#arnav Singh raizada

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 15

Chasing Chaos

Run, baby, run, run for your life

I'ma tear out your heart,

it'll always be mine.

- ( The song of the chapter is 'RUNRUNRUN' by Dutch Melrose.)

The night is thick with silence, the kind that presses down on you, thick and heavy. Any other night, she might have found peace in this stillness. But not tonight. The moon hangs low, its silver light spilling over the asphalt like a warning, offering no solace, only stretching shadows.

Her car glides through the pitch-black night. The headlights cut through the inky blackness like a blade. Streetlamps flash past in rhythmic intervals, being the only sign of life.

Her fingers tap against the steering wheel in sync with the car's soft hum, a sound that should steady her but only amplifies the unease building in her chest. It's been a few minutes since she's driving, and her security details have not caught up with her yet.

Something isn't right.

Not just tonight, but everything. It's as though every decision she's made, every turn she's taken, has led her into the path of something she never saw coming.

Him.

The thought of him clings to her like smoke, impossible to get rid of. The way his dark eyes follow her, the way his presence lingers even when he isn't there. It can't be a mere curiosity. It mingles with something deeper and nameless, refuses to settle, tugging at her. She prides herself on reading people, yet he's the one enigma she can't solve, can't understand, not even close. It drives her mad.

A screeching noise cuts through the stillness, ripping her focus back to the rearview mirror. The glares of the headlights almost blind her.

It's a vehicle, no a monstrous beast.

A Black Land Cruiser.

Unknown, unrecognised.

Her heart skips a beat. Where the hell are her security details? They should have been behind her by now, trailing close.

The hulking vehicle is like a shadow on wheels, creeping toward her with an unnerving speed, growing dangerously closer with every second.

Her heartbeat stutters, then slams into overdrive. Eyes narrowed, she tracks the Cruiser as it locks in directly behind her, leaving mere feet of space. Her palms grow slick, heartbeat hammering erratically. She braces herself, waiting for any sign of danger, each second dragging painfully long. They could be normal passersby. Just another car on the road... no need to worry, right?

Without taking her eyes off the rearview, she begins counting her breaths, a feeble attempt to calm herself down.

One. Two. Three.

Yet, her heart only races faster, pounding louder in her ears. Something in her gut warns her to stay wary of the monstrous vehicle behind her. She could slam on the gas and attempt to reach the safety of the house, but the other car is larger, faster, built to devour a smaller one like hers in seconds.

She forces herself to stay steady, not wanting to prompt any hostile moves. Her stomach churns, sinking lower with each breath, her gaze shifting to the glove compartment. She bites her lip, frozen, uncertain of her next move.

There's no other option now.

With a determined look in the mirror, she tightens her grip on the wheel, shifts gears, and floors the accelerator. The Cruiser instantly responds, surging forward to match her speed.

What the hell?

It clings to her trail with unnerving closeness, a dark wave ready to engulf her. They gain speed, edging up beside her, now almost driving parallel to her right. Goosebumps prickle along her skin as she tries accelerating, slowing down, even weaving, but the Cruiser sticks, mirroring her step by fucking step.

A loud roar echoes from the distance, gradually getting louder. She glances ahead and spots a motorbike tearing toward her, the rider in full gear, speeding with reckless intent. She jerks the wheel, swerving aside to let him pass, she doesn't want to drag an unsuspecting person into the chaos.

The bike veers in, darting into the narrow gap between her and the Cruiser. And then, when she thinks it's gone, but no, in her mirror, she catches a glimpse of the bike making a sharp U-turn and soon he too joins the chase.

The bike is with them too!!!

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She's in an ambush.

Alone with the Cruiser and the bike, she presses on the accelerator harder. The Cruiser closes in fast, slamming into her rear bumper with a force that rattles her in her seat. The grinding crunch of metal against metal fills her ears. She grits her teeth, bracing against the assault.

Adrenaline floods her veins as her mind races, instincts screaming for an escape. But before she can make her next move, her gaze flicks to the side. The passenger window of the Cruiser rolls down, and something long, metallic glints in the moonlight.

Is that a rocket launcher?!

Her blood runs cold. They're not just chasing her, they're hunting her, intent on ending her. The terror seizes her chest as she tightens her grip on the steering wheel, forcing herself to stay steady. She won't go down without trying.

Every second feels like it could be her last. She doesn't have time to think, only to react. Her mind is screaming for a way out, but there's nothing, just the endless stretch of road and that car gaining on her.

The Cruiser surges forward again, closing the gap. Her heart hammers in her chest as she steals a glance back. The man in the passenger seat is readying the rocket launcher. Her hands tremble, but she keeps pressing on the gas.

On the other hand, the roar of the bike grows louder. It looms in her rearview mirror, barreling down the road with relentless speed. Her stomach twists, the feeling of being trapped tightening with every passing second.

The bike swerves sharply, sliding into the narrow space between her car and the Cruiser again with hair-raising precision. And, then, keeping perfect control of the bike, the rider reaches behind him and pulls out a gun with an effortless ease.

She shifts her car further to the side, bracing for disaster. But it doesn't happen. Instead, the rider, steering the bike with one hand, spins it into a sharp one-eighty to face the Cruiser head-on.

All in one fluid motion. And she stares. Transfixed. Her heartbeat thunders as she watches the scene unfold before her.

A shot rings out.

The man with the rocket launcher jerks, slumping back in his seat as blood splatters across the windshield. The Cruiser swerves, tyres screeching on the road, the entire vehicle shuddering violently before coming to a sudden, jarring stop.

The bike skids to a halt as well, positioned like a shield between her and the Cruiser. It faces away from her towards the beast of a vehicle like it is a beast of a different genre in itself,

The rider keeps his gun raised. His stance is tense, yet controlled, a silent warning radiating from him, danger poised in stillness.

She slams on her brakes, unable to tear her eyes from the scene unfolding before her. Her hands shake as she adjusts the mirror, trying to take in every detail.

