alexx shook his head. "No way man, we get paid to clean, NOT to carry bags, I'm not doing extra work." Darren shrugged and walked to the person struggling. "Here." He grabbed a couple of bags, just enough so it wouldn't be so heavy anymore for the person. He was able to see the person behind the luggage tower and smiled. He didn't expect to see a frantic looking woman. She looked up and saw him, her quivering lip turning into a smile. "Umm, let me help you." He chuckled as she loosened her grip on the bags. "Thank you." she said sheepishly. She looked tired, nervous, almost like she didn't want to be there and yet, Darren thought she looked beautiful. The woman took in her savior's features. Scruffy stubble, unkept fluffy hair, and glazed over hazel eyes. He looked like an angel to her. They hadn't noticed Joel grabbing some bags from the woman. She looked over at the second man and smiled up at him. She thanked him and reached into her pocket for the key card. Much to Alexx's dismay, all three men helped her bring the bags in. Alexx and Joel put the bags down near the entrance of the room and headed out of the room.

The woman called out before Darren could leave. "Wait!" She said just a bit too loud. She felt her face go red as Darren turned back to look at her. 'God was he cute.' She cleared her throat, "Let me at least tip you guys." She instinctively reached to her side, aiming to grab her purse but found air. She usually carried her purse on her person all the time in case Ms. Featherington needed something.

She looked up at Darren and gave a nervous chuckle. “Whoops, looks like I can’t find my purse, just give me one second.” She started scrambling around the luggage, in hopes it was just piled around there. Darren tried to reach out to her. "Oh no you don’t have to worry about that. It really wasn’t a problem." He grabbed ahold of her shoulder. She stopped her frantic searching and looked up at him. He noticed how tense she looked. Shit! She felt tensed! Almost like if she was on edge all the time.

She reached for his hand that laid on her shoulder. "I insist, you guys didn’t have to help, and I really do appreciate your help." He felt his face warm up from the lady’s touch…or maybe the drugs were staring to hit, he couldnt tell. The woman went back to looking for her bag and had become to look frantic every second she couldn’t find it.

"FUCK!" She threw her hands into her hair. Darren’s eyes widen at the sudden burst, walking closer to her. "Is everything ok?" She looked at him and started geting teary. "I must’ve left my bag on the elevator or in the lobby…I can’t remember…FUCK these stupid bags!" She huffed and covered her eyes. ‘Great. Just fucking great. She managed to lose her purse AND embarrass herself in front of the cute brunette.’

The other two men had come back into the room. "Darren we gotta go, as much as we like slacking off, Cassie is on her way checking the rooms weve done...which isnt a lot." Alexx whispered to Darren. Darren looked over to the crying woman. he couldnt leave her there, something about her just called to him. He turned back to Alex and Joel. “You guys go on without me. I’m going to hang back.” Alexx looked back at the woman who’s taken a seat on the couch. “Ohhh, getting her while she’s at her low. Nice move dude, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.” He smirked up at Darren.

Darren smacked Alexx on his arm. “Obviously I'm going to help her look for her bag, dumbass." Joel rolled his eyes, a habit he's gotten used to since he met Alexx. "Come on, Cassie will be here any moment." Joel grabbed Alexx's collar and pulled him out of the room. "You owe us!" Alexx yelled as Joel dragged him out.

Darren huffed out. This is why he never got girls. He walked up to Y/n and crouched down in front of her. He put his hand on her knee. "Hey, it's going to be ok. I'1l help you look for your bag."

She moved her hands from her face and sniffled. "Really?" Darren's heart leaped. 'Even with teary stained cheeks, she looked absolutely vibrant. ' He patted her knee. "Of course! I have access to any room and any floor. We'll find that bag in no time!" He stood up and stretched his arm out to her. She took a hold of his hand and smiled. 'His hand was soft for a cleaning maid.'

"First things first, where do you remember last having your bag?" Darren intertwined his hand with hers. Her face reddened. "I remember definitely having it in the lobby, I put my phone in it an——“. It had dawned on her that Ms. Featherington could have blowing up her phone this second with messages and complaints. “FUCK! My phone is in there! My boss is going to be pissed!” Darren gently squeezed her hand as he felt her start to get anxious again.

“Hey hey hey, it’s going to be fine. I’m sure she’ll understand, it’s a small hiccup.” He calmed her down. She sighed. “You don’t understand. She’ll literally rip my head off for not answering right away. I can literally get kidnapped and she wouldn’t care, she would still hassle me to get her a hot Venti, caramel latte, with triple shots, no foam and extra caramel all made with skim milk.” She squeezed his hand.

The most he had to worry about was his sexist boss but even then he was mostly sexist with the women. Disgusting but he got away with getting high so he stayed. “Ok ok, here’s the game plan, let’s check the elevators first and we’ll go from there.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “Ok, I trust you.”

