#asks (thaly)

[blxdc]

Send me a ♫ and I will give you a song that reminds me of your character.

[commanderthalys]

Wilson reaches into the box and pulls something out. She carefully lays it on the ground.

It is a "Box with colorful pills. (The label says "Grow your own Dino Friend")"

Wilson: "How can you grow a Dino? Put it in Water,... huh weird." (@wilsons-journey)

Thalys grabs the box, curious on how it would be possible to take such a tiny pill and have it grow into a raptor. Eager to try it, she grabbed the box and ran off to find the nearest lake.

“They’re going to need some space once they grow! A cup will be too tight!”

She this to to herself as she gently took each pill and placed it in a small pond. She patiently waited for the promise of dinosaurs, eventually falling asleep on the edge of the pond. She woke up a few hours later, excited to see what exciting raptor breeds would greet her, only to find several small dinosaur shaped foam pieces floating in the pond. She gathered the sopping wet dinos up and headed back home, a bit disappointed that no real beasts came from the pills.

“I guess that does make more sense than a real dinosaur. These are still pretty cute though.”

[healingwords]

Today is a no thought, brain scrampled egg kind of day.

[froggyrights]

The only good thing about not having public transport in my part of the US is that I'll never fall asleep and wake up in another state. That would scare the shit out of me.

xD that's fair but honestly it's not that big of a worry! just everytime I now get on international trains I am WIDE AWAKE. but 99% of the time I just have to get on the regional ones so the worst that could happen is that it'll take me an extra hour or 2 to go home lol

[seospicybin]

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART I

Bangchan x reader. (s,a)

Chapters: Part II / Part III / Final.

Synopsis: Having issues to break up with your boyfriend, you seek help from the boy next door and the number one fuckboy in the area, Chan. (10k words)

Author's note: I went through a nasty break up a few weeks ago and this is basically just me trying to cope by being delulu about having a fuckboy Chan as a neighbor. Enjoy x

It becomes a habit now that Chan doesn't know where he is when he wakes up in the morning.

The first thing that he'll do is retrace everything to last night. He was DJ-ing at a club, had a few drinks in between, met a girl who was eyeing him the whole night, had a few more drinks, there was a little touching and a quick makeout session in the dark alley and people can guess what happens after that

So this is where he is right now, the girl's bedroom and he can recall everything that happened last night except the girl's name.

"Fuck!" Chan mutters under his breath.

Judging from how bright the sun is outside, he knows he only has a little window to make his escape so he quickly gets off the bed as calmly as possible. He then tiptoes around to gather his clothes and put them on without making any noise.

However, he fails at it as the head from his belt hits the bed frame and the clanging of metal meets metal echoing in the room.

The girl steers on her sleep and rolls over to the side, she brushes her hair away from her face, catching Chan putting his belt on.

The plan to make a quick getaway has come to a failure but he keeps his cool, continuing to buckle his belt and then plants his hands on each side of his waist.

"Morning," He awkwardly says with a forced smile.

"Morning," the girl replies with a smile then props an elbow against the mattress, sending the duvet sliding down her body and exposing her bare chest to him.

Chan might have been a little drunk when he met her but damn, his fuckboy radar works well even under the influence of alcohol.

"You're leaving already?" She asks, flipping her hair to the back to expose more of those beautiful mounds to him.

Chan has to tell his pervy brain to focus actively, he looks away and picks up his jacket from the floor.

"I promised a friend to help him move out today," He lies, then pretends to check the time on his phone, "And I'm kind of late."

The girl nods then twirls her hair around her finger, "Well then... when can I see you again?"

"I hope soon," Chan says with his charming grin that disguises the insincerity in his answer.

The girl smiles at that which confirms that the grin works, "But seriously, I can't wait to see you again," she says.

"I'll call you," he says because that's what he can promise her at the moment but whether he'll do it or not is uncertain.

"But you don't have my numbers yet," she says with her eyebrows wrinkled in suspicion.

"No, I'm sure you already did," he says, convincing her by scrolling the contacts on his phone.

"Yup. I have your numbers already," he lies again, showing her a random contact on his phone for a quick second.

"But my name is Thalia," she says, cleverly catching the name on the contact.

"Yes, of course, you're Thalia," he says with utmost confidence and his ultimate weapon of a dimpled smile.

The girl seems alarmed though. She sits up on the bed and clutches the duvet close to her chest, "We're going to see each other again, right Chris?"

"Yes," he answers without a beat, and at this point, lying is as easy as breathing to him.

"Can I get a kiss before you leave?"

"Sure," he says, coming around the bed to give her a quick peck on the lips.

The girl smiles when he lets go and watches as he walks to the doorway, "I'll call you, Tanya."

"It's Thalia," she corrects him with an apparent displeasure on her face.

Chan shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans and takes the time to properly bid her goodbye. Nothing a girl likes more than a sweet mouth and a little assurance, he'll give her exactly that.

"I'll see you soon, Thalia," Chan says with a smile.

"See you soon, Chris," and the girl naively believes him, if only she knew that this will be the last time they're seeing each other.

Yet again, Chan makes another successful getaway.

-

The warm weather of spring makes it a pleasant walk from the bus stop to his apartment building. He wants to stop somewhere for breakfast but his head feels heavy from the hangover, he just wants to go home as soon as possible, have a bowl of cereal then take an aspirin for the pounding headache.

In the lobby, he makes a quick stop to collect his mail and takes a quick check at it, sorting them out on the spot so he knows which ones he should bring upstairs.

From the corner of his eyes, Chan catches his neighbor, you with your boyfriend chatting by the elevator. He notices the gestures, the expression, and the whole interaction, it doesn't take a genius to know that something is going on there that the naked eyes can't see.

Chan throws the unnecessary mail into the trash bin nearby and walks to the elevator, hearing the little conversation going on between you and your boyfriend.

"...the waffles were delicious. We should have breakfast there again," the boyfriend says as he looks at you, "What do you think?"

"Yeah," you meekly answer while looking at the little screen that shows the floor the elevator is stopping in.

Chan tries to remain invisible but his eyes accidentally make contact with your boyfriend so he may as well make his presence known.

"Hi, neighbor," he greets, he knows your name but you seem to prefer to be called that way.

You do what you always do whenever you meet each other in the building, give him a quick judging look and a courteous smile.

"And hi neighbor's boyfriend," he greets your boyfriend next.

"Hi," your boyfriend greets back, "Chris, isn't it?"

"Yes and you are Lee," Chan responds.

"Right. So how was your Friday night?" Lee initiates a small talk.

"I believe it wasn't as good as yours," Chan playfully answers.

"Oh, we just stayed in and watched a movie, right baby?" Lee says, putting his arm around your shoulder.

All of a sudden, you take a step forward and say, "It's here."

The elevator doesn't chime until a moment later but you seem to be more than eager to get in. You turn around to give your boyfriend a quick hug.

"I'll try to leave early so we can have dinner together," Lee says with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"It's okay. Take your time," you say with a faint smile.

Chan quietly gets into the elevator and holds the door open for you, he tries not to look at what's happening in front of him not out of politeness but it's just painful to watch.

"I'll call you," Lee adds, catching your hand as you enter the elevator and kissing it.

"Okay," you say then wave your hand at him.

To help you get out of it, Chan releases his finger off the buttons and sends the doors sliding shut.

"Bye, baby," Lee says for the last time before the doors completely close.

It's just another awkward elevator ride with you and he'll usually try to endure it but after watching all that and trying not to say anything is hard, he can't help but impose.

He glances at you to check whether you're ready to hear about what he has to say but you always have the same stoic expression. Then it occurs to him that he has never seen you smile impolitely or out of joy, or even hear your laugh, but maybe after you hear what he's about to say, he'll get to see a different facial expression on you.

"Oh, man! That was painful to watch," he sighs as he keeps looking straight ahead at his reflection in the shiny furnace of the elevator.

There's no one else in the elevator so you're fully aware that he's talking to you but you don't respond until a while later.

There you go, with your judging look and stoic expression, looking at him as you say, "Excuse me?"

Chan doesn't want to sound rude but beating around the bush isn't his thing, he prefers to be straightforward. He knows it's all based on assumptions but he's pretty sure his judgements are pretty accurate.

He's going to just do it and lay out the facts, he turns to the side, then leans his back against the cold surface of the elevator.

"Your shoulder tightens when he called you baby and the fact you lied about the breakfast tells me that you didn't actually like his choice of restaurant," he pauses to let out a cynical chuckle, "the waffles weren't that good, I guess?"

When he wants to see a different facial expression on you, he doesn't mean seeing your angry one, but oh well, the damage has been done.

"Because I'm a good girlfriend that's why I let him choose the restaurant," you become defensive all of a sudden but that's an unconvincing answer.

"No, you let him choose out of pity," he simply remarks, "And just now, your nostrils flared when I pointed it out."

With all of these signs combined with his personal experiences, Chan narrows it out to one conclusion. He looks at you in the eyes and says, "You're about to break up with him, don't you?"

It looks like you've been slapped right on the face except that the slap doesn't come from someone, it's from the truth that comes out of Chan's unfiltered mouth and he instantly regrets it for meddling in in someone else's business.

"I'm sorry, but why are we having this conversation?" You ask, crossing your arms together in front of you.

"It's not like you're any better. You slept around, you're scared of commitment and now, sticking your nose at my business. You are the kind of person that I deeply despise!" You angrily say with your chest heaving.

It seems like you're saying all of those things about him out of anger because he sees right through you but now he knows why you always give him that judging look. He's the one who started it so yeah, okay, maybe he deserves that but that doesn't change the truth. The problem is what he said and your response, they're heading in the opposite direction.

"I think someone has her panties in a twist," Chan coyly responds.

"Look, there's nothing wrong with wanting to break up. That doesn't make you a bad person," he adds and decides to end the talk right there.

It gets quiet in this enclosed space and it's already suffocating as it is but how lucky that he has to patiently wait for the elevator to ride through three more floors to get out of here.

When the elevator finally dings open, Chan lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding but he's not the one in a hurry to exit both this space and the situation. He stays where he is and lets you out first.

When he thinks you don't have anything else to say, you stop right outside the elevator and look at him with a piercing gaze.

"Don't, for one second, think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties!" You emphasize every word in anger, then storm off.

Know what? Maybe Chan should skip the bowl of cereal and take two aspirin instead. As for you, maybe you need to chill the fuck out.

-

Just because you've been neighbors with Chan for the past three years doesn't mean that you know each other on a personal level.

All you know about him is that he's a DJ which explains why there's always music playing in his apartment, he always wears a sleeveless top to showcase his muscles, and he always has a stupid grin on to show off the stupid dimples on his stupid face, an annoying Australian accent and from how many times you caught different girls taking a walk of shame out of his apartment, it's safe to say that he's the number one fuckboy in the area

So how dare he say all of that stuff in the elevator when he doesn't know anything about you at all? Moreover, what does a fuckboy like him know about relationships?

It shouldn't be hard to ignore because it's something you usually do but gosh, the memory of the conversation still vexed you a few days later.

Then it hits you that it bothers you so much because deep down, you know what he said is true. You've been wanting to break up with your boyfriend and hearing that comes from someone outside that relationship only solidified that thought.

There's nothing wrong with your boyfriend, Lee is nice, too nice even, and when you think about it, maybe that is the problem, he is too nice and that leads you to another problem, you don't know how to break up with him without hurting his feelings.

But you know who can help you with that? Someone who has a lot of experience in breaking up with people.

Oh, what a joy that you find the answer right across your door!

Before you get to ask for his help though, you're fully aware that there's another thing to do and there's no other way to do it but walk up to his apartment, knock on his door, and apologize.

As you're standing there in front of his apartment door, you're dreading it. All sorts of thoughts crossed your head like why did you have to be so riled up that time in the elevator? Why did you have to say that thing about the panties? Just why? Ugh!

Let's just get it over with, you mutter inside your head.

With hesitant hand, you knock on his door and then hold the urge to turn around and run back to your apartment. You let yourself take a step back as you wait for him to come for the door.

Do not open the door, do not open the door, you chant inside your head while tapping your foot against the floor. However, things are not always going the way you want.

The door swings inward and a second later, Chan appears with disheveled hair and he only has one arm in the sleeve of his t-shirt, then you spot a girl's shoes next to his feet.

Oh no, please don't say you're coming at the wrong time.

You reflexively take another step back but he grabs your forearm and then opens the door wider, showing you that there's a girl there.

"It's my neighbor, she's here to remind me about the tenant meeting," he says to her.

The girl looks at you rather suspiciously and crosses her arms together in front of her as she glares at Chan.

"No. Don't you dare try to get out of this, Chris!"

"But it's true. We have to leave now," Chan says, then gives you a look that tells you to lie along with him, "Right?"

Running a quick assessment of the situation, you're certain that Chan is trying to get himself out of it to avoid having a difficult conversation with the beautiful lady. You hate to be the accessory to his crime but if this means that it would help you earn his forgiveness...

"The pigeons!" You make up a lie on the spot.

"The pigeons are ruining our rooftop garden so we held this urgent tenant meeting," you add with what you hope is a convincing smile.

"Oh, those damn pigeons!" Chan heavily sighs with a phony expression.

The lie makes your throat dry and your cheeks hurt from forcing a smile, you have to keep it going as the lady considers whether to believe that the tenant meeting is true or not.

Chan grabs his jacket from the clothes hook and puts it on, "We'll continue this later, okay?" He says to her.

Without waiting for her answer, he gets out of the door and drags you with him to go to your apartment. Once both of you get inside, he immediately closes the door behind him and lets out a long sigh.

"Oh, wow!" He exclaims once he realizes that he's inside your apartment.

He allows himself further inside and leisurely walks around your apartment, checking your kitchen, trailing his fingers on your book collection on the shelf, and observing the potted plants lining up on the window sill.

He walks back to the middle of the room and takes another 360-degree look around the apartment, then nods in approval.

"So, this is what the inside of your apartment looks like," he says in a cryptic tone.