Everything feels frozen, the road, the air, her breath.

For a moment, all she can hear is the thudding of her heart in her ears. The biker sits there, still, like a predator, waiting for its prey to make a move.

The Cruiser whirls, but the rider doesn't twitch. Instead, he raises his other hand to his gun, aiming again without flinching.

In a desperate move, the Cruiser lurches into reverse, tyres screaming as it tries to flee, retreating like an animal caught in a trap. But it's too late.

Another shot cut through the silence.

The driver's head snaps forward, lifeless. The Cruiser jerks, veering off course. It crashes into a nearby tree with a bone-rattling crunch, the impact echoing through the night.

Silence falls, thick and heavy.

She's still gripping the wheel like her life depends on it. Her gaze drifts to the white shirt stretched over the rider's shoulders, tucked into dark trousers, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms.

Fuck. She knows this back.

A few weeks ago, she studied his profile so meticulously that she could recognize him from any angle.

He turns his head to look back at her. He's wearing a waistcoat.

And no jacket.

The jacket is lying in her front seat.

Panic flares, sending her pulse skyrocketing. A lone bird cries out from somewhere nearby, its haunting call echoing across the silent, moonlit road. The pale light bathes everything in a ghostly glow, and her pulse flutters wildly, like a caged bird struggling against unseen chains.

They've found out.

The wolves.

The wolves have found out that the serpent had their daughter killed. So they are after her, to end her life, to get their revenge.

Otherwise, why on earth would anyone want to kill her?

Did he find out too?

Was The Wolves's daughter really his sister? Is that why he didn't let them kill her? Because he wants to kill her himself?

Fuck.

It's the moment he's kept talking about..the one where he'll take her life and settle the debts between them.

She sits frozen in her seat, her mind racing. She thinks of speeding off, getting out of the scene, but the way he took down the Cruiser...he could catch her in a second. With a slow, deliberate motion, she opens her glove compartment and clutches the gun in her palm.

He turns the bike toward her, coming to a stop beside her car, huge and imposing. She glances up at the sheer size of the bike and the man riding it as if the bike is an extension of him. He slightly leans back, casually perched atop the massive machine, with the same ease with which he's danced with her this evening.

Her eyes trace the muscles in his arms, tight and defined. The tattoo on his forearm curls like they've always been there, and something stirs deep inside her. She doesn't want to feel it.

NOT. NOW.

His hand, clad in a pair of leather gloves, pulls off his helmet, revealing his face and those caramel-brown eyes. The ones that always make her feel like she's falling into something she can't climb out of.

His eyes meet hers, piercing through the glass, unblinking, as though he knows exactly what he's doing to her.

And she looks away, but his gaze never wavers. He taps on her window, signalling her to roll it down. But she doesn't move. Her heart flutters violently, making her dizzy.

His finger taps the comm in his ear and suddenly, the car vibrates, breaking the stillness and sending a jolt through her.

She jumps, barely stifling a gasp while grabbing her phone. The caller ID flashes.

Unknown number.

It's him.

Her gaze snaps back to him. He's calling her. From barely inches away, through the glass, with him just outside her car. And she lets it ring, never breaking the gaze. Her heart is hammering in her chest, a bead of sweat sliding down her spine, making her skin tingle.

His hand stays at his ear. The buzzing doesn't stop. His gaze remains unyielding. Caramel-brown on hazel. On the side of an empty road, the eerie shadow of the moon stretched over them. The distance between them feels like nothing, yet somehow, everything at once.

The seconds stretch, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air. She doesn't back down. Neither does he. Both of them are stubborn as hell. The world outside might as well not exist. It's just them. Just this unbearable, sizzling whatever happens when they are within a few feet of each other.

He keeps calling, sitting right next to her on his bike. She keeps ignoring it, her grip tightening on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, while her other hand clutches the gun for dear life.

Finally, her hand trembles as she touches the green button, lifting the phone to her ear.

"Why the fuck are you not answering your damn phone?" his angry words echoes in the silence of her car.

But she doesn't utter a single word. Instead, She keeps hearing his breath come through the line, steady and deep. Her own breath quickens in response, matching the racing beat of her pulse. His chest rises and falls with each inhale, the fabric of his shirt stretched tight before it relaxed with his exhale. The sound of it is unnervingly clear, almost intimate. She's never been this close to anyone's breath, never felt the weight of it before. It should feel too distant, too casual, but it doesn't. It feels too real. Too close.

She can't break the stare. She can't tear her eyes away from his. She can't even speak, not with the air so thick. So, she just breathes. Quick, shallow breaths that gradually become deeper, slower, in sync with his.

He's always told her he'd kill her one day. It is always the end goal, isn't it?

Yet, when the day is finally upon them, she doesn't understand why she feels so overwhelmed. His words, the threat, they've always been a constant in their twisted dance.

But, now, it bothers her.

Deeply, very deeply.

Enough to blink and shift her gaze back to the road ahead. Enough to start the car. Enough to press the red button on her phone to break whatever strange, disturbing and unsettling pull keeps them tethered.

But it lingers. She doesn't understand it. She doesn't want to. So, she will run. She has to. He throws her off balance, forces her to feel things she doesn't want to feel. Her brain doesn't function properly right when he's around.

She will never willingly expose her jugular to the man who made a name for going straight for it. He will thrive on her weakness, will know exactly how to get under her skin, he already does.

"Fuck it," she hears him mutter, but before she can press the gas and flee, she sees him pull something from the side of the bike. With a swift motion, he slides it against her car door, and with a quiet click, her car lock pops open.

He tears the door open with brute force. Stunned, she watches as he snatches the car keys from the ignition.

"Stay right where you are," he orders, his voice low and commanding, leaving no room for argument. He pockets her keys without a second glance and ventures right toward the now-crumpled Cruiser.

How dare he?

Then it dawns on her.

