#Hotel Diplomat

[plush-rabbit]

part two to the unnamed chapter from like a few days ago!! honestly, im suprised people liked it. like i didnt think it would get good stuff. like i dindt think it was bad, but im like the hype has died down anyways!! we meet the man, the myth, the devil himself!!

Word Count: 4.8K

You can hardly keep your eyes open. Even with the soft yellow glow of the light, it's far too bright for you. Shutting your eyes only brings you a bit of solace. You're somewhere soft, something light and feathery pulled over you, and you shift your shoulder blades to pull your wings closer to your body, and instead you sob, the pain sharp and unforgiving to your frail body.

Did you fall? No, maybe you slept on them wrong. You don’t have to think about stretching your wings, it was always second nature, as easy as blinking and as easy as moving your arm. You’d stretch your wings, and you’d ask Adam to help you preen your wings. You shift, and something feels empty, it feels light, lighter than air. You can’t remember your wings feeling so light, not unless you were flying. You’d hate to have messed up your wings over something as frivolous as falling.

Memories rush in, fragmented, only the beginning pieces clear enough for you to remember. Your eyes snap, and you’re met with harsh lighting. You see nothing but wood and stone, and a home that is not yours, and you groan into something soft under you. Moving your arm is painful, it feels bent and sore, and you reach for feathers, and find nothing. Your cries bury themselves into something plush, something that soaks your tears and drool and leaves only a patch behind. A hand pats softly against your arm, and you flinch. 

A voice shushes out to calm you. “It's okay. You're safe. I'm not here to hurt you,” they whisper. “Just relax, and try not to move. You still haven't recovered.”

Even if they speak softly to you, it's far too loud. The words echo in your head, and attempting to think about where you are and who you're with is making you nauseous. Or perhaps it's the sickly honeyed scent that is thick in the air. 

“‘S too sweet,” you slur, clawing at fabric beneath you. You regret speaking, the movement making your already sore jaw ache further, the joints pushing into your splitting skull. Your head pulses and your mouth is cotton filled, thick and impossible to speak. “Where?” You hope that someone will give you an answer to where you are. Or at least what you're on.

“Oh, thank you,” a voice chirps. 

“Don't think it was a compliment Bee,” a thick accent says in a hushed voice.

“Well I'm taking it as one,” the voice huffs.

“You're at my home,” the gentle voice is back. “You're in a spare bed. Just try to relax.” You can’t relax with all the sound, and when you try to tell him that, you only murmur, slurring letters together. “I know, I know.” He doesn’t, but you can’t correct him. “Just try not to move so much.” It's quiet again, a silence that stretches and fills the void with nothingness. The smell and the shuffling of bodies is the only indication that you aren’t alone, that you haven’t been left yet. 

“Luci, mate, you sure it's a good idea to have an angel laying around?” You hear the chime of bells, and you want everything to stop. 

“They aren't an angel,” a voice retorts. A hand places itself over your bicep, and squeezes you softly.

“Yeah, but like, it’s still a bit dangerous, isn’t it?” The voice is much more feminine, and you can hear a buzz when they speak, a low hum that doesn’t stop. “Having one of them just on your bed.”

“A spare bed,” the voice corrects. The bed dips beside you, your fingers tap against the mattress. “It was dangerous when we were first here,” snapping at the other, before sighing. “It’s been a long time since another angel has fallen.” 

“Lucifer, honey,” this voice is smoother than the others, and you wish they would all stop talking. “What’s the plan here?” Someone makes a noise of confusion. “They aren’t an angel anymore, if anything, they’re a walking target. We don’t even know if they’re an Exorcist.”

“Heaven hasn’t cast out an Angel in so long,” the voice says softly, a finger tracing shapes onto your arm. “And I highly doubt they’re an Exorcist. I can almost- I’m positive that they aren’t.”

An Exorcist. That’s what they think. Lute flashes in your mind, and Adam follows, weapons ready, and thinking hurts far too much. You groan, nuzzling into the pillow, trying to tune out the sounds. You need them to stop talking.

A hand pats at your arm, and soon you feel fingers tangle themselves into your hair. Fingertips ghost alongside the tender part of your scalp. The voice hushes you, lulling you back into a state of unconsciousness. “I’m sorry,” they whisper, “we must be too loud for you.”

“Lucifer, I know you’re still-” the person pauses- “upset-” they sound unsure of the word they’re using- “about the last few years, but you can’t take on a pity project.”

Lucifer. They keep saying- oh shit. You let out a whimper. You don’t know if you’re thankful for being found by him, or if it’s a curse to be found by him. He shushes you once more, massaging gently at your scalp. 

“Yeah-” the buzzing is louder this time- “you know, if you were lonely, you could have just said something. I got some cute little hounds that need loving homes, ya know? And uh, they’re cute-” they hiss that word and you furrow your brows- “and practically housebroken.”

“Luci, it’s not like they’re worth much. I mean look at ‘em. I don’t even think I remember seein’ them back up when we were there, so they gotta be new or somethin’.”

The hands still, fingertips pressing into the tenderness of your head. You let out a low sound, and give a soft nudge of your head for the person- Lucifer you presume, to let go. He apologizes, soothing over the spot where he’s touched. “It’s not- They aren’t a pity project. This isn’t that. Don’t you remember how bad it was. How painful it was to fall. At least we had each other. We were stronger than most angels.” You wish they would all stop talking. Especially when they refer to falling, you can't stand to hear it. “They have no one. This is- I just want them to feel safe.” His words come to a slow stand, and if it didn’t hurt to cry, you’d sob at the reminder of your punishment. “Their wings were ripped from them, they weren’t even allowed to heal.”

“Well it ain’t like Heaven is known for their leniency.”

“Listen, Lucifer, we’re just saying that you’ve been having a lot of big emotions recently, and maybe nursing someone back to health isn’t what you need right now.” Lucifer- at least you’re assuming- makes a noise in protest at what the other voice is stating. “What’s the long-term plan, hm? You fix them and then what? Do they live here? Do you kick them out? Take them over to Charlie?”

The room is still, the buzzing has quieted down to a hum, and you feel sleep grasp onto you once more. “You should all go.” The group protests immediately, voices overlapping one another, the buzzing higher, and scent of sweets and leather grows and irritates you further. Your head pounds, banging against your skull. You shift, pulling at the wounds, and a cry muffles itself into your pillow. “It’s okay, you’re okay” the voice says in a hushed voice, palms pressed flat against you, cooling your feverish body. “I’ll give you something right now to help the pain.” He clears his throat away from you. “I have to think about things. I’ll make sure to give you updates as they come along, but for now, I’ve taken up enough of your time.” He pauses. “You should return back to your rings.”

The buzzing quiets down, and footsteps shuffle out. It's a mess of steps, puttering and pattering along the floor, and the sound is [welcomed] by silence. A door clicks shut, and you hear no lock. 

Thinking if you're a prisoner or not is too much of a task right now. The strength of the saccharine scent has left with its owner, and instead now gently wafts in the air. Somewhere on the other side of the room, you hear a sigh.

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have been having that conversation with you in the room.” You let out a short huff in response. “It won’t happen again, okay? We must have been loud for you, huh?” With all the strength that you can muster, you give a short nod. “Let me go get you something for the pain, okay?” You feel a soft hand over your bicep, giving you a soft squeeze. The hand lingers with fingertips that kiss over your skin in feather light touches as they pull away. 

You drift between consciousness and unconsciousness, unable to fully sleep, but you don’t register anything that happens. All that you’re aware of is that someone is back in the room with you. He’s beside you, something plastic touching against your lips and the thick taste of medicine is bitter on your tongue. 

“I’m going to light some incense, okay?” You’d rather he give you water or anything else to wash the taste off. “You just let me know if it’s too much.” The scent is much calmer compared to the sickly sweet one from earlier. “I had Belphegor send me some sleeping aids. I believe it’s the only reason you’re able to get some actual rest.” Your lips mouth the words “thank you”. Something soft and warm covers you, and you feel yourself sink further into the mattress. “I don’t know how much of your power was stripped, or how much you even had to begin with. Mammon was right about that, you are a newer angel, you might not even be able to do much other than heal.” His voice is growing harder to understand, it’s fading into the back, and sleep pulls you further in. “However, I wouldn’t ask you to even attempt to heal yourself- not in this state,” he whispers.