Not sure if he wants you to respond to that or if should respond at all. You choose to remain silent and only respond when his intentions are intelligible.

Chan then sits on the sofa, making himself comfortable, and looks at you, then at what you're holding in both hands.

"Is that for me?"

The jar of cookies you've been unknowingly holding in your hands is a token of apology and it is for him.

"Yes, it is for you," you say, handing it to him with both hands.

"I'm sorry about the other day," you sincerely apologize, but you know you have to let him know what you're apologizing for, "for what I've said to you. I'm terribly sorry."

"Well, since you're helping me with the uh... situation," he coyly says as he scratches his eyebrow, "consider us even."

See? That wasn't so hard. You feel bad for lying to the girl but at least, you've been forgiven.

"Thank you," you add with a smile.

Chan doesn't say anything else but opens the lid and takes a cookie out of the jar. He gets comfortable on the sofa, sitting slumped with his legs spreading wide, and then he takes a big bite of the cookie.

It doesn't take long for him to notice that you have something else to say to him other than an apology.

Before he gets to it, you force yourself to start speaking.

"So, Chris..." you call, then abruptly stop talking. You suddenly have a second thought about asking for his help.

"What's up?" He asks while chewing on his cookie.

It's at the tip of your tongue but your mouth feels like they're sewn shut. You clasp your hands together and muster up the courage to just blurt it out.

"Do you want something to have with the cookies?"

You swear you plan on asking for his help but somehow, your mouth saying a different thing.

"Milk would be nice," he answers.

"Milk. Yes, I have milk," you awkwardly say, slowly making your way to the kitchen like a walking dead.

You take a carton of milk from the fridge and while pouring it into a glass, you're scolding yourself for being so cowardly.

After taking a moment to take a deep breath and muster up the courage to ask, you walk back to the sofa with the glass of milk in hand. With a smile, you hand it to him.

"Thank you," he says, his eyes catching something in your eyes.

You immediately break the eye contact and take another step back, standing and watching him finish his third cookie then wash it down with a sip of milk.

"I hope you don't mind that I'm going to stay here until the girl leaves my apartment," he informs.

"Oh?" You meekly gasp.

"But I can leave if you're uncomfortable," he says as he sits straight on the sofa.

"No, it's fine," you shortly reply, "Take your time."

"Okay, thanks," he says, reclining back on the sofa and continues munching on the cookies.

You can't decide if he stays longer than you expected is a good thing or not. You use the opportunity to reconsider it and walk to the kitchen to get out of his sight.

"Do you need help or not?" You quietly ask yourself as you pour yourself a glass of water.

Why is it so hard? He's right there. All you need is to go and ask for his help.

The water sloshes out of the glass as you fill it too full and you reflexively back away to avoid getting water all over the front of your dress.

"Everything good there?" Chan asks in a slight panic.

That's it! Enough time has passed from overthinking it! You walk up to him and just do it.

"You're right," you blurt out, "I've been wanting to break up with my boyfriend."

Sensing that it turns serious, Chan slows down his chewing and puts away the cookie jar. You expect the I-told-you-so grin on his face but no, he looks saddened instead.

"Things aren't working out," you openly share with a sad sigh.

You take a seat on the ottoman facing the sofa and sadly sigh, "I've been wanting to break up with him for a week now but I just don't know how."

"How long you've been dating each other?"

"Three years," you answer.

"Wow," Chan lowly gasps in awe.

Three years is not a short time, he understands why you hesitate to break up and it isn't an easy decision either.

"I need your help," you hopelessly say, unintentionally becoming vulnerable in front of him.

"My help?"

"Help me how to break up with him," you further explain.

"Of all people, why me?" He asks in utter confusion.

It's hard to answer that without being rude, you decide to let him process the question until it leads him to the answer. After a while, he lets out a dry chuckle and nods, "Okay, yeah. Make sense."

Chan takes another minute to accept the fact that his help is needed because he knows how to break up with someone without feeling awful about it afterward.

"I guess you want to let him down gently?"

"Yes," you answer.

"Well..." he inflates his cheeks then lets the air out through his pursed lips, "You can break up with him through a text."

Which part of 'let him down gently' did he not understand? How is it a good idea to break up through a text? But okay, it's just one suggestion, you give him the benefit of the doubt for now. Who knows he'll come up with better suggestions.

"I'm sorry. No, I can't do that," you kindly refuse his suggestion.

"You can send it when he's sleeping," he adds.

Oh, God! He gives you an even worse suggestion instead of better ones. You know what? This is a bad idea and you regret asking for his help.

"I don't—" You stop yourself from talking and get up from your seat.

"I'll just check if the lady is still..." Your words trail off as you walk towards the door and check through the peephole first, then you get out of the door to check his apartment next.

"Hello? Excuse me?" You shout from the doorway but no one is answering you.

You take it the lady has left and walk back to your apartment to deliver the news to the rightful owner of the apartment.

"She already left," you tell him.

Chan lets out a sigh and closes the cookie jar, he finishes the milk to its last drop and then gets up from the sofa.

"Thank you for the cookies and the milk," he says with his signature grin.

"No worries," you reply, trying so hard to hide the disappointment in your voice.

Chan holds the cookie jar in one arm and takes a step closer to you, "if you need help on how to write breakup texts, I'm just across the hall," he says.

You don't respond to that but keep a smile on for him as to seem polite.

"And good luck!" He says with gentle pats on your shoulder.

The second he walks out the door, you collapse onto the sofa and dread it even more than before. Turns out, asking for his help is not helping at all.

The next day, you meet him as you collect your mail in the lobby and it's hard to ignore him when his mailbox is next to yours.

"G'day!" Chan greets you as he leans the side of his body against the wall while sorting his mail.

"Good day!" You respond and hurriedly walk toward the elevator. You push the button to summon it to the lobby and hope it comes soon enough for you to avoid talking to Chan.

Of course, things don't go as you want it. He comes just in time for the elevator about to arrive, he crumples a few letters in his hand into a ball and then tosses it into the trash bin.

"How did it go?" He asks.

"Pardon?" You nonchalantly respond.

Good thing that the elevator chimes open and you can pretend to forget about what he asked you a while ago. You get inside while clutching your mails in hands in front of you but it's not safe yet as you have to share the elevator ride with him.

"So... the break-up texts? Did you do it?" He asks again, going to the corner of the elevator and leaning his back against it.

"Chris, I think you can't just end a three-year relationship with a text," you put it as nicely as you can.

"Yeah, I reckon," he innocently answers.

It seems like Chan can't tell the difference between what is easy and what is right. It isn't a good idea in the first place to ask for help from someone like him who doesn't consider other people's feelings except his own.

"What are you going to do then?" He asks, shifting his weight on one leg.

Since his help is not helping at all, you have no answer to that yet. This should be something you have to figure out on your own in the first place.

"I'll figure it out," you not-very-convincingly answer.

Chan crosses his arms in front of him, making the muscles and veins on his arms more evident under the fluorescent light of the elevator.

"Lee seems like a nice guy," he remarks with a deep inhale of air.

Well, if you have to compare your boyfriend to Chan, then yes, Lee is a really nice guy. Lee excels in a lot of things, including how to treat a person with feelings.

"Yes," you settle with a simple answer.

"A drawn-out break up is only going to end in a big scene," he says, "Just saying."

Chan has a point. It's worse to prolong the pain for both you and Lee, you can't keep pretending that the relationship works and it's unfair that you keep Lee oblivious about all this.

"We can practice, you know," he offers.

"Practice?"

"On how you're going to break up with him," he explains.

He comes up with a better suggestion this time and is almost endearing even but again, he wouldn't know how a person with real feelings reacts to a break-up which makes you unsure if the practice would be any help.

The elevator is about to arrive anyway so you decide to skip on responding to his offer. Once it chimes, the doors part open and you take the first turn to get out with Chan getting off after you. You turn to the left to your apartment while he turns right. You take the key out of your pocket to unlock the door and push your way in while clutching your mail close to your chest.

"You know where to find me if you need help," Chan says just before you close the door to your apartment.

Hard pass, you answer in your head but you put on a smile for his kind offer, then close the door

-

Okay, you admit it. You were too haste when you said that you didn't need his help. You were doing fine for these past few days, you've been avoiding meeting your boyfriend to give you some more time to think of the best way to break the news to him until he calls you.

The phone rings and you just stare at it, considering whether to pick it up or not. If you pick it up, that means you have to lie to him and if you don't, it'll alert him that things are, in fact, not okay.

The latter seems like a better idea so you pick it up after taking a long, deep breath.

"Hi, baby. Am I calling you at the wrong time?"

Not entirely wrong but it would be nice if he didn't call you, you answer in your head.

"Yeah, sorry, I was in the bathroom," you lie.

"Coconut shrimp for dinner. What do you think?" he asks out of the blue.

"That sounds nice," you easily respond.

"I know you'll like it but, babe, do you mind getting us a bottle of wine on the way?

"I'm sorry?" You ask in confusion.

"For our dinner, remember?" he answers, "I'll cook tonight we'll be having dinner at mine."

You hardly paid attention to him because your mind was always elsewhere, you couldn't remember saying yes to the dinner but you did and it must be out of pity.

"No, of course, I remember, I'm just..." you rake your brain to think of something to say.

"I thought it was next week," you lie again with an awkward chuckle.

"You silly!" Lee says, "Aren't you glad that I called, huh?"

"So glad," you lie, again and again.

"I should start prepping the ingredients so they'll be ready when you get here," he says, his voice exuding enthusiasm.

"Okay."

"Don't forget the wine!"

"I won't."

"I can't wait to see you, baby," he sweetly says.

The lies are piling up so may as well add another one to the pile, "Me too."

"I love you, bye."

Don't think you can lie your answer to that, you gulp air, "Bye," you say to the phone, then quickly hang up.

Desperate times call for desperate measures and you don't know your desperate measure means knocking on your neighbor's door. Probably because you hate to admit that you need his help.

Not long after, Chan opens the door and his head pops out from the gap, "What's up?"

"My boyfriend just called and tonight, we'll be having dinner in his place," you blabber in panic.

It takes a second for him to process it then his face turns a little surprised, "What are we going to do then?" He asks in confusion.

You may be in dread but you catch the error in his question, "We? Now, you got your panties in a twist," you tell him.

"Shame on you!" He responds with a sly grin then opens the door wider and shows himself dressed in nothing but a white towel hanging low around his hips.

He puts one arm against the doorframe and leans close to you as he says, "Cause I'm not wearing any panties right now."

You should have noticed it from his wet hair and the beads of water rolling down his neck, and now that you're seeing the whole of it, your eyes immediately following where the beads of water going, they're going down the outline of his abs and eventually, to where they're all gathered as his pelvic bones leading down to one way: down south.

However, your instinctive reaction goes against what you're actually feeling inside.

"Ugh!" You groan and turn to the side, "Put some clothes on and I'll see you at my place!"

Without waiting for his answer, you rush back to your apartment and close the door behind you as fast as possible, then you rest your back against it.

The images of his naked body flashing through your head, his glistening wet pale skin, and how some parts of his body are blotchy red around the neck and chest. You get flustered all of a sudden, you immediately press the back of your hand to your cheek and you can feel them heating.

"Get it together!" You scold yourself.

After waiting for almost fifteen minutes, Chan finally comes knocking on your door like it's a musical instrument.

"Are you dressed?" You ask with your hand on the doorknob.

"Hardly," he jokes.

You peek through the peephole and see that he's already dressed to what you can say is his usual attire of dark short pants with a matching sleeveless top, showing off his bulging biceps. You open the door to let him in and he coyly walks in, treating your place like it's his own, sitting on your sofa with his legs spreading wide.

"Okay, so, why am I here?"

You stand in front of him with your hands clasped in front of you, "I've been lying to him the whole phone call and honestly, I've been doing it since the moment I decided that I want to break up with him, and I... I don't think I can lie to him again."

It's easy to admit your mistakes to him because he barely knows you and his opinions about you won't matter that much to you.

"I need to do it tonight," you hopelessly say.

"I take it you need my help to practice your break-up speech?"

You hate that he guesses it right but it's also convenient that you don't have to beat around the bush to ask for it. But first, you try to explain the situation as much as possible so he has ideas on what you're facing here.

"Lee is a man of many emotions and I'm not exaggerating when I say he'll likely cry," you inform.

Chan's forehead wrinkles as he processes this piece of information then stifles a nod. It seems like he still has no idea what you want him to do about it.

"I think it's less painful if you acknowledge the dumpee feelings," you blatantly explain.

"Okay, I got you. Let's practice!' He says, sitting up straighter on the sofa and then putting his hands on his knees.

It's just a practice but your anxiety takes over you not just mentally but also physically as your palms get sweaty. You wipe them down your jeans and take a breath.

"Lee," you call him by your boyfriend's name, and even though it's weird that you're roleplaying, you continue, "I want to break up with you."

Chan looks at you and gets quiet for a moment, "Wow. I'm in utter shock and it makes me very sad to hear that," he says with a rather serious tone.

Not the kind of reaction Lee would likely pull off but that will do if you decide to continue with it.

"I'm fully aware that this is so sudden but I've been thinking hard about it for some time and I think this is a decision that I should take," you say and you know it's a practice but you feel something caught in your throat.

"I'm sad and I need time to process it, but I'll be okay," he calmly says.

Chan gets the tone right but you believe breaking up wouldn't be this easy in real life, especially when there are real feelings to protect. To be honest, you're not ready to face the truth that you may hurt those feelings tonight.

"I think that went very well," Chan says, returning to his default settings.

"Yeah, I think that's it," you meekly say.

The worries and sadness are drawn on your face that Chan can easily see through your veiled expression, "If Lee is as nice as you said he is, then you shouldn't worry much," he says.

He waits until your eyes meet his to continue, "He may get surprised or shocked even, but he'll come around and respect your decision."

You can't believe that those words are coming out of his mouth or that he even tries to comfort you, but you appreciate it. Maybe his heart is still there, he just doesn't let it control him most of the time.

