#arshi fanfic

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 22

Inches In Between Us

Disclaimer: 18+, mature content.

I am warning my sweet readers if you are sensitive to this kinda stuff, I just want to say to you, "Don't proceed any further, I'll see you in next chapter, have a good day."

Darling, can I be your favourite?

I'll be your girl, let you taste it.

- ( The song of the chapter is "Favourite" by Isabel LaRosa.)

It's liberating how, outside the confines of the mafia world, she exists as an ordinary face in a sea of billions. Few people know her, fewer recognize her, and in this anonymity, she finds freedom.

At Paragon Tech's Christmas party, she's just another employee, laughing, chatting, and blending seamlessly into the crowd.

Her off-white knee-length dress sways gently with her every movement. The dress is simple yet elegant, cinched at the waist to highlight her figure, with delicate lace sleeves that add a touch of flare. It's a perfect contrast to the bold red lips she's chosen, a daring statement she rarely makes.

The party is in full swing, with twinkling lights, festive music, and a lavishly decorated Christmas tree at the centre of the room. She's enjoying herself, mostly.

This night could have been perfect if only the boss were here.

Not that she'd ever admit it, of course. Her colleagues wouldn't understand. They'd frown at her so-called unhealthy fascination with their employer, though "fascination" wasn't quite the word she'd use. Irritation, perhaps. Or Frustration.

And if he'd been here tonight, she would have found a way to needle him, just a little.

But he wasn't.

So, she keeps her composure, masking her thoughts behind polite smiles and meaningless small talk, all while pretending she's not scanning the room, hoping he'll walk in any second.

She lets out a soft laugh, humouring the colleague standing in front of her. His attempts at flirtation are clumsy, but there's an innocence to it that she can't help but appreciate. His black eyes shimmer with nervous excitement, his words tumbling out in stilted sentences as he tries to keep her attention.

It's sweet, really. Charming in a way that reminds her of an uncomplicated past, a time when life didn't feel so heavy.

She listens, nodding in the right places, even allowing a genuine smile or two to escape. The simplicity of it all, the lack of pretence, and the raw honesty in his demeanour are refreshing.

But it's not enough.

Sweet black eyes aren't what she craves.

She wants eyes like molten caramel, staring at her with an intensity that makes her forget to breathe. She wants a gaze that pins her in place, leaving her exposed and vulnerable, yet setting her on fire from the inside out.

And she knows exactly who those eyes belong to.

Her smile falters for a fraction of a second, a moment so brief the man in front of her doesn't notice. She pulls herself back, burying the ache beneath layers of practised indifference.

The colleague continues, oblivious, but her thoughts are already miles away, lost in a pair of fiery caramel-brown eyes that haunt her every waking moment.

"Are you flirting with random people now?" His voice is cold, cutting through the silence as he stands there, rigid and unforgiving, his gaze sharper than his words. "Or did you forget that you're actually engaged?"

No, he didn't just say that. What the hell!

She whirls around to face him.

Hurt and betrayed.

She's come upstairs to retrieve her things. His presence in the building is unknown to her.

"What does it matter to you? I'm not engaged to you."

Something shifts in his eyes as he strides toward her. Her instincts scream at her to retreat. She does, step by step, until her back collides with the glass wall behind her. The cold surface seeps through her dress, but it's nothing compared to the icy fire in his gaze.

Drawing air into her chest becomes utterly difficult as he stops mere inches from her. Her heart races.

Because of his closeness,

Because of his unexplained anger,

the fact that she is trapped and she isn't getting out unless he chooses to let her go.

Her palms are about to make contact with his chest to push him away, to create even the smallest distance between them, but his hand catches her wrist mid-air.

Anger surges through her, heating her cheeks as she tries to wrench her arm free, twisting and pulling with all her might. But his grip is unyielding, calm, and maddeningly firm.

"Let me go," she hisses, struggling against him.

He doesn't. Instead, he moves her wrists effortlessly above her head, pinning them against the glass. Her body arches instinctively, her chest brushing against his with every shallow inhale.

And because she can do nothing else, she growls in a low and feral voice, "I hate you. How dare you?"

And just like the strike of a match, she feels as if something else sparks to life.

"You blushed for him,'' his voice barely above a whisper, soft and devastating, underlined with the slightest clench of teeth."Do you have any idea what that does to me?"

Her breathing falters, picking up pace as her pulse races wildly.

His gaze slides over her, slow and torturous, from her eyes to her lips, to the rise and fall of her chest. Her nipples harden, dragging along his hard chest with every laboured breath she takes.

Goosebumps break through her as his nose skims through her cheek. "Oh, little bird, you shouldn't have done that."

The anger in her battles against the molten warmth pooling low in her belly. A tremble racks her body as he presses his face into the curve of her neck and inhales deeply, inhales her.

The sound that escapes his throat is a deep, guttural rumble of satisfaction. It vibrates through her, leaving her knees weak and thrums between her legs. Her head tips back instinctively to bare more of her neck to the devastation as Sandalwood, cloves, leather and a hint of something uniquely him, wrap around her.

She's delirious, drunk on his nearness, his heat, his nose gliding into the soft skin of her neck.

Addictive, it is. His nearness is.

Always addictive.

Her body is on fire, and it spreads, engulfing her mind and her heart, turning her inside into lava. And there will be no reprieve until he gives her, Something. Anything. Everything.

He holds both of her wrists in one hand while his other hand slides from her wrist to her throat, his thick fingers wrapping around her delicate neck. Taking one more step, he presses his front fully against hers until they are flushed with one another.

She sucks in a sharp breath as his hips cage hers, his desire impossible to ignore. The heat of him, the sheer size, leaves her gasping.

Her mind screams at her to fight, to pull away, to keep the distance she knows is safest. But her body betrays her, responding to him in ways she can't control. She's drowning in him, in the way he makes her feel both powerful and powerless, both in control and completely at a loss.

It's his game of Control, she realises. And she suddenly knows this is a game she wants to play with everything in her.

He releases her wrists but doesn't let go of her neck. His thumb slowly traces her jaw while his hand holds the back of her neck still, keeping her head tilted back and their eyes locked. His other hand slides down, gliding along her spine before settling in her lower back.

His caramel-brown eyes are the darkest. The pupils bleed into the rich brown, swallowing the light like a storm. But beneath the rage, there's a flicker of raw and primal hunger.

Bright and all-consuming.

He blinks as if to clear his head yet he keeps watching her with hooded eyes like she's his next meal.

Fuck. He is obsessed with her or something. Who the fuck reacts like that over a blush?!

Whatever it is, obsession or not, it's like an invisible rope pulling her closer even as she tries to resist.

"What's the deal with you? You like me or something?" Her voice weavers as the words slip past her lips.

"Like?" The corner of his mouth lifts

in a cruel smirk. "Don't know if I'd call it that."

"What would you call it then? Obsession? You're obsessed with me, huh?'' She can't help but goad him, but deep down she is scared, so damn scared.

"Does that scare you?" He asks as if reading her mind.

She gives him a dry look of denial, but her body betrays her. She gulps as heat pools in places it shouldn't.

His smirk deepens, the darkness in his eyes glinting dangerously. A rasp curls through his voice. "Good".

She's hyperaware of everything, the frantic thrum of her heart, the tick of the clock somewhere in the distance, the way his heart is beating too fast against her as if it's beating inside her rib cage.

"You've been in my head, little bird..'' His lips skim the corner of her mouth. "More than you should have been. More than I should have let you. More than your pathetic crush tonight could ever imagine."

Her fingers clutching her dress fabric in an attempt to prevent her from reaching for him when his voice slides over her like velvet and smoke.

"I've thought about you so much..''

The words graze her ear alongside his lips, his hot breaths are as intoxicating as his words. His stubble brushes against her soft skin, leaving behind a trail of ruin and fire.

"So fucking much that...every part of you becomes mine."

Her breathing stops entirely and all she hears mine, mine, mine.

The hell she is!!

She is no one's!!

"He's lucky he didn't touch you,'' he continues, his voice turning razor-sharp. "Because I don't take kindly to people touching what's mine."

Her throat tightens, causing her heart to struggle against her ribcage, trying to get free. "Who touches me is none of your business."

His voice a low, dangerous rumble.

"It's always been my business.''

Anger flares within her, overriding the

heat clouding her judgment. ''I am nobody's business. I don't even like you. Let go of me."

His smirk returns, cruel and devastating. "You don't have to like me to scream my name."

And then his voice drops to a sinful murmur. "You know my name, don't you, little bird?" When she doesn't reply, he taunts her, "Or, have you forgotten yours as well? I have merely touched you. "

Her fists curls at her sides. "Oh, I remember plenty, Mr.Raizada." she seethes, glaring up at him. "But it seems you've forgotten something. You despise me. Remember?''

His eyes ablaze, something primal and wicked lurking beneath the surface, as he leans in.

"That's the thing....I don't just despise you. I also want to rip this little dress of yours right here in the middle of this office.....strip you naked.."

White noise rings in her ear as his words sink in. "And then press you against the glass for the whole city to see."

Voice nothing but a dangerous, sinful whisper, corrupting her mind, creating images.

"While I kiss every square inch of your body..and then pound into you so hard that the people driving below can't look away.....wishing they were us."

The heat in his gaze scorches her, burning her resolve to ashes. Her lips part but no sound escapes as her body frozen in place.

"That'll probably be a bad idea, right?" His smirk grows, self-assured and maddeningly smug.

"Keep dreaming,'' she whispers, tethering at the end of sanity, refusing to give up.

"Oh, I do," His chuckle is dark, and wickedly intimate, tinted with a sardonic edge.

"I fuck you in my dreams every night." The hand on her back dips lower, brushing against her ass, and she stiffens.

"And that's why you're able to stand here...and fight with me...because if I fuck you for real, Little bird," His gaze locks onto hers with the weight of a promise, ''You won't be walking straight for days."

Damn, his mouth. It should be illegal.

Her heart flutters in her chest, a frenzied rhythm she can't control as his face hovers inches from hers. His breath is warm, brushing against her lips, and she feels the pull, the intoxicating inevitability of his lips meeting hers. Her own part slightly, as though inviting him to close the sliver of space between them.

Her eyes drift close. Every nerve in her body goes taut, coiled like a spring on the edge of snapping, trembling with a raw, unspoken need.

And then, the shrill of a ringtone breaks the moment like a glass.

His jaw tightens as he fishes his phone from his pocket.

Aman!!

What the hell!?!

With a growl, he answers. "This better be good. Otherwise, I'll kill you, motherfucker."

Even as he listens to Aman on the other end, his eyes never leave hers.

She can barely hear Aman's muffled voice over the blood rushing in her ears, but whatever Aman says seems to pull him back.

He sighs sharply, swiping a hand through his hair before lowering the phone. For a moment, he doesn't move, just stares at her. Then, without a word, he turns and strides toward the door, pausing just before leaving. "This conversation isn't over."

Her trembling hands rise to press against her flushed cheeks as her lips tingle from the almost kiss that never happened.

"What the hell just happened?" she whispers, the words slipping out like a secret she doesn't want the room to keep.

But the truth shimmering beneath the surface is simplier.

But infinitely more terrifying.

She squeezes her eyes tightly as if that could steady the storm inside, but it's no use because now, there's no going back.

What the fuck will she do now?

The room is quiet, save for the faint hum of the city beyond the glass windows. The chaos of her mind contrasts sharply with the stillness around her.

The air feels heavier as she sits on the edge of the leather couch of his office.

With her body tense.

And her mind racing.

And her foot bare as her heels lay idle on the floor.

She waits.

For him.

She doesn't know why she stays, doesn't want to acknowledge the ache inside her chest and her body demanding that she does.

It's mindlessly foolish and reckless, but she waits anyway.

The desire to resist is drowned by the need to give in.

Her fingers trace the seam of her dress absently, trying to distract herself from the way her heart thunders every time she imagines the sound of his footsteps outside the door. She bites her lip, feeling the heat creep up her cheeks again at the memory of his body so close to hers, the words she can't seem to forget.

And she knows, somehow, some way, he'll know she's here. Just like he knew she blushed for another man. He always knows everything about her, her thoughts, her reactions, as if her soul is laid bare before him. It should terrify her. But today she's lost her perception of sanity and insanity.

The door creaks open, and she straightens instinctively. He stands in the doorway, framed by the dim, golden light spilling from the corridor. For a fleeting moment, she forgets how to breathe.

"Still here." His tone holds no surprise, just the quiet certainty that she didn't leave. That she couldn't.

She rises slowly, her knees trembling slightly. Turning to face him feels impossible. All her life, she has followed rules, lived by them like a creed. But he's the first rule she wants to break without thinking about any consequences.

"You said the conversation wasn't over," she says softly, the words catching slightly in her throat.

He steps into the room, closing the door behind him. The soft click echoes like the snap of a trap closing around its prey.

Tossing his folded coat onto a nearby chair, he moves with unhurried pace, the sleeves of his white shirt already rolled to his elbows. "How do you want to end that conversation?"

Words fail her, as they always do in his presence. But she hopes her eyes speak louder than the silence stretching between them.

She needs him.

The thought is raw, unrelenting, an ache that drowns out reasons, eclipses logic, silencing the warnings in her head..More than water, more than air, she needs him.

And she's done pretending she doesn't.

Even though she doesn't know if she is ready for someone like him. Even though she is scared shitless.

Everything is very new to her. But the yearning to be brave outweighs the fear. She wants to be bold with him, for him, and maybe even for herself.

He studies her as he loosens his tie, with a cruel slowness that unravels her composure. She lowers her gaze, unable to hold the weight of his stare any longer.

He stands behind her and lingers there almost as if offering her an unspoken chance to escape. But before the thought can take root, his hand finds her stomach. Warm, steady.

She sucks in a sharp breath as he draws her back, her spine meeting the solid warmth of his chest.

His touch is a claim and a betrayal of the walls she's tried to keep intact.

Guiding her backwards, he sinks into the chair, drawing her down with him until she's perched on his lap, her back pressed against his front.

Her body tenses briefly before melting into him. Her heart pounds so loudly she's sure he can hear it, but if he does, he says nothing.

"Don't offer your body to me unless you're ready, Little bird," he murmurs, "I don't do the gentleman shit. If we do this, I won't stop...even if you beg me to."

A warning laced with a promise.

"If we do this, if I fuck you, I'll make sure no one else will after me.... Never. Are you ready for that?"

The weight of his words settles over her, demanding an answer she's too terrified yet too eager to give.

"I don't know," she whispers honestly, her voice barely audible. But deep down, she does know. She always has. She'll eagerly let him ruin her for anybody else.

"Hmm...Let's see how far I can go today then. Will you let me taste you?"

Before she can answer his lips descend to her neck, sucking softly at first, then harder, leaving behind a trail of fire that shoots straight between her legs.

His fingers trace slow circles against her stomach while his other hand gathers her hair in his fist, tugging sharply, making her head tilt back.

Her gaze meets his and she sees the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes. It mirrors the ache building inside her, threatening to consume her whole.

"When I ask you a question, you give me an answer." His hold tightens in her hair, further exposing her throat to him, leaving her utterly at his mercy.

She swallows hard, her lips parting to reply, but no words come. Instead, she nods frantically and leans into him. Her hands clutch his thighs like he's the only solid thing in her crumbling world.

And maybe, just maybe, he is.

Her eyes fly open when his rough voice rumbles in her ear, "Are you wet for me, little bird?"

A groan is all the answer he receives but it's enough for him to know what it means.

"You are, aren't you?" he whispers in her ear before taking her earlobe between his teeth and slightly pulling on it. "...you like it when I talk dirty to you, huh?"

"N-No..." she denies softly but neither of them is fooled.

"No need to lie, Bitterheart. You are all innocent on the outside...but inside there's a dirty little girl just waiting to be unleashed." There's no way she'll agree with him. Not verbally, at least. No matter how right she unfortunately knows he is.

"Are you a dirty little girl, Khushi?" He chuckles when, once more, she vainly shakes her head.

"N-No, I'm not..."

"We'll see," he says, causing her to shiver, although she doesn't know if it's because of his words or the way he calls her by her name or the fact that his hands were now trailing down her thighs, barely stopping at the hem of the dress she's wearing. "For now I need an answer...are you wet for me?"

Anger surges through her, as pride battles with the ache in between her legs. A string of curses formed in her head, each one aimed at him but none daring to cross her lips. Instead, she jerks away as humiliation and shame dripping from every part of her.

"Shhh...now be a good girl and let me find out," he orders as he feels her trying to wiggle out of his grip.

She gasps as his hand gathers the hem of her dress, the fabric gliding up her thighs until it pools around her waist.

His fingers find the edge of her black lace panties as he hooks a finger under the delicate fabric, slipping them down her legs.

The heady scent of her arousal fills the room making her head spin. When one of his large hands captures her tiny one, she's too dazed to question it, too consumed to resist.

Her fingers laced with his brush against her soft mound. "Hmm, look how perfect you are..." he says upon discovering her bare sex. But before she can come up with a good retort for him, their fingers slides into her moist slit, and she finds herself unable to think coherently anymore.

Together, they stroke her very drenched, very slick folds. And then without warning, he plunges their intertwined fingers into her core, and they both hear the wet sound of her obvious arousal. Heat rushes to her cheeks. "Yeah, so fucking wet..."