“Taste bad,” is all that you can mutter. Your head pounds, and it feels like it’s swelling. Each word that you speak is laid thick and slurred together. Every syllable only brings you sickness and an ache in your skull.

“I know,” he sighs. “The medicine here doesn’t taste good, but there’s not much that I can do about it.” A cloth dabs at your mouth. “Hell is supposed to be a punishment after all,” he says with a humorless laugh. “I’m- I’m sure that Heaven’s medicine is still divine as ever,” they mumble with a heavy weight on the words. 

“Like nectar,” you speak softly, the memory of it faint on your tongue. 

Something brushes along your face, and you feel the pull of sleep. “Yeah,” he breathes out, “like nectar.”

-

Knocking on the door disrupts your sleep. Something gargles sounds on the other side of the door. In your mind, it’s too faint to make anything out. You hear the squeak of the door open, and through bleary eyes, you make out two tall figures. Again, they speak to you, and you nod back to sleep.

You feel the latex of gloves touch your body, knuckles the brush against the nape of your neck and hands that grab your arms, ready to still you as you tense. “We’re just changing your bandages.” You shake your head. “It’ll be quick, just stay still.” You’d rather deal with an infection than with how the doctors treat you. You recall a voice making an argument that you’re not welcomed here, that you're an angel in a land of sin. 

“No, no,” you mutter, tears staining your face and wetting the pillow. You feel the cold breeze on your back, whispering over your wounds. The stickiness of the gauze peels away from you, and you can smell the stench of it- metallic, rich and earthy. Something so sweet, and it disgusts you and the doctors. 

Their hands grip tighter onto you, holding you down and you yelp. “Stay still.” You recall many moons ago how Lute told you something similar. How her words were laced with sorrow and false bravado. These doctors, these demons, spit the words at you, and hold you down. 

Your hands claw at the mattress, your screams echoing against the wall, bouncing and ringing in your ears. Light blinds you immediately as your eyes flash open, and your head is head, pushed down onto the mattress, as curses are spit onto you. You’re in Hell. Your teeth find themselves tearing into the pillow, drool pooling into a puddle and tears slipping down.

“Just,” they grunt, and press firmly down on your back, “stay still.” You gasp for breath, kicking and digging your knees into the bed. “Please,” they beg, and you fall, your body limp and heavy on the bed. 

As quick as it started, it ends just as quick. You’re left sobbing, gasping for breath, and despite the pain, and tearing open the wound, you hug yourself, your nails scratching against the cloth. They’ve placed it far too tight for you. 

-

Only a few weeks pass when you’re finally cognitive. When your head isn’t splitting at every noise, and you can move somewhat without risking any pain or even your fear of opening the wounds back open. You stay as still as possible, and try not to do any sudden movement that would stretch your back. Lucifer has attempted to reassure you that you’re fine now, that combined with Hell’s magic and his own blessing, you should be fit to move around. Of course, you will be sore, that can only go away with time. 

“You’ll be left with scars. That can’t be helped,” he told you, his eyes focused on how your hands fist the blanket, “but you’ll be okay.” He gives you a tender smile, and you cling to it in the night.

Once you were in a proper headspace, you knew you shouldn’t have been surprised to know that it was him taking care of you. From what you can faintly recall in one of the many conversations that he’s had in the room as you recovered, he knows what it’s like to be cast out. 

However, you are surprised at how caring and patient he is. That despite you being able to do most things on your own without stumbling, he is still beside you, keeping you company and comforting you when he has to change the bandages. He hardly lets anyone else do it after you complained about doctors accidentally wrapping the bandages too tight. His gentleness is a mask for his pity, and he can never meet your eyes without looking away. 

-

You’re laid on your stomach, and your only entertainment is wondering what could be inside the bedside drawers. While moving does not cause as much discomfort as it once did, you don’t risk stretching. You sit straight, and you look at the wall, and dare not to stretch your arms. Pillows have been fluffed and placed to create a soft barrier between you and the headboard of the bed. Knuckles rap against the door in a rhythm, and you stare at the wall in front of you. You wait for a second, and with a breath, you allow for the person to enter. 

“Hello,” Lucifer calls. “I’ve brought you some fruit. I’m sure that you must have been feeling peckish.” You give no reply. “I uh- I also brought some books.” The bowl of fruit is balanced above the small stack of books. “I was thinking that I’ll get you a television or something soon. But maybe some literature would be good for you.” He rests the tower on the dresser, and grabs the bowl between his hands. 

You should reply to him. You should tell him thank you- not just for the books and the bowl of fruit, but for housing you, for caring for you. But you cannot. Not when he’s a constant reminder of where you are. 

“I was wondering if there was any type of genre that you might like.” He sounds hopeful, wanting to continue a conversation with the husk in front of him. “It would be no trouble to get them to you.” 

His smile is stretched thin, and it looks painful. All of this is painful. Your eyes flitter over to the fruit bowl, and you wonder how you’d feed yourself when stretching your arms still pulls at the scars. 

“Would you like some?” He leans towards you, and you have the mental image of being some hurt bird being nursed back to health. “I had some demons go over to Earth and get some for you. I thought you’d prefer this over the food that we have here. Since you aren’t accustomed to Hell’s food, yet.” You stay silent, and after a moment he sighs. His heels click against the floor, and the bowl is placed on your lap. “You know,” he starts, “it would help if you talked. I know what you’re going through, and you can’t- you shouldn’t isolate yourself.” When you refuse to answer, he sighs. “Well, if you need something, just let me know.”

Despite not wanting to be here, of not having any need to want to continue your existence, you have grown a strong dislike of being alone in this room. You have no idea if he’s isolating for your own safety, or for some other nefarious reason. He clasps the door knob around his hand, and twists it. You wet your lips, and you need someone to talk to. 

“Lucifer?” You croak out, and you surprise yourself with your voice. You hadn’t heard it in so long, past the screaming and the tears. He turns to you, taking a step closer, and his hand returns the door knob to its closed position. “Can you stay?” You feel sick looking at the fruit. “Please?”

With a gentle smile, he nods his head. “Of course.” He grabs a chain from the corner of the room and carries it to sit beside you. It’s a deep wooden color, intricate designs carved into the legs of the chair, and a deep red cushion that is stitched into the seat and the back. 

The silence between the two of you is broken by the crunch of the fruit. You pierce a grape with the silver tines of the fork, and your body aches with the movement to bring it up to your mouth. The sweet juice does nothing to aide in your brooding and the awkward silence. 

He’s right, and you know that. You have to try. He’s the only contact that you have. Adam always hated how you’d hide your emotions, how you rather shut the world off, and at least that hasn’t changed since your falling. You need to talk to him. You can see the attempt that Lucifer has been making in order to keep you happy, to make your time here just a bit more bearable. You suck in your lower lip, and let your tongue brush over where your teeth have grazed.

“I was promised a trial,” you start. His eyes are on you, and you see him fiddle with his tie. “They promised it would have been fair.” You frown, and shake your head, an ache heavy in your chest. “I was so hopeful that it would have been.” The fruit is bitter on your tongue and you force yourself to swallow it.

After a moment’s silence, he speaks. “Who would have been the judge?”

The apple is pierced between your teeth, the skin ripping from the flesh of the apple. It was cute with care, no hint of the core tarnishing the fruit, ripe and perfect, only to be mauled by your teeth. “Father.” You swallow the fruit. “Or perhaps one of the Virtues.” Oranges are peeled, torn apart from the other slices, the piths of white removed. “I was worried that I would have fallen, even before I was given my verdict. My-” you look at Lucifer, and you remember who he has stolen- “I feared that I would have fallen, because I didn't matter. No one questions Heaven’s beliefs, not since-” you glance at him, and he turns his head- “I was sure I would have met the same fate.” The sweetness of the strawberries make your jaw tingle and ache. “And I did.”

“I’m sorry.” You hold the fork tightly, the silver pressing into the flesh of your palms. “The fear you had must have been,” he pauses, “intense.”

There is no one better who understands, other than Lucifer himself. You nod, and let the fork ding against the glass of the bowl. “I was good. I did what was needed of me, I didn’t dare speak out of turn.” You think of how Adam would run his mouth, how every other word would be a curse, would be of anything lewd. “Perhaps I wasn’t as good as I thought I was. Not if a question were enough to have me expelled from Heaven.” 

A gloved hand reaches, and falls just before your thigh. A gold band hugs at his finger, and you’re surprised to have yet seen his wife. Feeling your stare, he turns his hand, and lets the other fingers hide the symbol of matrimony. 