He gets up from the sofa and walks up to you, he takes your hands, ignoring how cold and sweaty they feel in his, "You got this," he assures you.

"Thank you, Chris," you sincerely say with a sad smile.

It is time to stop torturing both you and Lee with lies and forcing yourself to believe that the love is still there. It's time to accept the truth that if you can fall in love, you can also fall out of love.

-

It's a surprise that Chan worries about things that aren't his business. He's been playing some music to distract him from his head but he keeps the volume low because he doesn't want to miss hearing the sound of the elevator that will tell him any signs that you're back from the dinner.

Eventually, he tires himself out from worrying and falls asleep on the sofa. He startles always close to midnight after hearing the knocking on his doors.

Half disoriented, he trudges his way to open the door and finds you there, surprisingly, looking nice in a white cotton dress and your eyes dry.

But from the way you let yourself into his apartment, forgetting your impeccable manners and walking with shoulders slumped and carrying your shoes in your hands, he takes it that you did it.

"So... how did it go?" He carefully asks, following you as you're making your way to the sofa and then sitting on it.

You let a heavy sigh and your shoulders slumped even more, "At least, there's no crying," you answer with a sad smile.

Chan is unsure of how to react to that, is that a good thing or a bad thing? He just stands there with his arms crossed on his chest, thinking out loud.

"And even though it was ending... it was incredibly meaningful to me and I'm going to miss him," you say with your lips trembling.

Oh, no, Chan knows when a girl is about to cry, he quickly finds a remedy to it, one that he knows always works wonders for him. He runs to the kitchen and brings a bottle out of his alcohol stash, then hands it to you.

"Let's have a drink!" He says, realizing that he forgot the glass.

"Wait another second, I'll get the glass," he says, sprinting to retrieve two glasses from his kitchen cabinet.

When he returns, he sees that you're chugging the alcohol straight from the bottle. You gasp and then wince from the bitter aftertaste of it.

"Okay, straight from the bottle it is," he says, popping onto the sofa next to you.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and then hand the bottle to him in which he wastes not another second to take a sip of it.

"The thing is... I really care about him but he wanted to get married, and I'm just not ready for that," you share with your eyes blank and looking at the void.

You take a deep breath but it seems like it only sends your heart sinking deeper and deeper, and making it harder for you to breathe.

"And if I'm not ready with a guy as great as him then what if I'm never ready?" You say, turning your head his way with your eyes glassy, pooling with tears.

"What if that was it..." you lift your shoulders then drop them as you let out a low sigh, "my one chance at love?"

The tears start streaming down your face like a bursting dam and Chan knows he can't do anything about it but let them out.

Hearing your words makes him think about what his idea of love is. He used to think that it was something he could get whenever he wanted it but now he knows that he's wrong, because that's just a short-lived infatuation, just some sort of meaningless connection.

From you, he learns that love is a privilege that not everyone can experience.

"What if I never get a second chance?" You ask him the question that he doesn't know the answer to.

"I don't know. I'm just sad," your voice cracks, then you break into tears.

Chan is quick to catch you into his arms and offers you his embrace. He knows he can't do anything about this sadness but he can try to soothe the pain, he's placing gentle rubs on your back as you cry into his chest.

The cry is resounding in this space, echoing the sadness back to you and it makes him inexplicably sad too, and he gets the urge to make it stop.

"It's going to be alright," he murmurs at the top of your head.

You look up with your eyes wet and red with tears caught in your lashes, "Is it?" You croak.

He doesn't know when but he knows for sure that time heals everything.

"It will be," he answers with a gentle caress of his knuckle on your wet cheek, "eventually."

Your eyes tell some more assurance for him and he doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he leans in, then kisses you.

To his surprise, you kiss him back and he knows you're doing it because you seek his comfort and he wants to give you exactly that. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, giving you that closeness you seek. He kisses you ever so softly because he knows he's kissing a broken heart and he wants to mend it. He can taste your sadness and the bitterness of it, and also the relief underlying all of it. As he kisses you, he lets his heart open just enough to take some of that sadness away from yours.

As the kiss deepens, the sadness withers, and something else emerges. Chan loses in it for a bit until he realizes what you're trying to do with your hand that reaches for the front of his jeans.

He abruptly detaches his lips from yours and shakes his head, "No, we can't do this," he says.

As much as he fancies you enough to have sex with you, he knows better not to do it when you're not in your right mind and your judgments are clouded with sadness. The last thing he wants is you waking up in the morning full of regrets.

"I want this, Chris," you croak.

"No, we can't," he adamantly says and takes your hand away from him.

"You're sad. You do want this," he says in an effort to put some sense into you.

You roughly crumple the front of his t-shirt and pull him close, "I want– No, I need this, Chris," you say to him with your eyes dark like two bottomless pits.

"Please?" You plead as a tear rolls down from the corner of your eye.

This is the most hopeless he ever heard of you and it breaks his heart. You said it yourself, you need this and he knows what you mean by that. You need the distraction, you need him to take this pain away even just for a fleeting moment, moreover, he can't break what's already broken.

He takes your hand off of his clothes and puts it in his, he leans in until his forehead is pressed against yours.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks once again.

"Yes," you answer without a beat.

That's all Chan needed to hear, he inhales air and puts an inch between your faces. He then tenderly holds your face with both hands and looks at you, unsure where to start but maybe, he can start by making those tears coming out of your eyes.

Chan dabs the tears pooling in the corner of your eyes with his knuckle and without the slightest of hesitancy, he places a gentle kiss on each of your closed eyelids and before you can open them, he captures your lips in a kiss.

Sex is not something new to him but Chan knows that this time is not about physical fulfillment, but a way to offer comfort and hopefully, to also mend your broken heart.

He takes his time to strip away every piece of clothing on you until you're bare, lying on the bed with nothing but sadness that fills your heart.

He touches you with utmost gentleness, using just his fingertips to feel the softness of your skin and you're so pliant, sensitive to his touch.

To make it fair, Chan takes his clothes off as well before joining you on the bed, caging you in between his arms and hovering only inches away above you.

"Touch me," he says to you, taking your hand and placing it on his shoulder.

He then glides your hand down his neck and chest, he makes you feel every inch of his pale skin with him. However, when he looks at you, your eyes remain on his.

"You feel so warm, Chris," you lowly mutter.

He brings your hand close to his mouth and kisses it, then crashes his lips on yours.

The gap between your bodies becomes non-existent as you keep pulling him close, he relents by lowering himself on top of you and props an elbow against the mattress to not put his whole weight on you.

Lips locked, hands around each other, bodies pressed together and the temperature keeps on rising in the room. Chan makes you feel every part of his lips brushing and gliding over yours. He skillfully parts your mouth open with his tongue so he can kiss you deep and hard, yet slow until you run out of breath.

At the same time, his hand makes its way down until his fingers land on your delicate flesh. He touches it tenderly, running his fingers between the folds, and drags them upward to rub on your bundle of nerves.

"Ah..." you moan against his lips as you curve your hand around his neck and pull him incredibly closer.

Judging from it, he knows he's doing it right and he should continue, he applies gentle pressures on your clit, making you drenched and that way, he can slowly put a digit inside of you.

You let go of his kiss to let out a moan and your head falls onto the pillow as he puts another digit into you, two fingers pumping in and out of you.

Chan intently watches as your face contorted along to the pleasure, how your jaws slack open and breathless moans keep spilling out of your parted mouth.

The way you clench around his fingers makes him impatient to feel you and how tight you feel around him, and the noises you make oh, they're his new favorite tune that he wants to keep listening to until his eardrums burst.

He glances down as he pulls his fingers out of you and finds them thickly coated with your essence, it doesn't stop him from shoving them into his mouth and lick them clean.

Chan holds you by the chin to keep you still as he kisses you, "Give me a second to get a condom, yeah?" He says to you and you nod in answer.

He makes his to the bathroom and pulls the drawer open to take a condom. To save time, he decides to put it on right away, he tears through the foil packet with his teeth and rolls the rubber down his hard length.

On the way out, he catches his reflection in the mirror and gets reminded that this is not about him. Tonight, it's all about you.

He returns to the bedroom, finding you still lying in bed naked and hugging yourself. He climbs onto the bed and lowers himself on you, letting you absorb his body heat to warm you.

Craving for another taste of it, he goes down and plants his mouth on your cunt next, tasting you right on his tongue.

You're squirming as his tongue laps over your wetness, drinking in on your essence and then using it to circle on your clit.

He's not the only one getting impatient and asking more of it, you both want it and there's no wasting time anymore. Just before he takes it to the next part, he places a long, tender kiss on your clit and immediately brings his mouth to yours again so you can taste yourself on him.

"I'm going in, mmh?" He says as he endearingly brushes your hair away from your face.

You hold on to his shoulder as he settles himself between your legs, aligning his cock with your entrance but before that, he rubs his length between your folds, lubricating it with your essence.

Your hands fly to your chest, hugging yourself again as you lowly moan to his hard length rubbing over your clit and then, pushing its way into you.

"Goodness fu—" he can't even finish his sentence without breaking into a satisfied groan.

It's just the tip but he can already feel how tight you are around him, he's scared yet excited to push more of him into you. He reorganizes his breathing and rests his hand on your abdomen to do it.

Chan looks down to check and he still has a little more of him that needs to be inside you, he sharply inhales air through his nostrils and pushes the remaining length in one quick push.

"Oh..." you breathlessly moan as you're squeezing on your breasts.

Chan allows himself to take a moment to adjust himself to being inside you and you seem to also need time to adjust to his size because you feel so incredibly tight around him. It makes him wonder how this little thing can take him so well.

He takes your hands away from your chest and puts them around his shoulders, that way he can put his body on top of you, lips locked with yours again in no time as you wrap your legs around his waist, sending him deeper inside you.

As he takes a breath in between kisses, you hold his face and look at him with a different kind of sadness in your eyes which only reminds him that his initial plan is to make it go away.

He starts thrusting into you, wanting to fuck this sadness out of you. He wants to make you think of nothing but how his cock fills you full and how good he is fucking you right now, and soon, he's going to make you feel nothing but immense pleasure.

"Ah... ah... ah..." you moan for every thrust going into you and the skin-slapping sounds echo along with it in the room.

Chan plants his mouth on your breasts to contain his grunts and groans while keeping the steady motion of his hips pulsating against you.

A hand reaches for his chin and forces him to look at you, instantly engaged in eye contact with you. He continues thrusting into you with eyes looking deep into you, they're no longer looking like bottomless pits, they look like deep oases that he wants to dive into.

The next thing he knows, Chan finds himself deep in you, not just physically but also connected with you in a way that he's never experienced with anyone else until now. He feels barer than he already is and instead of shutting himself off, he embraces it and lets you in.

Soon enough, he finds himself lost in it and fully connects himself to you in a way that lets him know how it feels to love without fears or insecurities holding him back, without worrying if it's being reciprocated or not, to love wholly and completely.

"Oh," you let out a broken moan and that's when he notices that you break into tears again.

Chan abruptly stops moving, afraid that something he does is hurting you without realizing it.

"No, keep going, keep going," you tell him with your voice hoarse.

He needs to make sure to continue, he cups your jaw and asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, please, keep going, please," You repeatedly nod and plead with your teary eyes.

He wants you to stop crying, he wants you to stop thinking about what hurts you and start to see him as he tries to take this pain away from you. His body picks up the pace, going impossibly fast and also taking himself close to his high.

Your eyes are screwed shut, your breath is ragged and your hands are gripping onto his shoulders, overwhelmed by the pleasure that he brought on you.

The moment he's sure that you already come to your climax, he allows himself to let go and uses all of his strength to give you a few more thrusts until there's nothing left in him but waves of pleasure that wash over him.

"Chris..." you softly call and then pull him for a chaste kiss on his lips, "Thank you."

Chan's face hovers only inches above you as he softly gazes into your eyes, you look so fragile and open like a wound and he's just glad that he can make your heartache gone even just for a while.

"Shh..." he stops you from talking by running his thumb over your lips and then kisses you with his heart wide open. He lets this beautiful feeling pour out of him and into you.

"No, thank you," he mutters his gratitude between kisses.

Thanks to you, he experiences something he's never felt before with someone else, something new, something pure and real, something that feels a lot like love.

When he wakes up in the morning and finds you're not there, it hits him that maybe it is love but Chan is not ready to admit it yet.

-

A week passes and Chan hasn't seen you ever since that night.

He can't tell if you're avoiding him or needing the space and time to piece yourself back from the break-up, he hopes it's the latter. Gosh! Let him be right.

Regardless of what happened, he can live with the fact that you despise him but it would be sad to know if you choose to go down the path of believing that you're not going to find love again.

Chan just needs to know if you're doing okay, that's what matters for now.

Fortunately, the two of you have been neighbors for quite a long time to learn your routine and knockabouts. He knows what you like to do on a Saturday morning, he goes to the lobby and chats with the concierge as he waits.

At the first sight of you entering the apartment building, his heart palpation, and in all honesty, he's just so happy to finally see you after a while.

Are you not seeing him there? Or you're just pretending which only confirms his initial thought that you've been, in fact, avoiding him.

You're walking through the lobby carrying a bag of groceries in your arm, you skip checking on the mailbox and go straight to the elevator. It just happens that the elevator is vacant and the doors slide open after you push the button.

Chan decides to take the risk, sprinting to get into the elevator before the doors close. You already despise him so a little more hate shouldn't be a problem to him.

"Morning, sunshine," He greets you with his dimpled grin.

"Good morning," you politely reply without looking at him.

Things are going back to normal and he should be glad, right? At least, you're back to your usual settings of looking stoic and acting polite, and the best thing about it is you're still talking to him.

"I should learn to avoid people from you. You're good at it," he pushes it a bit just to see if he can crack through this facade.

"Excuse me?" Your head turns his way and with your eyes widen, "I have not been avoiding anyone."

Chan holds the urge to smile for successfully getting your attention and rests his back against the cold, metal furnace of the elevator, "Are you sure?"