His triumphant tone makes her want to turn around and smack him, but yet again he renders her speechless as he lifts her trembling hand and wraps his lips around her finger, the same one that has been inside her few seconds ago. His tongue swirls around her sensitive skin as he softly sucks on it.

"I should have known you'd taste this perfect as well," his voice a rough rasp, causing a new wave of wetness to gather in her core.

A feral growl rumbles deep in his chest as two of his thick, calloused fingers plunge inside her slick heat.

At the same time.

All the way to the knuckles.

She cries out, her back arching as pleasure explodes through her. She clings to his wrist as her nails digs into his skin. Her body tightens around his fingers like a vice. Her toes curl as a whole-body shudder grips her.

"Look at that?" Her world narrows to his fingers sliding in and out of her core, ruthlessly, mercilessly, while his dark eyes watch her every reaction, every tremor. "...you're so hot inside..," he continues, making her blush ten shades of red before his wickedly satisfied eyes. "My fingers aren't enough for you, are they?" He punctuates each word with a rough thrust of his fingers.

The heat in her core builds to an unbearable peak. She can't answer, not even from a word, not when his fingers press deeper, curling in a way that leaves her trembling, stroking a part of her no one has touched before.

"Too bad you aren't ready, it would have been so much better if it were my cock instead..filling you up, stretching you wide. ''

"Oh..." she moans out as he murmurs the words at her ear. At the same time, he starts to steadily pump his finger in and out of her depths.

The image his words paint ignites something primal in her. Her hips move in time with his hand, chasing the pleasure he so mercilessly teases her with.

She doesn't even care about the incoherent noises that spill out of her. But every time she bucks her hips, he tightens his hold on her hair, warning her without words that he is the one who is in control here.

He's a man who takes what he wants and there's something incredibly erotic and arousing about it.

He's going to take, take and take some more. Meanwhile all she can do is give.

And also, damn him and his filthy mouth for whispering all those dirty shits to her ear. Making her wetter, burning her fiercer.

"You like that word?...Cock..." he whispers lewdly when once more he notices her reaction to his dirty words. "Don't worry, soon, you'll see and feel more of my cock than you could have ever dreamed of..." Another promise and she can't help the shivers that coursed up her spine.

"Oh, God..."

She's never thought those dirty words would sound such devastatingly arousing coming from his mouth, utter in his raspy, deep voice.

"Well, that's not my name, but it'll do for now." He drawls in a sultry voice. His other hand let go of her hair to slide up beneath her dress and cups her breast, his fingers squeezing just enough to make her gasp. His fingers shove the top of her bra and pinch her nipple. "Next time, you'll let my cock spread you open, won't you, little bird?"

She nods helplessly, biting her lip to keep from crying out. His fingers thrust deep once again, sending a shockwave of pleasure through her.

"Of course, you will,'' he chuckles low in her ear, dropping moist kisses down her neck, sucking enough to leave marks, "You are so greedy." His teeth grazing her skin. "I need to hear you say it. Tell me....tell me you need my cock inside you."

Shut that illegal mouth, Raizada.

A flush of heat spreads through her, her

entire body trembling with need. "Please," she manages to gasp, her

voice shaky and desperate as she tries to push her hips up seeking more.

"Tsk, tsk...please what?" His fingers lazily move inside her and she burns. It's not enough. She glares at him for this torture, but all he does is raise an eyebrow at her in a challenge.

"I want it'' she gritts out, the words tumbling out unbidden. "I want your cock.....oh..fuck.."

She can't finish as he rewards her with another deep thrust of his fingers. He chuckles at the sound that comes out of her mouth when his thumb finds her clit, and he starts to work it in sync with the movements of the rest of his fingers. She bites her lip hard enough to draw blood, desperate to hold onto the last shred of her sanity, but it's slipping fast.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice is like molten sin.

He pumps his fingers even faster into her drenched core when her already tight walls pulse around his fingers. She feels herself so close to the edge, she can practically taste it, cringing briefly as she hears the squishing sounds of his fingers moving in and out of her. Considering she is so wet, he has absolutely no trouble whatsoever driving them in and out of her.

But she can't focus on that anymore as a sharp pain rushes though her, only replaced by a mind-numbing pleasure. She realises he's drove in a third finger, stretching her to full capacity.

It becomes impossible to breathe but she forces herself to take it, gasping with each in and out until stars dance behind her eyelids and her world fractures into shards of light, each one brighter than the last.

His mouth sucks into her pulse point and she feels his teeth sink into her skin while she comes undone, groaning out gibberish words.

But even as she trembles in the aftermath, he doesn't stop, his fingers still kept sliding in and out of her.

"Next time, it'll be my cock making you come like this. I'll fuck every boy you ever thought about out of your head..... out of your system until all you remember is my name."

His promise sends another shudder through her. Her body feels foreign as if it doesn't belong to her anymore. It reacts to his every move, every whisper, every flick of his fingers like he's found a hidden language only he knows how to speak.

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined an orgasm would be like that. So consuming, so powerful that she would be on the edge of blacking out.

Maybe because, it was her first.

His fingers slip from her, and the loss makes her whimper. She leans against him as she takes deep, calming breaths until, she hears him moan in satisfaction.

Turning her head slightly to her side to see what is causing him to make such a sound, she can't help gasping in an audible breath when she realizes this shameless man has his finger drenched with her juices in his mouth. His gaze locks onto hers as he licks them clean. "You aren't as experienced as you want me to believe. Was that a first?"

She's too boneless, her body's too limp against him to even respond. So she let him have his moment.

She barely has time to catch her breath before he stands, lifting her as though she weighs nothing. In one fluid motion, he sets her down on the edge of his massive desk.

The cold glass pressing against the heated skin of her ass draws a startled yelp from her lips. Before she can process the sensation, his hands are on her again, spreading her knees wide and positioning her exactly how he wants her.

Her palms are pressed flat against the desk behind her for balance. The action makes her breasts to thrust forward in his face. A deep flush spreads across her cheeks as she finds herself in this wanton position, baring herself to him.

So shamelessly.

So carnally.

So completely.

His fingers graze the inside of her thighs as he settles into the chair before her and drags her even closer to the edge of the desk.

And then he dips his head, licking her from her entrance to her clit. And the world around her dissolves. The growl of satisfaction vibrates through her and she's already fighting an orgasm. He runs a rough hand down her leg pulling her thigh over his shoulder.

She feels a new rush of wetness that he obviously immediately notices. "Look at the mess you've created," he instantly lapped at the new moisture. His hands grip her thighs, holding her open as his tongue flicks against her, teasing, tasting, torturing.

Consumed by overwhelming sensation, she runs a hand into his hair, grabbing a handful and moving her hips at the same time, trying to keep his head still and fixed to where she needs it the most. He removes her hands the first time, but her fingers find his hair again. He lets her hold his hair and control the movement for only a second before he bites at her inner thigh. A sharp gasp escapes her as she jerks back. A jolt of pain radiates from that spot and settles in her already aching core.

His narrowed caremal-browns find her pissed hazels. "Behave."

She shoots him a nasty glare, gatekeeping all the profanities that have his name written on them.

"Go ahead...say it."

So she does.

"You're an insufferable asshole"

The sharp smack in between her legs catches her off guard, but her teeth dig into her lips so hard she's surprised she hasn't drawn any blood, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a whimper, not even a sound.

Fuck!?!

"Anything else?"

She stiffly shakes her head while giving him a withering look.

''Good," he murmurs lazily, going back to sucking at her clit. It still throbs with pain, but the wet heat of his mouth is electrifying, turning her pain into fire.

Mortified at his words and what he is doing to her, she closes her eyes once more and grips the edge of the desk with all her might, promising herself that if she has to endure this, at least she won't reach for him this time or show him just how sinfully incredible it's making her feel.

Another flick of his tongue against her soaked entrance makes her forget all about it anyway, and she feels tears gather behind her eyelids as she forces herself to not cry out her pleasure.

God, he's really good at this and she just knows that it won't take him long to make her fall completely apart once more.

She's proven right just seconds later when she feels his fingers probe into her again and he's now free to go and nibble on her clit. The moment he does, stars burst behind her eyelids and this time, no amount of sheer willpower can stop her from moaning out loud.

"FFUUCK...."

Her eyes roll back in her head as her back arches off the table. Meanwhile he keeps pumping faster, sucking harder, until she can't control herself and is quite shamelessly riding his face with about just as much force as she has been riding his fingers earlier. Soft mewls spill from her lips alongside unintelligible pleas.

"Name," he commands, pulling back just enough to speak, his voice barely penetrates her mind haze. "Say my name."

He growls the words inside her as her body writhes helplessly under his hold, the pressure building so fiercely she feels like she might shatter.

"Say it,"

"Umm.. Mr. Raizada,'' she gasps. Her voice trembles as her hands gripping the desk as if her life depends on it.

A rough hand slides up her stomach squeezing her breast hard enough to draw a startled cry from her lips. In an instant, he's grabbing her throat, yanking her upright so her wide eyes meet his. His eyes are wild and feral, with her arousal glistening on his lips as he speaks through a clenched jaw, "Name."

A tear rolled down her cheek as she's denied her pleasure and she realizes that every part of her burned so much at that instant that it quite literally hurt. Her pride stops her from cursing him audibly though, or even just uttering a word of protest. So she complies.

"Arnav." she spits out even though her voice shakes as his name passes her lips.

His lips curl in satisfaction as he flicks her clit with his finger, her hips rocking involuntarily against him.

"Remember it. After all, It's the name you'll be screaming for the rest of your life."

The moment his hand leaves her neck, he dives back in, his mouth reclaiming her with a ferocity that leaves no room for resistance, no room for doubt.

The urge to touch him is overwhelming, but she knows he'll stop if she dares touch his precious hair again. So, she places one of her hands over his on her thigh, intertwined their fingers together, and, lost in pure, unfiltered and unadulterated lust, tugs at her own hair with the other.

Sparks ignite into an inferno, burning hotter with every stroke, every flick of his tongue. Then she soars higher and higher, until crashing into an eruption of pleasure and pain.

His teeth nip at her clit, causing her walls to contract almost painfully. He finds a secret spot inside that causes her eyes to fly open and then her body convulses in response. He must feel it too, because he hits it again and again. Her ears ring, pulling all sounds underwater as the heat inside her burst. Her body shatters like glass under the weight of a thousand suns.

"Aaaa...arnav," she screams out another orgasm even more powerful than the one she hasn't even really come down from.

His name falls from her lips like a prayer as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her.

He doesn't stop though, his mouth relentless as he pulls every last tremor from her body, his hands keeping her in place when she tries to pull away. Only when she's completely undone does he finally pulls his fingers and his mouth out of her still unbearably pulsating sex and her inside mourns the loss instantly.

Her eyes fluttered open to find his on her. His breathing is uneven and his gaze is filled with something soft yet dark that she isn't sure she wants to understand, but it's enough to make her core spasm some more.

"You taste even better when you're screaming my name.''

She sits there, perched on the edge of his desk, her legs still parted to accommodate him as he stands between them. The air is thick with the aftermath of what just happened.

She can feel the ache between her thighs, a sweet pulsing reminder of how he ravished her. But now, his gaze makes her feel small, vulnerable.

Her fingers fidget with the edge of his tie, the silk cool against her fingertips. She dares not look up, her eyes fixed on the silver of skin peaking from the top opening of his dress shirt.

''Umm.. show me what to do," she murmurs. Her cheeks flush, the embarrassment rushing through her as quickly as the desire to give something back to him, to make him feel the way he made her feel.

Till date she owes him her life.

After tonight she owes him two orgasm as well.

She swears she can feel the smirk tugging at his lips even though she doesn't dare meet his eyes. Then, he surprises her. Instead of teasing or demanding, he presses his lips softly to the side of her head, his hand tugging the fabric of her dress back into place and smoothing her dishevelled hair over her shoulder.

"Go home, Little bird. I don't have time to fuck you tonight. I have people to kill," he says, his voice softer than she expects, a strange tenderness threading through his usual commanding tone.

She would never admit it, but a part of her secretly loves it when he calls her 'Little bird'. The way the words roll off his tongue, equal parts endearment and possession, sends a shiver down her spine every time. It makes her feel small and fierce all at once like she's his to protect and his to cage.

His eyes are alight with mirth when they meet hers, and she's somehow glad she didn't do it tonight. She surely won't want her first time to happen on an office desk. And she's equal part terrified of the fact that he knows her body better than herself.

Slowly, she slides off the desk. Her thighs ache, a sweet soreness that makes her wince slightly as she finds her footing. She almost stumbles, and his hands are there immediately, steadying her.

She reaches out, wrapping her hand in his tie, and does what she has always wanted to do. Tug on it to bring his face closer to her. She doesn't kiss him on the lips as she remembers the words he told her that night. Instead, she places her lips on his cheek, firm enough for her red lipstick to leave a mark.

A silent 'thank you' though for what exactly, she isn't sure.

His touch? His restraint? His care?

Picking up her heels from the floor, she reaches the door, her hand hesitates on the handle. A strange pull makes her turn back, and the sight of him nearly takes her breath away.

He stands there, his hands tucked into his pockets while his tie hangs loose around his neck. The crisp white of his dress shirt is rumpled, so is his hair, tousled from where her fingers have gripped it in desperation.

But it's his eyes that undo her completely. They're dark, yet soft and they're looking at her like she's the most beautiful, most precious thing he's ever seen in his life.

It terrifies her.

She quickly looks away, fumbling with the door before slipping out, her heart hammering in her chest. As she walks down the hallway, her legs still shaky, she tries to make sense of the chaos in her mind...the tenderness, the possession, the hunger, and now, that look.

But she pushes all those thoughts to the back of her mind as she walks away, leaving behind a bold red lipstick mark on his cheek and a black lacy panty abandoned on his office floor.

Author's note:

Happy Holidays everybody.

<previous> | <next>

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

[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

[msbhagirathi]

Word Prompt "Colly wobbles" for the IPK 13th Anniversary Fiesta by @arshifiesta.

Character: Kaveri Khushi Gupta, Arnav Varun a.k.a AV

FF: A River Runs Through It

Author: meera30

Reason: Coz I am in love with this ff right now. Now stop finding reasons and read on.

Khushi didn't know how did he do it. It was freezing cold outside in Detroit and here was the man in question giving out a presentation which he had prepared ~in merely five minutes~ before the meeting had to be started urgently.

Clad in a crisp white shirt rolled up to his forearms, the angry gash visible just as a slip of cut, the jacket and the waistcoat already lying on the chairback. Tie hanging a lil bit loose from its usual place. Shiny charcoal colored trousers hugged his legs like a second skin. Yet, he looked as fresh and energetic as ever.

Illegal.

How can he be so perfect?

Why did I of all people had to fall for him?

She knew that her being physically bulky had nothing to do with who she fell in love with. And yet she felt a bit wretched for having fallen for such a personification of perfection.

Sometimes, she didn't know which one was more comforting? To have been immune from his charm and just keeping to herself in college or having badly fallen for him strong enough to keep away all the strangers she had met just so she could forget that one man. And yet, the 'date other men to forget him' idea was as terrible as it sounded.

As she could go no further then two minutes of looking at them and instantly comparing them to him. She knew she was being horribly desperate. But then anyone would be if the man in question was the subject of discussion...

She started scribbling an insignia (for the umpteenth time) in her notepad which she had used earlier to jot down the good points.

"Ms. Gupta. Its good that you are at least concentrating on something but I would much rather that something to be nothing but this presentation."

Arnav Varun was looking at her with that knowing smile as if he had found a key to a mystery puzzle he was looking for. His glasses gleaming at an angle.

Embarrassed at being in the wrong side, Khushi immediately changed the page and looked up at the projector screen.

"Sorry sir."

Did he know?

Had he seen her drawing his name initials in her notepad with such an interest?

What was with that smile?

And yet now he continued with his presentation as if nothing had happened. Voice unflinching and firm. Emanating an authority. An air of importance.

Hey shivji! Why do I have to be the one target that you are never tired of playing with?

The gravel in his voice still used to send chills down her spine in a good way of course.

"Okay everyone that would be it for now. If I happen to have something else I would be calling all of you back. Please be ready for more impromptu meetings this week. If anyone has any questions please do ask or you're free to leave, thank you for your attention."

Khushi gingerly raised up from her chair praying to let her go to a certain someone sitting in the Kailash parvat with his wife who loved creating sweet troubles for her in situations like these. She quickly wanted to slip away along with the rest of the others.

But, Arnav Varun didn't let that happen. He looked up from his laptop at her.

Please don't tell me to stay back.

Please tell me the one thing I am yearning to hear from you for half a decade now.

Please let me go.

Please stop me and kiss me.

Hey shivji! She might have as well become a lunatic by now.

She was about to leave when..

"Khushi.."

She turned back only to find him sitting at his chair relaxed. All tension and seriousness gone with everyone else from the room. He sipped his glass of chilled water.

There was something in this man that made her feel at peace and nervous at the same time.

"Yes sir."

She heard the sound of her voice which shivered slightly.

Don't get the wrong idea okay? I am DEFINITELY NOT scared of you.

"No 'sir' please, just AV, when we are alone."