“Sometimes, that’s all it takes,” he says quietly, his tone soft, and wistful. “But, if it makes you feel any better, Hell has some redeeming qualities. It’s not all pain and suffering.” You look at him, and he gives you a smile. “We have an amusement park. There’s a uh-” he scratches the back of his neck, his gaze pointed elsewhere and checks flushing- “ride modeled after me.”

The corners of your lips turn, and you narrow your eyes at him. “After you?” You ask, an elfish tinge laced into your words.

“Shaped like my head.” A finger makes a circle in front of his face.

You scoff out a laugh, and the sound surprises you. You attempt to hide the smile, but when the corners still turn upwards, you look at your lap. “You are the Avatar of Pride after all,” you tell him, the lilt faint on your words.

“It’s actually very impressive,” he points out. “A whole ride dedicated to my likeness.”

“The line for it must be awful.” The juice of the fruit is thin on your tongue. “Heaven has zoos. There’s an area where you get to feed the birds out of the palm of your hand.” You push the fork upwards with the knuckle of your index. “They hardly ever peck your palm, but when they do, we call them kisses from one of Father’s creations.”

He snorts, and shakes his head. His smile is soft, and there's a lingering sadness to it before it falls. “Down in the Wrath ring, there are livestock shows where you’ll find horse bucking and catching the flamed greased pig.” You give him a look, and he smiles. “It’s not as nice as the zoo, I’m sure, but it’s just as entertaining.” He leans back on his chair. “Sometimes I would take my daughter.”

“Your daughter?” You knew of his wife, but you hadn’t realized that they had a child. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

He winces, and nods sheepishly. “Charlie,” he tells you her name. “I think you’d like her- she’s peppy.” He gives you a tense smile, and looks away. “We don’t talk as much as we used to.”

You frown. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shakes his head, and lets out a sigh. He sits straighter, and pulls his shoulders back. “How are the bandages?” You roll your ankles, unsure what to make of the sudden shift in conversation. “They’re not too tight are they?” It’s not your place to pry, and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable when he’s the one caring for you.

“No, Lucifer,” you answer. “They’re fine. Thank you.”

He nods, and you can tell he’s grown uncomfortable now. You don’t blame him. “Of course. I wanted to make sure that you were comfortable. As much as possible.” 

A silence befalls between the two of you. You bite into the fruit, and force yourself to swallow it. The nectar is sweet and makes your jaw ache. Beside you, Lucifer clears his throat, and you turn to him.He looks away, his eyes trained on the walls.

“If I may ask, I- Well you see, you know my name-” he looks at you again, and you tap your nails against the glass- “and I don’t know yours.” Your eyes widen, and you try to think back on when you might have whispered your name to him, but you can’t recall it. “I just- I was thinking since you’re here, and I’ve changed your bandages, I thought, that I should be calling you by your name.”

“My name?” You whisper, and you feel silly for keeping it close to you. For just a fraction of a second, for some far away thought to be held, that you didn’t want to share the last thing that ties you to Heaven.

“If only that’s okay. If not, we can come up with a nickname or something.”

You shake your head. You’ve kept your name to yourself, and you wonder if your pain-induced haze, if he’s ever asked you for it. You stretch your lips, and wet your tongue. “Did you ever ask for it,” you hold the words on your tongue, and they are heavy like wine, “when I was in and out?”

“Yes,” he confesses. “You wouldn’t answer.”

A name given by Heaven; whispered to you gently in the arms of Father, as sunlight shined down upon you and warmth surrounded you in your creation. It’s silly, and childish to cling to it, to hold onto it like a child holds onto their blanket, but it’s all that you have left. Everything else was stripped from you, taken and tossed aside, and you wonder if your name even holds any significance back home. 

You turn to Lucifer, and your name is heavy on your tongue, bitter like wine, and it’s your name, fitting you like a glove that will fit no other. 

Lucifer repeats your name, whispering it under his breath, tasting it between his canines and tongue, and you watch him. Chills run down your spine, and the feeling is not unpleasant. He catches your eyes, and his cheeks flush, the red spots darkening, under your gaze. He calls your name once more, louder and clearer, want held between the vowels, as if to savor your name, to savor what you’ve given to him. 

You nod, your chest aflame, as if you’ve done something scandalous. You can’t trust your voice, not when he's looking at you. Your knuckles feel as if it’s on pins, tingling and having you scratch against the bowl. 

He glances at your lap. “Are you done?” 

“Yes,” you breathe out rather quickly. 

He reaches for the bowl, grabbing it by the rim and stands from his chair. You watch in silence as he pushes the chair back, letting it block one of the drawers from the nightstand. The bowl clinks against the mahogany of the dresser, and he grabs the books, flush against his chest. 

“I hadn’t meant to leave the books so far from you,” he says, placing them on the nightstand. “They’ll be closer within your reach.” You nod, and peek over, reading the title of the first book. “I’ll be back in a few hours, if you need anything, feel free to call out. I’ll make sure to hear it.”

He walks away, his heels clicking against the floor, and you don’t want to be alone anymore. “Lucifer,” you call out, fisting the blankets in your hand. He turns around, pressing the bowl against his body, his hand wrapped tight around the doorknob, already opening it and stepping into the rest of his domain. You swallow nothing, and try not to think of anything other than gratitude.  “Thank you for everything,” you tell him, sending him a thinned smile. 

“Of course,” he calls your name in a sweet tone. “Whatever you need, just let me know.”

The door closes shut, and you let out a breath. Your hands fist at your shirt, grasping and you bite the inner corners of your lips, feeling the soft flesh of it be pierced by your teeth. It’s been far too long since you’ve had a gentle hand, since you’ve had someone be gentle with you. A hand reaches out and scratches along your bicep, pulling the skin and leaving soft arches across. 

You hadn’t realized how much you would miss Adam.

[cin-emma-foot]

Netflix's "The Diplomat" New York premiere at Park Lane Hotel on April 18, 2023 in New York City

[hasminnn]

📍heritage hill and nature park garden (old diplomat hotel), 2023.

[mudalchemy]

fun thing: during this year there is a kind of a theme going on in my friend group. basically every person has to be given for their birthday some kind of a cold weapon (and also a plushie, can't forget about the assigned plushie). there already were penknives, a stiletto, a butterfly knife, an axe (that, I'm proud to say, i had personally customized so our next raskolnikov might butcher fashionably), and a bunch of throwing knives.

well, a few days ago I officially got older (yet not wiser, definitely) and i was given a sword. a goDDAMN SWORD. an actual steel one! and it's sturdy! and i have already smacked things with it! and they got wrecked! and i'm so incredibly overjoyed that i just have to yell about it on the tumbled site!

[nadzcantos]

[hotelbooking]

Hotel Diplomat Stockholm Hotel Diplomat Stockholm offers an array of entertainment facilities to ensure a memorable and enjoyable stay for guests. Whether you're looking to unwind after a long day of exploring the city or indulge in some much-needed relaxation, this hotel has you covered. The bar at Hotel Diplomat Stockholm is the perfect place to start your evening. With its chic and sophisticated ambiance, it offers a wide selection of cocktails, wines, and spirits, making it the ideal spot to socialize with friends or enjoy a quiet drink alone. For those seeking ultimate relaxation, the hotel's massage and sauna facilities are not to be missed. Indulge in a rejuvenating massage to soothe tired muscles or unwind in the sauna to detoxify and de-stress. These facilities provide a blissful escape from the bustling city, allowing you to fully recharge and rejuvenate. If you're in the mood for a quiet retreat, the hotel's library is the perfect spot. Curl up with a book from their extensive...

[happyredstar]

Baguioventures with siblings and mom 2024

[travelinformation9246]

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[marwahstudios]

International Diplomatic Club Opened Mumbai Chapter

Mumbai: “It is a great pleasure to be here at Mumbai on the opening of new chapter of International Diplomatic Club involved in building relation not only between India and Russia but India and the whole World. Members from different strata of life from many countries have already shown their interest in the organization,” said Sandeep Marwah Global Patron to IDC addressing the gathering at inauguration at Tajmahal Palace Colaba, Mumbai.

The establishment of clubs in Moscow, Delhi, Kolkata, Bangalore, Hyderabad, Dubai has given a powerful image to this organisation and people have supported the idea of creating love Peace and Unity through art and culture. We will be organising national level and international events to give better shape to this association,” added Sandeep Marwah.