"Well, we're seeing each other now," you tell him.

"That's because I know you like to go to the farmer's market every Saturday morning," he says at the same time, admitting that he knows about your routine.

You slowly turn your body facing him and squint your eyes at him, "You've been keeping tabs on me?"

"It's my favorite pastime activity," he shamelessly answers then pokes his cheek with his tongue.

"It's better than watching porn," he playfully adds, something that he knows will annoy you the right way.

"Ugh!" You groan as you look straight ahead.

Oddly enough, that's what he misses the most about it, interacting with you and seeing your reaction to his antics, but you, especially.

"Don't be so uptight," he coyly says.

He takes a step closer to you and puts his hand on the handlebar, "it's not like we haven't slept together or anything."

You let out a scoff and hoist the strap of your grocery bag higher on your shoulder, "I'm shocked you even remember," you say.

You turn your head next and your eyes immediately lock in a gaze with him, "I figure I'm just a low notch on a very long bedpost," you add.

"Are you calling me a man whore?" Chan says, feeling offended.

You take a step closer to him and daringly stare back into his eyes, "I didn't call you a man," you answer with a sly smirk.

There's a few seconds of silence until Chan realizes what you just said to him but you know what? He's going to give it to you, for now.

He looks at you and smiles, "Touche!"

You both look at each other and at the same time, burst into laughter, and it keeps going until the hilarity subsides with each passing second.

Is this real? Did you just poke fun at him with a beautiful smile on your face? Did you really laugh and the sound of not only echoing in this enclosed space but also in the back of his mind? Did he just see a different facial expression on you? Either way, he likes it and he likes how it makes him feel.

The elevator chimes open and soon, the doors part open. He lets you get off first and then takes his turn after, he gets a little disappointed as you both are going in the opposite direction.

"Hey, Chris," you call as he's only a couple of steps away from the door of his apartment.

His heart palpation again but he keeps his calm and then slowly, turns on his feet to face you, "Yes?"

"I'm cooking curry for dinner and I know it'll be not as good as the one you always ordered but you can come and..." your hand is fiddling with the strap of your grocery bag as you speak but your eyes remain steady on him, "see if it suits your taste."

And did you just invite him for dinner? Him, the neighbor you despise so much?

Chan acts coy and scratches the back of his head, he holds the urge to answer right away. He has a reputation to uphold and he reckons, you have to at least wait a minute for his answer.

"Yeah, okay, let's see," he nonchalantly answers but his smile tells otherwise.

You crack a laugh and nod, walking to your door with the keys jangling as you're unlocking it.

Chan thinks that's the end of it until you call his name again, his heart leaps this time and he almost flies his way to you.

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you what are we," you say with a smile then get inside of your apartment.

That's funny because, after that night, he was hoping that you would ask him that as most girls do but that's where he is wrong, you're not most girls, you are his neighbor whom Chan is secretly in love with.

-

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[edxnian]

Okay, whew--all drafts are done! I do still have a few asks to get done, but that's some good progress. I'll probably be lurking.

[hxttrick-archived]

“ you. i’ll always and endlessly fight for you. “ - :eyes:

emotionally intense prompts.

Words couldn't express how delightful he was. Only meant for her and her alone, a charming smile stretches upon his lips. He takes necessary steps to approach her, callous hands extending to grab one of her's. He gingerly clasps her's in between them; his hazel browns pooled with tender affection. "And I for you, your highness," he replied. "As long as I don't lose you too soon..."

[krishna-sangini]

That Midnight (Pt.2)

The temple courtyard buzzed with excited squeals and soft giggles as the girls rose to their feet, anticipation shimmering in their eyes. They stood before the idol, some clutching puja ghantis, their hearts brimming with devotion. Their beloved Keshav gazed back at them, his flute poised as if he might play a divine tune at any moment, drawing them closer to his enchanting presence.

Manyataa carefully lifted the puja thali, her movements slow and reverent. “Ready, y’all?” she asked, her voice a gentle whisper as she glanced back. Her friends, eyes gleaming, nodded eagerly, their hearts beating in unison.

Turning back to face the idol, Manyataa began circling the thali with steady hands. As the sacred flames flickered, the girls' voices rose in unison, filling the temple with a melody that transcended time.

"कृष्ण, मनमोहना, मोरे कान्हा, मोरे कृष्ण..."

"कृष्ण, मनमोहना, मोरे प्रियवर, मोरे कृष्ण..."

The temple echoed with their devotion, the sound of the ghantis and the rhythmic claps of the girls weaving through the air, adding a scent of spiritual love to the moment. Love that knew no limit, love that transcended every boundary. Each note they sang was a prayer, each word a wish from the depths of their souls.

Manyataa set the thali aside, her heart swelling with emotion. She took a handful of flowers, and her friends followed, their hands trembling with the intensity of their devotion. Together, they showered the idol with fragrant petals, their faces glowing with pure, unfiltered joy. Tears welled up in their eyes, blurring their vision, but in that haze, only the idol remained vivid, alive. For a fleeting second, they wondered—had he moved?

“जैसी मन में छवि, तुम वैसे मोरे कृष्ण...”

Their voices cracked with emotion, yet they sang on, driven by a love that knew no bounds. Then, as if answering their call, a melodious flute joined their song, intertwining with their voices and the tinkle of the ghantis, elevating the moment to something beyond the earthly realm.

The girls froze in place, their voices silenced, eyes wide with disbelief. Tears streamed down their cheeks, but they made no move to wipe them away. This had to be a dream—a figment of their deepest desires—yet it felt so achingly real. Before each of them, in the soft glow of the temple mashaals, stood their beloved, their Kanha.

He was everything they had ever imagined Him to be. For some, He appeared as the naughty teen, a playful smile dancing on His lips, eyes twinkling with that familiar, endearing mischief. For others, He was the youthful lover, mature and serene yet still carrying a glint of divine playfulness that made their hearts flutter. And for some, He stood as the majestic King of Dwarka, resplendent in all His glory, His aura commanding reverence and awe.

Each girl saw Him just as she had always held Him in her heart, a perfect reflection of her soul’s deepest yearning. It was as if the divine had stepped out of their prayers, their dreams, their songs, and taken form before them—just as they had sung moments ago: “The way we picture you in our heart, you’re the exact same way.”

The girls stood in disbelief, some staggering back a step while some taking a step forward. The ethereal tune of the flute never left them. He stood before them, not as a distant deity but as the Kanha who knew them intimately, who had been with them all along. The veil between the divine and the mortal had lifted, and from that very moment, they were each alone, with nobody around them except their eternal love, their Krishna.

“Ke-Keshav… is it truly… you?” Baanhi’s voice quivered, barely a whisper, as her breath caught in her throat. Her hand instinctively flew to her lips as if to stifle the overwhelming emotions rising within her. The other reached out, trembling, toward the figure before her—her Keshav. But the temple had melted away, and in its place, they now stood by the riverbank. The cool breeze danced with the fragrance of blossoms, their petals strewn like lost dreams across the soft meadow. Moonlight draped everything in a gentle, silvery glow as if even the heavens had paused, holding their breath to witness this fragile reunion.

Tears brimmed in her wide, astonished eyes, sparkling with disbelief, joy, and a love so deep it ached in her chest. They slipped silently down her flushed cheeks, each tear reflecting the longing that had devoured her heart through endless nights and restless dreams. And then… that smile. That breathtaking, familiar curve of His lips, the very one she had searched for in every corner of her soul, in every whispered prayer. It shattered the boundaries of time and space.

Without a word, He stepped closer. His warmth enveloped her as His hand found hers, soft and strong, grounding her to this delicate reality that still felt like a dream. His thumb gently caressed the back of her hand, sending shivers through her as their fingers entwined.

“And why, Baanhi,” He murmured, His voice a deep, velvet whisper, the sound resonating through her very soul, “would you ever doubt that it is me?”

Meanwhile, across the tranquil beach, where the ocean's waves whispered softly against the shore and the moonlight bathed the sands in a shimmering silver glow, Dhruvi collapsed to her knees. Her body trembled as a sob broke free, raw and filled with longing. “My Lord…” The words escaped her lips like a broken plea, fragile and aching, as she stared up at Him—the Dwarkadhish—her Dwarkadhish. His form, majestic and timeless, stood bathed in moonlight, a vision both familiar and distant.

With a tenderness that pierced through her despair, His hand extended toward hers, the touch light yet unwavering, steady as the tides that kissed the shore. Her heart stilled when their hands met, His fingers warm against her cold, trembling ones. His eyes—deep and endless—locked with hers, filled with a love so tender it seemed to encompass all of time and space. It was the kind of love that transcended words.

“Yes, it’s me,” He said softly, His voice wrapping around her heart like a balm, mending the fractures of her soul. But then, the corners of His lips curved into that teasing smile, the one that had always undone her. “Only, I’m not your Lord. I’m your sakha.”

His words washed over her, breaking through the dam of disbelief that had held her in place. Dhruvi blinked, her breath catching as she felt the weight of her doubts dissolve into nothingness. Slowly, almost as if in a dream, He bent down and took her hand, pulling her gently to her feet. His touch lingered, firm yet delicate, grounding her to this moment—this reunion—while making her feel like she was floating, her feet barely brushing the cool, moonlit sand.

Their fingers intertwined, His thumb tracing soft circles over her knuckles, a silent reassurance that He was here, real and near. As they walked, side by side along the shore, she felt the warmth of His presence seep into her, cradling her heart in a serenity she hadn’t known in what felt like lifetimes. Her head dipped slightly toward Him, and without thinking, she leaned against His shoulder, the closeness bringing a peace she never knew she needed.

At the same time, in a garden that seemed to breathe with the sweet scent of flowers and sandalwood wafting through the air, Saanjh walked beside Him. Her hand rested securely in His, their fingers intertwined. The vibrant blossoms swayed in the evening breeze as if bowing to the very Lord of the universe. Yet, her heart raced, a storm of disbelief and wonder churning inside her. Her fingers tightened slightly around His, still unsure, reeling from the impossibility of it all.

She stole a glance at Him, the breathtaking face she had only dared to see in dreams—dreams that had blinded her in the quiet of the night, where the line between reverence and yearning blurred. How could He be here, beside her, as if this moment was plucked straight from those sacred imaginings?

Her voice was a soft whisper, trembling with the weight of a thousand unsaid questions. “Was it really you… who tugged my hair back then in the temple?” The words slipped from her lips like a half-forgotten secret, the incredulity in her heart too great to contain.

He turned, glancing over His shoulder with that familiar, playful smile—the one that had always undone her, the one that held galaxies of mischief and affection all at once. His eyes sparkled with knowing mirth. “And what’s so hard to believe about that?” He teased, His voice light and melodic, a soft chuckle woven into each word.

Saanjh’s heart stuttered, her breath catching as she looked up at Him, her gaze searching His face for answers that her mind still couldn’t comprehend. The darling of Vrindavan. The one who had stolen the hearts of millions, now standing by her side as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

After strolling a bit more, the Manmohan settled beside her after Madanmohini got comfortable on the swing, her fingers tracing the jute rope. Without a word, He gently pushed the swing into a soft, soothing rhythm. The familiar creak of the wood intertwined with the rustling leaves and the distant hum of night creatures, creating a melody only nature could compose. Her gaze drifted toward Him, lingering longer than it should have. There was something almost paradoxical about His simplicity—how could someone who held the entire cosmos in His hands appear so unassuming? Yet, the magic He wove was undeniable, pulling at her in ways words failed to describe. He was her enchanter, her safe harbour, the one whose mere presence could still be the tempest in her mind.

His chuckle broke the silence, soft yet brimming with mischief. "Sakhi," He teased, eyes glimmering with a knowing spark, "you're going to make me blush with all those thoughts."

His voice snapped her out of the trance she hadn’t realised she’d slipped into. Her heart skipped a beat as warmth rushed to her cheeks. Hastily, she tore her gaze away and fixed it on the ground. She swallowed hard, her hands suddenly too aware of themselves as one of them nervously gripped the swing’s rope, and the other lay on her lap.

A beat of hesitation passed, the words catching in her throat before she found the courage to speak. "Kanha," she whispered, her voice barely louder than the breeze playing through the trees. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," He replied, without missing a beat. His voice, soft and velvety, seemed to wrap around her like a warm blanket, coaxing her closer. And before she knew it, His arm slid effortlessly around her shoulders, drawing her nearer. The swing creaked in gentle protest as the space between them disappeared, and her heart thudded against her chest, loud enough she was certain He could hear it.

Samridhi took a slow, deliberate breath as she finally voiced the question that had haunted her for what seemed like lifetimes. “Why… why did you choose me? What have I done to deserve the honour of being in your presence? I’m just a mere mortal…”

Her voice faltered as she finished. Krishna, ever serene, responded with that familiar smile that seemed to hold the universe within it, His eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement.

“You’ve always been in my presence, sakhi,” He replied, His tone light and teasing, as though the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t you remember all those conversations we’ve had in your room?” He chuckled softly, His gaze soft yet playful. “We talked just yesterday.”

Samridhi’s eyes widened as a wave of heat rose, and memories of her private, unfiltered ramblings to His little idol flashed before her. The soft breeze toyed with two strands of hair, brushing them across her face, but in her flustered state, she made no move to brush them away.

“So… you hear everything I say to you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, a mixture of wonder and mortification colouring her tone.

Krishna’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, His eyes gleaming with playful mischief. “Everything.” He said, the single word laced with warmth, as if He cherished every awkward confession, every tearful prayer, every laugh she’d shared with His idol. His hand moved gently, almost lazily, as He reached out and tucked the loose strands behind her ear, His touch light as a feather yet sending a shiver coursing through her spine.

“But…” she started, her voice wavering. She forced herself to continue, even as her gaze dropped to the ground, unable to hold His anymore. “What have I ever done to deserve this? To see you like this, so divine… yet standing before me as though we’re equals?” Her voice cracked, soft and broken. “I’m just… just a sinner. Materialistic and flawed.”