"Okay.. AV.'

He smiled.

"Show me your notepad once Khushi."

NO. PLEASE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

'Uhh.. I am in need of it urg-"

"Yeah yeah I know you need it I had seen you noting down points in it. But please I assure you I don't eat paper and I would return it within a few sec. Please?"

Khushi very hesitantly held it out and before he could open it to her eternal mortification and second hand embarrassment, Arjun's name came flashing out on her mobile screen.

A whole wave of relief hit her whole being as she excused herself to pick it up as an important call, leaving behind all her things in the room.

After fifteen minutes when she came back to her cabin she realized she had left all her things in the meeting room. She was about to sprint back to the room. When she spotted her things: her laptop bag, her water bottle and her notepad neatly sitting in the center of her desk.

At lunch break, she entered the cafeteria and already found the whole team along with (of course) AV himself sitting at the corner-most booth. She walked up and sat at the chair two seats away from him. She saw his phone lying on the table.

Suddenly it came alive with a notification and she saw the lock screen. A sprawly drawing. Careless strokes of blue ball point pen. Carved into the paper on a ruled page which seemed familiar.

An insignia, which she had scribbled on her notepad, out of boredom, sitting in the meeting room, a few hours ago. She couldn't believe her eyes.

Heat rushed to her ears and a slow blush crept onto her face and refused to go away. She couldn't believe the fact that Arnav Varun had taken a click of her drawing and set it as the lock screen on his phone.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him check the notification and quickly closed off the screen, checking if anyone else noticed it or not and went back to the conversation going on.

Khushi couldn't pull out the image of her insignia on his phone screen. Her mind kept replaying the image and she couldn't stop herself from blushing. Her body had gone into over-drive. Her heart was fluttering. Her hands and legs felt shaky. Her palms felt clammy. Warmth surrounding her face and neck and the rest of her body. Her stomach was in colly-wobbles.

Hey shivji, please, I must be looking like an idiot. Please help me staaaap this blushing, my cheeks are hurting now. Uff. Stupid AV. Stupid me.

[featheredclover]

Redamancy

This one shot is inspired by this prompt by @arshifiesta

Also on Wattpad

“ How long will Sahil be Aman?”

“ An hour”

Swearing under his breath, Arnav brought up a hand to loosen his tie.

“ Marcos has called the garage as well so don’t worry ASR”

Leaning back against the now broken car, Arnav took out his pack of cigarettes and offered one to Aman.

The two men cut out as dashing figures, with their impeccable suits and cigarette dangling from their mouths.

“ You want to sit somewhere? Hartford has great coffee “

“ Sure”

———

They stood in front of a glass door, below the sign ‘Cafe Captain’.

A bell tinkled as Aman swung the door into the place, the place was painted in hues of brown resembling an old British bakery. The strong smell of coffee permeated Arnav’s senses and he headed towards the counter.

“ ….so yes, while a croissant is nice, it doesn’t hold a torch to our cream bun. They melt in your mouth!”

Arnav heard the waitress go on and on about cream buns. He stopped himself from clucking impatiently.

Finally, he thought as he moved forward.

“ One black coffee “

He read the chirpy girl’s name tag- Khushi

A gasp forced him to look back up. “ It is horrendous. Why would you do this? Why? I mean I understand if you are hungover or hmm probably a diabetic, are you?”

“ Um no, I am not”

“ Great! Then darling go sit right there and let me bring you the best cup in Hartford!”

Dumbfounded, Arnav simply paid and went towards the table Khushi had pointed to. It was only when he sat down that he wanted to kick himself.

What am I doing? Black coffee was fine.

It didn’t help that Aman was smirking as he sat down, amusement filling his eyes.

“ I thought no one could boss you around. Glad I am wrong”

“ Just shut up”

He looked up to see the girl walk towards his table with a huge smile.

Placing the huge cup down, she giggled.

“ This will help you! And trust me you will find yourself here everyday “ she said with a wink.

“ And here you go! Lemon tea!”

Aman thanked her while his eyes rested gleefully on a flushed ASR.

It was only after she had taken her place back at the counter, that Arnav looked at his cup.There in white cream was a sun drawn with a smile on it.

——

He found himself at the doorstep of Cafe Captain again the next day. He couldn’t risk bringing that bastard with his all knowing gaze ,with him. Especially,when he himself couldn’t understand the helplessness he felt as he remembered her laughter “ And trust me you’ll find yourself here everyday”

Tinkling bells greeted him and he headed straight towards the queue.

Arnav couldn’t take his eyes off her. The excited bobbing of her head, her laugh, the scrunch of her nose when she disagreed with something, and the way her hands moved when she was explaining the merits of glazed sugar cookies. Everything fascinated Arnav. He felt like he was watching a doll come to life.

And when it was his turn, she flashed him a beautiful smile. “ Just go sit!”

That’s all she said to him. And that’s all he needed.

He watched her work. Preparing his cup , taking the small white jug in her dainty hands and placing it on a coaster.

“Here you go!”

Arnav looked down to see a sunflower smiling up from his coffee. He sipped as he watched her work, chatter and flutter around like a butterfly.

He would never admit the disappointment he felt when she didn’t come to talk to him again. He gulped down the last bit of the milky - sugar filled concoction and headed back out.

——

“ Hey!”

Looking up from the cream doodle of a dog, Arnav stared right into Khushi’s eyes.

“ Congratulations!”

“ Um…for what?”

“ You have been coming here daily for the past week, so now you are my regular “, Khushi said with a wink.

“ Thanks, I guess” Arnav hoped his boring drawl seemed perfect to her. Because otherwise she will know how he really felt about her grouping him with all her other “regulars”.

“ What’s your name? “ she asked in such a soft voice that he found himself answering, forgetting the earlier slight.

“ Arnav”

“Arnav” she repeated as if rolling his name on her tongue.

“ So tell me Arnav, what do you do apart from drinking my marvellous coffee?”she said with a cheeky grin.

“ I run AR.”

“ The design house! Oh my god! I love your clothes! “

“ The designers will be glad to hear that”

“ So…you don’t design any of your clothes?”

“ I used to. Lately…I haven’t found the time”

“ That’s a shame. Something so creative should never be given up!”

Arnav looked away. He should have reminded himself why he didn’t date. He didn’t want a lecture on his workaholism. Di was enough for that.

“ Hey…I am sorry. I didn’t mean to touch on a nerve. God knows I haven’t picked up a guitar since school and I want to scratch anyone’s eyes who reminds me!”

Arnav had to smile at that.

“ Guess that makes us alike”

And in the next moment, his breath caught, as Khushi’s cheeks flushed a beautiful pink.

——

Aman tore into his chapati, as Anjali served more aloo-matar onto his plate.

“ Slow down Aman! There’s enough for you to eat till you burst!” Anjali laughed.

Shyam smiled, “ Well, that’s what bachelor life is, isn’t it? Perennially hungry, filling time with cup noodles and coffee! Aman and Arnav, it’s time for both of you to get married.”

“ Speaking of coffee, Arnav does seem ready to be hitched” Aman spoke before stuffing his mouth again, oblivious to Arnav’s glare.

“ Chotte! Who is the girl? When were you going to tell us?”

“ And what is the connection with coffee saale saheb?”

The chair screeched as Arnav pushed it back and stood up, silencing them all.

“ I am done with lunch”

And he walked out, ignoring Anjali’s protests and Aman’s laughter.

That bastard.

As he roamed the streets of New York, Arnav couldn’t help but wonder about Khushi. He was smitten, he had admitted with quite difficulty one evening, when he had been driven mad when he learnt Khushi had taken a leave because she was sick. The next day he brought a basket of apples and a bouquet of lilies for her. Her giggle had been worth the embarrassment he had felt ,when Aman found out what he was planning to do.

But did she like him? He kicked a rock at the curb and exhaled in frustration. She seemed to greet all her customers with the same glee and modify their opinions on sweet treats with as much vigour as she poured the sugar in his coffee.

His only hope was the doodle on his daily coffee. He hadn’t seen her do that to anyone’s cup. The others would just get simple cream hearts.That was a sign wasn’t it?

That’s it. ASR is not so weak that he is brought to his knees by a woman. He will ask her if she’s interested in him. That’s simple. He has tackled million dollar deals with fabric companies, this would be nothing.

———

Arnav swirled the wheel, drove forward and parked, unaware of the light in his eyes as it fell on the brightly lit coffee shop.

He pushed the cafe’s door open, but the sight in front of him made him stop in his tracks.

Khushi had thrown her head back in laughter as a man stood leaning against her counter.

A splinter opened somewhere in his chest as he realised he had never made her laugh like this. He had never made her blush so red. Overwhelmed, Arnav was about to turn back and leave when his eyes caught Khushi’s.

With no choice but to get through the evening, he headed towards his usual table. He didn’t glance at the man again, he couldn’t. He wanted to tear him to pieces. He clenched his trembling hand into a fist.

He looked up at Khushi when she placed his cup down. She was still a beautiful shade of pink. Her smile was soft, her eyes glazing. Before he could say a word, she had moved back towards her counter in a hurry.

Frowning slightly, Arnav glanced down at his coffee. He gulped painfully as he saw bloody hearts on them. So, this new man comes along and he doesn’t get a special doodle. He gets what all her customers get. That’s what he was to her. A douchebag in a suit, who had nothing better to do every evening than sip her coffee.

Arnav shut his eyes, and breathed deeply. He opened them to see that it had begun raining outside. Bloody poetic, he thought. Unable to control the spiralling of his emotions, Arnav stood up in a flash and dashed out of the cafe, his coffee left untouched.

——

His leather shoes splashed against the fallen raindrops as he hurried to get to his car. To get out of this damned place.

He heard footsteps behind him before he heard the shout “ Arnav!”

He turned to see Khushi holding an umbrella above herself and another in her hand. She smiled somewhat hesitatingly, as she extended the umbrella to him.

Rage flooded his being as he stared at the beautiful woman standing before him, a deepening sorrow in him as he was reminded of his one sided love.

“Don’t need it “ he gritted out.

Her eyes widened in shock at his tone.

“ Wha- what happened ?”

“You want to know what happened? I have not been able to function normally ever since I walked into your bloody cafe after my car broke down that god forsaken day! You and your sweet coffee have driven me mad. And here I am, a grown man, waiting for the clock to strike 5 so that I can leave to travel from New York to Hartford. Just to…just to hear you laugh, just to see you smile, just to get a doodle on my coffee. A doodle that’s just mine. And today yo- you are laughing with another man, turning red when he is speaking. And..and doodling just hearts for me! Hearts you do for every other regular of yours.” Arnav burst out, every word hiding his grief.

He stared at Khushi for a moment. A moment in which both of them didn’t even dare to breathe .

Her grip loosened as the umbrellas fell from her hands, she reached him in a few steps, uncaring of the rain soaking her, entwined her hands around his neck and kissed him.

Arnav froze as her warmth permeated his whole being. A rush of joy flooded his brain. But it wasn’t enough. His hands grabbed her waist, tightening in desperation as he deepened the kiss. He tilted her back further as he drank her. A shiver ran through Khushi as she moved her hands to clutch his hair in an almost painful grasp. She pushed his shoulder lightly, as she attempted to break away from the kiss. Arnav kissed the corner of her lips, before kissing down her neck to her collar bones.

“ Arnav! “ Khushi giggled. “ It’s raining pretty heavily, if you haven’t noticed “

He stood looking at her smiling figure. Breaking out of his trance, he grabbed her hand, and began walking to his car.

——

“ Cold na?” Khushi asked with an obvious shiver, as she rubbed her hands together vigorously for some warmth.

Arnav reached into the dashboard, took out a navy blue sweater, which was a size too large for her and without a word dropped it over her head.

She giggled again. Arnav couldn’t help smiling.

He heard her gasp, before he felt her soft hand grabbing his rough one.

“Arnav” she began “ The man I was laughing with was Noah, my sister Lavanya’s boyfriend. He..he was teasing me about…er.. about you. That’s why I was umm turning red” she finished, turning more red than ever before.

His hands turned her face towards him gently. His lips taking hers in a soft kiss.

“Really?” he asked huskily.

“ Really! In fact, I thought you would understand those hearts I drew because I had been drawing something different for you everyday! It had two hearts, Arnav, and they were struck by an arrow. And no, I don’t do this for anyone else” she finished with a pout.

“ I am sorry” he murmured before drawing her into a kiss again. He felt like an addict, he couldn’t get enough of her and he definitely couldn’t leave her tonight.

As she sat, huddled close to him she whispered

“ I love you Arnav”

Tightening his hold on her, he looked down at her lying across his chest. “ I love you too Khushi, more than you can ever imagine “

For now it was enough. It was enough knowing that Arnav was going back to drink the now cold coffee with relish. It was enough knowing that they were going to spend the night in Khushi’s apartment above the cafe. It was enough knowing that two hearts were beating as one.

For now, the rain poured relentlessly , providing them a curtain of privacy as they remained wrapped in each other’s love in the car. Arnav marvelled in the redamancy, as he held the woman he loved in his arms, who loved him.

Tagging: @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @barshifan @andli @shiyaravi @muttonthings @hand-picked-star @msbhagirathi @phuljari @sankititaliya @thenainitaldisaster @thedupattaknowswhatsup @chutkiandchotte @laad-governess @laadgovernors @laadgovernorandsankadevi @leila1 @hi-this-is-permabanned @arshispyaar @minpdnim @thedustyshehnai @bigfatreader @arshiradio @simplycurlz @scorpio-smiles @bengudill

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[hand-picked-star]

The 13th Annniversary Arshi Fiesta

Moodboard : Historical AU

Whispers of the Heart | Chapter 05

I am not very good at writing ffs. I even read ffs very selectively. But it was an attempt of me to participate in the 13th-anniversary arshi fiesta. I might be wrong about certain aspects of that age and era, but it's a fantasy, so why not?

I don't own Arnav and Khushi and the story is purely fictional and has no relation to any living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Chapter 5

(continuation of previous chapter)

'' Arnav"

She pushed herself off the bed but stumbled to reach Arnav. He wrapped his arm around her waist before she could fall. Her hands splayed palm out on his chest. She stared at him like he hung the sun and the moon and his breath caught. The atmosphere between them undulated, changing into something heavier, something alive.

"Ummm...I want to ask you something," she tripped over her words, "Why is it that every time someone says your name" feeling her pulse quickening "or you come close to me" she whispered like it was a secret "My heart starts to beat harder? ", taking his hand she placed it over her heart "I tried to understand it, but couldn't." a silence came over between them, "bataiye na!!"

Arnav blinked, her words not quite making sense. He couldn't think and that should have disturbed him, especially because he held her so close. It had not escaped him how pretty she looked. She was always pretty, but today was special. Her hair hung loose but wavy, and the dress she'd chosen, a pure white salwar-kameez with red churni dupatta, hugged her curves in all the right places. He had noticed her curves earlier. But it's difficult to ignore at this moment, not with her body up against his. And that red bindi on her forehead, it would be the death of him someday.

His pulse felt thready. And he wanted to touch her. The simple impulse to touch the tips of his fingers to her cheek was almost more than he could bear. He raised one of his hands to cup her cheek and tilted her head toward him. There was a good reason why he shouldn't touch her, but he couldn't remember what it was. Her eyes searched his, her trembling lips slightly parted. He heard the words as clearly as if she'd spoken.

Kiss me.

The heat of her breath on his lips made him dizzy with need and he gave in. At first, Khushi couldn't comprehend what was happening. One second she was asking him a question, the next second, she was in his arms, and before she could quite recover from that, he was kissing her.

Or had she kissed him? Her brain was muddled. She was thinking about him the whole day-how handsome he looked in the white kurta. She was shamelessly looking at his lips the other day when he was eating Kheer. Had she acted on those impulses? Shy and confused Khushi ducked her head, breaking their kiss.

But almost as soon as their kiss was broken, he put two fingers under her chin, tilting her head up and claiming her lips again. His free hand moved from her waist to her back, pressing her flush against him. She whimpered and forgot everything else, anything else existed. If she'd lost her mind, so be it. Nothing ever felt as good as whatever was happening at that moment.

One of her hands crept up to cup the back of his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair, while the other hand went around his back, clutching his kurta in a death grip. She tentatively tried to return his kisses. Her heart was racing. She felt weightless. His lips were hard on her while he was holding her so gently. Khushi couldn't rightly tell, when he'd begun to walk her backwards, she only knew she found herself pressed against the wall. And then, as abruptly as it all began, it was over.

Arnav groaned from the back of his throat as he pushed away from her. He stumbled back. His hair was rumpled from her fingers, his lips still moist and parted. The five seconds they stared at each other were the longest of Khushi's entire life.

And then, he left her there, pressed against the wall, flushed-face, lips swollen from his kiss, without a word.

(end of flashback)

Arnav was sitting on the garden bench, threading his hands through his hair and tugging hard. The guilt he felt was a weight on his shoulders, pinning him down as effectively as any physical thing.

It wasn't just that he had no right to do what he'd done. What made it all the worse and what could be worse than taking advantage of someone under the influence, was that to this day, two years later, he still daydreamed about that kiss. He could still remember how very sweet it was, the emotion of that kiss, the tenderness of it and the taste of her lips, and the way her body fit the lines of his. And how powerful was the need that rushed through him then. Her warmth, her scent, everything about that moment felt vivid and real as if it was happening all over again. He had to close his eyes tightly until the feeling passed.