Dr. Sergey Dvorianov Global President of IDC proposed the name of Rajinder Maglani and he was nominated the Chapter head of Mumbai. The event was attended by many prominent people like Ashish Deep Verma, Dr Murthy Devarabhotla, Dr Tasneem Shariff, Hari Kishan Valmiki, Purnima Anand, Ashok Tyagi, Rajiv Choudhary, Dr Amjadkhan Pathan, Pooja, Anil Maurya, Kamal Sewadda, Keshav D Kamble, Rahul Bhatkule, Shankar Ramakrishna, Sudarshana, Vipin Rai Bhayana and Dr K.J. Purushotham.

[shellwanders]

36 TOP BEST THINGS TO DO IN BAGUIO THAT YOU NEED TO ADD TO YOUR TRAVEL ITINERARY

36 TOP BEST THINGS TO DO IN BAGUIO THAT YOU NEED TO ADD TO YOUR TRAVEL ITINERARY

 Baguio is the  “Summer Capital of the Philippines” Baguio, on the Philippines’ Luzon island, is a mountain town of universities and resorts. Called the “City of Pines,” it’s particularly popular in summer due to unusually cooler weather. At its center is Burnham Park, with gardens and a lake. – Wikipedia Traveling to Baguio for the first time? This detailed and curated travel guide will make…

[maverick96]

Watch "ISIS Attacks China #shorts" on YouTube

[livebeforeyoulearn]

I’m Not Sentimental

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: Alexia notices you from across the room, she’s unable to take her eyes off of you. You catch her staring and lead her back to your hotel room.

-

Alexia stands on the edge of the gathering, her presence unassuming despite the magnitude of who she is within the world of football. A glass of red wine rests delicately in her hand, untouched. She feels out of place here, surrounded by unfamiliar faces who chatter loudly, too absorbed in their own conversations. Her teammates, who’d arrived with her, had already splintered off into clusters, disappearing into the fray of indistinguishable groups. Alexia, however, remains stationary, her eyes scanning the room with a sense of detachment, feigning interest in the faces and conversations swirling around her.

It’s only when her gaze locks onto you that her disinterest falters, something shifting in her chest as she watches you. You’re across the room, engaged in conversation with two women. Though you seem perfectly poised – your smile is wide, eyes glittering in that practised, diplomatic way – there’s something disingenuous about it, a facade that Alexia picks up on instantly. It’s a mask you wear well, one that likely most people wouldn't notice, but to her, it’s transparent. There’s a beautiful irony in it, that slight insincerity of the smile, a professional shield to keep people at arm's length. Yet, Alexia finds it compelling – intriguing, even. It draws her in without her realising it, like a silent force pulling her closer.

Her heart skips when your eyes meet hers. It’s like the whole room stills for a moment. Alexia, unaccustomed to being caught off guard, feels the intensity of the connection immediately, but after a few moments, it becomes too much. The vulnerability in holding your gaze becomes unbearable, and she’s the first to look away, her eyes dropping to the wineglass in her hand. Her fingers flex against the cool surface of the glass, and she forces herself to breathe, though it feels as if the very air in the room has thinned. She hadn’t meant to stare. She’s not the type to linger on strangers, but there’s something about you that makes it impossible to look away for long. As the seconds stretch on, she risks another glance – only to find you making your way towards her.

Her heart stumbles in her chest as she watches you slip out of the conversation with effortless grace, the movement so smooth it’s as if you’ve been waiting for the right moment. Your confidence unnerves her, though she would never admit it. Her grip tightens on the wineglass as her pulse quickens. She tries to compose herself, but when your eyes lock onto hers again, she feels like a deer caught in headlights. Her gaze flickers with a momentary panic before she regains her composure, straightening her posture, forcing a casualness into her stance. But you’ve already seen it – the fleeting moment of surprise – and your lips curve into a small, knowing smile.

By the time you stop in front of her, Alexia’s throat has gone dry. The proximity between you sends her nerves into overdrive, but she fights to appear composed. Her lips part slightly, though no words come out at first, her mind grappling with the surrealness of the moment. You’re even more striking up close, and she can’t shake the feeling that she should be saying something – anything. Instead, you speak first, your voice low, teasing, the words slipping through the space between you with a kind of intimacy that makes her head spin.

“You were staring,” you murmur, the teasing edge softened by the smirk on your lips.

The accusation is gentle, but it sends Alexia’s heart into overdrive. For a split second, she feels caught, as though you’ve peeled back some layer of her she hadn’t intended to expose. Her mind races for a response, but nothing comes fast enough. All she can do is tell the truth, a fact that flusters her.

“I’m sorry,” she finally manages, her voice soft and low, barely audible over the hum of the room. “You’re just very beautiful. I couldn’t help it.”

She watches the effect her words have on you, noting the way you bite your lip and tilt your head, as if considering her. That small, simple action sends a wave of nervous energy coursing through her, and she can feel her heartbeat in her ears. She’s not used to feeling this way – vulnerable, off-balance. You seem to take it all in stride, though, watching her with a look that borders on playful.

Then, you take a step closer, your voice clearer now, no pretence or coyness as you ask, “Do you want to get out of here?”

The question hangs between you, clear and direct, and for a brief moment, Alexia feels frozen. Her mind races, trying to process the suddenness of it all. She’s never been one to make impulsive decisions, but something about the way you’re looking at her – like you already know her answer – makes the choice feel inevitable. After what feels like an eternity, she nods, her voice quiet as she whispers, “Yes.”

You reach out, grabbing her hand with such casual certainty that Alexia feels her mind blank. Your touch is light, yet commanding, and before she knows it, she’s following you through the crowd, weaving past people who are none the wiser. The warmth of your hand against hers, the sensation of being led, of surrendering control, leaves her in a daze, as though every step takes her further from her usual self. She doesn’t think to question it, doesn’t ask where you’re taking her. It doesn’t seem to matter.

You move with purpose as you step into the night, not rushing but not hesitating either, and Alexia follows without a word of protest, her mind too full of you to think of much else. She doesn’t realise where you’re headed until you’re standing in front of your hotel, the building looming in front of you. You walk inside, and Alexia follows as if on autopilot, every step tethering her closer to something she doesn’t yet understand but craves all the same.

Once you reach your room, the door clicks shut behind her, sealing you both inside. Alexia stands there, motionless for a moment, her mind scrambling to catch up with the events of the last few minutes. It’s only when you step closer, your hands gently cupping her face, that her thoughts come to a halt. The touch is gentle, intimate, but it sends a rush of adrenaline through her. Your eyes bore into hers, searching, as if you can see every thought running through her mind. It makes her feel vulnerable – exposed, yet strangely safe in that exposure.

She’s not sure why she’s here, why she’s allowed herself to follow you like this. She isn’t sentimental, never one to make impulsive decisions about people she doesn’t know, yet the way you’re looking at her now, with such intensity, stirs something deep inside her – a craving she can’t name, a desire she doesn’t fully understand but can’t deny.

Your lips curve into a soft, almost predatory smile as you sense her hesitation, the slight tremor of nerves you’ve elicited. You like the effect you have on her. It’s clear in the way you move closer, your breath mingling with hers as you close the distance between your bodies. She can feel the heat radiating from you, the electric charge in the air that seems to bind you together. When her hands instinctively find your waist, pulling you against her, it’s an unspoken claim, as if by that simple action she’s asserting some control, even though it’s clear that you’re the one in charge here.

The moment her lips crash against yours, the dynamic between you shifts. What had been tentative and charged with uncertainty transforms into something electric, raw. Her kiss is hungry, desperate, as though something inside her has snapped, and all that matters is the feel of your body against hers. You respond in kind, pressing against her with equal fervour, your lips melding together in a messy, fervent rhythm that leaves both of you breathless.

The taste of you is intoxicating, each kiss more heated than the last, your tongues tangling together in a frantic dance. Alexia’s grip tightens, her hands roaming down the curve of your waist, fingers digging into your hips as if she can’t bear to let you go. You let out a quiet moan into her mouth, and the sound drives her wild, spurring her to kiss you harder, to press you back until your knees buckle against the edge of the bed.

When you fall back onto the mattress, Alexia follows without hesitation, her body pressing down against yours, the weight of her grounding you. You love the sensation, the warmth of her body seeping through your clothes, the way her hands explore you with a newfound confidence that only makes you want her more. The power dynamic has shifted, but you don’t mind. If anything, it excites you, makes your heart race even faster.