Oh, he isn't going to kill her. At least not yet. Maybe he doesn't know yet.

How did he know the wolves were going to attack her tonight? If so, how come the wolves know and he didn't?

The questions spin in her mind like a maze, each turns more confusing than the last. She looks around her, it's pointless to run on foot. If he doesn't kill her, she will surely be dead being lost in the unknown nowhere.

And, there's something inside her...an instinct, a dangerous curiosity...keeps her rooted to the spot. With a resigned breath, she opens the door and steps out, sliding the gun into the pocket of her dress.

She sees him punching the driver's side window of the Cruiser, shattering the glass. Then he unlocks the door and drags the driver's lifeless body out, tearing the shirt with a sharp yank. She watches him, his movements deliberate, as he searches the body, unfazed by the blood, the chaos. There's a dark certainty in the way he works.

He's searching for the initiation tattoos. The ones every member of the triad carries, tattoos marking their allegiance to their individual house.

Curious, she inches closer to see if they are indeed The Wolves, and unknowingly, the words slip out of her mouth. "Are they the Wolves?"

Suddenly, a movement caught her eyes,

a flash of a shadow stepping out from the back seat of the car. Before she can respond, a figure lunges at her.

As soon as an arm lock around her

from behind with a gun at her forehead, her instincts kick in. She wastes no time, bringing her heel down hard on the man's foot with a sharp stomp. He grunts, his grip loosening just slightly, but that is all she needs. With a swift jerk, she drives the back of her head up, slamming it into his face. His grip breaks as he reels back, his nose crunching under the impact.

Before he recovers, she spins around and raises her elbow, bringing it down with all her strength onto his nose. The crack echoes through the air, and he staggers, clutching his face as he drops to his knees on the ground.

And, then a shot rings out from behind her, making sure he remains on the ground. Flat and lifeless.

"I told you to stay in the car." His voice is low and cold.

She doesn't look at him, instead rubbing her elbow where it made contact with the man's face. Her tone is casual and dismissive as she answers, "I can take care of myself."

She feels his gaze on her. So, She meets his eyes and his arched eyebrow.

With a careless shrug, she adds, "It just doesn't work when it comes to you."

The dangerously infuriating smirk spreads across his lips. "How did you know they were The Wolves?"

"I didn't." She shrugs, her voice cool and uninterested, a deliberate choice to avoid getting caught in his web of questioning.

She turns away, striding back toward her car with purpose. She feels the heat of his presence right behind her. She doesn't need to look to know.

"My keys," she demands, when she reaches her car, holding out her hand, without turning.

He places the keys, hovering them above her hand. The cool metal grazes her fingers, teasing her, and she's just about to close her grip when he jerks them back. Her fiery hazels meet his cold browns. His lips twitch.

"Not so fast, Miss Gupta." His voice is soft velvet and dangerously close, brushing against her skin as he leans in, pressing her on the car, his hands on either side of her. She can feel the chill of the night air mingling with his heat. "First, tell me... why are The Wolves trying to kill you?"

"I don't know." She grits her teeth.

"So, you want to keep this up, huh?" he rasps softly. "Pretending you don't know anything? Or are you just waiting to see how far I'll go? Honestly, you should know by now...secrets and I? We're not friends."

"You know, for someone so keen on answers, you're awfully arrogant about getting them."

"And yet, here you are...in front of me, fighting to keep the truth..when we both know the truth is sitting right on the edge of that pretty mouth of yours." His voice inches closer as she denies to look at him, "Come on, Little bird, open up."

She glared up at him, determined not to let him see her squirm. "Maybe if you tried asking nicely, I'd tell you."

"I don't do 'nice," his smirk widens. "The way I look at it, I don't have to ask. I've got you right where I want you....Or should I say, exactly where you keep ending up?.... At my mercy."

"For the hundredth time, Mr. Raizada,... you don't scare me."

His next words come as a low murmur. "You know, Miss Gupta... your toes look particularly delicious. You don't need all of them to live, do you?....stop lying to yourself that I don't scare you. If so, then tell me...what are you afraid of?" She curses herself as her blood begins to boil. He keeps taunting her, "...Are you afraid that I might kill you?"

"If you want to kill me, then just do it. End this right here, right now," she spits the words out.

"Not going to lie, it's tempting."

"You know as well as I do why they're after me. So stop playing these games."

He tilts his head, a fleeting smirk plays at the edges of his mouth, "I know because that's my business...to know things. But how do you know? I didn't realize this was dinner table conversation among the serpents."

She meets his gaze, unflinching. "I wired my father's office. That's how I know it."

Both of his eyebrows arch as he says, "Impressive....you surprise me, Miss Gupta ...."

Her chin lifts slightly, a silent acknowledgement of her own skills.

He takes a step back from her, crossing his arm across his chest as he observes her. A small chuckles escape him as he speaks, "Ask, Little bird."

The question she's been avoiding spills from her lips. "Is this why you hate me so much? Is this why you want to kill me?"

"Care to elaborate. There are so many."

"Because the girl who was killed, Preetika Naik......she was your sister, wasn't she?"

"No."

She raises an eyebrow, taken aback. "No? No, she wasn't your sister, or no, that's not why you hate me?"

"No to both."

Her patience starts to fray, her pulse quickening with frustration. "Then why the fuck do you hate me?"

He steps closer, his movement deliberate, and his tone teasing. "Ask nicely, and I might just answer you," he says, tapping on her previous jab.

He won't. She was wrong earlier when she thought she couldn't read him at all. She can. She can read him, she can read his eyes, and it's clear to her now that he won't tell her. Not the way she wants him to.

"Why did you save my life?" she tries again.

"Who would find the hacker if not you," he replies, his voice smooth, like it's the most obvious answer in the world.

"For once, can you just answer a question straight?"

He smirks, eyes glinting. "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

He grabs her hand like he has all the right over her and places the keys into her palm. His fingers brush against hers, sending a jolt through her that she quickly suppresses. Looking at the keys, she remembers.