The Murari paused mid-swing, his gentle laughter fading as He gracefully dismounted. Standing before Garima, who now seemed more uncertain and apprehensive, He took her trembling hands in His, urging her with a soft nudge to lift her gaze and meet His eyes.

“Love,” He said, His voice as soothing as a summer breeze. Garima’s brows furrowed in confusion. The Girivar chuckled softly. Helping her off the swing, He led her to the nearby lake, its surface shimmering with the moon’s delicate reflection. They settled on the grass, Garima instinctively keeping a respectful distance.

But before she could retreat too far, He sighed and pulled her gently closer, His touch warm and reassuring.

“You love me, sakhi,” He began. “You love me as if I am your everything. Despite being part of this material world, you never fail to include me—whether in your pain or your joy. And yes, you may stumble," He smiled, "but it’s in those very moments that I walk beside you.”

The Natwar wrapped His arm around her shoulders, drawing her into the comfort of His presence. Together, they stared at the moonlit water, the ripples gently distorting the silver reflection, mirroring the complexities of Garima’s emotions.

“But…” Garima’s voice wavered, barely more than a whisper, as she cowered beneath His touch. “You’re the Lord of the Universe, not my friend… I shouldn’t be treating you as I do, with such familiarity…”

Krishna's smile grew tender, brimming with warmth that seemed to wrap Agrata in an invisible embrace. His head tilted slightly, and with a soft glance, He caught her gaze. His eyes, bright as the stars mirrored in the calm waters, sparkled with an understanding beyond mortal grasp. “Why shouldn’t you, hmm? Have I ever asked for anything more than your heart?”

The girl opened her mouth, her voice barely a whisper, “But…”

“Ssh,” Krishna’s gentle voice cut through her hesitation. “No ‘but’s, sakhi. Hear me.”

His words, soft but unyielding, silenced her doubts.

“Love today is tossed around like it's something ordinary. People have forgotten its sanctity. They barter it and use it as a label for fleeting passions or selfish desires. But love… love is sacred, rare, untouched by the ego or the world’s expectations.” His eyes softened even more, overflowing with affection as He gently took her trembling hand in His. “You, sakhi, have loved me like my gopis did, with a heart pure and full…”

Agrata’s chest tightened, her emotions swirling between disbelief and the depth of His love. She shook her head, blinking back the tears that welled up in her eyes. “You’re… you’re exaggerating…” Her voice broke as she glanced up, meeting His gaze, deep and eternal like the vast universe holding her fragile heart.

The Murlidhar's smile deepened, and with a playful shake of His head, He reclined back, propping His head on one hand, laying comfortably on the soft earth. With the other, He gently patted the space beside Him, beckoning her closer. Agrata hesitated, a soft blush creeping up her cheeks, but under His knowing gaze, she slowly settled down beside Him.

For a moment, the world was wrapped in a quiet stillness. Above them, the night sky stretched out, vast and starry. Then, with exaggerated seriousness, Krishna sighed, His eyes sparkling with mischief. “You girls… all of you,” He began, shaking His head as if bearing the weight of their endless insecurities. “Always so unsure, always doubting yourselves.”

Manyataa gave a sheepish shrug, her gaze wandering up to the stars, a small, guilty smile tugging at her lips.

The silence hung between them, lingering like a heartbeat. Then, His rich, velvety voice filled the air again. “Tell me,” He said, His body shifting. With a graceful movement, He turned onto His side, propping His head up with one hand, His gaze now locked onto hers. Full of warmth and affection, his eyes sought hers like a beacon. “Why do you think you don’t deserve me?”

The sudden closeness caught her off guard. Her heart skipped a beat, her breath faltering as she stared back at Him, startled by the intensity of His gaze. She hadn’t expected Him to face her like this—so direct, so tender. Her heart raced as if trying to keep pace with the moment.

“Dear God…” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely a whisper.

Krishna’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Yes?” He teased, eyes gleaming with boyish charm.

Her face flushed a deep red, heat rising to her cheeks as she stammered, flustered by both His teasing and His nearness. “I-I mean…” she struggled, her words caught in her throat. She took a shaky breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions swirling inside her chest. “So, uh… what did you ask again?”

Krishna’s laughter, soft and deep, rumbled through the still night. He leaned in slightly, the amusement in His eyes never fading.

“I asked,” He repeated slowly, savouring each word as if giving her time to settle, “Why do you think you don’t deserve me?”

Kesar pushed herself up to sit straight; her hands fumbled with the delicate hem of her lehenga. She exhaled shakily, trying to gather her words. “Well… there are so many reasons…” Her voice was soft but strained. “You do so much for me. You’re there with me in every step of my life; you lull me to sleep when I’m spiralling into darkness; you calm me down when I’m on the verge of breaking. You remind me that you’re there when I'm lost and hopeless, even when I can’t feel you.”

She paused, eyes downcast, her fingers tightening their grip on her lehenga. “But I… I haven’t done anything for you… nothing worthy. I haven’t ever given you proper offerings like other sincere devotees. I try to tell myself that my love is enough, that it can compensate… but even then, I don’t know if I love you the right way. What if it’s not enough? What if my love doesn’t even reach you—”

Before she could finish, His warm hand pressed gently over her mouth. Her heart skipped as she looked up at him, startled by the sudden gesture.

Her Kanha’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears, and his lips pressed into a thin smile. He leaned in as he spoke in a playful reprimand. “Don’t you dare doubt my sakhi like that ever again, okay?”

Kesar’s face fell, her gaze dropping as she gave a faint, unconvincing nod. Kanha cupped her chin gently, tilting her face upward until her eyes met His.

“Okay?” he repeated, his voice filled with quiet insistence.

Kesar’s breath hitched, her throat tightening as she looked into his gaze—endless pools of love and reassurance, with no room for doubt. “Okay…” she whispered, her voice small, but the hint of belief slowly creeping in, as if his presence could make her start believing again.

The Natwar got up, pulling the Soni after Him. He then started leading her by her hand, and the girl followed behind Him wordlessly.

“Is our love supposed to be transactional?” came His question as He glanced down at her.

“No, but I should at least-”

“No ‘but’s,” He interrupted, a playful firmness in His tone. He pulled her hand gently, coaxing her to walk beside Him, their steps falling in rhythm. “I don’t love my devotees because of their offerings. It’s not the jewellery or the fine clothes they bring that make me care. I love them because they carry love in their hearts and have made space for me there. My affection doesn’t hinge on gold or gems—it thrives in the simplicity of a heart that loves freely.”

“I care about every soul, but I can’t help but be a little biased toward those who simply love me. That’s where the magic is. Old, familiar love, effortless and easy.” He paused, casting a sideways glance at her. “I’ve seen the way your eyes light up just thinking of me. I’ve felt the flutter in your heart when you speak to me. I’ve known, felt, and cherished your love forever, sakhi. I couldn’t ask for more. Your love is all I need to love you and do everything I do for you.”

As Krishna finished speaking, He turned to glance at the girl walking beside Him, only to find her cheeks flushed red and her eyes shimmering with tears. As a few droplets escaped, streaking down her cheeks, she tried to hide them, hurriedly bringing her dupatta to her face, dabbing at the tears.

Krishna’s lips curved into a knowing smile, warm and full of affection. A deep, melodic chuckle escaped Him. Soni’s breath hitched as she fought to regain control, but Krishna’s laughter only deepened, not out of amusement but out of pure, unfiltered joy. His hand, still holding hers, gave a gentle squeeze—a silent reassurance, a reminder that her tears, her love, her emotions were all safe with Him.

“Well, well, well,” said the Manohar in His usual playful demeanour, “it’s time.”

Time for what, Kanha?” questioned a confused Soni.

His eyes shone with that familiar playfulness as he muttered, “Maharaas.”

---------------------------

And they were all back in the temple premises, in the majestic courtyard, which was now fragrant with elegant blossoms that shone under the moonlight. Their lehengas sparkled brighter than before; their anklets jingled more melodiously than ever. Their hearts raced in a rhythm they had never known, each beat louder, more desperate as if their souls were on the verge of breaking free from the confines of their bodies. A sense of bliss, raw and overwhelming, enveloped them, making them feel both weightless and anchored at the same time.

And there He stood, amid it all—His eyes tender, filled with a love so deep it seemed to engulf the entire universe. He gazed at each of them, not as individuals, but as His entire world. Every doubt, every question they had harboured vanished at that moment. It was true. He was there, as real as the moonlight that caressed their faces, and the immense love they felt for Him paled to the boundless love He reflected at them. It was infinite, eternal—so much more than they had ever dreamed possible.

The girls were lost—completely oblivious to the world around them. They did not notice the moonlight casting its silver veil over the temple courtyard, nor the gentle breeze whispering through the trees, nor even the sweet perfume of midnight blooms that filled the air. Nothing mattered except Him. He ruled their senses with an overwhelming presence, pulling them into a realm where only He existed. His yellow attire glowed like the morning sun, His sandalwood scent wrapped around them like a promise, and His touch, soft yet commanding, spoke of an eternal bond beyond comprehension.

He was everything. To Baanhi, He was her Keshav. To Dhruvi, He was Dwarkadhish. To Manyataa, He was Krishn, the anchor of her heart. Samridhi’s Only One, Soni’s beloved Kanhu, Madanmohini’s Enchanter—each girl saw in Him the embodiment of their deepest devotion. Garima’s Supreme Lord, Saanjh’s Kanhaiya, Agrata’s Beloved, Kesar’s Manmohan—He stood before each of them, uniquely theirs, yet timelessly the same.

The girls didn't realise when a hauntingly beautiful flute melody floated into the air, like a song from another world. It wove through the wind, mingling with the rustling leaves, the distant murmur of the river, and the soft chime of temple bells. Nature itself seemed to bow to Him, joining in a symphony that pulled the girls out of the confines of the physical world. And without even realizing it, they began to move—lifting their hands, twirling in slow, graceful arcs around Him, their Universe. Their souls danced in perfect harmony with the melody, as if they were not merely mortals, but celestial beings orbiting their Krishna.

And then, as if the very Earth called them back, He reached out, His strong hands gently pulling them toward Him. Each girl was grounded only by His touch—yet even then, it felt as though He held not just their hands, but their very souls.

Though they stood in a circle, Saanjh could not see Baanhi’s Keshav. Garima couldn’t see Manyataa’s Krishn, nor could Madanmohini see Dhruvi’s Dwarkadhish. Each could only see their own Krishna, who now gazed into their eyes with a look so captivating, so full of divine love, that it took their breath away. With a smile that promised eternity, He twirled them again, one by one, each spinning deeper into His embrace, deeper into the overwhelming bliss of being His.

The ten girls danced in perfect harmony, hand-in-hand with their Universe, their feet moving as one in an effortless rhythm. They were no longer aware of themselves or the world around them, lost entirely to the bliss of His presence. Yet, despite being beyond their senses, their movements were flawlessly in sync. Each twirl, each graceful pose, blended seamlessly into the next, as if guided by a force greater than any of them—a divine choreography written in their souls.

They danced not just with their bodies, but with their hearts, their spirits. Every step was an expression of their boundless love for Him—the One who held them, who spun them into an eternal dance where time ceased to exist. His presence bound them together, the invisible thread that linked their hearts in perfect unison. They were no longer individuals, but a single entity, moving as one, their devotion and surrender reflected in every movement.

Each girl felt Him with them, His hand gently leading hers, His eyes locking with hers, and in that moment, she knew she was His. Their feet glided over the ground as though it were air, their bodies weightless, carried by the power of their love. And though they danced together, each girl knew her bond with Him was sacred, unique. They spun through the night, their lehengas flowing like liquid light, merging with the moonlight and the music of the flute that still filled the air.

It wasn’t just a dance—it was a communion, a moment where the veil between the mortal and the divine had lifted, and they, hand-in-hand with their Krishna, had become a part of something eternal, something pure and infinite. The Universe moved with them, within them, and for this brief, beautiful moment, they were no longer bound by anything but their love for Him.

How long they danced, they couldn’t say. Time had ceased to exist in that sacred moment. It felt like an eternity, yet passed in the blink of an eye. At the end of their divine dance, the Murlidhar stopped in front of each girl, His hand warm around theirs, pulling them close. His eyes, deep and all-knowing, locked with theirs, and He smiled—each smile uniquely meant for the girl before Him. The world fell away as the girls stared back, their hearts overflowing with bliss. Tears of pure joy slipped down their flushed cheeks, but they didn’t care. Nothing mattered now, except their Govind.

Then, in a moment so intimate, so unexpected, He drew each of His partners into a divine embrace. The girls were stunned—could this be real? The Lord of the Universe, their Krishna, holding them as if they were His own, as if they had always belonged to Him. Disbelief filled their hearts for a breathless second, but then, as His warmth wrapped around them, realization dawned. The truth they had always known deep inside surfaced—this was no dream. He was theirs, and they were His. Completely, eternally. In His arms, they weren’t Samridhi, Agrata, or Kesar—they were simply His sakhis. His beloved companions who existed for no one but Him.

“I love you, sakhi,” He whispered softly into each girl’s ear, His voice like a soothing melody only they could hear. “Just as you have claimed me with your love, I have claimed you today. You are mine, and mine only.” His words were more than promises—they were the very foundation of their souls, binding them to Him forever. “I will be with you always, in every second of your life,” He continued, His arms tightening as if He never wanted to let go.

The girls, overwhelmed, melted deeper into His embrace, surrendering completely to the moment, eyes pressed shut. His presence filled them, every doubt, every longing vanished. His voice became a whisper, barely audible now, as He leaned in closer, His breath warm against their skin. “This isn’t goodbye,” He murmured. “We will meet again, just like this. Until then, speak to me through the little idol in your room. I am always with you.”

The girls could barely breathe, their hearts beating in rhythm with His words. They were no longer bound by time, space, or the limitations of the world. In that hug, they had found their eternity. They had found their everything in Him—their Krishna, their forever.