It was not like it was the first time that Arnav had kissed a girl. The first time he kissed a girl in the Valleys of Darjeeling was a girl from Darjeeling High School at 18. it was supposed to be fun, but as soon as he kissed that girl, he discovered something, like she gave him a disease, he heard a voice inside his head that sounded very much like his Nani's. The look he gave her afterwards, she must had thought he was insane.

'you are a womanizer, Arnav'. the voice thundered. 'just like your father.'

After that every time he thought about kissing a girl, his Nani would start talking. It was really difficult to do anything with your Nani in your head. Then one day, he with some of his friends out of curiosity went to a pub to taste some liquor. He should have known better, he ended up spending the night with someone he didn't even remember.

'See, I told you so' the voice taunted him continuously the day after.

After that, he tried his level best not to hear his nani ever again in his head. There was one thing that Arnav didn't want to be and that was 'just like his father.'

But why the voice was so quiet when he kissed HER? It felt the most natural thing to do, like he was born to do that, like he was destined to be fitted into her arms. After he fled from her room, he sat on the garden bench for hours.

There Arnav had realized, he had irreversibly fallen in love with her. And she had finally quieted the voice in his head.

But instantly another voice appeared that sounded more like his since that day and they had a serious conversation with each other on the evening of Holi two years ago, sitting on that particular bench.

'what have you done, Arnav? you've proved your nani right. tumne jis thali main khaya usmehi ched kiya. What will Mahindar chacchu and roma chachi will say? How could you do that to their daughter? How could you tarnish her reputation like that? Is this how you repay them for all the love and care, they've bestowed upon you, when nobody was there for you? And Aman, what will you say to him? '

Arnav clutched his head with both hands, resting his elbows on his knees. he felt like screaming. He argued with himself for a long time. He succeeded in almost quietening the voice, when it murmured, very faintly.

'You can marry her'

'And what can I give her?.' Now it was Arnav's turn to contradict 'I have nothing, no house, no money, no reputation, no family and what made you think that Chachu and Chachi would want to marry off their beloved daughter to a nobody like me'. A pressure bloomed in his chest. With every breath he took, it increased. 'And what made you think that she would want to marry me?'

'She loves you, isn't it obvious? '

His vision blurred 'Have you forgotten that she was drunk? and I took advantage of her drunken state.' The silence that followed was suffocating, and his mind raced back to that moment, the memory haunting him. He remembered the way she had returned the kiss, her eyes fluttering shut just before their lips met. He remembered the vulnerability in her gaze, the way she had leaned into him as if seeking something more. 'She may have developed a silly little crush.' He whispered to himself, the words barely convincing even in his mind. An invisible rope tightened around his throat, 'it's temporary.' he told himself, desperately wanting to believe it, 'it will go away with time.'

'Bullshit' the voice whispered.

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

[chaiandtakkar]

The Case of Curious Mustache

For as long as he could remember, Arnav Swami had lacked in the department of facial hair. He had attributed this to family genetics, and honestly, it was fine. Really. He was a man of business, of integrity, of perfectly crisp samosas. Who needed a mustache?

Until one day.

That fateful afternoon, Khushiji had visited the dhaba and much to his horror had been glued to the television screen. A cacophony of awful music blared from the TV playing a runaway hero with an unquestionably thick mustache, smoldered at the heroine. Khushiji had turned an alarming shade of red.

He had frowned. A daring hero? Fine. But a mustache? Was that… was that what impressed her?

To make matters worse, Khushiji had dragged in a group of patrons, all whispering excitedly about that very mustachioed hero. Bankelal Ji, the dhaba’s cook, who sported a particularly large and twirly mustache, had swelled with pride at their admiration. Never mind that he had a potbelly and a mole that could practically be its own person.

Arnav gritted his teeth. He had seen enough.

The next morning, when Khushiji returned to the dhaba, Bankelal Ji was still basking in the afterglow of his newfound fanbase. And worse…Khushiji had brought him chana. CHANA!

That was it.

Arnav Swami, a man of business, could handle many things; food market fluctuations, spice shortages, even the occasional grumpy patron, but this? This was an attack on his pride.

So, as any rational man would do, Arnav took matters into his own hands.

He visited Vaid Ji, the local Ayurvedic healer, and procured the most potent herbal aushadhis for hair growth. Twice a day, without fail, he applied the concoction and waited.

One week. No change. Two weeks. Still nothing. Four weeks. Hope was a distant memory.

And that was when Arnav had to do what a man had to do.

He bought a set of fake mustaches.

It was a simple plan. The mustaches transitioned from light stubble to a full-fledged, dignified mustache over the course of several days. Business was all about subtlety, after all.

The next morning, he placed the first ‘shadow mustache’ carefully on his upper lip, checked his reflection, and nodded in satisfaction.

When Khushiji arrived, Arnav sat behind the counter, poised like a man of great wisdom and, hopefully, impressive facial hair.

Khushi stepped in, humming a tune, and barely spared him a glance.

“Swami Ji, I hope the dhaba is flourishing?” she said, flipping through his ledger.

Arnav cleared his throat. “Indeed, Khushiji. But more importantly… have you noticed anything different?”

Khushi finally looked up. Her brows knitted together as she scanned his face. Arnav held his breath, his lips twitching ever so slightly in anticipation.

And then...

“OH!” she gasped, stepping back. “Swami Ji! What happened to your face? Did you fall into a tandoor?”

Arnav nearly choked on air. “Excuse me?”

Khushi leaned in, eyes wide with concern. “There’s… there’s something on your upper lip. It looks like; oh no! Swami Ji, did you accidentally burn yourself? That explains why it’s so… patchy.”

Patchy? PATCHY?!

Arnav reeled, his confidence plummeting like a misjudged jalebi loop unraveling in the hot oil.

“This is not a burn, Khushiji” he bit out. “It’s my mustache.”

Silence.

Then...

“Your what?”

“My mustache.”

Khushi clapped a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking. “Oh. OH. Oh, Swami Ji,” she snorted. “That’s your story? Really? You’re sticking with that?”

Arnav’s jaw locked. “Yes.”

That was all it took. Khushiji erupted into full-blown laughter, doubling over, hands on her stomach. The sound echoed through the dhaba, drawing the attention of Bankelal Ji, the cook, and a few amused patrons.

Arnav scowled.

Bankelal ji fastened the pace at which he was stirring the halwa.

This was not the reaction he had envisioned. He had imagined awe. Admiration. Perhaps even a shy compliment. Not… this.

But then, before he could respond, Khushi reached into her bag, pulled out a small mirror, and handed it to him.

He looked down.

The mustache had shifted. One corner was slightly peeling off.

Through her gasps for air, Khushi wheezed, “Swami Ji… I.. I appreciate the effort, truly. But…” she leaned in, eyes twinkling, “next time, maybe try growing one instead of… er… pasting it on?”

Arnav groaned, rubbing a hand down his face.

Khushi, still giggling, reached forward and, before he could stop her, plucked the offending thing right off his face.

“Khushiji!” Arnav yelped, scandalized.

Khushi twirled the fake mustache between her fingers, her lips pressing together as if trying to hold back a smile. “Swami Ji… you really didn’t have to.”

Arnav crossed his arms. “And why is that?”

Khushi tilted her head, pretending to consider. Then, with a small smile, she said softly, “Because… some things are better left in their natural state.”

Arnav inhaled sharply. “Khushiji…”

“Hmm?” she blinked at him innocently.

Arnav stared at her, unsure whether to be flattered, frustrated, or just completely defeated.

Then, with a shake of his head, he muttered, “I really should’ve invested in a better adhesive.”

Khushi grinned and, as she sauntered out of the dhaba, she paused at the door, glanced back, and winked.

"Swami Ji," she murmured, her gaze flickering toward him with a teasing smile, "Since we’re on the subject, I suppose a haircut for Diwali might be a good idea."

Arnav exhaled, running a hand through his unruly hair. He had lost. Completely.

And yet, as he glanced down at the discarded mustache, a small, begrudging smile tugged at his lips.

Khushiji was impossible.

And maybe… just maybe… he didn’t mind so much…

Also on blog here

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

ArShi OS: Chance

Warning: None | Word Count: 5681

Fear paralyzed her as her vision went blank. She blinked furiously, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Hands flailed in darkness,  feet unsteady.

The memory of her room wiped out the minute the whole house blacked out. Her heart beat furiously against her chest. Her throat tightened, as if she had swallowed broken glass. 

The last time the room was this dark, Shyam had stepped in to take advantage of her fear. He had walked in with a candle, hoping she’d be disoriented enough to let him come inside her room, or worse - hold her knowing she wouldn’t be able to put up a fight. 

God knows, if Nanhe hadn’t appeared on time-

Khushi collapsed, shutting her ears as another thunder blasted. 

Their headlights stopped working. The road ahead was pitch dark. Khushi clutched her teddy bear. Her father didn’t realize oil had spilled on the road. Her mother was screaming. A deafening crash. 

“Amma,” She cried, her body numb. 

THINK KHUSHI!

Khushi’s eyes snapped open. Arnav was out of town, so were the rest of the family. She forced her mind to focus on the facts. A house like Shantivan rarely loses power. It is not a coincidence that it had to happen the one time she was alone at home. 

More than the trauma of her parents’ death, it was reality that shook her bones. 

Shyam was back. 

The thought alone powered her to stand up and grab the first thing she could find. She screamed at the winds, screamed of her bravery, enough to let anyone know she was far from disoriented. Far from being taken advantage of. 

There was no reply apart from the howling winds and flickering lights. Cold sweat trickled down her temples. 

Perhaps it was just the thunder and her trauma. Nothing else. 

“Hey Devi Maiyya,” she whispered, soft relief washing over her. Before she could thank her stars, a shadow appeared. Panic seized Khushi. There was only one man who had cast a shadow in her room more than once.

Shyam Manohar Jha

Khushi screamed but her voice was stuck. Tears streamed down her cheeks but she couldn’t say a word nor move a limb. He had gripped her in broad daylight, there was no saying what he came for now.

Suddenly she was an eight years old child in the car, sure of her death. She was in a loop where no matter how much she blinked, she couldn’t see, couldn’t wake up.

Find Arnav

Blood flowed back into her body as she furiously searched for her phone. He’d save her. He always had. She should’ve gone with him. Stayed with him. At this point she didn’t even remember what they had fought about. She knocked the furniture over, unable to find her phone. 

Her ears twitched. She heard footsteps. 

No

She grabbed a pot and ran towards the exit. She had to leave this house - now! Her feet came to an abrupt halt when she saw a man standing in the living room, aware she’d been trying to make an escape.

Tears dried and her mouth struggled to speak. Her throat was parched, inhibiting her from speaking.

She let out a silent scream when lightning flashed. His face was as visible as day. 

Arnav 

She had heard stories of how the Lord Shiva had appeared as a saviour, untouched by the chaos surrounding him. Standing with a soft smile, unmoved by the thunder or darkness, Arnav appeared no less than the God himself. 

Somehow, this time too, he appeared just in time to save her. 

“Khushi?”

Khushi’s hands lost their strength. She didn’t need to put up a defence. She was safe. Relief burst through tears as she ran towards him. Her feet slipped and she fell down the stairs but she got up and ran again. Her forehead and arms burned from the fall but she ran despite it all. She reached out to him, her hoarse ‘Arnav’ steady on her lips like a prayer. 

Before she could fall again he grasped her arms and she pulled him into the tightest embrace and cried her heart out. Her wails were silent, for there were no tears and her throat choked her. Yet she heaved in his arms in relief. He was solid, this was not an imagination. The muscle and fabric under her fingertips was his alone. It was real.

She was saved. 

– – – 

Few men were as shrewd as Arnav Singh Raizada. He knew how to utilize one’s weakness for his profit. Perhaps that’s why it wasn’t a surprise when he ran a million dollar company by 26. Thus he never lost, nor were his intuitions and strategies ever proven wrong.

So when Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada challenged him that she would never come running into his arms - he knew she’d eat back her words by tonight. 

But when he saw her panic stricken face on the stairs, he lost his footing. Her eyes were bloodshot, face pale. Tears and makeup had streamed down her face and she almost appeared bloodless. He couldn’t move, unable to accept that he had caused her this.

Perhaps it was not real. Perhaps it was his guilty conscience berating him for using Khushi’s fear against her. 

It was not something husbands do.

So he blinked, hoping this apparition would disappear and his Khushi would come forth and smack him for teasing her. He could take her anger, but not fear. 

It was then he remembered why she feared darkness. Nausea overcame him. For every second Khushi approached him, he saw the magnitude of what he had done.  

He snapped out when Khushi fell down the stairs, slipping on the roses he had laid for her. He never thought she would run down the stairs. He thought she’d see the flowers and be appeased.

She loved roses, didn’t she? But she slipped again and before he could hold her she reached him. Her skin was cold yet she was sweating. Her lips were chapped, eyes frantic. 

She embraced him tight, and his breath was knocked out of his lungs. 

“A-Arnav-ji” She panted, her breathing erratic. His focus shifted to her, he gripped her tight, cradling her head in his arms. Khushi calm down, it’s me. He pressed his lips to her head and she hugged him tighter, her body quivering in fear.

They stood like that for a minute, her seeking comfort in his arms, him blocking out everything apart from Khushi in his arms. 

He would deal with consequences later. 

“Khushi,” Arnav hesitated, still rubbing his hand up and down her back, “I’m so sor-” Khushi’s body went lax. 

“Khushi?” Arnav broke the hug and her knees buckled. He tapped her cheek but she had passed out. And even then, her grip on his collar was tight.

– – –

The Raizadas stepped in and were first scandalized by the flowers on the floor. Did Arnav and Khushi have no sense-

Their accumulated anger broke as a pale Khushi lay on the sofa and Arnav ran around to get a doctor. Even Manorama, the one ready for a taunt, was stunned by how pale Khushi looked.

Like her life had been sucked out of her. Anjali kept quiet and was about to reach for Khushi when Akash went ahead and stopped Arnav’s maddening pace. 

“Bhai? Is Khushi-ji ok. Are you ok? What happened?” Akash held his older brother’s shoulders. 

“She’s not waking up. Give me your car keys. Mohan had this fucking great idea to take all the cars for maintenance. I’m not even getting a signal. I have to take her to the hospital.” Arnav panicked, throwing his bluetooth halfway across the room as his phone line didn’t connect. 

“Okay, bhai, calm down. You won’t be helping Khushi-ji like this.” Arnav closed his eyes shut, nodding at whatever Akash was saying.

Despite the confusion, Anjali’s heart ached for Khushi. Without consciousness, it appeared to Anjali how young Khushi truly was. But didn’t Shyam say how young Khushi was? Young to be tempted - her body rejected the idea before her mind could.

She knew this woman at the back of her hand. And with her so pale, Anjali doubted if Khushi could ever take advantage of anyone. 

That’s when a few bruises on Khushi’s arms caught her eye. Who gave this? 

“I’ll drive-” Arnav stated. 

��No Bhai, I’ll drive you both to the hospital. You stay with her, ok?” Akash advised. Mohan ran in the house, mumbling several apologies. Anjali briefly sprinkled water on Khushi but to no effect. 

“Chotte, Akash is saying the right thing. Let’s go to the hospital-” Anjali said.

“There’s no need for you all to come.” Payal interjected and grabbed Khushi’s hand from Anjali. Her frame shook in rage. Given all the treatment they had given to Khushi off late, Payal could not take another second of the Raizadas fawning over her. 

“Hello hi bye bye, what is-”

“Maa ji, it’s my sister. So you all don’t have to be worried. Jeth-ji and I will take her to the hospital. Mohan-ji will drive us there.” Nani was surprised at Payal’s tone. She was never the one to oppose anything anyone said - especially Anjali. 

“What are you saying Payal? Why wouldn’t I-”

“Akash ji, your sister and your house needs you more.” Anjali frowned, this was the first time she had heard Payal refer to her as Akash’s sister. 

“But if Khushi-ji needs anything-” Akash argued.

“You don’t have to worry about it Akash-ji. She is my sister. I have and can look after her.” Akash was stunned, he knew where this was coming from. But it was unfair to use an argument against him now. 

“Payal, main-”

He stopped when Arnav rushed by him and gingerly picked Khushi in his arms. That’s when Arnav saw Anjali and the rest of the family. 

“Di…” Arnav felt like he owed an explanation. 

“Chotte it’s ok, please take her to the hospital first.” Anjali smiled but Arnav shook his head.

“Di my meeting got canceled. That's why I came home early. Things have not been going ok so I thought of surprising Khushi and… and we would’ve met you all on the road but-”

“Chotte you don’t have to explain me anything. Your wife is unwell that is your first priority.” Anjali admonished. 

“No Di I need to because I know you hate Khushi and Mami just adds-” Arnav cut himself off. Fuck. He shouldn’t have said any of that. Without giving anyone else another glance he and Payal walked away. 

“Wah, Arnav bitwa comes home for romance and he has the audacity to blame me when Phati-Sari is the one who has him wrapped around her little fin-”

“Maa enough!” Akash thundered. “Di, please go to your room and take rest, okay?”