"How did you open the car door?"

He shrugs, his tone nonchalant. "It's an automatic car lock opening device. Most average cars can be opened by it."

She stiffens at his words. How dare he call her car average? Her baby, which she brought with her honest money.

A silver Honda Civic.

"Don't call my car 'average'. I bought it with my hard-earned money from freelancing all those years in college. It doesn't have blood money all over it."

A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. The look only fuels her anger further.

"And why the fuck did you stop me here? I'd have been home by now, not stuck here, doing God knows what in the middle of nowhere," she snaps.

He pauses for a moment, his gaze scanning the empty road before locking back onto her. "I wasn't sure if others were waiting for you down the road."

She shoots him a withering look, "You don't have to escort me."

"I told you, little bird, I don't do that 'nice gentleman' thing ".

"What are you doing right now, then?"

"Making sure you go home safely so that a mafia war doesn't break out tomorrow."

She rolls her eyes and slides into the car, slamming the door shut with a huff. Her fingers grip the steering wheel, but she can't help but glance in the sideview mirror.

Her heart stutters as he straddles the bike. His thighs are on either side of the black beast, hips tilting with an almost sinful grace. Each movement is deliberate, hypnotic. His body shifts, commanding the beast as if it were his to tame. He twists the throttle, and the beast rumbles to life with a deep, guttural growl, like a predator answering his master's call. The sound fills the night, raw and alive and reverberates through her, each vibration like a pulse that echoes in her veins. .

She cranks the AC to full volume, the blast of cold air a futile attempt to cool the heat rising in her ears.

He follows her all the way through her house. His presence lingers in the air, settling into her skin like the dark night around her. For a moment, he is the night itself. Dangerous, untouchable, and yet impossibly close.

As the gates of Gupta's mansion creak open, she glances in the rearview mirror. She watches him drive away, swallowed up by the night. A quiet sigh escapes her lips, the knot in her chest loosening just a fraction as the weight of his presence lifts from the air.

Cutting the engine, she takes a few deep, steadying breaths. But, the calm doesn’t last long, though. Her phone buzzes again.

She picks up. That hauntingly husky voice slips through the line, making her eyes flutter closed as his words coil around her. Quiet and lethal.

“There was another reason why I showed up tonight.”

The air catches in her throat as she whispers, “What?”

The silence stretches across the line, taut and endless, until his voice returns.

“You owe me your death, Miss Gupta,” he speaks quietly, “Your. death. is.  mine." A pause. "....mine to take, mine to keep, mine to preserve."

With that, he cuts the call.

As the dark imprints of his words wraps their arms around her, she wonders...is it her life he’s after, or her very soul he’s set on destroying?"

Piece by piece.

Author's note:

I am writing long chapters these days. Do you guys like long chapters or short chapters? Let me know.

See you soon.

<previous> | <next>

@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @chutkiandchotte @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chaiandtakkar @9artsdragon @titaliya

[featheredclover]

Something magical ✨

(we deserve to see them again in a show at this point 🙈)

[msbhagirathi]

I like how Penelope is a writer and her nick name is also 'Pen'. Like..fantastic..ally..poetic..ally..beautiful..ly..whatever..

[bucketsofsalt]

“aap kitne achhe hai” based on my intimate knowledge of knowing they have heart to hearts in his closet 😌

[arshiradio]

ITV’s best enemies to lovers portrayal I’d die on this hill 🔥

[hand-picked-star]

Iss Pyaar ko kya naam doon and bollywood (songs not included)

PART - 01

PART - 01 / PART - 02 / PART - 03

[myfanficfrenzy]

Arshi FF : Pandora’s Box

Author : Munchy

Status : Completed and available on Munchy’s blog

Genre : Romance, Angst, Tragedy

“Keep reading” for my two cents on the story. Minor spoilers ahead. Warnings at the end of the review.

My first serious caution for this story, this isn’t for the faint of heart. If you like your Arnav and Khushi wrapped up in the comfort and warmth of love, away from any and all kinds of hurt and especially morally grey situations, you should probably skip this one. But if you’re a fan of ethereal writing, imperfect characters and a tear jerking angst fest with a side of passionate Arshi, dive right in.

The story’s tagline is ‘That life is a circle is a myth. It spirals’. And that’s exactly one feels reading the story.

Munchy’s story begins in the 1940s, with British ruled India at the brink of partition. While ASR here is Arnav Singh Raizada, KKG is Khushi Kauser Ghilani, two neighbors about to be swept in a whirlwind. The author paints a stunning visual of Punjab and you will find yourself literally back in time with her words. Arnav is back to his ancestral home after his upbringing in English schools and high society of delhi, while Khushi Ghilani had enjoyed a free reign over all the love Arnav’s family could bestow on their lovely neighbor in their small part of the town.

An unfortunate first meet in a Mango Orchard turns our protagonists sour (of course Arnav and Khushi will fight. Duh uh), but they soon find themselves in the web of undeniable attraction towards each other. And right when they’re dealing with minor issues like the first wave of teenage love and heartbreak, the country goes through one of its darkest periods and their lives are turned upside down overnight.

Pointed out to me once in a discussion and I wholeheartedly agree, one of the things that caught me off guard about this fanfic was the portrayal of impact of partition on day to day life of children. You see the worsening environment from their eyes, when suddenly the families and friends they grew up with are now considered enemies. When they can’t be as carefree as they would have loved with their doting neighbours; because now their different faith comes first. Those chapters had me in a chokehold and I’ve read through them with eyes full of tears. The whole story feels like a ticking time bomb when it begins, and it blows up right in your face. Social practices prevalent at that time will also make you want to puke your insides out.

And over the base of all this anguish and tragedy, Arnav and Khushi are looking to build a life together. It hurts every step of the way, so when the small moments of happiness come along you will soak it all up as a reader.