As they opened their eyes, the warmth of His embrace faded, replaced by a new, yet familiar sensation. They were no longer in their Kanha’s arms—but in each other’s. Slowly, reality settled in, though the glow of His love lingered in their hearts. Kesar gently released her hold on Dhruvi, and Madanmohini let go of Soni, their fingers still trembling from the divine touch. A soft, joyful sob escaped Manyataa as she reached for Baanhi, their hands tenderly wiping away each other’s tears, a silent acknowledgment of the love that had just enveloped them.

Samridhi and Agrata, eyes brimming with unshed tears, exchanged a knowing look. There was no need for words—their smiles spoke volumes. Saanjh and Garima, still holding hands, turned to the others, their faces radiant with the same unspoken truth.

As they stood there, the ten of them, surrounded by the remnants of that divine moment, they didn’t need to say anything. Their souls were already communicating, speaking a language they had never learned but had always known—the language of His Love. It was a bond deeper than words, stronger than any earthly connection. Each girl could see it reflected in the other’s eyes—the same love, the same devotion, the same feeling of having been chosen by Him.

They never thought it was possible to fall deeper in love with a being they already cherished so profoundly. Yet here they were, standing in that sacred space, lost in His love, tangled in it, freed by it, and ascended through it. Every breath they took felt lighter, every heartbeat a reminder that they belonged to Him now and He to them. His presence had intertwined their hearts, leaving them forever bound to one another through the love of their Krishna.

They had been touched by the infinite, and in that touch, they had found something eternal. Together, they had transcended, their spirits united in the only truth that mattered—His love, which was endless, unshakeable, and all-encompassing. And as they looked around at one another, tears mingling with smiles, they knew they would carry this love for the rest of their lives, forever tethered to the One who made their souls dance.

************************************

IT'S DONE! IT'S FINALLY DONE! Sorry for taking so long T_T

@saanjh-ki-dulhan @krsnaradhika @chaliyaaa @saanjhghafa @krishnaaradhika @ramayantika @tumharisakhi @sumiyxx @vishnavishivaa @rantingabtmyman @willbedecided @braj-raj

[blxdc]

My brain is scrampled eggs today--

[commanderthalys]

🍜☕food for Thalys c:

Ahhh thank you for the ask <333

🍜 - what kind of flavors do they prefer? strong or mild? spicy or not?

Thalys loves bold flavors that are so full of seasonings and spice. She really likes savory and salty stuff so spicy grilled meats are her favorites.

☕ - do they prefer hot drinks or cold drinks?

Cold drinks!! Especially juices with ice (lemonade is a personal favorite of hers).

[notcryingtoday]

In "The Gospel of Judas", a non-canon book in term of Christianism, Judas's actions were done out of obedience: it's Jesus who asks him to betray him in order to come back as the savior. Judas was seen as a traitor because no one except him knew since Judas is the only one to really understand him and his words (on like, understand in a cosmical level, due to his own soul being different I don't know I was young when I was in the Church).

So yeah, Jayce Thalis is actually this Judas Iscariot. Except it's not canon and no one believes this, the same way everyone in Piltover and Zaun think Jayce went to fight Viktor and everyone IRL was so sure he killed Viktor and betrayed him (for a week).

[starlost-andfound]

skz x desi reader headcanons

A.N: highly unedited, it's just me yapping - also! if you have anything you want to add on, pls share! let's all be delulu together hehe

tagging: @ihrtlino (i'm sorry it took so long for me to write this :') <3)

Chan

Your parents would absolutely LOVE him, and would probably invite him to come over for Diwali - bonus: Chan in a kurta - actually, scratch that - any of the members in a kurta.

Would insist he can handle the spice of your mom’s curries but the extremely red tint on his ears and face says otherwise. He absolutely inhales the lassi. 

Would call you a name of endearment in your mother tongue - THERE WAS AN AUTHOR HERE AND I WILL TAG THEM @beebee18 PLS GO READ THIS FIC BECAUSE IT’S THIS VERY ONE THAT CAUSED MY WHOLE SKZ X DESI READER BRAIN ROT - to have Chan call you meri jaan UGH

Would try and learn your language and would probably grasp common phrases like “I’m hungry” or “I love you”. I can see him sneaking up on you when you’re out and about the house, sneaking up behind you and pressing a kiss to your shoulder “bukh lagi hain” (i’m hungry)

Would ask you to marry him in your mother tongue.

Would cry at your wedding when you’re doing the rounds around the fire and saying your vows.

Minho

Would learn bollywood style dancing like bollywood hip hop or something similar to impress you.

Lee Know singing a Bollywood ballad. That’s it. That’s the thought,

Lee Know is really good at learning languages and I feel like he would learn your mother tongue to speak with you or your family. You’re waiting for your mother to open the door when you take him to meet your parents, and you’re assuring him you’ll translate everything they say. Then, when the door opens he immediately greets your mother fluently. 

Would cook your favourite traditional dish when you’re feeling homesick. He would text your mom, asking for the recipe before putting together the craziest thali (a/n: I’ve been writing about food so much I’m craving all of this now).

Tries to decorate the house for Diwali but doesn’t quite get how to do the rangoli so he calls Hyunjin for help. Hyunjin walks into your house to see Lee Know with multi-colored rangoli powder smudged onto his face and all over his hands. You come back to the house to find Lee Know chasing Hyunjin with a handful of tissues

Puts coconut oil in your hair and braids it for you. Doesn’t even say anything about it. One day you’re just doing it and he pops into the bathroom, takes the oil from your hands and does it. Massages it into your scalp and braids your hair. Then he just washes his hands and leaves. He does it for you every time now. Gets mad the one time when you decide to do it on your own and he does that angry little sigh. Doesn’t speak to you until you cuddle him and promise you’ll let him do it from now on.

Changbin 

You can not convince me this man would not listen to rap music in your mother tongue. Would probably have a favourite rapper. I feel like generally speaking he would be very interested in Bollywood music as a genre and style of music. He would be inspired to maybe include some of those elements like the instrument style etc in his own music.

Would have your contact name saved as a name of endearment in your mother tongue.

Would dance with you at weddings or events.

Would secretly take classes in your mother tongue so he could speak with you. You’d find out one day when you come back home and he’s reciting a speech about how much he loves you.

You introduce him to biryani for the first time and it’s officially his favourite thing. Catch him eating biryani in the dressing rooms in SKZ-Talker

Hyunjin

Would learn how to do mehendi just so he could do yours. I can see him making really beautiful designs of flowers in great detail.

If you know any kind of classical bollywood dances I feel like he would really want to learn the basics so he could dance with you.Bonus: When you get your mehendi done for your wedding, he would probably tear up when he finds his initials in the designs.

Would love watching the romantic bollywood movies - would probably cry WATERFALLS and deny it - but later he posts a painting of a scene from the movie on his instagram. Would slow dance to the romantic songs with you.

Would paint or photograph you in traditional clothing

Would buy you pretty jhumkas and bangles at the market. You find out later that they absolutely ripped him off his money for those bangles but it’s okay because he loves you. That man would be so in love with you he probably build a whole palace in your name. 

Han 

Would learn an Arjit Singh song for you on the guitar (a/n: just had a thought about this - is arjit singh like the hozier of bollywood??). Would send full covers to you first, before posting a small snippet of it onto Instagram. He might upload a voice message of him singing it on Bubble for Stays but you know it’s all for you.

Would watch bollywood shows and movies with you - probably (definitely) bawls his eyes out when you watch Kuch Kuch Hota Hai or KKKG.

Gets heavily invested in any kind of Bollywood tea, his jaw drops and gasps out loud when his favorite celebrity couple breaks up “they broke up?!”

Randomly blurts out dialogues from famous desi movies

Felix 

Judging by the amount of chicken this man eats on mukbang lives (r.i.p bbokari’s cousins), he would LOVE butter chicken and naan. You can’t convince me otherwise because I know I’m right.

Would learn how to bake a traditional sweet and surprise you with it / nearly burns down the kitchen in the process and decides to just order a box of your favourite sweets. I get the feeling Felix would absolutely LOVE Indian sweets like gulab jamun or jalebi or ladoo. 

Would 100000% learn your mother tongue.

Would want to do his mehendi with you too - matching designs!!!

Holi! I can see Felix as someone who would really enjoy Holi. He would probably get really sneaky with it and innocently approach you before projectile launching a handful of a mix of colours at you (but that’s only payback because you did the same earlier).

Would surprise you with a trip to your home country when you’re feeling a little homesick.

Seungmin 

This man would absolutely learn a ballad or a romantic song for you, would probably learn many just to sing to you - he would most definitely not tell you he’s learning any of these songs until one karaoke night he just pulls out the mic and starts belting it out.

Would pretend to act uninterested when you start watching a desi show or movie (does the uninterested dad pose standing in the living room with his hands on his hips before gradually moving to sit down) but then he ends up being the one to start crying or to start yelling at the television screen. Gets upset when you keep getting advertisement breaks on the screen, is absolutely torn apart when he realises he needs to wait a whole week to find out what happens.

Would learn how to say i love you in your language. I feel like Seungmin is quite soft spoken in the way he expresses love, but he does it strongly. You’d be sitting on the couch together watching a Bollywood series and one of the character’s confesses to the other and he turns to you to do the same.

When you don’t mention important dates of celebrations and festivals, he surprises you by bringing it up first. Probably surprises you with a box of sweets. “What are these for?” “It’s Diwali today isn’t it?!”

Jeongin 

I feel like, as someone who sings Trot, Jeongin would really love singing classic Bollywood songs.

Would also get very invested in the shows and movies you watch. This man would not move a muscle from start to finish. Imagine if he watched Bahubali back when it released and at the end of the first movie he’s dying to know what happens and you have to break it to him that he's going to have to wait years until the next movie comes out.

I feel like he’d be really into the Bollywood action/superhero movies like he would really enjoy the Dhoom movie series or Don or Krrish. You’d catch him humming one of the songs from the movies or imitating SRK’s iconic lines from the movie. 

He would really love your traditional food and would go out of his way to find authentic restaurants making this food to take you out on a date there - and then you’d have to talk him through the whole menu and what each dish has.

[hand-picked-star]

The 13th Anniversary Arshi Fiesta

Moodboard : Historical AU

Whispers of the Heart | Chapter 12

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.

WARNING : 18+, Without using any fancy word, this chapter is a 'Smut'.

As this chapter contains some mature/ Adult languages, I am not tagging the people I usually do as I am not sure about their preferences.

Chapter 12

The newlywed couple arrived at their destination. Arnav introduced Khushi to Hariprakash and his wife, Gauri, who were waiting at the gate. He had declined Anjali's offer to receive the bride and groom into the house for the first time, a tradition usually performed by elders. Anjali had her own responsibilities to fulfill with her in-laws, as it was the first wedding in her in-laws' family since her marriage. He didn't want to burden her with even more responsibilities.

At the entrance, Arnav stopped Khushi from entering the house. Surprise marred her beautiful face. She looked ethereal today, with his sindoor adorning her forehead, marking her as his forever.

"One minute," he rushed inside to instruct Gauri to bring some necessary things. He looked like a prince in his charcoal black sherwani. He shed his top layer, revealing the off-white kurta he wore underneath. Khushi's adoring eyes traced his movements. Then He reappeared before her with an aarti thali, surprising Khushi to her core.

"You don't believe in such things."

Arnav kissed the side of her forehead lightly. "But you do, and it's not every day Mrs. Raizada enters her house for the first time."

Overwhelmed with emotion, Khushi ducked her head as Arnav applied a tikka to her forehead. A single tear rolled down her left eye when she looked up.

"Am I not doing it right?"

"You are perfect", she uttered with a watery smile.

After all the rituals, the couple bid goodbye to Hariprakash and proceeded to their bedroom. Khushi's heart skipped a beat as she saw the bed and nearly stopped at the sound of the door locking. Her eyes scanned the room, trying to distract herself from not fainting on her first night with her husband. The room was bathed in a soft, flickering glow from the candles scattered throughout. Their warm light danced on the walls, casting gentle shadows and creating an intimate, almost magical atmosphere. As she took in her surroundings, she realized she liked the room. The dark oak furnitures had created such a soothing and harmonious atmosphere with the off-white bed sheets and curtains. The light green carpet added to the charm even more.

Her eyes fell on the mirror attached to the dressing table in front of her. She found a dark-haired girl with pink lips and rosy skin blinking back at her. The girl looked beautiful in her red Benarasi saree and her gold jewellery that sparkled in the light coming from the candles. Then, her gaze shifted to a tall, broad-shouldered man in a kurta standing behind her. They were beautiful, this couple in the mirror. They looked like they belonged together.

"Are you hungry?"

"Huh?", Turning around Khushi couldn't quite understand what he was asking. Hungry!!?? Hungry for what? She looked at his lips and her throat suddenly went dry. She licked her lips nervously.

"You haven't eaten much at the wedding. Tumhein kuch kha lena chahiye."

"No, I am alright. Mujhe bhook nahin hai.""

And just like that, she lost all her nerve. Her downcasted eyes caught sight of his feet approaching in her peripheral vision. As he took a step forward, she took one back until she bumped into the dressing table with nowhere else to go. His hands gently drew her closer, grabbing both sides of her waist. With her forehead and nose pressed to his, she closed her eyes and waited for the sweet pressure of his lips that she had been longing to feel again for more than two years. When that didn't happen, she slowly opened her eyes and found herself caged in the intense gaze of her husband.

"You are trembling like a leaf," he murmured against her lips. "It's just me, Khushi."

With his gentle, reassuring voice, all the tension and nervousness left her body, one vertebra at a time. She surrendered herself fully to the man who had peeled back the cover from her soul. It was only fitting that he would be the one to uncover her body.

Arnav gently took her face in his palm, angling her towards him and took her lips between his own, finally losing himself in her sweetness.

In any of her dreams, awake or asleep, his kiss had never felt like this. As often as she stretched the scene up, remembering what it felt like to have his lips moving with hers, memories could never be but shadow, slightly misshapen and without definition.