Anjali barely nodded and allowed Nani to accompany her room. Was she suffocating Chotte? Was everything wrong in the house stemming from her inability to accept the truth?

Is she ruining her brother’s marriage?  Was she happy to see Chotte and Khushi-ji break up because they broke up her and Shyam? 

Horrified at her own trail of thoughts she burst into tears and hugged Nani. Why did the truth seem so elusive? 

Akash closed the doors and stared at his mother in anger. Manorama had the presence of mind to look a little bit guilty. 

“Maa, you’re aware right that our marriages are fragile right now?” Akash asked.

“Yes but they are respon-”

“Oh yes, I hold them guilty for not telling us the truth on time. But nothing apart from that. I still love Payal and Bhai still loves Khushi-ji. I’ve seen how you treated them off late. It’s almost like them not telling us the truth justified this long standing hatred you have, haina?” Akash accused.

He had seen the way his mother had behaved the way it stifled both Payal and Khushi. They, of course, laughed off any of Manorama’s taunts but he knew it was not normal that he found his wife on the verge of being kicked out twice for something as small as a burnt dish or a pill. 

Arnav and Anjali had a lot on their plates. The mother who could help him with his marriage was too keen to see it breaking apart. Akash felt truly alone and abandoned.

It was as if no one was there to help him out with his issues. His anger for Shyam doubled. It was just an affair but he managed to make sure the news breaks the family to pieces. 

“Akash bitwa how dare you accuse your mother! Didn’t you see how they hid the truth so they could get married into this rich household? They ruined Anjali bitiya’s happiness. In fact I’ll be happy when those two get out of this house.” Manorama huffed. 

“Fine. I’ll leave Payal. In fact I’ll also ask Bhai to leave Khushi-ji. But all this will only happen when you leave Papa.” Akash watched his mother’s face shift from joy to terror. 

“A-Akash”

“You hate them for the same reason Dadi hated you. I regret the fact that you never opened your eyes maa. You love us, but you love status more. Here my relationship is on the rocks, things have continuously gone wrong between Bhai and Khushi-ji and as my mother you aren’t there to help me. No, I exist so you can get a great bahu and reclaim your status. I don’t know how to process the fact that you’re taking advantage of my relationship breaking apart.” Akash looked away, overwhelmed by tears.

Manorama stood shell shocked. If there was one person she had counted to never bring up her flaws, it was her son. He was her own.

“I don’t feel happy saying this Maa. I know you genuinely love us. But that’s lost. And now I’m lost in my family. You’re upset on Payal not telling anyone anything, right? So why didn’t you tell me that Bhai was kidnapped? NK bhai also didn’t say anything. Bhai, who trusts me with his company, didn’t tell me the truth about Shyam although he knew it for six months." Akash sighed.

"And now Di, who would understand what I would say without saying a word, refuses to listen to me when I beg her to move on and not trust Shyam. Papa is not here and my own mother is happy to see my marriage break with the only woman I ever loved. I am a stranger in my family and I don’t know who to blame.” Manorama remained quiet as Akash broke into tears. She couldn’t say a word. 

How could she? When she knew that she complained to Arnav about Khushi visiting Anjali or interfered with Payal trying to talk things out with Akash not only because she was genuinely upset but also that she saw it as a point for them to break off with the women she disapproved of. 

“Beta-” She tried to touch his arm.

“I’m sorry maa, I shouldn’t have spoken like that. Update me when Di feels better.” Akash walked away, the mask of calmness and maturity back in place.

For the first time Manorama realized that her son was not naive nor blind, he just tolerated more and loved enough to not interfere.  

– – – 

Payal pressed on her temples, her heart aching as she recollected how hurt Akash looked when she distanced herself from him. She knew he was genuinely worried about Khushi. Like the brother he is to her.

Yet, Payal couldn’t resist throwing back his words to him. 

And now that she did, she felt awful. An eye for an eye did make the world blind. 

She took a walk outside the hospital, desperately needing fresh air. Why is it when they were a step closer to patching things up, it fell through?

She knew she should call Akash, let him know that Khushi was stable but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her pride and self esteem were still hurt. 

She had suffered a lot in the past few days and she felt at this point her suffering was more than her crime. But she couldn’t blame Akash entirely. They were both angry and doing things they didn’t mean. 

The cool winds of Delhi chilled her. She rubbed her palms up and down her arms. She missed the man who was silently there for her. 

A jacket was extended to her. 

Payal turned and saw Akash standing, his eyes clouded in worry. 

“Akash-”

“Maa and Nani are with Di. She’s sleeping now. How’s Khushi ji?” He waited with bated breath as she took the jacket and wrapped it around her shoulder. 

“Thank you. She’s asleep. She had a panic attack.” Payal explained. Akash frowned, panic attacks and Khushi? 

“Khushi was in the car when her parents died. So she doesn’t do well with speeding cars and darkness. The last time this happened, Khushi was thirteen. Some of her friends thought it was nice to prank her and lock her up in a closet.  But I was there. I just wonder what would’ve happened if Jeth-ji hadn’t come in time. She would’ve gone through this by herself and-” Payal burst into tears.

Akash hugged her tight and she wrapped her arms around his wait. It had been so long since he had held her. 

He closed his eyes, he finally felt at home.

“I’m sorry Akash. I’ve failed you as a wife,” Akash opened his eyes, surprised at her comment, “I’ve failed this house as a bahu. And I think I have failed Khushi as a sister. I’ve failed everyone I’ve loved-”

Akash broke the hug and held her shoulders, he searched her lovely face for answers. 

“Payal, you’ve made a mistake and so have I. If one mistake fails you then there’s no one here who has never failed.” Payal nodded, wiping her tears with his handkerchief. 

“I’m happy though that Khushi and Jeth-ji have managed to go strong. I was afraid if we ever told him the truth then he would’ve blamed Khushi for everything. But rather he’s been protective of her. Even Khushi has never left his side.” Payal sighed. Akash looked at her, her own wish visible in her eyes.

That is what she wanted. Someone to never leave his side. 

And here he was, expecting her to walk by him without even saying that’s what he wanted. 

Payal was surprised when Akash took her in another hug, “I’ll never leave you Payal. We’ll fight, have arguments, but I swear I won’t stop working on this relationship.” Payal closed her eyes and breathed in relief. It was the first time since months she felt she truly held him in her arms. 

And now, in his arms, she had the strength to fight against anything. The battle for showing Di the truth and managing this house had only begun. 

– – – 

Arnav sat on the edge of the hospital bed, holding Khushi’s pale hand in his. Her cheeks were finally suffused with color. There was a small bump on her forehead and a bandaid on her arm from when she fell. With a trembling hand he pushed a strand of hair behind her ears. He had misused her fear. Only for his sake. 

Arnav looked away, unable to accept the truth that he was responsible for her state. He loved her, beyond any logical reasoning. But the fact that he led her to this hospital looked very little like love. 

No sorry was enough. No ‘I didn’t mean it’ was enough. Nothing was enough. 

Tears overwhelmed him, along with the realization that if Khushi got to know the truth and wanted to leave - he  had nothing to convince her otherwise. In a span of forty eight hours he had hurt her twice. Both times to a point of no recovery. 

He pressed a warm kiss on her knuckles, hoping against hope that it would say everything he couldn’t. 

Khushi stirred from her sleep and jerked up, Arnav rushed to hold her head but she pushed him away. She blinked hard and looked at him.

It is Arnav. 

Her shoulders sagged in relief and she extended her arms for a hug. Armav, too selfish to not give into a hug, wrapped his arms around her as she closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest. 

“Thank God it’s you.” She whispered, coughing as her parched throat protested. Arnav handed her a glass of water. Khushi frowned at his wordless actions. It was unlike him to be so quiet with her. 

“Arnav-ji, I’m fine. You don’t have to be so worried.” She smiled. What was she made of? Arnav looked away, lest she see his tears, and waited for her to be done with her glass of water. His hands were still trembling. She held his hands and kept it on her lap. 

“I’m genuinely fine. I… I’ve been through this before. But this time it was something else.” Khushi grew serious. Arnav panicked, waiting for answers. 

“Arnav-ji… I think Shyam is back.” Arnav froze and stared at her. 

“He has done this before.” Khushi trembled, gripping his hand until her knuckles turned white. 

“Did what?” Where was Shyam? How did he not see him! 

Khushi nodded and let go of his hands, brushing her thumb on the little nail impressions on his skin. Arnav cupped her cheek and insisted, “What did he do?”

Khushi had tried sleeping with her small lamp on. The memories of Arnav, the hut and the barely said words fresh in her mind. She twisted and turned in her bed, racking her brains to draw up a plan to rescue him. Suddenly, the lights went out. Khushi jerked up, alert and afraid. For a small moment she remembered how he had brought fireflies to ease her fears. And somehow he always dispelled her fears. 

And right then she heard footsteps and saw a shadow. Had Arnav freed himself? Is he secretly coming home? No! That sounded ludicrous - why wouldn’t they escape together if that was the case. 

To her horror, Shyam stood in front of her with a candle - attempting to cajole her fears. He walked closer, attempting a hug and touched her hand. 

“If Nanhe-ji hadn’t arrived in time,” Khushi shivered in disgust. Arnav shook with rage and stood up, itching to throw something against the wall and shatter it to pieces. All this while he had never thought what were the consequences of bringing Khushi in the same house as Shyam.

“Fuck!” He slammed his hand against the wall. 

“Arnav-ji!” Khushi shrieked. Arnav turned around, his anger diminishing at the worry in her eyes. He walked to her in two steps and held her face. 

“I swear I won’t leave you again Khushi. It’s all my fault. I should’ve listened to you-”

“Hey,” Khushi cupped his face, brushing her thumb against his stubble, “You’re here with me. You believe me. He can’t do anything to me. Despite him being there today he couldn’t even come in front of me only because you were there.” Arnav hung his head and clenched his fists. 

He sat on the bed and asked softly, “How are you sure he was there today?”

“Arnav-ji, I am pretty sure he has kept tabs on all of us. It is not coincidence that all the lights went out on a thunderous night where no one was at home. He knows my fear. I wouldn’t keep it above him to use it. And I saw a shadow of a man. Just like that night. Only one man can do such a disgusting thing. But thanks to Devi Maiyya you came here at the right time,” Khushi gave his hands a reassuring squeeze. 

Arnav couldn’t speak. His throat tightened as Khushi looked at him with her eyes full of hope and sincerity. Khushi frowned as she noted the guilt on his face. Oh, when will he stop feeling responsible for everything? 

“Arnav-ji, the mistake is mine. Easily we would’ve been touring the Taj Mahal and bickering about whether or not you’re my pati, but I had to be a wonder woman at home.” Khushi teased him.

Arnav covered his face with his hands, unable to take her reassurances. Khushi shifted towards him and removed his hands. She held his cheek and turned him to look at her. 

“Arnav-ji. Nothing happened. And you can’t feel guilty for an incident where you weren’t even there. And you should be happy. I did end up in your arms right? Which means that I have to accept that you’re my husband.” Khushi dramatically sighed and waited for him to smile.

Except he let out a shuddering breath and whispered sorry. 

“Arnav-ji, why are you apologizing? Is it about before? Then it’s ok… I know you didn’t mean it.” Khushi said. However Arnav couldn’t bear to look at her. She moved forward to hold his other cheek. 

“Arnav-ji, you’re behaving like you’re the one who switched off the lights,” Khushi chided. Arnav froze and looked at her, wide eyed. Khushi’s smile dropped, her hands leaving his face. In the few months of a difficult marriage with Arnav, Khushi had been forced to learn every single expression and body language. 

For a man who did things very differently than what he promised, it was his silence that gave her answers. When he had looked away right after Holi, declaring he didn’t remember anything, she realized he remembered everything.

When he had looked away, telling her their marriage was still a contract, she realized he was telling anything but the truth. 

She had assumed he wasn’t meeting her eyes because he felt guilty for not being there when Shyam was harassing her. For all the previous accusations. For being unaware what being married in this house meant. 

But Arnav was rarely a person to ruminate on the past, no matter how terrible his deeds were. He never shied from looking straight into someone’s eyes if there was a grain of truth.

And the only time he met her eyes, frightened, was when she joked that he had switched off the lights. 

Khushi’s chest tightened. A rock lodged itself in her heart. Her hands still hovered across the face as she searched his tormented face for answers. No, this couldn’t be her Arnav. 

“You didn’t reach home on time by coincidence. You… you did it?” She agonized, her hands falling to her sides. Arnav immediately grabbed her hands, “Khushi I didn’t know all of this would happen-”

“Why Arnav-ji?” Khushi snatched her hands away and buried her face in her palms. 

“Khushi, I’m sorry. I really didn’t know-”

“You didn’t know?” She snapped, “What did you not know? I told you what happened when I was eight. I literally fainted and developed a fever in Nainital because I was in a dark room. It happened in front of you! You know what happens Mr. Raizada.” Veins stood on her neck as she yelled at him. 

“Khushi I did not mean to hurt you-”

“Then what did you mean to do? What in the world did I do to deserve this? Who have I hurt in your family again? How have I hurt you?” Khushi demanded, angry tears threatening to spill. Arnav looked away and refilled her glass of water. 

“Look at me Mr. Raizada. You hate it when others look away while talking right, well that’s applicable to you too. Why did you do this?” Khushi stood up, wavering on her two feet. 

Arnav rushed to her and held her before she fell. Khushi struggled in his grip but he didn’t relent. 

“You’ll fall Khushi.” He warned. 

“I don't care. I just feel like an idiot for running straight into your arms-” Khushi stopped, her eyes widening in disbelief. 

You’ll come back to me. You’ll accept me as your husband. In fact you’ll run straight into my arms. 

“You did this for a challenge?” Khushi shuddered and swayed. Arnav put her back on the bed and she remained quiet. Arnav waited for her outpour. For her to hold him responsible and yell at him for being insensitive. He could only apologize after she punished him. 

Except Khushi sat quietly, tears streaming down her cheeks until they ran dry. 

“Say something,” He requested. 

“What should I say? I can’t say I hate you because I don’t. I can’t say I want to leave you because I know what the consequences of that are. I can’t say I’m heartbroken because you’ve heard that a thousand times and there’s been no difference. It’s just disappointing that you’re been cruel on things that needed no cruelty.” Khushi lamented, fidgeting with the band aid on her arm.

Their wedding, her accepting him as husband or a hug - all he ever needed to do was ask. Yet they’ve all been painted with brutality. 

Perhaps it is her fate, she couldn’t fault him entirely when destiny itself was written against her. 

“Khushi, how can I fix this?” Arnav asked. He was met by her mirthless chuckle.

“You cannot Arnav-ji. To hurt me once is an incident, twice is a mistake but the third time's a pattern.” Khushi rued, her face as pale as before, her eyes hollow. She had finally given up on this relationship because there was never a day where he wouldn’t hurt her. That fact alone broke her poor heart to pieces because there is no other man she could love as much.

Nor another man who could love her in return. In whatever bits and pieces she had received his love, it was filled with such intimacy and belonging that she had never had before. His love for his family was unparalleled. She just had the childish wish of being his family too. 

Arnav’s heart sank at her calm disposition. He saw hope and love diminish in her eyes. Even though he was sitting right next to her, the distance hadn’t been greater. He couldn’t breathe. 

When your loved one walks away from you, you will stop breathing. 

Clarity dawned on him and he grabbed her pale hands and Khushi balked. These were the eyes of a man determined and no good had resulted from it. 

“Khushi, I am very sorry for everything I’ve done and I am going to fix this.” He vowed. 

“Arnav-ji, please. The day I reciprocate you’re going to do something worse. And this time I won’t be able to survive it.” Khushi pleaded. 

“That won’t happen Khushi. I won’t promise anything, but I swear I’m not going to hurt you like this - ever.” Arnav stressed. Khushi looked away, there was no way she was going to look into his beautiful eyes when he said everything she had wanted to hear. 

“I know you won’t believe me. And that’s understandable given how I've been. But this time-” 

“This time what Arnav-ji? You’re not going to let me go? You’re going to make me accept that you’re my husband? You’ll tell my parents about our relationship?” Khushi cut in. How dare he make promises after violating her fears? How dare he treat her hurt as nothing? How dare he look like he loves her? 

Because love shouldn’t hurt so much. 

“This time I’ll prove that I’m a good husband.” Arnav solemnly vowed.

“What?”

“I realize there’s a fundamental logic lacking in the whole argument of me wanting you to accept me as husband.” Arnav perked up as if a light bulb had just flickered in his head, “It’s that I’m not husband material. Not by a mile away. So of course, this marriage is heading down a disastrous path. Therefore it’s done.”

“What is done?” Khushi was stunned. Either Arnav was suddenly drunk or he was possessed. By his smirk the latter half seemed likely. 

“The fact that I’ll be such a husband that you’ll grab the first person you see and declare yourself as Mrs. Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada.” Arnav proclaimed.

“Are you ok? Do I put a bed for you here?” Khushi touched his forehead, genuinely worried for his health. 

“I haven’t been better. I know what to do but before that I need to know two things from you.” Khushi bristled at his optimism and glared at him. 