Her lips trail down your neck, leaving a blazing path of heat in their wake, and you tilt your head back, giving her more access. Every kiss, every brush of her fingers against your skin, sends sparks of pleasure through you, heightening your desire to the point of near desperation. When her hand slips beneath your dress, pushing the fabric higher up your leg, your breath catches in your throat, anticipation buzzing through your veins. Alexia’s touch is gentle but firm, her fingers grazing your skin with a kind of reverence that leaves you aching for more. She moves with a sense of urgency now, her mouth travelling lower, lips pressing hot kisses along your collarbone and down your chest, each one igniting a fire in its wake.

You tilt your head back further, arching into her as she pushes your dress up higher, her movements becoming more insistent. The power she seems to be taking, after being so nervous moments before, only makes you want her more. Her kisses are growing messier, more fervent, as though she’s trying to claim every inch of you, and you can’t help but revel in the way she’s beginning to lose herself in this moment.

Her hands continue their journey up your thighs, teasingly slow, until she’s nudging your dress off entirely. You shift slightly, helping her as she pulls it over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. She pulls back for just a second to take you in, her gaze sweeping over your body, and the way her eyes darken sends a thrill through you. It’s a look that leaves you feeling powerful and vulnerable all at once, but before you can dwell on it, her lips are on you again, more desperate this time.

Her mouth finds yours in another searing kiss as her hands roam your bare skin, fingers tracing every curve, memorising the feel of you. You moan softly into her mouth, the sound fueling the fire between you. She presses you further into the mattress, her body moulding against yours in a way that feels natural, right.

Her suit jacket is still on, and you reach for it, your fingers fumbling slightly as you work to pull it off her. She lets out a low, breathy laugh against your lips, the sound full of heat and amusement, and it only makes you more determined. When you finally get the jacket off, your hands waste no time in slipping beneath her shirt, your fingers running over the toned muscles of her back. The heat of her skin against yours sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel her falter slightly, a soft groan escaping her as your hands explore her body.

You fumble with the waistband of her pants, your fingers clumsy in your growing impatience, but Alexia is quick to help you, her movements just as eager as yours. There’s an urgency in the way she sheds her clothes now, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts as she works to strip herself bare. Once her suit is gone, the cool air of the room briefly brushes over her skin, but it’s quickly replaced by the heat of your body when she lowers herself onto you again.

The sensation of her bare skin pressed against yours, the warmth of her body melding with yours, is overwhelming. She’s all-consuming, her presence, her touch, the way her lips never seem to leave your skin for long. You love it. You crave it.

Her lips move from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive skin of your throat. She moves with purpose, her hands roaming your body with more urgency, and you can feel her fingers lingering at the waistband of your underwear. The heat between you is unbearable, every touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body, and all you can think about is how much you need her to touch you, to claim you completely.

When her hand finally slips beneath your underwear, a gasp tears from your throat. Her fingers are warm against your skin, teasing. You arch into her touch, a soft moan escaping you as she presses her fingers into your folds, testing the waters. The sound of your pleasure seems to spur her on, her movements growing bolder, more confident. Her touch is precise, calculated, but there’s an edge of desperation to it that makes your heart race.

“You’re so wet,” she whispers, her voice thick with desire as she presses her forehead against yours. The words send a shiver through you, your body responding to the raw hunger in her tone.

You bite your lip, unable to find words as your hips buck forward, chasing the friction her fingers offer. She smirks, clearly enjoying the power she has over you now, and her thumb brushes over your clit with just the right amount of pressure to make you see stars. Your breath catches in your throat as your body tenses, pleasure building quickly with every stroke of her fingers.

She doesn’t let up. Her fingers work you expertly, her touch relentless as she pushes you closer and closer to the edge. Her other hand grips your waist, holding you steady as your body writhes beneath her, the tension coiling tighter in your core. You can’t stop the soft, breathless moans that spill from your lips, and you know she’s taking pride in every sound she pulls from you.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your voice thick with need, and she rewards you with a particularly hard stroke of her fingers that sends a wave of pleasure crashing over you. Your back arches off the bed, your head falling back as you gasp for breath, the intensity of the sensation leaving you trembling.

She leans down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss as her fingers continue their relentless pace, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation, and you can feel yourself unravelling beneath her. The pleasure is overwhelming, building with each pass of her fingers until it feels like you’re going to break apart from the intensity of it.

When the climax finally hits, it’s like a tidal wave crashing over you. Your entire body tenses, pleasure surging through you in waves, and a sharp, throaty moan escapes your lips. Alexia doesn’t stop, guiding you through the orgasm with practised ease, her fingers moving slower now but still keeping you grounded in the sensation. Your hands grip the sheets, your body arching into her as you ride out the high, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

It’s only when you’re too sensitive, the pleasure bordering on pain, that you finally nudge her hand away, your body trembling as you come down from the high. She pulls back slightly, her fingers slipping out of you gently, and you both take a moment to catch your breath. The room is quiet except for the sound of your heavy breathing, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

“I have a strap in my bag,” you murmur. The breathless quality of your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Alexia. Her eyes flicker with a mischievous glint, and the slow curl of a smile lifts her lips. She raises an eyebrow in that teasing, knowing way, a gesture that makes your heart pound faster in your chest. Without another word, she lifts herself from her position and moves to the edge of the bed, her body graceful as she crosses the room to your bag.

“Under the clothes,” you say, watching her dig through the contents with careful hands as you remove your final piece of clothing. Her fingers move with purpose, sifting through your belongings without disturbing the organised chaos too much, mindful of not making a mess. When she finds what she’s looking for, she straightens up, the strap-on in hand. There’s an energy radiating from her as she turns back to you, her eyes darkened with intent.

She approaches, moving with that unhurried deliberateness that has your body tingling in anticipation. As she begins to put it on, you can’t resist helping her, your fingers brushing against hers as you fasten the harness. Once it’s secure, she steps back, her eyes locked on yours, and you can see the shift in her demeanour.

Before you have time to fully prepare yourself, she gently but firmly flips you over, positioning you on your knees. The suddenness of the movement sends a thrill racing through you. Your arms tremble slightly as you prop yourself up on your elbows, biting down on your lip to keep from whimpering aloud. Alexia moves behind you, and you can feel the weight of her presence, her knees sinking into the mattress as she climbs on the bed. A shiver runs down your spine as her hands find your hips, her touch grounding and possessive. She takes her time, her palms roaming across your ass and up the curve of your back, as if savouring the feel of you beneath her fingertips.

Then, the tip of the toy nudges against your core, and you can’t stop the soft moan that escapes your lips. It’s involuntary, a natural response to the pressure and the teasing contact, and Alexia revels in it. You can hear the way her breath catches, how she groans behind you, biting her own lip hard enough to make it white. Her fingers tighten their grip on the base of the toy, and she begins to slide it along your slit, purposefully slow, almost torturously so. The feeling makes you buck forward, a gasp escaping your lips when she deliberately rubs the toy against your clit.

The pressure is intense, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you, and your head drops to the mattress. Every nerve in your body feels alive, on edge, as she pushes the tip inside of you, causing your back to arch instinctively. Your hips move closer to her, seeking more, needing more, and Alexia obliges without hesitation. With how slick you are from your previous climax, the toy glides into you with ease, and she lets out a low, appreciative groan, clearly enjoying how easily you take her.

Her hands return to your hips, gripping you tightly as she begins to move, her thrusts slow and steady at first. The rhythm she sets is deliberate, almost teasing in its languid pace, allowing you to feel every inch of her. Your moans are soft, but they grow in intensity, echoing in the quiet room. Each thrust, each roll of her hips sends ripples of pleasure through you, and it doesn’t take long before she starts to pick up speed. Her movements grow more urgent, her hips thrusting harder, deeper, until the pleasure becomes overwhelming.

The sound of her laboured breathing, the occasional grunt and groan she lets out, only serves to push you closer to the edge. There’s something primal about the noises she makes, something that stirs the fire within you even more. She’s relentless, her pace unforgiving, each thrust driving you closer to that sweet release you crave. Your body responds in kind, the knot in your stomach coiling tighter and tighter with each deep thrust.

Then, without warning, her fingers slip between your legs, finding your clit. The first touch is electric, her fingers rubbing tight, firm circles around your sensitive bud, and it sends you spiralling. It only takes a few more strokes, a few more thrusts before the tension inside you snaps. You cry out, your body trembling uncontrollably as your orgasm washes over you, wave after wave of ecstasy consuming you. Your legs shake beneath you, your arms barely able to hold you up as you convulse with the force of it.