But fair warning, this is Munchy writing angst. And it will make itself known! Every story that I’ve read from her leaves my heart longing for something more, anger at having fate play a cruel role, and almost clawing my brain out, wishing I can get into those pages and fix the whole world for my beloved pair. But as always, life and Munchy’s stories aren’t fair. They’re however emotional, beautiful and extraordinary!

Warnings- Cheating, Violence, Underage Sex

-I

[arshisrabbaves]

How Khushi and Arnav wanted to do each other during this episode:

No lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while they gasp for air scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the ool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick thribbing, first clenching, ear rining, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano eruption, destroying the insides.

[phuljari]

web weave ft these two

• José Olivarez, Citizen Illegal • Nitya Prakash • Richard Silken, Crush

(previous) / (next)

[arshifiesta]

Welcome to Arshi Fiesta!

Phati-sari's aur Sanka Devis, hum tumka forgetyay naahi gaye hain! Hum toh ee lobhbirds ko surprisewa deve ke khatir tumka bulawat hai! Samjheev? Ab ee ka baat padho, e khoon bhari taang kaa introductionwa likh ke gayi hai dekho to jara👀

Theme Introduction: Colours of Love!

If you didn't know already, "Satrangi Re" is a song from the movie Dil Se which is based on the concept of seven stages of love depicted in Arabic Literature. Each stage is denoted by a color so let's look at Arshi's story through these colours!

1. Black for Attraction (hub)

The song starts with a hauntingly energetic tune (spooky!) and we weave through a maze of passages till we finally meet our protagonists. Quite like how Arshi started out as strangers who didn't look like a compatible match initially until all the pieces of puzzles fell into its place.

The beautiful lyrics captures the essence of their dhak-dhaks, their initial attraction that exists from their very first meet. They've hated each other, loved each other but have never ever stopped being attracted to one another. As if a magical magnetic force has kept bringing them together over and over again (guess who? Devi Maiyya of course!) 🖤

2. Violet for Infatuation (uns)

Uff, Infatuation inke jaisa toh aur kisi couple me nahi hai, right? The subtle yet lingering touches, intense gaze, impulsive kiss games and everything about their chemistry is absolutely electrifying! No one does infatuation like them 💜

3. Blue for Love (ishq)

Love love love. Love took so long to blossom between them, like a long drawn out fire. Was it blazing or were there only a few embers alight? One could barely tell. Love started from care first. But they could only care once they hurt each other, right? Oh and hurt they did, they hurt each other really bad. But, isn't it only the people you care about who could hurt you? 💙

4. Green for Trust (akidat)

Trust is tricky. Trust takes longer than love. Because you can only trust someone blindly when you love them. From the chain of broken pearls to the soft and patient unwinding of fairy lights... somewhere between that Arshi started trusting each other. And it strengthened when Arnav stepped up to dance with Khushi, strengthened again when despite all evidence against Khushi and Shyam, Arnav decided to confess his love to her... as if it was the last thing he had left to do. And later when he came to know about Garima's past, he trusted Khushi again. Because things aren't always as black and white as they look. Sometimes they're green 😉💚

5. Yellow for Worship (ibaadat)

What is love or partnership without worship? From strangers to enemies to lovers, at each stage Arnav has worshipped Khushi. Taken care of her in ways that she needed, in ways that people around her couldn't. Tangled feelings and arms entwined in one another's. A shower of gifts, a series of intoxicated confessions. Arnav may be an atheist but if he has worshipped someone apart from his family, that's Khushi. Khushi is as good as any religion to him.

6. Red for Madness (junoon)

The first thing when you think of Red is probably danger or hell-fire. And that's right too because the fierce fire they have isn't like any other. It burns and scathes. It leaves scars. It is a mad love. They hurt and insult each other, they shout at each other. Their egos are too big for one another. And when they're done hurting, they love each other just as fiercely too. ❤️

As Aakash ji has nicely put it, "Khushi ji thodi pagal hai na?". Arey Aakash ji, aapke bhai bhi thodi kam pagal hai? (Don't tell him I said that 🫢)

7. White for Death (maut)

Death is not always about dying. Well sometimes it is... like the time when Khushi nearly dies at the cliff and Arnav fin-fucking-ally kisses her but only for CPR 😒. Or when they both pretend to die on stage as star crossed lovers Heer & Ranjha.

But death is also about other things like the death of hierarchy between them when Khushi was no longer Arnav's employee. The end of anger between them during holi after days of fooling each other with farq nahi padta post contract marriage. The end of difficulties in their path (almost) when they were about to get married again, for reals. The death of distance between them, not just physically but emotionally too, when they spend the night at the hut after running away from the goons. Like they literally met at a grave (dargah) for their second encounter, no? 😌🤍

Accha toh tum padh li ho kaa? Haan, toh e par se tumka kachu toh banave ka pade, aage tumko khoon bhari taang hi samjhayegi okayyy?

Ab jao, thoda paani piyo aur humka bhi pila diyo haiin... Bahutay garmi hai aaj🔥 Hello hi bye bye!

Never mind sasuma, you guys! We're here to celebrate toh let's wish the couple first! A very very Happy 13th Anniversary to these two AND every single one of you who has loved them, adored and cherished them at some point!

Tagging the people who liked the introductory post in comments below because it wasn't clear if y'all wanted to be tagged or not oof! :((

Index to prompts here

In case you missed the first post!

P.S. Search #moodboard or #word prompt on this blog to easily find all the prompts :)

[ipkkndlovescenes]

Sarun/Just one glimpse

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSOM SHADE

Prologue

The Monster in the Shadow

How can such an innocent women have

Such dangerous hands?

- ( The song of the Chapter is "Dangerous Hands" by Austin Giorgio.

2 Weeks ago

A shadow loomed in the dark stillness of the night.

A pair of eyes gleamed.

The eyes of a predator.

Eyes like fire and thunder, laced with venom.

Multiple computers flickered to red all of a sudden. Someone had dared to invade the monster's lair. He was at once thrilled and in awe of the audacity of the intruder, "TheSwallow."