There were a hundred thousand nuances, both emotional and visceral. His lips were gentle yet commanding, his hands on her body tender yet possessive. His left hand touched her bare midriff sending electricity down her spine, while his other hand cradled her face, his thumb drawing circles in her cheek. Her head felt dizzy, her chest constricted from not breathing enough, but he was the only air she needed right now. If she could, she would tear her flesh and skin apart and crawl into him.

Alas! it was not logically possible. He broke the kiss giving them both time to catch their breath. The back of his kurta was twisted in her fingers as their bodies rose and fell together. He trailed small kisses along her chin, leading to the side of her neck, and ending in her collarbone. Her head instinctively fell back giving him more room. "I guess you already know what happens between a man and his wife, huh?" he murmured against her collarbone, his fingers nimbly undoing the clasp of her necklace.

"Huh?... Umm... The basics, I guess... Buaji talked to me but she didn't make much sense". His fingers were already after her earrings. As he took them off, he replaced each earring with a tender kiss.

"Buaji?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. His fingers crept down along her arm to hold her hand. He removed all the bangles one by one and then put a kiss on the underside of her wrist. He repeated the same on the other side as well. "I didn't know Buaji was that resourceful." His voice dropped an octave. He swiftly got rid of the dupatta and tikli that adorned her head. He kissed her forehead briefly. His nose traced a path down her own. "What did she tell you? "

Khushi couldn't think clearly with him so close to her. His fingers moved back to her bare waist and slowly travelled to her back. His fingers kept toying with the strings that held her blouse together, whereas Her fingers clutched his collar tightly. Her eyes roamed several times from his lips to his eyes, finally settling on his lips. She licked her own, drawing his attention to her mouth. In a barely there voice, she answered "She told me to let you do whatever you want...... said you would know what to do."

Khushi watched as one corner of his lips lifted, forming a smirk. "Oh, so much confidence in her Damad. Remind me to buy a nice gift for Buaji when we go back." He captured her lips again, circling her waist with his left arm while his right hand untied the strings on her back one by one. And then slowly his hand slipped under her blouse. Surprised, Khushi gasped, breaking their kiss and looking at him with wide eyes.

His thumb began to trace patterns leisurely, causing her skin to break into goosebumps, "Do you want me to stop?" When she shook her head, he murmured, " It would feel even better without the clothes "

Arnav gathered the pallu and the pleats of her saree and unwrapped his beautiful wife with utmost care. As Khushi looked up she found his eyes had darkened. The fire and desire burning in his gaze matched the heat that ran through her veins. Her creamy skin turned pink under his intense gaze. He gathered her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, still clad in her blouse and petticoat.

Embarrassed, Khushi covered her face with both hands drawing a chuckle from Arnav. He peppered the back of her hands with kisses. "Come on, biwi, don't hide from me." When she removed her hands and looked at him with shy eyes and pursed lips, he whispered, "Among these four walls, there's no secret, no shame and no judgment between us. Okay?"

Khushi bit her bottom lip, her eyes filled with shyness as she softly said, "But you are fully covered". Arnav smiled softly as he kissed her lips once again and sat up to remove the kurta in a fluid motion. Khushi's face warmed at the sight of his bare body, now fully on display, revealing what she had been admiring beneath his clothes until now. Arnav carefully positioned himself above her, taking her hand and softly kissing her palm before placing it on his chest, near his heart.

"Ab theek hain?"

Her answering smile was enough for him to start kissing her again, while his fingers went to her blouse, exposing her to him. His lip trailed down, showering her with kisses. Then, he put his lips on one of those places he wanted to, the one that's pink and perfect and seemed like it's pointing at him, causing Khushi to clutch his hair, pressing him to her even more.

Khushi let out a tiny whine when he left his previous spot and moved down further, feathering kisses along his path.

Toying with the strings of her petticoat, he looked at her flushed, beautiful face. "Tell me to stop and I will stop, okay?"

Khushi watched him raptly, as he untied her lower garment and slowly removed it from her body, sliding it down her legs. He lifted one of her ankles and kissed the skin over her payal. His kisses then moved up to her leg, over her knee and along her thigh. He stopped his ascend as he decided to try something he had heard in passing from the raunchy stories his friends used to babble about their encounters. He placed a finger on his target and pressed gently, causing Khushi to gasp and clasp his wrist in an iron hold.

"Shsss..relax". He paused for a moment, watching her reaction closely. With her eyes wide, lips slightly parted, and breathing quick and shallow, she was the most breathtaking creature Arnav had ever laid eyes on. Her blush slowly spread down her body under his dark gaze. His heart pounded in his chest as he moved his finger in slow, deliberate circles, feeling her body respond beneath his touch. With his other hand, he spread her legs wider. Then he lowered his head to explore further, causing Khushi to melt into the bed, her head falling back against the pillow as she clutched the bed sheet in both hands. Her soft moans filled the room.

If the noises she was making sounded ridiculous, Khushi was entirely unaware. If the way her body rose to meet him was embarrassing, Khushi was blissfully oblivious. There was not a single thought in her head. Her entire existence was given over to this feeling rising in her, this pleasure so absolute she was helpless to control it or do anything but let it build inside her.

The tips of her fingers and toes started to tingle. Her back arched as she covered her mouth to suppress her moans. Khushi blinked sporadically, trying to see past the spots in her vision. Her breath was ragged, her chest heaving. And finally, she met his eyes. His smile was small and pleased, the look in his eyes, unlike any expression she had ever seen him wear. This was her look, she realized. It was only hers. This combination of love, adoration, complete devotion and tenderness.

Her hand was trembling as she rested it against his cheek. He turned his head, kissing her palm as he hovered above her. Stroking her hair away from her face, he kissed her forehead lingeringly, holding her tight. He ducked his head, his nose tickling her neck as they just breathed together.

Then He lined up their bodies. She could feel him against her thigh. She didn't realise he had taken off the rest of his clothes. As much as fear of the unknown was there, but bigger part was her love for him. Her body called for his - eager, aching even. Part of her wanted to reach out and take him in her hand. Yet, she held back. However, curiosity got the better of her and she glanced down. She couldn't help but gasp, momentarily pondering how he would fit inside. Despite the uncertainty, her determination prevailed. She let her hands wander along his arms, then his shoulders and finally, she encircled her arms around his neck. She gently pulled his head down to hers as she widened her legs.

His heart gave a thud at the sight of her. She was exquisitely beautiful with her dark curls sprawled in his pillow and her small frame quivering in anticipation. He rained tiny kisses across her nose and cheeks as his elbows caged her head on both sides. He moved one of his hands to her bottom to raise her towards him. He murmured, "Thora dard hoga" and looked at her intently for any sign of discomfort as he pushed inside her for the first time.

It was painful indeed, and every ridge of him dragged along her fluttering walls as she struggled to take him. He filled her up with a slow push and a strained groan slipping past his lips which drown out her quiet whimpers.

Soon, khushi realized how incredible it was, the way she stretched to fit around. Yes, she felt the burn as he went deeper into her, a sharp pain, but it turned into a dull ache with time. She was more wrapped up in the way her body was made to accept his, like puzzle pieces. It was an idea as old as time and yet so new to her. She didn't realise she was crying, till he kissed her eyelids and wiped her tears with his thumb. And then that thumb kept caressing her cheeks as she recovered from the ache of him being inside her body for the first time. Khushi could feel him everywhere, inside her and around her; stretching her and filling her completely. And then his fingers whispered across her skin as if to ease away the inevitable pain.

He had been inside her head and her heart for so long, that it was only fitting for him to be inside her body as well.

"Look at me, Khushi" he whispered. "Open your eyes."

Khushi hadn't even realized she'd closed her eyes until she suddenly remembered why she had. It was almost too much when she looked into his eyes. Like this love they shared was too big to fit inside their human bodies. Like it would consume her whole. She was his, body, mind and soul.

Arnav stilled, letting her get accustomed to him. But the way her walls squeezed and clenched around him, it tested his resistance even more. Then unable to hold himself any longer, he rasped her name as he began to move, setting a gentle yet steady rhythm with deep strokes. He kissed her once, twice and then gathered her in his arm, repositioning them, when the nature of her whimpers and moans morphed into that of pleasure. He pushed her leg up to her chest and bit his lower lip for concentration as he went deeper and deeper. The tips of their noses bumped together with his every move.

She cupped his face and a thrill went down her spine when she felt the way his jaw tensed as her hip rose on their own accord to meet his. She felt the scratch of his stubble against her palms as acutely as she felt him move inside her. His gaze entrapped her into a hypnotic trance. His scent, his taste, his touch, his voice everything drew her in. The sounds that surrounded them—the flickering of the candles mingling with their heavy breathing and the rustling of their bodies, complemented by the tinkling of her payals—were nothing short of an orchestra.

They shared their breaths as they shared their bodies. Khushi felt a nameless yet familiar fiery sensation creep along her spine, igniting every nerve ending in her body into flames. The fire consumed her senses and reduced everything within her to ashes, except for him. She felt her toes curled as she clung to him, burying her face in his neck and digging her fingers into his sweat-drenched shoulders, gripping hard enough to draw blood as her body began to quiver.

Arnav caught her hands and intertwined his fingers with hers as he lifted them above her head, one by one. He lowered his head to capture her whimpering lips in a searing kiss. And then with intertwined fingers, intertwined limbs, intertwined mind and intertwined soul, he claimed her over and over again and marked her as his forever, just as she did to him.

As they came floating down from their shared sensation, Arnav gathered her in his arms. Completely caught up in the feel of him and the emotion of the moment, Khushi was beyond words. As Khushi gazed at him, she realized that she had gotten her sindoor all over him—on the side of his neck, his jaw, his forehead. She turned crimson red, thinking about the cause of it as she hid her face in his chest. With his heart beating beneath her ear, an unfamiliar feeling surged through her and consumed her so much that she couldn't help but voice it.

"How many girls have you been with?"

"What?" Arnav chuckled, caught off guard by the question, especially in a moment like that. He raised his head to look at her clearly. Her face was completely bare except for her red bindi. This one wasn't her usual detachable kind and was likely made of kumkum, he guessed, which had been slightly smeared during their activities. Gently, he raised his free hand to clear away the smudged edge with the corner of his thumb and whispered, "It's a rather unusual question to ask your husband, Mrs. Raizada, especially just after..." His voice carried a hint of amusement.

"Just tell me." He slightly arranged themselves so that he could see her face. "One of them is Lavanya Kashyap, right?"

"How do you know this name?"

"I have my resources. Just tell me," she whispered.

"No, Lavanya Kashyap is not one of them. It's hardly even a 'them'..... there was just this one girl..... what's happening, Khushi?"

Khushi moved close to him and looked at him with her big, mesmerizing eyes. They watered slightly as her voice became heavy, "From now on, you are mine, Mr. Arnav Singh Raizada, do you understand?" His eyes bore into her as love and adoration seeped into his orbs. She tried to swallow around the tightness in her throat and murmured, "I want to erase every thought of every girl who's ever crossed your mind, except for me."

<previous> | <next>

@featheredclover @arshifiesta @phuljari

[handweavers]

will never forget when i was in iceland and found the only pakistani restaurant in reykjavik and i walked in and the owner looked directly at me and asked me if i'm punjabi (in punjabi) and i said "yes" and he said "me too. don't worry brother i'll make it right for you" and i ordered a thali and literally watched him turn around toward the stove, take a heaping tablespoon of chili powder and drop it in a pot of curry for me. and he was right, it was the perfect amount of chili

[moritashie]

"Will you go with me?" 900 words

huge thank you to @shootothrill and Thali from DC for their help <33

Tony Stark, Iron Man, is in his kitchen again. He has been coming over every day without fail for the past two weeks and has told Peter why, but excuse him for questioning the intentions of the gazillionaire suddenly being all buddy buddy with him.

It is especially strange, as before that, the only four interactions he remembers were of them fighting about Spider-Man. It must've been about this amazing superhero Spider-Man. Peter is pretty sure that Tony doesn’t know that he knows about those arguments. He doesn't understand why exactly the man is acting all friendly, so positive, so fake that it annoys him.

A lot of things began to annoy him recently. The way Ned is suddenly interested in watching sports, the way May constantly sends him random articles from the past two years and the way everyone seems to have already moved on from his uncle's death.

A knock on the door throws him away from his train of thought. 

“Can I come in?” Tony asks from the other side of the door.

“Go ahead.” 

Peter clicks off his pen and lays it next to the notes. The knob turns and Mr. Stark's beelines to Peter's desk. 

“A little birdie told me you still haven't left the house.”

“Didn't wanna.”

“Well, maybe you'll wanna when I tell you about the Expo~”

Correction. Five interactions. Four negative, one positive. 

‘Nice work, kid’. 

And only one that actually feels his. 

“I won’t.” Peter cuts him off.

“Oh, turn that frown upside down, underoos. Will you go with me? Pretty please? Please with a cherry on top?” He lies on top of Peter’s desk, beaming like a child.

“I don’t feel like leaving the house, Tony.” 

“Mm, But I need my crazy–smart intern with me.”

Peter squeezes the pencil in his hand and feels it break inwards.

“I’ve never even worked with you.”

Tony makes an expression pretending to be oh-so petrified, and asks in an artificially low, quiet tone. “Then whose name is in the credits?”

Peter is on the verge of blowing up at the man. Some things start to boil real quick somewhere deep down in Peter’s chest. 

“I’ve told you.” He tries to stay calm. He swears he does. “That I’m not your intern. I don’t remember any of that, It's like it didn’t happen for me, I CAN’T DO ANY OF THE STUFF I DID WHEN I–” Tears well up in Peter’s eyes. He feels a sudden urge to throw his notebook across the room full force when his torso is squeezed tight by Tony. 

For the next few minutes his chest rises and falls, his heart rate slowly decreases and the sobs quiet down bit by bit, as Tony gently strokes his hair.

“I just don’t get you.” 