“Ask, this seems a lot like another stupid challenge where you’ll do anything to have me-”

“-exactly Khushi. Why do you think I want to have you?” Arnav asked. He folded his arms as Khushi flustered. 

“What do you want to ask me?” Khushi changed the topic and fidgeted with her band aid. 

“Khushi, promise me you won’t ever hide anything from me. I need to know everything about Shyam. It does not matter if it hurts me, Di or anybody.” Arnav’s momentary smile was lost. Khushi led out a deep breath. Her role in ruining Anjali’s life by not telling the truth wasn’t lost on her. In an attempt to validate her intentions she had spread a wildfire with her secrecy. 

“I promise,” She whispered. Arnav nodded and kneeled by her bed, taking her hands once again into his. 

“Khushi, do you truly want to leave this marriage? Do you want something else from life? Because-” Khushi choked up and glared at him. 

“-you really need an answer for this Arnav-ji? Do you not know what I want?” Khushi’s question was answered by the briefest kiss on her forehead. Her eyes shut, savoring the feel of his lips on her forehead. She must be completely touch deprived at this point. 

“Then I’m sorry Khushi, for everything I have ever done. And I promise, I will fix things for you.” Arnav stood up and walked to the door, not before turning back and giving her a look with hope and longing. 

And like the fool in love she was, Khushi Kumari Gupta found herself giving him the last chance knowing things would turn just right.

--- --- ---

A/N: Inspired by a very famous hug scene that left a very bitter aftertaste in my mouth. Hope you all liked this.

JWB

tagging: @shaonsim @zaphbeeblebrox @shiyaravi @chutkiandchotte @featheredclover @goals1024 @honeybellexox @darkchocolatestuff @charucoal @thedupattaknowswhatsup @bigfatreader @lostafpanda @exosexosekai @hi-this-is-permabanned @scorpio-smiles @noor1025 @minpdnim @laad-governess @barshifan @whateverworks21 @maansiloves @samuraisamsworld @dropsofserenity @muttonthings @rae-blogging @charucoal @aye-masakalii (updating this list - lemme know who wants to be added/deleted)

[9artsdragon]

Yet another...Arshi FF 🤭

A little late to the Tumblr game—still figuring things out—but here I am, steamrolling into yet another FF. I just have an incurable obsession with Khushi and Arnav in a non canon, supernatural setting. Their chemistry is already magic, so why not throw in some actual magic? Synopsis: When Arnav Singh Raizada acquires an abandoned Mahal in a quiet corner of Lucknow, little did he know that he would be sharing the space with an occupant who has lingered in the shadows for over a century. What dark, forgotten secrets does this forsaken Mahal conceal, waiting to be unearthed? Wattpad: The Bride in the Attic

[msbhagirathi]

FOR REAL. AND THIS IS EVERYONE WHO COME, READ AND LEAVE WITHOUT DROPPING A LIKE OR COMMENT. FOR THE LAST TIME. I. WILL. LOVE. YOUR. LIKE. OR. COMMENT. BYE.

To my readers:

If your comment is long and rambling and full of quotes you enjoyed, I will love it.

If your comment is full of story related questions, I will love it.

If your comment is a single sentence, I will love it.

If your comment is a single emoji, or a string of them, I will love it.

If you comment, I will love it. It's that simple.

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 28

Crazy In Love

Disclaimer: Here it is. The most awaited chapter! Make sure you’re all set with the essentials: coffee, crackers, your favorite drinks, and your significant others. 😉

Extreme condolences for the single souls. 🫣Let’s dive in!

18+, Mature Content.

Your love's

Got me looking so crazy right now.

- (the song of the chapter is 'Crazy In Love' by Beyonce.)

Heartbeats.

Heartbeats throb in her ears as she feels his stare on her, writing his name on her skin. Blood rushes through her body, fueling the heat, his stare kindling it higher and higher.

Each cell of her body speaks of desire, boundless and unguarded, as the silence stretches like the calm before the storm.

Her eyes meet his, with a glare as cold as steel, a futile effort to tame fire with ice.

She swipes everything off her desk. Jewellery, makeup, perfume bottles, and books all crashing to the floor like a war cry.

''I have conditions,'' she bites out, turning her gaze back to him, his voice is steady compared to her chaotic pulse. "Don't ruin my makeup. I have a function to attend."

She watches as his eyes narrow, darkening to something feral, her words adding fuel to an already raging flame.

His lips are pressed into a thin line. Her eyes trace their shape, her own growing heavy with the ache to feel them against her, to taste them, to sink her teeth into them.

But this is a one-time thing.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

No need to complicate things any further.

"And keep your mouth away from mine," she adds, tilting her chin, a brittle calm masking the storm underneath.

Supporting herself with her hand, she perches on the edge of the now-cleared desk. She hikes up her lehenga just enough to expose the smooth curve of her thighs. ''This is what you want, right?" A tremor lingers under her sharp words. "Get it over with then."

He studies her with those damn eyes of his, the infuriating calm in them trying to hide the flame beneath while he moves toward her.

His hands land on her bare thighs, heavy and calloused, chasing all the air out of her lungs. She clenches her teeth, she can look as controlled as he is.

The heat of his fingers trails upward, gathering the fabric of her lehenga as they go. The roughness of her palm sends a ripple of heat through her flesh.

With a sharp tug, He jerks her forward, forcing her legs to part as he steps between them, his body fitting seamlessly between her legs. She succeeds in containing a gasp, her hands instinctively clutching the edge of the desk.

"Is it only me who wants it, hmm?" He asks, leaning toward her as his nose nudges her chin upwards. His voice is a low dangerous hum, sinking into her like a drug.

"Clearly not as much as you do," her breathy voice is foreign to her own ear.

She can feel his smirk on her skin as his lips ghost over her chin, trailing to her ear before descending to the curve of her neck, causing her head to lull backwards. The rough scrape of his stubble against her sensitive skin leaves goosebumps on its path.

Oh God.

"Ah... I see." His teeth sink into the delicate flesh of her neck. A punishment. The sharp string is soothed immediately by his tongue. She shudders, heat pooling low in her belly.

"Then why..., "he drawls, dark and sinful, as he presses his next words into her ear, "....are you so wet for me, huh?"

His hand glides to the apex of her thighs, tracing her underwear over her throbbing core, the fabric already damp. A quick single snap, and it tears in his hand as if it were nothing. A gasp finally escapes her lips, before she can stop it.

"You are already dripping..." His fingers slide along her slick fold, teasing, but never quite giving her what she wants. "And I've barely even touched you..."

Her breath comes in shallow, uneven pants as she bites down on her bottom lip, refusing him the satisfaction of a reply.

Oh God, what was she thinking? She won't survive him.

"Your mouth says one thing", he chuckles, the sound low and dangerous, "but your body? Your body tells a different story.'' His tone is taunting, every word dripping with wicked amusement. "No need to lie, Khushi. You hate liars, remember."

Ahh...and...I hate you. You arrogant, insufferable, self-absorbed asshole.

His eyes lock onto hers, watching her pride warring with her treacherous body in her hazels. The smirk curling at the corner of his lips tells her she has said it aloud. His dark eyes alight with triumph. Dangerous, knowing and smug, a predator savouring his victory.

"For someone who hates me," he rasps, dragging her closer with another rough tug, her bottom barely balances on the edge of the desk, "you're awfully eager."

A deep moan slips past her lips as he presses his arousal firmly against her aching core, undeniable, solid and heavy. "Hate me all you want," his tone shifting to something darker, more primal, "but you'll love every second of the way I'm going to fuck you."

Her eyes flutter close as his words sink in along with the deliberate and maddeningly precise pressure in her groin, fanning the heat pooling between her thigh.

This is madness, her mind whispers. But her body shushes her mind. No, it's heaven, it purrs, basking in the heat of his body.

Her hips begin to move against his, instinctively matching his slow, torturous grind. Layers of fabric do little to dull the fire coursing between them. Her hands let go of the desk clutching the fabric of his undercoat.

His lips, warm and wet, hold her neck prisoner, sucking and grazing along the sensitive skin. His lips descend further, leaving a trail of searing heat in their path. Reaching her collarbone, his teeth graze her skin, striking a match to the gasoline of her veins.

She can vaguely feel his fingers tugging at the strings of her blouse before another wave of fire engulfs her. His hand, unapologetic and shameless, slips beneath the fabric, seeking her bare skin. His rough palm kneads her breast, thumb circling and pinching her hardened nipple, teasing her mercilessly.

With a deft pull, he solves her blouse away sliding it down her arms along with her bra and the dupatta, baring the soft skin of her chest to his hungry gaze.

The cool air barely brushes her skin before his mouth is on her, and she's lost in the frenzy of teeth and tongue.

His mouth is fire and fury, heaven and hell as they descend upon her flesh. The soft touch of his tongue unravels her as his lips close around her nipple and suck lightly before his teeth sink in. A sharp cry and he immediately soothes the ache with the languid stroke of his tongue, like he has all the time in the world to savour her.

His lips and the brush of his stubble against her skin turn the blood of her veins into liquid lava, making her weak in her knees even though she isn't standing

Her hands find their way into his dark hair, tangling in the thick strands as he feasts on her, devouring every inch of her skin offered to him.

She can almost taste the release she craves, the pleasure simmering just out of reach. He senses it too, his hand tightening on her breast as his mouth trails up to her ear.

"You'll come," he whispers hotly, voice impossibly rough, "but not until my cock is buried deep inside your beautiful pussy, Khushi. Not before that."

And why the fuck should she listen to him? But her body does. That bitch locks down, refusing to give her the satisfaction of letting go. She huffs in frustration, her pulse spiking in fury.

He steps back, prying her clutching fingers from his hair. She watches him with drunken, hooded eyes. The front of his trousers bulges out, unashamed and unapologetic, the fabric taut with his desire. She quickly averts her gaze when she sees him watching her, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks despite her current carnal position. Then she remembers.

''You have a condom, don't you? Don't think of getting anywhere near me without one.''

He just smirks causing her to blush even more. Without a word, he pulls a foil packet from his wallet, tossing it onto the desk.

The caramel-browns tangle with her hazels as the sound of zippers being pulled down fills the silence. She doesn't look down, neither does he.

One of his dark eyebrows arches, a silent challenge in his gaze. Her eyes narrow. Letting her pride get the better of her, she lets her gaze drop.

She bites her lips to stop the whimper as her eyes stop on his thick hardness. She watches, transfixed as his hand moves up and down along his length in an almost hypnotic move. Her palm itches to do the same, and without further thought, she reaches for him.

A rough rumble resounds in his chest, half-groan, half-growl as her hand wraps around him.

She has nothing to compare him to, not really. She's never seen one up close and personal or just for real, but he's seriously indescribable.

He feels heavy in her palm, bigger than her hand, bigger than she can grasp all at once, and her walls clench on air, hungry to be fed.

She feels him kissing the side of her head as he removes her hand from him. He tears the foil wrapper with his teeth and her breaths comes out in soft pants completely beyond her control now.

The first brush of him against her arching core sends her spinning as he coats his shaft in her wetness.

Too hard.

Too hot.

Too overwhelming.

One of his hands goes to the back of her neck while the other to her waist before murmuring, "You are so beautiful like this...so ready for me... completely mine."

His caramel-browns hold hers captive as they share the same breath, so close to feeling his warm breath caressing her face, flirting with her lips.

"You need to stop calling me yours. You can have me for this one time. But I'll never be yours," her words barely comprehensible.

"Never, huh?" He just chuckles, "I must warn you, I'm not familiar with that word." His length keeps gliding against her entrance but not penetrating yet. "You won't want anyone else after this. I'll make sure of it."

His words set her loins on fire, fanning the flame the longer he brushes against her. Her nails dig into the wood of the desk as her body starts to shake.

"You accept it or not, but you want to be mine too. You want to fuck me as much as I want to fuck you." he breathes out, barely pushing his tip between her swollen nether lips, making her cry out. "If not more." He says, punctuating every other word with a shallow thrust into her delicate folds.

"F-fuck.." she stammers, her pelvis raising to meet his teasing thrusts, seeking more.

"Hmm...tell me that you want me to fuck you." He dips an inch inside of her warmth, making her moan out helplessly while she inwardly curses him for having so much control and for making her so desperate in need to be a borderline maniac.

"Don't make me ask twice," one dark eyebrow arches as he whispers the words and taps her clit with the head of his cock, and he knows he has her exactly where he wants her, as her mouth hangs open in a soundless cry.

Her body arches, an offering, a surrender and a plea all at once as she utters the damned words he wishes so much to hear. "I want you to f-fuck me..."

Her face flushes red and then she can't stop a long moan from escaping her now parched lips when he drives a few inches farther into her core, her flesh all too naturally yielding to him.

"How much...." she wonders if she shouldn't just kill him now for being so mean, but her mouth seems to follow her deprived body and take a mind of its own because before she can censure herself, she's all but grunting at him.

"As much as you do...now do it... just... take me... f-fuck me already..." she glares at him before adding another clearly pissed now 'fuck me', but she hasn't even finished the last word that she finds herself fighting to take in her next breath when he rocks his hips into hers, burying himself inside her completely in one stroke.

The fire that has been simmering erupts into an inferno, consuming her completely as he claims her, stretching her to the full, marking her from the inside. Her wetness wraps around him as every ridge of his hardness drags along her sensitive flesh where no one has been ever before.

Her thighs quiver as she tries to adjust to him, and it hurts. But the hurt turns into liquid heat as he pulls out before she even feels him entirely and drives right back into her.

"Fuck.." he grits her teeth, looking down to where they're connected, every muscle in his body pulled taut. "You are so tight, little bird."

That's the first time, he calls her 'little bird' tonight.

Barely giving her a second to adjust to his size, he withdraws, then hits right back in again and again without waiting for another breath, and she has no choice but to hang on for the ride of her life.

Clench and release.

Clench and release.

His body commands and she follows.

Every inch of her hums.

Restless and impatient.

Her hands give up the impossible battle to keep her upright and her back flattens against the desk while he continues to take her. Hard, relentless, unapologetic and without mercy.

Her breasts bounce with his punishing rhythm while her breaths come faster and faster, her heart beats wilder and wilder, and she's getting wetter and wetter with every thrust.

Her mind blurs and she stops thinking about anything other than the way he's making her feel.

Wild.

Untamed.

Absolutely insatiable.

The wet sound of his body fucking hers fills the room, along with the smell of her arousal and the sinful spicy scent of his. Her fingers claw at the surface of the desk, nails scraping against the polished wood, leaving faint trails of her desperation behind.

He captures her wrists in an iron grip pinning them above her head as he leans in to give a command in his dangerously sinful voice. "Don't hurt those pretty nails. Keep them here."

One by one, he lifts her legs over his shoulders and all remaining thoughts, coherent and incoherent, scatter like leaves in a storm as her mind succumbs to the havoc he unleashes in her body.

Feeling dizzy, her eyes flutter close. She wonders whether or not his eyes will be alight with gloating triumph and his face etched with a smug smirk. But she doesn't get to see anything but stars behind her eyelids as he breaks her apart and reshapes her into something fierce, primal and raw.

His fingers wrap around her throat as he jerks her upright with a sharp tug, lowering her legs from his shoulder to wrap them around his waist.

Dark, hungry eyes meet the other dark, hungry eyes. And she moans. No, his eyes are not gloating, they are hungry, feral.

"Eyes on me, when I'm fucking you," he growls, daring her to look away while she struggles against the overwhelming pleasure to keep her eyes open.

She can feel his hunger becoming hers and hers becoming his. An endless tide ebbing and crashing between them.

It's raw, punishing, unrelenting.

Lava courses through her veins, flowing through her every nerve ending, and God forgives her, she never wants this to end.

She whimpers, her own hips rolling into his, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her eyes are intensely focused on his mouth as his teeth sink into his lower lip. She wants them to sink into hers. Desperately. The need claws at her insides, driving her to the brink of madness.

She wants to pull his head down and feel his tongue against her throbbing lips. She aches for the wet heat of his mouth, the rasp of his stubble grazing her cheek. But she can't. She can't break her own rule. Instead, she digs her nails into his shoulders.

Her toes curl as the tension in her body coils tighter and tighter. Then, all of a sudden, her muscles clamp down on him without warning.

"Fuck, you're coming already," he growls, his voice rough and feral as he pounds into her without pause, riding the wave of her orgasm.

Her head feels weightless, light exploding behind her closed eyes as the world around her dims, her vision threatening to blacken entirely.

"Shhh.... just breath, Khushi."

His voice is a dark, grounding tether and she has no choice but to gasp loudly at his command as her body trembles. A sharp mewl follows, helpless and needy as her walls keep clenching and unclenching to match his wild rhythm. So do her hands on his back.

Grasping her wrists, he bends her arms behind her back, pinning them firmly as he leans in closer, his teeth sink into her neck. "You have dangerous hands."

Her back arches, pressing her breasts flush against him. The faint snap of glass reaches her ears, her bangles shattering and cutting into her skin, Yet the sting barely registers.

She buries her face in his neck, muffling her cries against his heated skin as her body pulsates uncontrollably around him. He only fucks her harder, each thrust a declaration of possession.

Holding her wrists together in one firm grip, his other hand tangles in her hair, pulling her head back. He inhales the length of her exposed neck before stopping at her pulse point.