TheSwallow had breached the first layer of firewall the monster had built around his empire of dark web.

And the monster was no stranger to TheSwallow.

He knew her.

He had stolen from her.

How did the monster know the intruder was a "her"? Experience. Years of navigating in the dark corridors of hacking taught him to distinguish between a "he" and a "she". The "she"s usually had a specific style in writing code. These codes in his screens were so damn gorgeous to be written by a man.

The "she"s were very rare in the hacker business, but when there was a "she", it was a fucking spectacle to behold.

Just like what's transpiring right now.

The monster could kiss her dainty little fingers for the show she was putting on. So sexy, so sensual.

A smile curved in the corner of his lips.

His smile was a blade wrapped in silk.

A sinister mixture of danger and delight.

It was time to lay a trap for the little bird. Let’s see how the swallow fared in the sky of the eagles.

Chapter 1

A Serpent in the Eagle's Den

Did you really think

I'd just forgive and forget.

- ( The song of the Chapter is "I see red" by Everybody loves an outlaw)

TheShadowMonster

It's the name she hates the most in the whole universe right now. Who is TheShadowMonster? She doesn't know. No one knows. He is a notorious hacker on the dark web, the lord of that shadowy world. Hackers all over the globe admire him, some worship him and others wet their pants at the mere mention of his name. He is a name of admiration, reverence, and fear in their world.

Khushi Sen Gupta used to admire him, even worshipped him in certain weak moments, but not anymore. Right now, she hates his guts.

TheShadowMonster is a thief.

He has no morals.

As if growing up in a notorious mafia family in Kolkata wasn't bad enough, now she has to deal with this setback in her secret life as well.

Yes, Khushi Sen Gupta is a hacker.

A highly proficient one.

A childhood full of mommy issues and daddy issues does that to you, when you find computers more emotionally available to you than your own parents.

And, Khushi Sen Gupta is a born genius. She discovered the language of computers when she was 8 years old, and since then, she never looked back.

Her father, Sashidhar Sen Gupta is the Deputy Commissioner of Police in Kolkata. Behind that badge, he is also the most corrupt in the country's history, not that anyone knows about his crimes. He is a member of 'The Serpents,' one of the three families that established the mafia in this country in the fifties.

The infamous 'Triad.'

Three powerful families came together to form an organized mafia syndicate that have been dominating the country for decades. These families swore to follow the laws laid down by The Godfathers and to stand by each other in times of need.

In every family, there’s The Boss, often called The Godfather, the unquestioned head who rules the entire empire. Just beneath him is The Underboss, The Heir, waiting in the shadows to take the throne. On par with the Underboss in power is The Consigliere, the trusted advisor who, though not bound by blood, holds the family's fate in his hands.

Beneath this triad of authority are the captains, who oversee specific operations and territories, managing their own teams to ensure the family's orders are executed with precision. At the end of the food chain are the foot soldiers, who carry out day-to-day tasks on the streets.

When territories were being distributed, the then head of the Serpents, Samol Kumar Jha, claimed West Bengal and its borders. They started operating from there. The Sen Gupta family had the honor of being The Consiglieri of The Serpents from the very beginning and they have held that position ever since.

A Consigliere is someone who is not related to the family by blood.

An outsider to the family,

But not an outsider to the mafia society.

He offers legal and financial counsel to The Boss while shielding them from impending threats.

That is Khushi's father now.

The Consigliere of the Serpents.

The Serpents have been ruling West Bengal for decades, but a few years ago, they moved to Delhi when The Boss of that time, Prakash Narayan Jha, decided to dip his toes into politics. As a result, the Sen Gupta household also relocated to Delhi. Even after The Boss was mysteriously murdered, they didn't move back. The Serpents now operate their business in Kolkata from Delhi, as the brother of the deceased boss took over that part of the business a few years ago, giving The Heir a chance to pursue his other interests. The Heir wants to venture into even more dangerous games.

The Politics.

The son of the deceased boss, Shyam Manohar Jha, is eager to try his luck in the political arena, just like his father.

People call him "The Viper".

A fitting description of his nature.

The second family of The Triad is the Mumbai Wolves. As the name suggests, Mumbai is their territory. Khushi knows very little about them. She never had to. In her entire 22 years of life, she hasn't crossed paths with any of them. But she could vaguely recall that the boss's daughter was killed last month, brutally and brazenly, in broad daylight, such an insult to the power the Wolves possessed. The news sent shockwaves through the underworld, leaving everyone on edge and wary of a brewing storm ahead.

And the last but not the least, the most notorious of them all.

The Black Eagles.

Here she stands, right in the heart of their territory.

It’s not that people from one family can’t visit another’s territory. The Serpents have basically been living in Delhi, which is the Black Eagles' domain, for the past two decades. However, a rule has been established. The Serpents can’t meddle in The Eagles' affairs. So, Khushi being here wouldn’t be an issue if it weren’t for two facts, first, the Serpents and the Black Eagles don’t see eye to eye, and second, she came here to stick her tiny nose in their business.

The serpents and the Eagles are enemies, they have been for a long time, bound by a fragile alliance that forces them to tolerate one another. What turned once-friends into bitter foes? That’s a long story, one best saved for another time. For now, there's a more pressing issue to focus on.

Her whereabouts.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.

It is a mistake.

It can't be nothing but a mistake.

A grave one in nature.

Entering enemy territory like this!

But it is a mistake she has to make.

There's a party going on, a costume party with masks, nonetheless. At least it will be a tad bit easier to hide her identity.

The knives strapped to both of her thighs are biting into her skin, adding an extra notch to her already frayed nerves.

Ignoring the pain in her thigh, Khushi simply observes the scene in front of her. She has been preparing for this night for days. She has meticulously transformed her appearance for the evening. The long black sleeveless gown conceals the knives. She's paired the dress with a simple black lace mask. Her dark hair is curled into long waves with lips painted a vivid red.