Alexia’s pace slows, her hips still moving but with less urgency now, allowing you to ride out the last few pulses of pleasure. Her breathing is heavy, mingling with yours in the stillness of the room, the sound of your bodies together a quiet symphony. Eventually, she pulls out, and a soft whimper escapes you at the sudden emptiness. Your body collapses onto the mattress, utterly spent, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Alexia falls down beside you, her body equally worn out but with a satisfied grin on her face. She rolls over to face you, her hand lightly tracing circles on your back as her eyes scan your body, taking in every detail as you recover. “You okay?” she asks, her voice raspy, rough from the exertion, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you nod.

“Good,” she mumbles, the husky quality of her voice sending another shiver through you, igniting that familiar desire all over again. Her gaze darkens as she watches you lift yourself, the exhaustion in your limbs no match for the fire burning in your core. You move over her, straddling her waist, and without a word, you lean down to capture her lips in a deep, hungry kiss. Your tongues slide together, the taste of her intoxicating as you roll her onto her back.

Alexia gasps into your mouth as your slick heat grinds against her toned abdomen. Her hands move up and down your body, never lingering in one place for too long, as though she’s trying to memorise every inch of you by touch alone. Her fingers squeeze your breasts, sending jolts of pleasure through you, her touch everywhere, overwhelming you in the best possible way.

You continue making out, the slow grind of your hips against her providing a delicious friction that stokes the flames of your arousal. When the sensation becomes too much, you pull back, lifting yourself just enough to position the toy between your legs once again. With a deep breath, you lower yourself onto it, biting your lip to stifle the moan that threatens to spill from your mouth. You’re so sensitive now, every nerve ending in your body screaming with pleasure as Alexia’s hands grip your hips, guiding you, helping you move.

Her lips latch onto your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin there, leaving marks in her wake. The combination of her mouth on your neck and the way she’s controlling your movements has you nearing another climax faster than you expected. Just when you think you can’t handle any more, Alexia flips you over, taking control once again.

Her thrusts are deep, precise, perfectly matching the rhythm you had set. Your body relaxes beneath her, trusting her to bring you to the edge again, to push you past it. Her lips are everywhere – your jawline, your collarbone, your chest – anywhere she can reach. You feel like you’re drowning in sensation, your body completely at her mercy.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you breathe out, the words slipping from your mouth before you can stop them. She grins against your skin, clearly pleased with your reaction. Her mouth presses into the skin of your neck, the warmth of her lips grazing your pulse point as she continues to move inside you with that perfect precision that only she seems to have mastered. You feel completely unravelled under her, every thrust pushing you deeper into the haze of pleasure that clouds your thoughts.

Her hips roll into you again, deeper this time, and you can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips. You’re completely undone, your breath shaky as you struggle to hold on to the last remnants of control. But Alexia doesn’t let you. Her movements are relentless, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through you, building that familiar tension in your core all over again.

When her hand moves from your hips to the base of your neck, your heart skips a beat. Her fingers wrap around your throat, not squeezing too tight, but firm enough to send a fresh rush of heat through your body. The pressure is intoxicating, adding a dizzying layer to the already overwhelming sensations crashing through you. She’s watching you closely, her eyes dark and full of desire, taking in the way your body reacts to every little thing she does.

Her other hand moves to your jaw, gently but insistently tilting your head so that your lips meet hers. The kiss is demanding, intense, and you struggle to keep up with the way her tongue moves against yours. You’re overwhelmed, your body trembling beneath her, and you know you’re close – so close you can barely think, your only focus is on the feeling of her hips, her lips, her hands on you.

Just when you think you can’t take anymore, her grip tightens ever so slightly on your throat, her thrusts growing harder, faster. The pressure is exquisite, the sensation tipping you over the edge. Your third climax hits you much more intensely than the first two. It rips through you, stealing your breath, and for a moment, everything goes white. The pleasure is so intense that you can’t hear, can’t see – your body goes numb in that perfect, blissful way, your mind floating somewhere far beyond the bed, beyond the room.

Your muscles clench around her as you cry out, your nails digging into her shoulders as you hold on for dear life. Alexia groans, her voice low and guttural, the sound vibrating against your skin as she feels you pulse around her. She keeps moving, riding out your orgasm with you, but her thrusts slow as she lets you come down from the high, her lips pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your cheek, your lips.

Finally, she pulls out of you, and your body immediately feels the loss, but you’re too spent to care. She collapses onto you, her body pressing against yours, both of you breathless, your chests rising and falling in time with one another. Her skin is hot and slick with sweat, but it feels comforting as she lays there, her face nestled into the crook of your neck. You can feel her breath, still uneven, warm against your skin as you come back to yourself, slowly but surely.

You brush your fingers through her hair, tucking it behind her ear so you can see her face. When she finally lifts her head, her eyes meet yours, and she smiles – soft, shy, and so different from the intense, commanding woman who had just brought you to the edge of pleasure over and over again. There’s something vulnerable in the way she looks at you now, as if she’s silently asking if she’s done enough, if you’re okay.

“Did you… like?” she asks, her voice small and slightly breathless, her earlier confidence now tinged with uncertainty. You smile, exhaustion pulling at the corners of your mouth, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads through you.

“I’ve never been fucked so good,” you mumble, and the honesty in your voice makes her eyes widen slightly before a slow, satisfied grin takes over her face. She leans in, kissing you softly, a kiss full of tenderness.

Once you’ve caught your breath, you decide it’s your turn to take control. You roll her onto her back, and the playful gleam returns to her eyes as you kiss your way down her body, teasing her just as she had teased you. Every gasp, every groan that escapes her lips is like music to your ears, spurring you on as you return the favour with just as much intensity. You don’t stop until she’s shuddering beneath you, her voice hoarse from calling out your name, her body trembling in the aftermath of her own release.

The hours slip away as you continue to lose yourselves in each other. There’s no rush, no need to hold back. Every kiss, every touch feels like a new discovery, and you explore each other until your bodies are completely spent, your minds blissfully hazy from the pleasure you’ve shared.

By the time the early hours of the morning creep in, you’re both exhausted, your limbs heavy as you lay tangled together beneath the covers. Alexia’s head rests on your chest, her arm draped across your stomach, and you can feel the gentle rise and fall of her breathing as she drifts off to sleep. You’re not far behind her, your eyes growing heavy as the warmth of her body lulls you into a peaceful slumber.

[ghostbsuter]

"I did not think I'd ever use it like this," the boy muttered next to batman.

It was comically, with the police and ambulance lighting up the entire area.

Danny, being himself, had gotten curious and accidentally busted a human trafficking ring, which ended up with batman and his kids (?) doing the fighting and the police being called.

"Son, solving crime doesn't mean you didn't trespass and break into someone's property, I will have to take you back to the station—"

"I have diplomatic immunity."

Officer Gordon stood still for a moment, progressing.

"You can't really, err— put me to prison." The boy took his phone out, stopped at a picture, and showed it to the officer and batman.

The vigilante confirmed his identity with a jerky nod, and Gordon is pinching his brows.

"Son– no offence your... majesty, why are you in Gotham of all places?"

The boy now identified as Daniel Phantom, prince of the other and currently the reigning monarch of another realm.

In gotham.

"Okay, so," Danny coughs, embarrassed. "I'm on university search and gotham had this really cool space science programm. I really wanted to see it."

—

(Once they checked his papers and got his statement, did they let him leave to his hotel + some of his squad going along for protection measure.

Gordon heaved a sigh, "We can be glad it wasn't the joker. That would have made headlines." and slumb in his seat.

Batman grunts, a sound the officer knows too well.

"You're gonna look out for the kid?"

Another grunt.

"Good, because Gotham help us all if that kid gets hurt.")

[0cta9on]

Stuck With You

length: +2k words

Genre: Fluff

NewJeans Minji x Male Reader (OC)

(Author's Note: My first commission!! Thank you to f_r_e_s_h for purchasing a commission, I appreciate it a lot :) If you're interested in buying a commission from me, head on over to my ko-fi page!!)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

 A light breeze brushes past you, relieving you of your exhaustion for a brief moment as you watch the sun set below the city of Paris from the balcony of your hotel room. The 14-hour flight from Korea was hell, but the view alone made it all worth it. It has always been part of your bucket list to visit Paris one day, it’s a shame that you won’t be able to actually experience any of it though. With the International Summit starting tomorrow, you need to be extra focused on your work as a diplomat representing your country.