This had started an 1 hour and a half long wild goose chase from avoiding Cassie, checking all the elevators, the downstairs lobby and even the parking lot but to no avail, they couldn’t find the purse. “It’s no use, I’ve lost all my contacts, my boss is going to be pissed I haven’t answered her and worst of all I won’t know if Colin and Penelope ever end up together!” She huffed as she leaned back in the elevator that was taking them back upstairs.

Darren chuckled. “Well it’s so obvious Penelope and Colin are gonna end up together, why wouldn’t they?” The girl glared at him. “Or maybe they don’t! I don’t know it’s not like I read the book or anything.” He gulped. The girl just hung her head low. The doors to the elevator beeped and opened to reveal a red head in a white button and a navy blue skirt. “Darren! I’ve been looking for you! You haven’t been getting high in the rooms again, have you?” She yelped.

Y/n lifted her head to give Darren a quizzical look. Darren gave a nervous smile. “Actually Cassie-“ he grabbed y/n’s hand to help her up from her slumped position. “I was helping the wonderful lady look for her lost purse. She can’t remember where she left it.” Cassie blinked. “Oh my, have you tried checking lost and found?” Darren just stood there.

“We have a lost and found?” He questioned. Y/n’s head turned slowly to glare daggers at Darren. Cassie huffed. “Come with me ma’am, I’ll take you there.” Y/n stepped out of the elevator and followed the poised woman. Darren followed suit. Y/n grabbed Darren’s shirt and pulled him down, enough to whisper to him. “How come you didn’t tell me there was a lost and found?” She looked absolutely charming while she was mad. Darren gave a small smile. “To be fair, I’m high like half the time I’m here.” He removed her hand from his shirt and held on to it. “Besides, even if I did know we had one, maybe I was just trying to get to know you more.”

Darren stood tall again, not letting go of her hand as they continued to walk. Y/n had to take a second to compose herself, feeling her cheeks turn to a dark shade of red again. This guy was going to be her downfall.

Silence stretched between them like a taut wire during the elevator ride back to the penthouse. Her bag, retrieved thanks to Darren, sat forgotten on the floor. Her gaze flicked between it and her phone. Should she confront the messages waiting there? Lost in thought, she barely registered the elevator doors sliding open, and only Darren's gentle hand on her arm brought her back to the present. She stood frozen, the weight of the unaddressed phone a burden in her hand. Darren's voice, softer than she expected, cut through the suffocating silence. "You should check it." (Y/n) lifted her head, eyes clouded with apprehension. Darren offered a hesitant shrug. "Here," he said, extending a hand. "Let me." Before she could voice a protest, his fingers brushed hers, sending a jolt through her. He took the phone, a silent decision made. He began scrolling through the messages, his jaw tightening with each new tirade. A frown etched itself onto his face as he read the vile attacks. He switched to the voicemail, the notification displaying a staggering number – fifty missed calls. He pressed play, but the speakerphone's harsh amplification only served to distort the voice on the other end. It was a torrent of obscenities, impossible to decipher. He couldn't focus on the words, his concern fixated on the woman beside him. (Y/n) flinched with every venomous insult, her shoulders hunching inwards as if trying to shrink away. The stark contrast between her earlier vibrancy and this fragile shell hit Darren with a force that left him speechless. All he could think about was the way this strong, bright young woman would crumble with each hateful message, the light in her eyes dimming with every attack. Darren took a deep breath, his eyes flickering from the phone screen to (Y/n)'s tense posture. With a determined swipe, he deleted the entire voicemail history. "Let's just forget about all this." He said, his voice firm yet gentle. He slipped her phone into his pocket before she could protest. (Y/n) stammered, a flicker of worry crossing her face. "I can't just ignore them. I need to respond." Darren shook his head, his gaze holding hers. "No, what you need right now is a break. Relax, unwind. This place is huge, explore it. Let's take advantage of that." (Y/n)'s eyes darted between the room key and Darren, a war raging within her. Responsibility versus escape. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she blurted, "Screw it." She thrust the key at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Darren's face broke into a relieved grin. "That's the spirit!" He took the key, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So," he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "ever heard of salvia?" (Y/n) cocked her head, intrigued despite herself. "Salvia? What's that?" He chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Oh, this is going to be interesting," he murmured, his hand reaching for hers.

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[asma-al-husna]

Allah calls Himself Ar-Razzaaq— The Provider, The Bestower of Sustenance— on one occasion in the Quran. He is the One who creates all means of nourishment and provision. Ar-Razzaaq provides all of His slaves with sustenance no matter how many they are or how great their need!

The Provider, The Supplier

Razzaaq comes from the root raa-zaa-qaa and points to three main meanings. The first main meaning is to receive something beneficial or to receive a portion or share. The second main meaning is to be provided or supplied with the necessities of life.

This root appears 123 times in the Quran in four derived forms. Examples of these forms are razaqnaakum (“we provided you”) and al-rizqa (“the provision).