Tony hums and pulls Peter into a tighter hug. “When you first woke up after the accident, you were absolutely delirious. Going in circles, asking the same three questions every five minutes, you briefly recognized May on a good hour. I was so scared I would lose you, and I couldn’t even do anything to prevent it. And then you got better, and now I can do something to… Still have you by my side. Not just physically.” 

Peter says nothing, but he ducks away from Tony’s arms and raises his head to look at Tony, who seems out of his depth, moments from having a meltdown himself.

“Cho said that since you don’t seem to be recovering your memories, chances are that the past two years are go– aren’t coming back. We can’t wait until it all goes away, neither me nor May want you to stay cooped up in the apartment because of this. So please, let’s go out together. It doesn’t have to be the Expo, we can go to some restaurant or, hell, even an art museum. Baby steps.”

“...I did remember some things.” He mutters.

“What?” Tony asks in a soft voice that leaves Peter unsure whether he didn't hear the question or if he just wants Peter to clarify.

“It’s not much just- I can count all my memories with you on one hand but– you were always annoyed in those, or mad at me, like when we were on some ship? How am I supposed to trust that we’re close and you don’t just want to- I don’t even know… And if we were, I don’t feel like the person you are talking about.” 

The man’s eyes are glossy, and Peter wants the floor to swallow him whole. 

“I am so sorry Pete. I don’t know how to–  I can only promise you, I care about you. More than I thought I would care about anyone. I want you to go back to being happy and healthy, and learn to live with everything. And you are still you, memories or not. I see it every time I come over.”

He takes a deep breath as he carefully assembles the next sentences.

“I’ve researched support groups for people with amnesia, you're not the only one feeling this way. One is here, in Queens, could you at least consider trying? Once?” Peter hides his face in his knees, and Tony’s already bracing himself for refusal when the teen quietly mumbles.

“Will you go with me?”

Tony smiles. “I would love to.”

[hum-suffer]

We'll say hello again (Nevermind the chasm between us) 17

Gauri has read about moments like these. She's written about moments like these. But it's the first time that she feels it.

Rage coursing in her veins to make her burn, fury freezing her at place and heart and throat suddenly burning under a weight she cannot see. Helplessness bursts through her spine and she wants to collapse but she stands still. The thali in her hand digs into her palms and Gauri desperately wants to ground herself back to reality but she cannot speak.

Maa steps forward. She locks eyes with Gauri and something passes between them.

Do not do this. I am your daughter. Help me. Reject him. Let me speak. Do not. Do not. Please. Please. Guide me to a better place. Protect me. Help me. Protect me. Protect me. Protect me. I am your daughter.

"The royal throne acknowledges and accepts your proposal, Mahoday Vijay. We shall discuss the courting process in detail tomorrow, after Pooja."

I will not help you. Help yourself. I cannot protect you. No one can protect anyone. You are a daughter. This is your fate. This is your fate. This was my fate. This was your mother's fate. You are cursed with the fate of a daughter. You are not my daughter. I only have sons.

The edges of the thali dig into her palms further and Gauri feels the slight hissing burn of skin breaking. Gauri opens her mouth and Maa glares at her. Maa turns her eyes away.

"Maa."

Gauri cannot defy the Queen Mother in front of the civil population. It's not her sanskar, not her training, not her morals and not something that is acceptable. But she needs to speak. She needs to say no.

Maa gives her a side eyed look and shakes her head minutely.

Gauri looks at Amar. Her half, her heart, her twin. He looks back at her, surprise, anger and something else dances under his eyes. He takes a step towards her, eyes determined and on her. Uncle extends a hand. Amar doesn't stop, throwing their uncle a look that would have been a foretelling of someone's death, had they not had the royal blood Amar and uncle share. Uncle clears his throat and signs towards Maa.

Maa tilts her head sharply and—

Amar freezes.

He looks at Maa in shock and opens his mouth but no words come out. He looks at Gauri, now a pitying and more annoyed look in his eyes. He looks back at Maa. And for a moment Gauri wants to laugh at his audacity. He feels betrayed by Maa, because Maa isn't letting him side with Gauri.

What about me. What about me. You betrayed me too. My brother, my soul, my heart, my twin. Betrayed me.

He will always choose Maa before her, Gauri remembers thinking, at the age of thirteen. She was right.

Despite the warm burn in her palms and the sudden pricking in her eyes, Gauri feels the fingertips of her hands going cold. Her fingers tighten further on the thali and she feels the metal digging into her raw flesh until she feels a drop of blood slither down her alta painted right palm.

Gauri looks at Bhalla, who appears equally shocked. He makes eye contact with her. Looks away. Gulps. And sighs, fortifying his mind again, before he looks at her and points towards Vijay with a sharp nudge of his head. Her brother. Her cousin. Bhalla, who used to twirl her around in air and promise her that he'll marry her to someone brave and courageous.

Gauri looks at Vijay, who smiles winningly at her. His smile feels like something tangible on her. There's a gentle curve in his smile and his shoulders are relaxed, eyes open in invitation. Gauri keeps her eyes glued on his cheek, refusing to look into his eyes and give him the pleasure of seeing her being betrayed. She lets her eyes turn unfocused and the sight of him goes blurry, even for a second, a Gauri feels a moment of safety for it.

She looks at the Shivling in the temple. I asked for nothing but love. The ache in her chest intensifies and out of all, she feels the most betrayed by her friend, by Mahadev. He is supposed to know her. Help her.

Blood crawls down both of her palms and before it can stain the temple floor, Gauri ducks her head, silently asking for leave and turns. She plasters a smile on her face as the people start to talk again, continuing to distribute Prasad to the rare remaining people around her.

"My princess." A whisper in her ear brings her out of her trance with a breath. She blinks and turns her head to Bhairav, who has his hands out and head bowed. "May I receive some Prasad too?"

Gauri's smile shrinks until it's a real one. A tired, but real smile. She gives the last piece in the plate to him, keeping sure that her blood hasn't stained any of the Prasad. Bhairav takes the prasad but instead of eating it, presses it into her hand. Gauri looks at him, alarmed, but holds the prasad with her fingertips to not stain it with her blood. He gently pries away the thali from her hand and holds it from the exact places where her blood is now a dried smear.

He removes a cloth from his waistband and offers it to her. "Eat the prasad, my princess," he says, almost inaudible,"you have yet to have it."

In the commotion around them, Gauri breaks the prasad in half and presses the bigger part into his calloused hands as she takes the cloth. With a tipping of her chin, she orders him to eat his part of the Prasad and eats her part, using his scarf to wipe the blood on her palms.

"Just one word, my princess," he whispers as he takes the cloth back from her hands. "The next one to bleed will be him. Give me an order. Say yes."

Inexplicably, Gauri wants to embrace him for the simple kindness of friendship he shows her. The fact that he is ready to kill someone, a noble at that, for her, is baffling and empowering. The fact that he cares for her above even the simple etiquette of the temple to not talk about murder in front of God, the fact that he simply cares. It makes her want to drop to her knees in relief. Bhairav cares. Bhairav cares. Bhairav cares.

Bhairav cares.

Gauri shakes her head. "Thank you, Bhairav. But for now, we wait." She doesn't look anywhere but in Bhairav's eyes as she speaks. "We need the accounts of the situation. I spilt my blood today. Yours will not be spilt over a pig."

Gauri knows the doubts he must have. But he never questions her. He nods. "I trust you, my princess."

The gajra in her hair wraps her in the smell of jasmines again and Gauri finds herself smiling. "And I, you."

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Surprisingly, it's Maa who approaches her. Almost at midnight, when Gauri is walking towards her chambers with Bhairav in tow, Maa approaches her. With a flick of her hand, her guards stay behind as she walks towards Gauri.

Gauri sees Maa's eyes dart sharply towards Bhairav but Bhairav doesn't hesitate in following Gauri's footsteps until she turns towards him and nods, leaving him a few meters behind her so she and Maa can have the privacy that Maa must be needing.

"Shall we enter your room, daughter?"

Gauri doesn't say anything, opens the doors to her chambers and lets Maa go in first, out of courtesy, and follows. As soon as the door is shut, Gauri quietly says,"Niece." Maa looks at her questioningly. "Would you do to your daughter what you're doing to me?"

Maa's eyes narrow. "Do not accuse me of bias, Gauri. You know better than that." (Does she? Does she, really?)

Gauri clenches her jaw. "Let me accuse you of something more feasible, then. You're using me as bait."

Maa purses her lips and moves to sit at the settee near the window, the one which shows the moon every night. Gauri knows the answer to her non-question then. She narrows her eyes as she speaks, "You have something to prove. You need a favour. You need his help and the only way he can be won over is marriage with me because he already has plenty of wealth and you cannot bribe him with money, so you bribe him with a woman. And not any woman. The princess of Mahishmati. Or is that just an empty title?"

"Enough of your impertinence, Gauri!" Maa says, a frown on her face,"I understand that you are upset and that is why I am letting you speak so, but do remember that I am your elder and your mother."

Gauri looks down. The feeling of helplessness comes back over. (I only have sons). "And what shall I do? I shall write over my life to a man already widowed and a dozen years older than me? What for? At least do me the courtesy of telling me why am I being sold!"

"Stop speaking as if I am selling you!" Maa says, the hurt sparkling in her big eyes. Gauri knows she feels pressured too but at this moment, she cannot find it in herself to care. She needs to be selfish. This situation of being selfish has arisen due to Maa's affirmation. Gauri will not be sold to the highest bidder like cattle. If she has to hurt others for it, so be it.

Gauri can see tears welling up in Maa's eyes as she speaks,"I do not enjoy the prospect of snatching away your right to choose your husband. What we feel on matters like these seldom ever matters. We are women. We must think of the future before we think of ourselves."

Gauri sneered at her,"Ah, yes. The future where I marry a man well into his mid life and then birth him children and die while birthing his fifth child! The future where I am nothing but a trophy, a status, a broodmare! And when I die, he will find another wife to breed."

It's not as if she's a child and unaware of the way the world works. The only reason men want young wives is their ability to birth more children with relatively less hassle.

"Watch what you are speaking and who you are speaking to, Gauraangi!" Maa roars, louder than Gauri has ever heard her speak. Eyes red and the muscles in her neck taut with tension.

"And remember who you are talking to, Maa!" Gauri snaps right back, voice turning into a growl with her fury. "I am not a victim and I am not a child. I want the truth. Not this gender biased nonsensical philosophy."

Maa sneers at her. "And who are you if not a child? What do you think the world is? It is not ideal, it is not moral and it is certainly not perfect! Other people have worse lives and they don't throw tantrums!" Before Gauri can retort to that, Maa continues,"I have tried my best to give you all the life children should have. I have looked after Mahishmati like I have looked after you three. And I know I raised you to put Mahishmati above everything, even yourself!"

Gauri resisted the urge to shout and snarl like an animal. "Then talk to me!" She pleaded, instead. "Tell me what's going on. Tell me why this is suddenly happening. Why does Mahishmati suddenly need the favour of a governor?"

Suddenly, the fight seemed to leave Maa. She almost slumped against the wall at her back and closed her eyes for a long moment. Just as Gauri was getting uncomfortable in the silence, Maa spoke. "Vijay is a cunning man. He knows that the West province brings in a lot of export and thus wealth to the state. I have heard reports of him frequently meeting some officials from the Swarnimpur. If he becomes a snitch, Mahishmati could see an economic disaster."

"And he would gain money. We could come out of this hypothetical disaster but it would be a wreck, especially in the trader class," Gauri speaks, going in a trance as she gets the conclusions of the possibility. "Vijay would earn a lot of money. But he already has plenty of wealth, perhaps owing to some sort of forgery or fraud. He already has materialistic means but he doesn't have a family. He returns to a mansion, but it is full of servants who are paid to care for him. He needs a wife who would care for him and children who would take his name. He does not crave for family. He craves for successors. And he would never father an illegitimate child or even adopt a child. That is why you bribe him with me."

Maa looks pained but nods nonetheless. "I do not want to throw something like this on you, Gauri. You deserve the freedom to choose a husband. But we need to look out for our citizens first."

Gauri walks towards Maa with heavy footsteps, eyes unseeing again. The weight of an economic collapse is not unserious and Gauri knows the sheer consequences it could breed. Mahishmati is prosperous and the royal treasury would try to control it, but if the exports that should be Mahishmati's went to Swarnimpur, the loss of a source of income would hit the majority of the citizens. From the labourers, the merchants, the hand crafters, the sellers, to even the buyers. It would be hell to contain.

The fire needed to be put out while it was still in the embers.

And Gauri is the only way to stop it, it seems.

Her eyes ache and burn and Gauri wants someone to embrace her and kiss her forehead and tell her that it will be fine and she doesn't need to sell her life to a man for the sake of her Kingdom. The Kingdom, which never loved her as much as it loved her brothers, the Kingdom which will never be hers.

Yet.

Yet.

Gauri can't let the people suffer. She can't. Something crumbles in her and her shoulders slump, a physical indication of how she feels. Like a marionette, she walks towards her bed and sits down, feeling the room closing in on herself.

Gauri thinks of the days she has spent romanticizing the life she wished for herself, one day. A loving husband, who would support her rise to the ministry. A couple of children, who would call her maa and she would be there for them, unlike how her mother wasn't. Sneaking out to the markets with Bahu and Bhalla's respective wives. Lifting her nieces or nephews in her arms and spinning them around like Bhalla used to do with her. Amar teaching sword fighting to their respective children.

She had simple goals: to love and be loved, to stay with the people she loves.

And yet, to protect the land she loves, Gauri will have to leave the province altogether. Or, at least, make everyone think that she would be leaving.

Gauri would sooner kill Vijay than become a pawn in this game of chess.

She dares lift her eyes and gaze at Maa, who looks at her with sympathy and thankfulness, clearly thinking Gauri has accepted her "fate" to marry Vijay. She looks away again within a moment, to make Maa believe how upset she is.

Gauri will rewrite her fate. In blood, when need comes.

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