It is anything but her.

But it is absolutely essential for her plan to remain unrecognizable.

She forces herself to maintain an air of nonchalance. She feigns drinking from the wine glass in her hand, but her eyes are locked on the crowd, never losing focus. A few sips of the drink might have soothed her jittery nerves, yet she refrains. A crystal clear focus is more crucial than any illusion of liquid courage.

The party is being held in the sprawling lawn of a grand mansion owned by a businessman associated with the Black Eagles. The mansion comes alive with the vibrant energy of the party, where twinkling fairy lights drape the trees, casting a warm glow across the night.

Laughter and music fill the open space, a lively symphony of chatter and clinking glasses. Guests mingle in elegant attire, their faces hidden behind an array of intricate masks, each more ornate than the last.

The scent of fresh blooms from the immaculately manicured hedge fills the air. She scans the softly glowing lawn area from the shadows of one of those hedges, observing faces she recognizes from the news over the years. She watches as the soldiers of the Eagles parade around with women mostly decorating the arms of the men they are with, just like those lavish centerpieces, adorning the beautifully arranged tables.

"Mr.Rathore, so nice to see you."

A man's loud greetings draw her attention. Khushi studies the man being greeted. He stands tall, his slender yet agile frame filling out the sharp lines of his tailored suit, a classic black that contrasts with his neatly combed white hair. The burden of age is visible on his face, etched deeply with wrinkles.

Vikrant "the Butcher" Singh Rathore.

The Boss of The Black Eagles.

Everyone in her world has some sort of crimson stain on their hands. But his hands bear the darkest stains of blood, deeper and more haunting than anyone else, the darkest shade of crimson.

They call him "The Butcher" for a reason.

His cold-blooded attitude is a thing of admiration in their world. Khushi has been around men like him in her life long enough not to let that shake her, or at the very least, to ensure none of it betrays her perfectly stoic face, carefully honed through years of practice.

Standing beside him is his son, the Prince of the Rathore Empire, Akash Singh Rathore. A tall, leanly built, lanky man. His role within the Eagles is still uncertain. Rumor has it that the Junior Rathore wants to leave the mafia world, not a promising prospect for the Rathore family, with an heirless empire hanging in the balance.

Those men in the eastern corner of the lawn care very little about the masquerade, standing barefaced while others conceal themselves behind masks. Good for Khushi. Nonetheless, she has studied them so much over the past few days that she will recognize them anywhere whether masked or unmasked, veiled, or unveiled.

Khushi finally lets herself take a little sip of the red liquid for the first time that night. The bitterness of the wine burns her throat, a spark compared to the burning hate prickling her skin as her eyes wander to the man who stands silently beside Junior Rathore.

The man she has come here for.

Arnav Singh Raizada.

The Consigliere of the Black Eagles.

The Vulture.

Her eyes trace over him, lingering on every detail. He stands tall in an all-black suit. The black shirt underneath has its top three buttons open in absence of a tie. His black hair is slightly messy, as if he has just run his fingers through it. He has his gaze fixed on the man in front of him with the most bored, expressionless face she has ever seen. It’s hard to see his eyes from this distance.

But she knows they are brown.

Light chocolate brown.

Like caramel and chocolate mixed together, sprinkled with a hint of orange and green if you get the right angle.

Eyes like shadow and flame.

Eyes that could kill you, literally and figuratively.

She's observed pictures of him in great detail, just for research purposes to be absolutely clear.

Purely and absolutely.

Not because she finds him attractive or anything. Like right now, she can't take her eyes off the handsome man, not because his well-built body is flexing in all the right places as he shakes someone's hand, but because of the stories she has heard of him over the years since he returned from the States seven years ago.

The words have it that after Senior Rathore's retirement, he will be the boss of The Black Eagles, not Junior Rathore. They say Vikrant Singh Rathore favors Mr. Raizada over his own son. In parts, Mr. Raizada even bears a closer resemblance to Senior Rathore than to his own father.

Arnav "The Vulture" Singh Raizada.

He is The Vulture among The Eagles.

In the mafia world, he is known as 'the vulture'. Whereas in the business world, people refer to him by the acronym, ASR. He is the son of the former consigliere of The Black Eagles, Arvind Singh Raizada. Arvind Singh Raizada and Vikrant Singh Rathore were best friends. After Arvind was murdered, his wife tragically ended her life by taking matters into her own hands. Soon after that, Senior Rathore sent the only surviving Raizada to the USA to study at Harvard.

At the age of 25, Mr. Raizada took over the reins of Rathore Industries. It primarily consists of high-end fashion houses, garment factories, and various other business ventures. He transformed the once-dying company into a Fortune 500 corporation. People say his net worth is over 500 million dollars, with some even claiming it is more.

But the more impressive thing is how he got his nickname. He cleared away all their illegal affairs and whitewashed all of their black money, giving them the squeaky clean reputation in the entire mafia world in the police database. Under the shade of the massive wings of The Vulture, The Eagles can now easily operate their business without any hitch.

Such a waste of a Harvard education, Khushi huffs.

There's a saying in her world that became popular in the last few years, "When the vulture surrounds you, try not to die."

He has the reputation of being the deadliest Eagle of them all, the most predatory. He rarely goes on a hunt though, but when he does, it's said to be over in the bat of an eye.

He goes straight for the jugular.

No distractions.

No playing around with the prey.

But no one ever saw him in action. Her bodyguard-turned-driver, Mohan, thinks they are all just rumors The Eagles have spread to instill fear among the masses regarding the next in line.

She fakely smiles at a waiter who offers her some desserts. Slightly raising her wine glass, she pretends to take a sip once again. She keeps her inspection ongoing from under the rim of her glass. She is right. Mr. Raizada does run his fingers through his hair a lot. The tattoo on his hand catches her eye.

He has a tattoo of a swallow on his right hand. Her favourite bird.