Linguistically, Razzaaq has the structure of intensification, indicating a complete way of providing and sustaining. Ar-Razzaaq bestows all means of support and growth, both for the body and soul.

Ar-Razzaaq Himself says: Indeed, it is Allah who is the [continual] Provider, the firm possessor of strength. [Quran, 51:58]

What is rizq?

Rizq (provision) is what benefits you and it includes not just money but also knowledge, good manners, security, peace of mind, and spiritual enhancement. Allah Ar-Razzaaq created your rizq, and He delivers it to you in the way He wants: And there is no creature on earth but that upon Allah is its provision [rizq], and He knows its place of dwelling and place of storage. All is in a clear register. [Quran, 11:6]

The test of rizq

Ar-Razzaaq told us that if we don’t rule with justice, there will be corruption on earth. These days resources are overused, people are abused, and wealth is not being distributed justly. People ask: why is there poverty? Why are people starving? Our actions have consequences. We human beings created a system that went against the way Allah the All Wise instructed us to live. Wealth can be a trial and poverty a reason for elevation in the Hereafter; these are the ways of Ar-Razzaaq.

How Can You Live by This Name?

1. Be content.

Be satisfied with all the rizq you are given. Umar ibn al-Khattaab radiyallahu ‘anhu said: If something is meant to go elsewhere, it will never come on your way, but if it is yours by destiny, from you it cannot flee. Complaining about your body or your wealth means you complain against Ar-Razzaaq; strive for ridaa (contentment with His Decree).

2. Work hard.

Provision has to do with honesty and uprightness. What you see of wealth given to some and poverty to others is only superficial; Allah ‘azza wa ljal will bestow the best types of rizq on the best types of people. You need to work as if your rizq depends on how hard you try, but in your heart you know that nothing will come to you except what He has written for you. Knowing that rizq is guaranteed is not an excuse to be lazy. Ar-Razzaaq recompenses you according to your intentions.

3. Understand the ways of Ar-Razzaaq.

Some people do good deeds and practise their religion, yet they don’t feel much spiritual comfort. This motivates them to hasten to do more righteous work, which helps them to go to the higher and better spiritual state that Allah Ar-Razzaaq wants them to reach. So you might feel deprived of spiritual rizq (like tranquility in the heart), but this is a way Allah ‘azza wa jall causes you to be motivated to do more and therefore be elevated even more.

4. Trust in Ar-Razzaaq.

Never commit bad deeds in the name of seeking provision, and trust that all provisions will come from Allah ‘azza wa jal. A beautiful example is the baby raven; when it hatches, it looks white and therefore its mother (black in color) denies it and doesn’t recognize it. Then Ar-Razzaaq sends it insects to feed on until its feathers grow and turn black for its mother to recognize it. As a baby this bird is left forsaken, but Allah sends it its provision. Just as He provided for you when you were in the womb, He will provide for you after you are born.

5. Ponder what Ar-Razzaaq has given you.

Ar-Razzaaq placed us on fertile lands with countless blessings; even without care the green crops grow, flowers blossom, fruits and vegetables come out of the soil, and the blue oceans are bursting with fish. Ar-Razzaaq places the meat of most animals and birds at our service and gives them pure milk and honey. Contemplate your environment and grow your love for Ar-Razzaaq and your will to please Him.

6. Remember the counterparts in the Hereafter.

All the blessings from this world have perfect counterparts in the Hereafter. Remember the food and drinks in Jannah and ask Ar-Razzaaq for them each day. The people of the hellfire will have the most horrific foods and drink; ask Ar-Razzaaq to protect you from these.

7. Use your rizq in the right way.

Be trustworthy with Allah’s provisions; don’t seek haram means; this also prevents your supplications from being answered. One of the things that prevent your rizq from reaching you is your sin. So if you see people disobeying Allah who have material rizq, Ar-Razzaaq may have denied them their spiritual rizq, which is much worse.

8. Learn how to increase your rizq!

In the Quran and Sunnah ways are mentioned for you to increase your rizq; look out for them. Examples are striving for taqwa, praying with khushoo’, having tawakkul (reliance on Allah), upholding the ties of kinship, being thankful, asking for forgiveness and repenting, giving charity, and reading the Quran. When Fatima radiyallahu ‘anha complained to the Prophet salallahu ‘alayhi wa sallam about her heavy work, he said: Shall I direct you to something better than what you have requested? When you go to bed say ‘Subhan Allah’ thirty-three times, ‘Alhamdulillah’ thirty three times, and Allahu Akbar’ thirty four times, for that is better for you than a servant. [Al-Bukharee] Benefit from this advice.

O Allah, Ar-Razzaaq, we know that You are the one and only Provider. Make us of those who are content with Your provisions, guide us to work hard and use Your provisions wisely, and make us ponder them. Lead us to deeds that increase Your rizq and enter us into Your gardens by Your rahmah so we can enjoin the best of Your provisions, ameen!