"You feel this?" he rasps. Punctuating the words with a punishing thrust that steals her breath. "Now say it." Another hard thrust. "Say. You. Are. Not. Mine."

Before she can answer, he hauls her up with his hands gripping her ass, lifting her effortlessly. And then he lets her fall back onto him hard, on repeat. She whimpers, biting into his shoulder as her nails rake over his back.

Her mind blanks. The friction turns unbearable and exquisite. She can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel his brutal thrusts shaking her to the bones.

She hasn't even recovered from the first and here she's spiralling toward another release. Almost.

And he slows down, holding her there, just on the brink of  her release. Her broken moan spills into his neck, a plea wrapped in a whimper.

"Shh.... just a little bit more," he grunts, his teeth grazing the delicate skin of her earlobe before sucking it into his mouth, drawing out another desperate gasp from her trembling lips

And then there's another sound.

No. A knock

Fuck.

Her eyes fly towards the door as his cock turns completely still inside her for the first time, throbbing with a pulse. Her walls clench tightly around him.

The knock comes again, making her blink.

And awareness comes tumbling towards her. There's a house full of people, politicians, police force, mafias, guards and she's sitting on her desk, in her room, in her father's house, getting fucked by Arnav Singh Raizada.

The enemy of her family.

Holy expletives of fucking expletives.

"Khushiji," a woman's voice. "Your father has asked you to come downstairs. The program will start soon."

She clenches her eyes shut.

Not now.

Oh God. She's close. So close.

She needs her release.

He drops her slowly back on the desk. She draws a deep breath to prepare herself to respond to the door, the motion causing her inner muscles to grip him tightly, causing a surge of heat and wetness pool around his hard cock.

And he pulls out suddenly, thrusting in just as hard.

What the..!!

Her mouth opens to release a cry, but a hand claps over her mouth, muffling the sound. Her eyes widen on his, too stunned, too bewildered.

There's a person right outside the door. Waiting for her. Is he insane?

As though in reply, he snaps his hips into her sharply by bending his knees, the angle hitting the spot inside her that made her eyes roll back into her head. Her cries are muffled against his large hand, as he supports her head with his other hand behind her neck.

The sheer strength in which he's pistoning inside her, the feral speed, the raw friction alongside the thrill of being fucked while the whole serpent is down the hall, are eccentric, electric.

He pounds into her again and again, and a roar of wildlife starts its journey from her toes, travelling up and up her legs, to where he's drilling and drilling into her, to her spine and pools where he holds her by her neck.

It's raw, forbidden, visceral.

It's heated, wild, insane.

It's basic, primitive, carnal.

It's making her scream against his hand. It's making her body shatter like glass under the weight of a thousand suns.

From the inside her body is molten fire and but in the outside her body is taut muscles, head thrown back and hip lifted off the desk, and her mouth opened in silent scream under his hand.

The knock comes again.

But he keeps moving.

In and out.

In and out.

Hitting the same magical and devastating spot inside her.

Again and again and again.

It becomes too much for her. She tries to shake her head but his hands doesn't let her move. She tries to pry his hands away but her own fingers are frozen into tight, trembling fists clutching his clothes.

He keeps moving.

And she keeps exploding.

All her whines, wails and whimpers are swallowed by his hand.

She sinks her teeth into his hand hard enough to draw blood. But he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t even flinch. His hand stays exactly where it is, unrelenting, as if daring her to try harder.

Then one punishing last thrust, and he stills, expanding inside her as he bites on her shoulder. With a shudder, he finishes inside her. Her walls quiver around him stunned by his stillness.

Their breaths mingle, ragged and

uneven, matching the erratic beats of their hearts. He takes her trembling body in his arm, slowly rubbing his hand along her bare back while softly nipping on her neck.

Her body is done, completely spent. She can't move, can't even feel her limbs. The world feels distant and unreal as if everything has narrowed to just the two of them.

She looks at him, undeniably shy, all of a sudden. Her hands rise instinctively to cover her bare chest. He steps back, the loss causing her to gasp, a soft whimper escaping her lips.

She sits on the desk for a moment to collect herself before sliding down, her hunched-up lehenga falling into place.

Her legs almost buckle, the lingering heaviness between her thighs threatening to bring her to her knees. She's sore. God, she's so sore.

She feels devoured, used, bruised and completely, utterly, totally fucked.

Her eyes catch her reflection in the mirror. She looks thoroughly ravaged. Drunken eyes, wild hair, flushed skin. Heat rises to her cheeks.

God, what was she thinking?

She has let him fuck her, completely and thoroughly.

And she has enjoyed it. Every single second. Every single kiss. Every single thrust. She didn't want him to stop. If his hand didn't muffle her mouth, she would have been screaming his name. If he didn't silenced her, she would have cried out for more, shamelessly, carnally like the wanton woman he turns her to be.

She turns around, quickly sliding her arms down the earlier discarded blouse. Her breath hitches as she feels his fingers on her back, tying the strings deftly with precision one at a time.

She feels his lips on her shoulders as he whispers, "There won't be any party tonight. "

Crinking her eyebrows, she looks at him sideways, wondering what he's talking about.

“You’re hurt,” he says softly, reaching for her hand. Only then does she notice the angry red cut on her ring finger, a thin line of blood standing stark against her skin.

She immediately tries to snatch her hand away but he holds it tightly. "Let me see."

"You should go." She says instead.

“Shh…” he hushes her, retrieving a handkerchief to carefully dab at the blood around the cut. “Where’s the first aid box?”

Obediently, she nods toward her dresser. He moves with purpose, retrieving the supplies and tending to the wound. Once the cut is cleaned, he wraps it securely with gauze.

"Why do you wear glass bangles. They keep breaking."

“Maybe they don’t like you,” she whispers, still avoiding his gaze. “They always break in your hand.”

“Your bangles are as stubborn as you.”

Another knock.

“Khushi, bitiya! Are you okay? Open the door!” It's Buaji.

His caremel-browns smile as they gaze into her hazels, thousands of words are exchanged without uttering a single one.

And then he’s gone, leaving nothing behind but a soreness in between her legs and a bandage wrapped around the ring finger of her left hand.

Author's note:

Hehe, see you soon.

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@featheredclover @arshifiesta @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @chaiandtakkar @bigfatreader

[myfanficfrenzy]

AI art inspired from beautiful Arshi fanfic by Meera30 : A river runs through it

[exosexosekai]

PLEASE I LOVE FOR THIS NOW MAKE IT HAPPEN😭😭😭😭😭

Guess who had loads of time on their hands today? My challenge to myself was to use only the episodes I already had at my disposal. 

I present to you…. Iss Pyaar Ko Kya Naam Doon? but as a romcom! :) 

[featheredclover]

Shab-e-intezaar

Oneshot inspired by this word prompt by @arshifiesta

The night of awaiting 

_________

The streetlight burned as dusk coiled around the city of Lucknow. Like a bunch of princes to their favourite courtesan, a flutter of moths were drawn to the light.

Khushi stifled a smile at the impish comparison, as she hurried along the narrow roads of Lakshmi Nagar. 

———

“Amma, I am home” , she said with flourish, dropping her handbag onto the chair and her jootis kicked off elegantly over the mat.

“Hmm”, came the buzz of mild acknowledgment from Garima Gupta.

Khushi huffed out a breath in mock exasperation. 

“What is there in this god forsaken serial that I can’t get you to give your eyes a break for a second? The same old rich man- poor girl nonsense!”

“Hush Khushi!”

She tied her hair into a quick knot, and left for her evening bath, leaving her mother with her precious LED box.

———

“You just have to cook the chapatis baccha, I have made the curry” Garima smiled fondly as Khushi stood bent over the stove.

“Aah! AD break I assume?” She smirked.

“Of course!” Garima laughed, “Love stories…..”

Khushi spun around at her mother’s change of tone.

“They remind me of what your father and I shared”, her eyes misty with memories.

“Lies” Khushi smiled , “Papa wasn’t rich”

“He was rich in his heart! Joke all you want, but one day you’ll realise what I am talking about Khushi. So many proposals have come your way, but I have rejected them for I know that you deserve to marry for love”

“What rubbish! I’ll marry someone who mints money!”

“We’ll see”

And with that Garima was off to the living room again.

If she had paused, she would have seen the tell tale signs of a lie on her daughter’s face. The flushing of cheeks, the biting of lip and the nervous gesture of hands.

Khushi Kumari Gupta was in love.

————

She laid the fresh bed sheet over her mattress, humming an old Bollywood tune. Her room was set in muted tones of pink. She was a magpie in all essence. Her nani’s jewellery, her papa’s books and all the gifts she had ever received, were all stored beautifully in this room.

Her parents had worked hard over the years to buy this flat in the heart of Lucknow. Her papa’s death in that fatal car accident years ago didn’t dim her mother’s will to work. And so Khushi grew up with her mother as the headmaster of a government school, with ambitions of being a teacher herself.

She placed the test papers she had taken pains to correct in a file, and pushed them away on her desk with a sigh of relief.

“Semester exams done!” She said out loud to herself.

Switching off the lamp, she stood up and plunged the room into dimness.

With the strategy of a woman in love, she grabbed a book from her bedside table and walked with measured leisure to the ornate window.

The moon hid behind the clouds as she searched for him. Her fingers flipped the pages, hoping its flutter would bring him to his window. The window framing the wall neighbouring hers.

And then like the bride waiting for the moon on her first fasting, she was assuaged as the clouds cleared and the moon lit up his handsome face, shining the harsh lines of him into light.

“Arnav”, she breathed out as if parched from his thirst. Thirst of the man who had stolen her dreams, her heart and her peace.

“How were the semester papers? By your expression I can guess you are glad to be rid of them”, he smirked wickedly.

“Laugh all you want, but at least I don’t sit hunched over a computer all day!”, she said tongue in cheek.

He smiled, hands lifted up in defeat.

“I am a verified corporate slave”

He took a sip from his cup, his eyes holding her captive.

“Beautiful night”

She shook her head, “You say that every night”

“And I mean it every night”, he insisted, his voice ringing against the dark.

She cleared her throat, “So the heroine and hero got stuck in a lift today”

He chuckled, “I am amused how Garima aunty suffers this everyday”

“Tell that to her,” she grinned.

“That her favourite show lacks originality? No way!”

“It’s cliche! But it works…”

Arnav set his cup aside, resting his forearm on the ledge, leaning over.

“They sell dreams don’t they? We wait all our lives. Some live and lose. But they sell our dreams to us..”

Khushi sighed, “Making the wait bearable?”

“Agonising” his whisper lit up her night.

—————

The staff room was not unaffected by the lazy afternoon. The fan whirred in the corner as the two friends sat hunched together.

“Her wedding was simply stunning! Her dad spent so much.”

She looked on, bored as Payal recounted their colleague’s wedding last week. She had missed it due to her cousin’s wedding the same day.

“Payal! What about the groom? Does he suit Sheetal?”

“Well….he is balding. And he has a paunch. But that won’t matter in America would it?”

“Sheetal had a poster of Salman on her wall”, Khushi mumbled.

“So what Khushi? Life is not a movie. No one is going to get a Salman or Shah rukh. We are going to get nice men with heavy pockets”

“Akash is certainly not just a nice man” she smirked.

Payal playfully smacked her hand, before settling down despondently.

“His mother doesn’t approve.”

“Does that matter? He is willing to fight anyone for you. He got that apartment near the junction-“

“Yes! But I didn’t want him to give up his family. I want him to have everything he wants”

Khushi closed her hand over Payal’s fist.

“He loves you. And if a few sacrifices are what life demands from him, that’s okay. Because how happy he’ll be with you matters the most!”

She smiled, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

“Thank you Khush”, she choked out.

————-

She stood by her window, gazing out at his closed one, her hand drying her waist length hair gently.

 Payal had texted her this morning, asking her to be one of the witnesses for their registered marriage. 

It was happening. After all the hardships, Akash was finally marrying Payal. She couldn’t be more happier for the two of them.

Raizadas were going to lose another son, she thought. Arnav had left the grandiose of Sheesh Mahal two years ago, to live in this humble settlement.

“Just exhausted, Khushi. They wanted to control everything. My life, my soul, my very breath”

She recalled his words with a pang. He had to suffer so much, before he could finally break free.

And now Akash…..

Walking over to her almirah, she looked for her favourite Anarkali. 

White. For purity. For innocence. For new beginnings. 

For Akash and Payal.

She was happy for them. Why wouldn’t she be? She had been a Cupid to their story, nonetheless.

But when her gaze settled on the neighbouring window, she felt a twinge of anxiety. She hadn’t revealed her own heart to Arnav, let alone expect him to return her love. 

She had her share of sleepless nights, worrying that any day now, he will bring home a woman. Her heart will break. And all those unplayed heartbreak CDs in her possession will finally get a chance to echo in her room.

Slipping on a pair of jhumkas, Khushi draped a dupatta over her and walked out to say goodbye to her mother.

———-

“Arnav!”

She couldn’t believe her eyes. Empty tea cups rested on the coffee table. Her mother greeted her with a soft, serene smile.

“Amma-“

“Isn’t it time? Payal will be waiting” , her mother interrupted.

“But-“ , she frowned.

“After all, you'll be late when you reach there”, she turned back to Arnav, “I think you should stay there tonight beta”

“The register office is fifteen minutes from here!”

“We are going to Agra. Did you think the Raizadas would let Akash get married here?”

She stared at him. Unsure of the change in plans, of this tea with her mother, unsure of him and the way he was looking at her.

“It’s a four hour car ride Khushi, you better leave now!” Her mother was now on her feet, almost pushing her daughter out of the door.

“Shall we?” 

Her hand slid into his.

Agra it is.

————

“Please sign here” the grumpy man mumbled.

She looked on as Akash’s two colleagues signed the paper.

“Khushi”, Arnav placed a hand on her waist, pushing her forward.

She took the pen in her hand, muttering a prayer under her breath before noting down her signature.

Joy and claps filled the air as the couple was pronounced husband and wife.

Khushi looked on with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face, as Akash kissed Payal softly, ignoring the registrar’s gasp of outrage.

Love had won again.

————-

She was a romantic. She had always been. Even when she had first visited the Taj Mahal with her mother at the young age of ten, she had found her heart aching at the majestic symbol of love. Shah Jahan’s number of wives or his harem didn’t matter. There was love that thrived beyond graves, and that’s all that mattered.

Khushi soaked in the beauty the monument was, under the cover of the night. Wrapping her dupatta, firmly around her shoulders, she walked beside Arnav, who seemed so deep in thought, she almost felt jealous.

“I never thought it could be more beautiful”, she broke through the silence.

“You love the nights, not surprising”, Arnav smiled.

Rows of trees lined their path, the distant lights illuminated their footsteps, as the breeze swayed.

“Shab-e-intezaar”, he said out loud.

“Shab-e-intezaar? What are you waiting for?”, she asked, puzzled.

He smiled in that mysterious way of his.

Her breath left her as he caught her wrist and pulled her against him. Wide eyed, she looked up at him, pure shock and pleasure running through her whole being.

“This”, he whispered, before his mouth came down on hers. 

His lips were unbearably soft. The slight way he moved against her was driving her crazy. Something primitive rose within her, as her hand clutched his shirt, pressing herself against him firmly.

He was quick to know her. Entangling her within his arms, he tightened his hold.

Breathless she broke away, resting her head against his. She felt his warmth on her nose, before her head was tilted up.

“I love you Khushi”, he kissed her again.

Khushi’s hand tightened on his wrist.

“I love you too”, she whispered back.

Arnav broke into a delicious smile. Holding her hand he stepped away.

Ignoring the sudden bout of shyness flooding her, she held his eyes as if her life depended on it.

He bent down on one knee.

“Happiness found me, while I was leaning against my bedroom window one night. I still thank whatever gods are up there, who brought me to you, Khushi. I am in love with you. With your spirit, your heart, your eyes. I am just a man in love with you”, his voice wavered at the end.

She swallowed thickly, her vision blurring with emotion.

“With the blessings of Garima aunty”, he cracked a wry grin, “I would like to ask you if you want to be my wife? Spend the rest of our lives, no longer separated by walls and windows?”

“I will”, she let out a sob.

She crashed into him, arms entwining around him as he almost tumbled onto the ground.

His laughter filled her ears, and she glanced up at the beautiful Taj Mahal, framed by their night.

Love had found them. After a long shab-e-intezaar.

----------

Hope you liked this story! Dedicated to all those beautiful nights ~ I urge you to look out your window tonight and wish something special for yourself ;)

Let me know what you think of the story! All constructive criticisms welcome ❤️

Tagging:

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[chaiandtakkar]

The Case of the Overzealous Benovelent

For as long as he could remember, Arnav Swami had maintained a cautious, if not outright adversarial, relationship with UP Roadways buses.

The thick diesel fumes, the rattling windows that seemed one good jolt away from detaching mid-ride, and the occasional goat occupying a seat made for an experience best avoided.

And yet, here he was.

Because life had a way of testing his patience.

When his Nani suggested scouting plots in Rishikesh for a potential new dhaba, he had agreed purely as a business move. Strictly professional. Nothing more, nothing less.

That it involved subjecting himself to UP Roadways was merely an unfortunate side effect.