She even named her hacker ID "TheSwallow." She yearns for the freedom of the bird and wants to fly away to a far-off land one day. She doesn't want to be frowned upon like the peacock or the swan. She wants to be free, lost in the crowd like a normal human, not caged away in a castle.

She feels bad for the bird inked into his skin. Such a pretty bird to be trapped on the hand of such a despicable man. Just as he has caged the swallow forever in his skin, The Vulture has robbed her of her freedom as well.

She worked tirelessly throughout her years at IIT Delhi to gather information and evidence about the crimes committed by his father and the Serpents, so that by the end of her graduation, she could share them with the police in exchange of protection and escape from the country. She also coded a deadly virus that could evade any high-end security system, which she intended to sell on the dark web for a high price. But as she was transferring the data to the CBI, it stopped at the 10% mark, and all her data and the virus she created were gone. Abso-fucking-lutely gone. Not a single file remained on her computer. To make matters worse, her computer was formatted.

She was hacked by none other than TheShadowMonster. Why did the infamous hacker in the history of all hackers need to target someone like her? She has no idea. She was in the dark then, and she’s still in the dark now. She doesn't care about the 'why's, 'how's, or 'who's anymore.

She only knows that the information he has hacked is dangerous. It can demolish the entire mob world if it falls into the wrong hands. They can use it as leverage against the mob families, especially the Serpents, to achieve anything. And it has ended up in the worst hands possible.

The hands of an enemy.

She has been tracking the data and TheShadowMonster relentlessly for the past few days. She even managed to hack TheShadowMonster's server. All of this tracking has led her to Mr. Raizada. TheShadowMonster has sold the information to him. She discovered text messages, transactions, and every detail that pointed to the fact that the information was sold to Mr. Raizada in exchange for a huge amount of money.

And with that, all her escape routes have been blocked. She is trapped in this hellhole.

However, the thing is she can't stay in Delhi any longer. She can't afford to wait to collect more information against them as the day of her wedding approaches rapidly. She needs to retrieve the information tonight, at any cost, from none other than Mr. Arnav Singh Raizada.

She is going to kill The Vulture.

She knows it seems foolish and utterly illogical, but she has no other choice. Either she will kill him and obtain the information, or he will kill her and put her out of her misery. Either way, she will be free.

There is one more reason behind her desire to eliminate The Vulture.

Her only friend from university, despite her father's hovering and overprotectiveness, has vanished after the hacking incident. She doesn't want to assume the worst, but her efforts to track him down and her inquiries among other students led nowhere. Neil Kashyap, whom she calls NK, has vanished without a trace. She knows NK can remain untraceable if he wants, as he is skilled with computers and adept at erasing his online tracks as well. But Khushi is Khushi. She discovered a number NK shared text messages with before his disappearance, and that number belongs to Mr. ASR.

Khushi doesn't have time to cry over her pathetic life or the fact that she befriended someone sent by The Eagles to keep an eye on her. She not only befriended him but also made him her best friend for life.

The pathetic, lonely, friendless life that she has.

That is indeed a solid reason to kill Mr. Raizada, for giving her a best friend and then snatching it all away.

Author's note:Thank you for reading! Don't forget to leave your thoughts, I love hearing what you think! Stay tuned for more!

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@featheredclover @arshifiesta @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @arshisrabbaves @titaliya

[featheredclover]

cockiness 🤝🏼 tv men

[chutkiandchotte]

One more rant time!!! Or more like, Anjali appreciation? Idk take it as anything.

(I feel like I only ever come here to rant, but what can I say? I do love a good rant lol.)

Anyway I've been speed reading through a bunch of IPKKND fics lately (as one does to ~~cope~~) and I just hate how many people just fundamentally misunderstand and negatively judge Anjali's character.

Its really simple when it comes down to it - Anjali loves Shyam with the same passion, loyalty, and commitment that Khushi loves Arnav and Arnav loves Khushi by the end of the serial. Just imagine, if some one came along and told (happily married) Khushi that Arnav is cheating on her, tried to marry someone else, and had her sibling kidnapped and almost killed, would she believe them for a second? No! No evidence would ever convince her of that and vice versa. Its an absolutely WILD story to be told about your pious, sanskaari, soft-spoken, madly in love with you husband who has, thus far in your eyes, done nothing wrong except been maybe a little too busy at work.

Anjali is just as fucked up as Arnav by the trauma they went through. There's a reason she is so quick to harm herself and loses all perspective when viscerally reminded of the single worst moment of her life. What's funniest of course is the people who have immense understanding for Arnav's trauma and pain, don't give a damn about Anjali's. They keep harping on about everything (aka material benefits) which Arnav did for Anjali, while discounting the emotional support she also provided for him through those years. Because only material benefits count in relationships? Emotional IQ is nothing?

Anjali is a good sister! She looks after Arnav, takes care of his needs, monitors his health. She gives him the freedom to make his choices (unlike Nani), but she does advice him as per her understanding. She gently tries to guide him to resolve his trauma and move forward in life, but doesn't succeed probably because its beyond her paygrade. Even in the depths of her depression and confusion, she feels delighted to know that Arnav LOVES Khushi, something she worried would never happen for him (and its clear she was previously worried that their marriage happened only due to uncontrollable attraction gone wrong).

They do have a slightly unhealthy level of co-dependency, but it makes perfect sense when you consider what happened in their childhood. Anjali and Arnav are each other's emotional cornerstone for a reason. And by the end of the show, they have each moved beyond the unhealthy aspects of their relationship.They have a really complex and interesting sibling bond, and ultimately a beautiful one.

Anjali is the one character who suffered the MOST, lost the most, from the entire cast of characters. The pain she went through, that too being an exact repeat of what her mother went through, is unimaginable. And for absolutely no mistake of her own.

[bucketsofsalt]

saathi hai deewana some (Khushi) might say

[arshiradio]

Babua was struck! ❤️

@arshifiesta