A cafe sits across the street from your hotel, beckoning you with its warm and welcoming light. You watch as the people inside talk and laugh about things you can only assume, enjoying one another’s company on this chilly winter day. A nice cup of coffee sounds great right now, but you have to be ready for tomorrow. But… It’s not tomorrow yet. The night is still young, giving you a couple hours to check out the cafe and maybe even explore the city for a little bit. You did all the extra work you needed to do on the plane, so there’s no reason for you to stay in your hotel room. After the summit is over, you’ll be on a flight straight back to Korea, and when are you ever gonna have the time to come back to Paris again? Besides, you’ve been working too hard for far too long, you deserve to have a small break.

Without hesitation, you grab your coat and exit your room, beelining it straight towards the elevators as you mentally practice the little French that you learned before the trip. With a resounding ding, the elevator doors open and you walk inside, only a couple floors standing between you and the City of Light.

The elevator shifts to a stop on one of the floors, opening to reveal a girl around your age wearing a mask and a cap pulled low over her eyes. Even with the majority of her face covered, you could feel the aura of elegance and beauty surrounding her. Her outfit isn’t anything crazy on the surface - a hoodie layered with a leather jacket and a clean pair of jeans - yet something about the way she wears it is so attractive. You wouldn’t be surprised if you find out that she’s a model for Paris Fashion Week, which coincidentally occurs at the same time as the summit.

“Hello,” you greet as she steps into the elevator. She returns your greeting with a simple nod, a small gesture that makes your heart flutter. You didn’t necessarily believe in love at first sight, but you imagine this is how it would feel like.

The elevator descends in silence, save for its mechanical rumble. Due to the nature of your job, you meet a lot of important people from around the world, so your conversational skills have naturally improved over the years. However, you suddenly find yourself tongue-tied around this random girl, not even a simple “How are you?” can escape your lips. All you can do is sneak little glances at her, but now you just feel creepy. Oh well, it’s not like you’re here to meet women or anything of that sort. You just want to feel some freedom for a little bit.

Suddenly, you nearly fall to the ground as the elevator begins to jerk violently. A hauntingly loud creaking noise can be heard from outside as the elevator abruptly stops its descent. The girl trips forward into your chest, and you instinctively catch her, holding on until the elevator eventually stops swaying.

Both of you share a huge sigh of relief. Even if the elevator stopped working, at least you're not plummeting to your doom.

“T-thank you,” the girl says, her voice trembling slightly. You meet her eyes for the first time, suddenly greeted by the most beautiful shade of brown you have ever seen. They’re invigorating like the strongest shot of espresso, sweet like the creamiest hazelnut chocolate, and warming like the first cup of hot cocoa in the winter. You could spend hours, no, years just looking into her eyes, getting lost in every flicker of her irises and every flutter of her lashes.

“Um, are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, s-sorry,” you stutter nervously, finally letting her go. You turn away from her, hoping she doesn’t notice the deep red in your cheeks.

She starts pushing buttons at random, but none of them seem to work, not even the one to call the firefighters. A wave of dread washes over the both of you at the realization that you have no idea how long it’ll take to get out of this metal coffin. Maybe an hour at best, maybe never at worst. With nothing else you can possibly do, you resign yourself to the ground, resting your back against the wall. This is what you get for trying to live a little - you get trapped in a box, forced to think about the consequences of your actions. All because you wanted a cup of coffee.

The girl sits across from you, tossing her hat and mask off in defeat, ruffling her silky black hair with her fingers. Your breath hitches in your throat - she is absolutely gorgeous. You swear you’ve seen her face before, maybe she’s a model for a high-fashion brand or the daughter of a rich CEO who ends up getting in the news for trivial matters. Either way, you can’t help but stare at her, slack-jawed in awe.

“Um, did you want an autograph or something?” She asks, her eyebrows raised in judgment.

You pick your jaw up off the ground, your cheeks burning red with embarrassment. “N-no, sorry, you just look really familiar. Have we met somewhere before?”

She chuckles lightly at your expression. “No, I don’t think we have. I’m Minji.” She reaches her hand out towards you in a friendly handshake, which you accept with a smile.

“I’m Eric. It’s nice to meet you, Minji.” The two of you share a laugh despite the unconventional circumstances. “Weird question, are you Korean?”

“Wah, that’s a good guess. How’d you know?” Minji tilts her head like a curious puppy, causing your heart rate to skyrocket. You can’t fathom how someone can be this cool, cute, and pretty all at the same time.

“Your name,” you explain. “I live in Korea for work, so I’ve gotten used to hearing Korean names.”

“Really? What do you do for work?” 

“I work at the embassy in South Korea representing my country. I’m actually in Paris for the International Summit this week.”

“Oh wow, that’s so cool!” Minji’s eyes light up with wonder, her smile making you forget about the dire situation you’re in.

“Hehe, thanks! What about you, what do you do for work?”

“I, um…” She hesitates, lost in thought. “I’m here for Paris Fashion Week.”

“That makes sense, you’re very beautiful,” you suddenly blurt out. Your eyes grow wide with shock at your own words. “I-I mean, uh-”

“No, it’s okay. That’s very sweet.” A light pink hue graces her cheeks as she smirks at you. “So, is this your first time in Paris?”

You let out a sigh of relief, thankful that she didn’t take your compliment weirdly. “Yeah, it’s my first time. I was gonna go out and see the city for a bit since I’ll be swamped with work for the next couple of days, but now I’m… here.”

She nods in understanding. “That’s what I was doing too. It’s difficult to find a moment to myself because of my job. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a ton of fun, but sometimes I feel like a robot following orders, not really being able to live.”

The space between you falls silent in contemplation. You know that feeling all too well. You love that you’re able to help thousands of people every day by being a voice for the people who need it, but work can often get in the way of what you want to do. When was the last time you spent time with your family? Or sat down with a good book? Or went on a date? When was the last time you were able to breathe?

“If you weren’t stuck in here right now, what would you be doing?” You ask in hopes that it will lift the mood.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Probably walk around and take pictures of all the pretty lights. Maybe get some ice cream if there are any shops open.”

Your ears perk up. “Ice cream? In the winter?”

Minji puts her arms up in defense. “Before you go judging me, just try it for yourself first, alright?”

“No, I like it too!” You exclaim, surprised that you found someone that thinks like you. “I don’t like waiting until summer just to eat ice cream. It tastes better during winter anyways.”

“Oh my god!” Minji jumps up in excitement. “Finally, someone who gets it! All my friends called me weird for eating ice cream when it’s cold outside!”

Enthused by her energy, you stand up to meet her. “They just don’t understand that it doesn’t melt as quickly so you get to enjoy it for longer.”

“Right?!”

You suddenly find yourself inches away from her face, staring into her big, round eyes. The subtle heat of her breath brushes against your cheeks, warming your entire body. You would gladly spend forever stuck in this moment with her, watching the reflection of the universe in her eyes.

As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. Minji pulls away, leaving you breathless. You quickly change the subject before the air between you gets too awkward to the point of no return.

“So… Paris Fashion Week. How’d you get involved with that?”

Much to your relief, Minji eases up, leaning against the wall as she turns to you. “I was invited by Chanel to come and watch their show, and I’ve always loved fashion so there was no way I was going to decline the invitation.”

“Oh, you’re watching the show? I assumed that you were modeling for them,” you say.

She chuckles to herself, blushing slightly. “Are you sure you didn’t break the elevator on purpose just so you could flirt with me?”

“N-no, I didn’t, I swear!” You stutter, flustered. Minji cackles like a hyena at your expression, causing you to keel over in laughter yourself from the insane sound coming out of her mouth. The sound of joyous laughter from two strangers fills the small elevator, unsure of how much time has passed or if you’re ever going to get out of there. You wonder what would’ve happened if the elevator worked normally. Would you be here talking like this? Or would the two of you go about your night without a single word shared between each other? Sure, seeing the streets of Paris would have been great, but would it have been as great as this?

Both of you find yourselves lying side by side, staring up at the bright fluorescent light, your stomachs aching from laughter. Despite it being your first meeting, you can’t help but feel like you’ve known her your whole life. Maybe it’s the same way survivors of a big tragedy bond through shared trauma or something like that.