It was, of course, entirely unrelated to the fact that just a few days ago, Khushiji had burst into his dhaba, raving about river rafting with such aggressive arm movements that he had genuinely considered ducking for cover.

"Swami Ji, imagine! The wind in your hair, the water splashing… adventure at its peak!" she had declared, eyes sparkling like she was describing some spiritual awakening.

Arnav had nodded sagely. “Or death at its peak.”

She had gasped, scandalized. “Swami Ji! You have no spirit of adventure!”

“Running a dhaba is an adventure, Khushiji,” he had countered. “You should see people fight over the last piece of balushahi”

She had shaken her head, muttering something about laajawab log  before prancing off.

But that had nothing to do with his decision.

So, like a man on a mission, Arnav braced himself, squared his shoulders, and boarded the bus.

It was only a 45-minute ride. Maybe an hour if fate decided to test his patience. 

Manageable.

That morning, he had skipped breakfast, perhaps an unwise decision given his delicate travel constitution, but sacrifices had to be made. Business came first.

Settling into his seat, he let his eyes wander over the hawker dramatically displaying plastic combs and Shani Raksha Yantras, when suddenly…

A burst of color outside the window.

Bright. Unmistakable.

And then, emerging through the dusty air, balancing on her toes, Khushiji.

Peering into the bus with a grin, her nose scrunching ever so slightly as she squinted at him.

"Swami Ji!" she called out, reaching into her purse with the enthusiasm of a magician about to pull out a rabbit. “Here, take this!”

Before he could react, an orange candy was thrust through the window, landing squarely in his palm.

Arnav stared at it. Then at her.

"What is this?"

"Preventive measures," she declared. "You skipped breakfast, didn’t you? Bankelal ji stopped by and looked worried! He said you left in a hurry. You get all grumpy when you’re hungry.”

Arnav frowned. “I do not.”

She didn’t argue, just smiled sweetly, the kind of smile that said she knew things.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she frowned, her nose crinkling again.

"Wait, this is not enough. Hold on"

Before he could protest, she started digging into her tiny purse again, muttering under her breath. 

First came another candy, yellow this time, which she shoved into his other hand. 

Then a small packet of namak pare.

Then, after some deep contemplation, a single cashew.

Arnav just stared at the growing pile of unsolicited snack offerings in his hands.

"Khushiji, this is a bus ride, not an Everest expedition."

She ignored him completely, instead leaning forward slightly into the bus, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Ugh, Swami Ji, this smells terrible! Do you really have to take this bus? It’s so… so…" she paused, searching for the right word.

"Functional?" he offered dryly.

"No. Questionable." She nodded firmly, as if that settled it.

Arnav exhaled, pressing the bridge of his nose.

"Khushiji, I do not need…”

"Oh! Wait!!! Swami Ji, are you carrying water?"

He gave her a flat look.

"I am not an amateur."

She didn’t look convinced. Her hands were already at work again, fishing out a small tetra pack of frooti from her bag.

"Here, at least take this."

"I…"

But before he could complete the sentence, she was already poking a straw through the tiny hole, then thrusting the juice box toward him with both hands, her brows furrowed with pure, unfiltered concern.

"Swami Ji, please. Diesel fumes and an empty stomach? You’ll get dizzy. And then you'll faint. And then what will happen? Who will take care of the dhaba?"

Arnav sighed, pressing the juice box against his forehead in sheer surrender.

"You have given this entirely too much thought."

She beamed.

"Of course. Now, chaliye, have a safe trip! And don’t think too much! Business is important, but so is eating!"

And just like that, she was gone, skipping away with the same chaotic energy she had arrived with, her chunari floating behind her like she was starring in her own Bollywood montage.

Arnav looked down at the ridiculous assortment in his hands.

An orange candy. A yellow candy. Namak pare. One lonely cashew. And a mango juice box.

What was he supposed to do with one cashew? Frame it? Worship it?

None of this should have mattered.

It was ridiculous.

It was just an orange candy. Just sugar and artificial flavoring.

And yet…

As he unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth, the tangy sweetness cut through the thick fumes, and something even more ridiculous happened.

It helped.

He exhaled, reluctantly fiddling with the straw into the Frooti.

Maybe, just maybe… Khushiji knew things.

Also on blog here or Wattpad here

[exosexosekai]

I WOKE UP TO THIS VIOLANCE

IPKKND SS: Madaari

Madaari - Puppeteer. Trickster. Magician. Conjurer. A street performer who entertains the public by training (torturing) animals to dance. 

Trigger Warning: none | Word Count: 2400+

Read Chapter 1

#Chapter 2

Shyam watched the Gupta family fret over Khushi. It was Devi Maiyya’s sign, he had to do away with Khushi Gupta and her family as soon as possible. The strings were too messy, and what if her memory recovered? 

He smiled at the paralyzed Shashi Gupta - so much for playing hero for his daughter. Shashi grumbled, tears and rage filling the old eyes but Shyam could only hide a laugh as Garima had to tend to wipe the drool away from Shashi’s face. 

That man was never going to be fine, Shyam made sure of it. 

The medicines they diligently fed Shashi were his path to a slow, natural, death.

After all he was Khushi’s father, he couldn’t condemn him to a painful death. 

Khushi’s heart hurt more than her head. A sharp pain. Arnav was here.

She woke up, looking around, barely remembering the ride to her home. Shyam had assisted her to her room, tucking her neatly and explaining the situation to her family. 

She slept even before she knew it. 

“He’s not here.” Khushi stiffened as Payal sat next to her, a fresh bandaid and antiseptic bottle in her hand. 

“Woh Jiji, I was looking for-” Payal shot Khushi a look, and for the grace of her sister she did not mention the name of the man Khushi was clearly looking for.

For someone who had read Khushi since childhood, Payal Gupta found it no mystery who was the love of her darling sister’s life.

It was definitely not Khushi’s fiancé. 

How had Khushi fallen for Arnav, it was beyond her. But Payal had said nothing, fearing that speaking about Khushi’s infatuation with Arnav would flame the fire Khushi’s heart.

So she feigned ignorance. 

The rest of the family barely paid heed to Khushi anyway, they never saw her spending hours learning sugar free sweets in the kitchen. They never heard her whisper words in English to herself.  They never realized how Khushi inserted Arnav Singh Raizada in every conversation. 

“If he cared, he would’ve been here,” Payal emphasized, blowing at the injury on Khushi’s head. Khushi turned away in shame, her secret caught in the open.

She flinched at the sting of the antiseptic.

“He’s engaged.” Payal now whispered, afraid that the Goddess might punish her sister for a mistake her young heart made. 

“It’s nothing like that,” Khushi denied the unsaid accusation. Payal could only smile sadly. 

“You will be perceived as the other woman, regardless of context,” Payal advised, fixing the bandaid on Khushi's forehead. 

“It’s nothing like that,” Khushi repeated, clenching her blanket.

“Khushi, one mistake cannot fix another.” Payal sighed. Her sister truly had the worst luck. Her options were either a doomed romance or a doomed marriage. 

A tear rolled down Khushi’s cheek. She loved Arnav. It was a fact that she understood at her worst. He, his feelings, meant the world for her. She had to tell everything to Payal.

For once, Khushi did not want to hold all the burdens in her heart. God knows Khushi needed Payal’s guidance and help now more than ever. 

“Jiji” Khushi froze as she saw the reflection on the window in front of her. 

Payal didn’t have to look up to know who had been standing all along.

Arnav Singh Raizada

— — —

Lavanya watched Arnav return home, face crumpled in anguish. When she had returned from visiting Khushi earlier in the day, she thought the anguish on her face was a result of the accident. 

But with the similar pain on Arnav’s face, she realized physical pain had little strength to heartache. 

Her engagement was over before it even began. 

It’s ironic that the closer she got to Arnav in societal recognition, the farther away he grew from her. 

“Everything will be fine,” Arnav stopped short in his tracks, staring at Lavanya intertwine her hand with his, compassion on her face. 

Will everything ever be fine? His world fell beneath his feet when he learned from Akash that Khushi was involved in an accident, and from the conversation between Payal and Khushi, his worst and best dreams came true. 

He must be sadistic to feel relief that Khushi was just as miserable in her engagement as he. 

The relief was just as strong as finding her safe and healthy. 

And to be honest, he was glad her fiancé was not around when he stopped by. He could hardly be trusted these days. 

Arnav looked at his own fiancee, and guilt settled in his heart. It was never about Lavanya, was it? 

One look at Khushi in her bed, wounded, and he realized that this was the only woman he’d ever feel so intensely for, regardless of the context. So what was he promising Lavanya? 

The life his mother lived? 

“La,” Lavanya teared up as Arnav took her name far more affectionately than he had over the past few months. She savored and feared as he gently cupped her face, a flicker of tears in his own eyes as well. 

Arnav felt a lump in his throat. It was a pity to realize he had been surrounded by the best of women despite being a terrible man. 

There was a time where if asked who he could’ve spent a lifetime with, it would be Lavanya Kashyap. 

“Arnav, please don’t,” Lavanya whispered. Let Arnav be guilty enough to at least give her a few days of affection before the doom she anticipated. For once he became the ASR she knew.

The one who took her to dates to the fanciest of restaurants, booking the cozy booths where he’d hear her endless frustrations of the press and terrible fashion trends with a barely there smile. 

The one who grumbled at every gift she gave him, but had them delicately stored in some corner of his office - be it a paper weight or a Mont Blanc pen. The one who’d often stop by her place for a cup of coffee and an hour of silence as they heard Jazz. The one who’d indulge her when she’d drag to him to dance with her in her quiet apartment, the radio fading as she’d undo his tie while he pulled down the zipper of her dress. 

“I am so sorry La,” He whispered, touching his forehead to hers. 

“Fuck, they were right.” Lavanya whispered, glad to finally utter an expletive in this house. No one thought they’d last. Most viewed her as Arnav’s latest arm candy - but hell he barely had the time to date and she had believed, so strongly, that what she and Arnav shared was beyond the rumors. 

Arnav looked at her in confusion, Lavanya smiled as a tear slipped through.

“The papers. They were right. Everyone was. And the problem is, I won’t be able to justify to anyone that I wasn’t a ‘phase’” Lavanya chuckled, being able to imagine the headlines. How wouldn’t she - marketing and PR was her speciality. 

“Fuck the papers. You were a lot more. You are a lot more. It’s precisely why I can’t do this anymore.” Arnav said, wishing for once that he could’ve loved her for her sake. 

“You love me La, you always have. I don’t know why, I don’t deserve it. You deserve far more, far better. And don’t mistake this as me making a choice for you. I’m just stating facts. And the thing is the only people who were right about this is, unfortunately, my family. Di knew I was doing this to prove Nani a point. I… fuck… La you can’t be a collateral damage to my feelings.” Arnav confessed, feeling the most defeated in his life. 

He had never wanted to be like his father. He had never wanted to hurt another woman.

But just like his father he hurt the first woman who had loved him. 

“I know. I know the minute you announced our engagement that you’re going to break up with me. I know you were proving a point” Arnav was surprised, just how much had Lavanya understood? 

“The only thing I didn’t realize is who you were proving it to,” Lavanya concluded, stepping away from him. 

“La,” Arnav sighed, “I never wanted to,”

“When are you going to tell her?” Lavanya cut him off, alarming him with her question,

Arnav closed his eyes in resignation, “there’s no her,”

“ASR, I’ve always respected you for being an honest man. Don’t change that.” Lavanya’s voice held rage for the first time. 

She understood breakups, she did not understand stupidity. Just how many people was Arnav willing to sacrifice as collateral damage just because he could not understand his feelings? Hell, in no universe would Lavanya want Khushi to become the next victim. 

“La, this is not the time. I cannot take you fixing my stuff when I’ve barely apologized.” Arnav stated, and he meant it. Khushi was not important right now. 

“Oh I’ll make you apologize, don’t worry about it. After all you broke Lavanya Kashyap’s heart and more than that, your family made me wear terrible clothes ninety percent of the time,” Lavanya cracked a pained smile.

Arnav let out a hollow laugh, and held her hand. 

“No, ASR, I am serious.” Lavanya pushed his hand aside, “You can’t keep sacrificing people left right and center because you can’t figure things out. You’re an adult, act like one. And don’t think about me because I will hold you accountable for how much you’ve hurt me. But right now, you’re against time. Because as far as I know her you can chase her after she’s married but she won’t break her marriage for you. She’s a good person ASR, a bit too good.” Lavanya said, fixing her face as the rest of the family set into the dining table. 

Lavanya was right, no matter what he and Khushi were at this point, he had to be honest to both women.

But above all, he needed to have a serious chat with his family not just about his breakup but about how they’ve been grooming La all along. Yes, he enabled them, but he had to ensure that this could not happen again. 

Wasn’t Payal having similar reservations to joining the Raizada family? Mami would give her worse than what Nani handed to Lavanya. 

Granted, Akash was going to have a tougher time convincing his mother for a wedding now that Arnav was not getting married - but it was high time his younger cousin fought his own battles as well. 

— — — 

The family looked at Arnav as he sat at the first table, his face reserve. Devyani rejoiced at Arnav pulling the chair for Lavanya, passing her a smile. Manorama clapped as she watched Lavanya, in her older clothes, settle at the table. Finally, modern clothes were back at Shantivan. 

Anjali, though, closed her eyes even before Arnav opened his mouth. 

This was not going to be good. 

— — — 

This was not good, Garima concluded. This had to be Devi Maiyya’s signal that this relationship was not meant to be. First Shashi had a paralytic stroke, now Khushi was nearly saved from the jaws of death, and all these happened right around the corner of Khushi and Shyam’s engagement.

As a mother her heart trembled. She could feel her dead sister bore holes into her back every time Madhumati forced Khushi to accept Shyam as a suitor. 

Garima had promised Khushi’s happiness to her dead sister. 

Why was Khushi’s happiness not aligning to the one man who could bring stability to her life? 

“Amma,” Garima broke from her chain of thoughts and assisted Khushi to the dining table. 

“Arrey, you should’ve just called for me!” Garima admonished Khushi, fixing a warm shawl around Khushi’s shoulders. Was it just her or had Khushi grown older over the past few days?

Shyam wheeled Shashi to the dining table and sat next to Madhumati. Payal sat by Khushi’s side, nodding gently to her. What were the sisters thinking? 

“I have something to tell you all.” Khushi said.

— — —

“What? Why?” Devyani cried, she had grown to love Miss Kashyap! Yes it took her time to understand that beneath the modernity she despised, was a heart of gold she had grown to love!

“Nani, I will say this for once and only once. Lavanya deserves a lot more than what I can give. I cannot subject her to what,” maa went though. Arnav broke off, the questions over the past half hour hitting his head. Anjali was hugging Lavanya, an angry ‘I told you so’ in her eyes. 

For the first time Anjali acknowledged she failed as a sister, that she had not stepped into her mother’s shoes at all. And she made no lack in conveying so to her brother. 

Arnav accepted all the blame. 

Perhaps Nani was right that day, he was closer to his father than he thought. 

— — — 

“Jiji told me something that has just set itself in my heart.” Khushi began, her eyes misting. 

“It is so important to look at who is with us when we’re going through our worst times. And with us, actively doing things to help us. That, is an indicator of a companion far more than any fantasy.” Khushi continued, her reality becoming clear as Shyam wiped the drool from Shashi’s mouth with the gentleness of a son. 

He was unfazed when Shashi spit up the food onto Shyam’s sleeve. There was not a single trace of disgust on his handsome face. How did she never see this? 

“Shyam ji,” Shyam looked at Khushi, stunned at the beauty of her soft smile, “I am so sorry.”

“Haye re Nandkisore!” Madhumati interrupted, fearing the worst. The girl couldn’t be thinking of breaking her engagement could she? 

“I am so sorry for not seeing you,” Khushi apologized, tears flowing as her smile grew wider, “you have been there. Always. When I needed rescuing from the goons, when I needed a job, when Buaji needed help in this house, when Babuji faced a stroke. Devi Maiyya has been constantly showing me the truth but I was just unable to see it.” Khushi wiped her tears and shot him the biggest smile she had.

“So yes, to answer the question you had posed on the night you decorated my house as if the stars had been here." Khushi reminisced the day he gave her jalebis and promised her companionship. How could she have been so blind?

"Yes, I will marry you. Not for the sake of my father. Not for the sake of the society. Not for the sake of Buaji. But for myself.” 

———————————————————

A/N: Yes, I am very evil. Enjoy :D

tagging: @shaonsim @zaphbeeblebrox @shiyaravi @chutkiandchotte @featheredclover @goals1024 @honeybellexox @darkchocolatestuff @charucoal @thedupattaknowswhatsup @bigfatreader @lostafpanda @exosexosekai @hi-this-is-permabanned @scorpio-smiles @noor1025 @minpdnim @laad-governess @barshifan @whateverworks21 @maansiloves @samuraisamsworld @dropsofserenity @myloveforstuff @leila1 @onadaanparindey @urwatueat @dimaagkadahi @ijustchangedmyname @australian-desi @muttonthings @eunoiabeyours @aye-masakalii  (updating this list - lemme know who wants to be added/deleted)

[9artsdragon]

An amateur fan fiction; My happy place ❤️