“Do you really not know who I am?” Minji asks after a long silence. You rack your brain for any possible memories of ever seeing her, but only a faint silhouette appears in your mind.

“Sorry, I really don’t,” you answer. “Oh god, don’t tell me we’re old classmates or something. I would feel terrible if we used to be friends and I didn’t know.”

Her laugh tickles your ear like spring grass brushing against your legs. “No, it’s not like that. Honestly, it feels kinda nice that you don’t know anything about me. No expectations, no questions, no nothing. You just treat me like…. a regular human being,” she sighs.

“Now I’m kinda scared to ask who you are,” you quip, catching a smile from her. “Maybe I don’t have it as bad as you, but I can relate to you somewhat. There’s a lot of people depending on me to make the right decisions and if I miss up even a little bit, so many people get affected by it. If I get recognized in the streets, sometimes they’ll outright tell me what to do, talking about how their families would suffer because of me or outright threatening me to do what they want. It feels like I’m constantly walking on a tightrope being held by two sides that hate each other. No matter what I do, someone is always unhappy.”

Minji meets your eyes in mutual understanding. “That sounds really tough. I’m sorry, Eric.”

Such a simple gesture, yet one that you desperately needed. Talking to her feels like a massive weight is being lifted off of you. The amount of silent suffering you’ve had to endure over the years is finally being unloaded without judgment. With how many people’s lives you affect every day, you never truly realized just how lonely you feel. Thanks to Minji, you feel a little less alone.

“So, what is that you do?” You ask to lift up the mood. “I’ve been dying to know. I’m assuming you’re a celebrity of some kind?”

She smirks at you. “Have you ever heard of New Jeans?”

And then it clicks. You’ve seen her face plastered everywhere in Korea, billboards, ads, commercials, less than 24 hours ago you walked past her face in the airport right before you left. While you aren’t the biggest Kpop fan in the world, you would be lying if you said you didn’t have Hype Boy in your playlist for a solid month.

“Ah, so that’s why you looked so familiar. I’m glad you’re not a classmate I forgot about,” you joke.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if we were friends in another lifetime. You’re very easy to talk to.” Minji meets your eyes, casting that warm smile that makes you feel at ease. You forget that you’re in this tiny box with no way out but patience. You forget that in less than 24 hours, you’ll be surrounded by the most important figures in the world, attending a conference that can impact billions of people across the globe. You forget about your feelings of loneliness, anxiety, and stress that you’ve been feeling recently. As you look into Minji’s eyes, all you can think about is her. Her kindness. Her radiance. Her laugh. Just her.

The elevator begins to shake around you, rumbling to life. Your eyes shut, bracing for impact, but all you feel is the gradual descent of the elevator before it lands on the first floor. You and Minji stand up, not a word exchanged between the two of you. Is this… it? Is it over? Are you just supposed to go your separate ways now?

The doors open to reveal the owner of the hotel on the other side, relief and guilt painted on his sweaty face. “I-I am terribly sorry about the elevator, are you two alright?” He asks.

As you reassure him of your safety, you notice Minji quickly slipping past, donning her mask and hat. You decline the owner’s offer of a free spa day and chase after her.

Minji is an idol. Intimidatingly gorgeous, held to an impossibly high standard that she somehow manages to exceed at every turn. Despite that, she’s also kind, humorous, and down to Earth, nothing like many of the celebrities you’ve seen on social media. Even in your brief meeting, she understood you. She wanted to understand you. You can visit Paris again sometime in the future. But Minji? You’ll never meet a person like her again.

You push through the doors, hit by the frigid winter air as a gentle dusting of snow falls upon Paris. Minji stands at a cross walk, her silhouette covered by unmistakable, and you quickly catch up to her. “H-hey, hi, um…” The words get caught in your throat as nervousness overwhelms you. Can you really do this? Would you be able to make this work with your busy schedules? Maybe, maybe not. But you’ll never know if you don’t try.

“Would you want to get a cof-”

“Yes,” Minji interrupts you, her voice lilting with enthusiasm. “I would love to have coffee. With you.” The snowfall catches in her eyes, glimmering with hope and excitement.

All the nerves you felt moments ago completely wash away, replaced by disbelief and an indescribable happiness in your heart. Minji intertwines her fingers with yours, warming your body against the cold as the two of you cross the street towards the cafe and the rest of your lives.

[hotelbooking]

Diplomat Inn Welcome to Diplomat Inn, a charming 2-star hotel located in the heart of Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada. With its prime location and comfortable accommodations, this hotel is the perfect choice for both leisure and business travelers. Check-in at Diplomat Inn begins at 01:00 PM, allowing you to start your Niagara Falls adventure as soon as you arrive. The friendly and attentive staff will be ready to welcome you and assist with any inquiries or requests you may have. After a smooth check-in process, make your way to one of the well-appointed rooms and settle in for a relaxing stay. At Diplomat Inn, guests are invited to check out by 11:00 AM, ensuring you have ample time to enjoy a leisurely breakfast or explore the nearby attractions before your departure. The convenient check-out time allows for a stress-free end to your stay, leaving you with fond memories of your time in Niagara Falls. Please note that Diplomat Inn has a child policy in place. While children are welcome...

[lolliepuff]

lord tartaglia spoils his siblings too much, he even brings his one sister around teyvat, they even share one bedroom despite his budget allowing for them to take separate rooms. — i wonder if people prefer second pov or third povs in x readers. — big brother!childe x little sister!reader. DRABBLE

you were adorable.

far too adorable that your older brother was WORRIED about the snezhnayan men (such as himself) who’ll ravage you senselessly.

worried enough that he brought you to diplomatic outings as an ‘assistant,’ when really you were just decoration meant to stand at his side.

after all, if ajax couldn’t control himself around you, what about other men? ajax trusts himself around you because unlike the OTHER MEN, he’ll fuck you with passion and love; not like the savage men who’ll fuck and dump you after cumming by themselves.

big brother is different, see? he’ll never leave you so don’t leave him.

“lord tartaglia’s younger sister barely looks at anyone else, no?” one cicin mage remarks, mistaking your refusal to look at other people for bashfulness.

“i do believe it wise not to speak about her, the lord wants made it clear not to approach her unless he’s given us direct permission to do so.” the mirror maiden replies as they all line up to greet the arrival of the eleventh harbinger and his darling sister. “even then, those granted ‘privilege’ to serve her are never of the lower ranking ones, much less a man.”

“she’s like an extension of the lord, no? almost never smiles without him. one might think she’s one of lady sandrone’s creations.” the cicin mage giggles to herself. “with an appearance like that, constantly groomed to perfection, one might actually mistake her for a doll instead of human.”

they spoke in hushed tones but that didn’t seem to mute their words from you, after all; having grown up with ajax, even your senses seemed to have sharpened. — you have no doubt your older brother has heard them too but he seemed to be too taken by something to even reprimand nor react to them.

he calls your name and you grow alert, “i bought you something.” he smiles at you with a grin you recognize to be one born of devious intent. most likely born with perverse intentions.

ajax brought you everywhere despite the protests of both your younger siblings who wanted to come with as well, but he reasoned with them he could only bring one. — in truth, he wants you all to himself, your relationship be damned. he poisoned your mind with ideas, that everyone except your family are all out to get you, wearing masks to hide their true intentions. and because you had no reason to not believe him, you considered his words law.

that’s why you’re too scared to meet anyone else’s eyes unless ajax trusts them, that’s why you refuse to speak with anyone unless ajax’ with you. that’s why your smile is saved only for ajax otherwise evil men will get you. — your world revolved around ajax, everything he said was the truth, if he says this was normal, it was. if he calls you his little wife, you are, if he tells you to keep it a secret from even your siblings, you will. after all, ajax knows best.

“what did you buy?” you ask innocently, turning to him with eyes that reflect nothing but trust.

he only smiled as you both walked towards the bedroom assigned for the both of you in the goth grand hotel. there was a box already placed on the bed, with a ribbon that he tells you to open, before closing the door and locking it.

opening it, you were greeted with two vials that looked to be similar to whopperflower nectar, lingerie and other accessories. glancing back at ajax, you find that he’s already taken off his snow cloak that all other harbingers wore, taking off his expensive outerwear then his red silk shirt. “what are you waiting for? put it on.” he gives you an innocent smile as if the underwear in the box didn’t barely cover anything that you might as well be naked.

but still, who were you to deny him?

what if i wasnt lazy and wrote the smut for this haha