#ipkknd ff

[featheredclover]

Fanaa

01

Inspired by this word prompt~

On Wattpad

>>02

(n.) destruction of the self; “destroyed in love”

The world seemed to narrow down on her. She needed to breathe . Just breathe for a moment. Stumbling over thin air, clutching her kurta Khushi reached her room. 

The room was beautifully bathed in moonlight tonight. Her favourite window lay within an arch. The architecture was old fashioned as her friends had teased. But she didn't care. After all none of her friends could boast of the moon greeting them at their bedroom window in such a way. 

Her heart wailed as the beauty failed to impress or comfort her. Nothing could assuage her tension tonight.

It all began earlier that evening, when buaji decided to drop the bomb on her unsuspecting self.

——

“Khushi bitiya, I am not in the position to take care of you alone now. Fufaji’s pension is barely enough for us. Ever since Payal got married, things have changed. We can’t really accept her offer of money anymore ! What will people say!”

“Buaji! What are you-? I am going to graduate in a few months. I’ll get a job in any media company in the country. Please stop being so regressive!”

Buaji had frowned, completely crossed with her now highly educated niece. Wielding her ability to cry in a wink, she whined,

“God has taken away my two brothers too soon! I raised both you girls alone! Payal’s mother was respectable and so she got married into the Malik family. But your parents? They had you out of wedlock! The whole of Lucknow society knows! And now no family of good repute will marry their son to my poor bitiya!”

Khushi rolled her eyes. These dramatics had happened too often. Buaji was from a generation of “name”, “reputation “ and “respectability “. How could she explain to her sweet aunt that she never really cared for such things. 

“Buaji please. Marriage doesn’t interest me-“

“Just like your shameless parents!” Buaji gasped.

“No, I mean men buaji. I am just not interested in getting into the whole marriage scene. I will happily be a spinster for the rest of my life. We won’t need to worry about money once I start working.”

“How long will you live with me? Marriage is a non-negotiable bitiya! Who will take care of you after I have gone?”

“Old age homes! Do you know buaji, some senior citizens now self check into such centres? Luxurious ones, where I’ll spend my last days in peace?”

Khushi gleefully smiled, her eyes dreamy.

Buaji sat there spluttering, her head resting on her arm.

“This girl! Nothing will help her see sense! Manorama ji was right, Mr Raizada is the one for her..yes, that’s it”

Khushi sat up straight, not believing her ears. 

“Mr-Mr who?”

“Mr Arnav Raizada. You know the one we met at Payal’s wedding. Very quiet type but very rich. He owns AR News. So wealthy, so respectable. Akash’s father was worried about him. I mean he is thirty six and yet he hasn’t settled down. There were some talks of his wedding a while back but….alas! Now, Manorama ji called me this morning, for you of course.”

“Wh-what?! He’s thirty six and I am twenty one! Do you even realise that?”

Even if Khushi tried to guilt her buaji for trying to set her young niece up with an older man, she couldn’t deny that she had noticed him during the wedding. A girl would have to be blind to not notice that man! Actually not even a blind girl could be  immune to his perfume. 

What was it exactly, she couldn’t tell. Oud? Bergamot? Dark chocolate?

Whatever! That man was too perfect. He had worn a matte black sherwani. Skipping all other events, he had landed up at the reception. The dim lights hadn’t done his profile justice. Broad shoulders, a physique James Bond would have possessed if he was real and eyes which felt deeper, darker than any man should possess.

Of course, she had been just a speck on the wall for him. But what really surprised her was that other girls didn’t seem to notice him. She did spy an occasional older woman go up to him and place their manicured hands over his arm or his shoulder like a claw, but no one around her saw the appeal at first.

Preeto had just shrugged, calling him “well dressed”, while her sister just smiled, calling him “a mysterious man, an enigma”.

“The Raizadas are rumoured to be all like that Khushi. Akash said the Malik family is an open book compared to them”, Payal had carelessly remarked while donning a pair of beautiful rubies. Another magnificent gift by her wealthy fiancé.

———

Now with Mr Raizada’s proposal propelling buaji into a mission, Khushi wished he had been an enigma enough to never even attend the reception.

Her sister’s mother in law was now a pain in her behind. How could she think a young promising journalist like her would be happy being married to a man more than a decade older than her, not to forget much wealthier. Heck! He was a billionaire!

The idea of being a trophy wife was absolutely abhorrent to her! She knew Lucknow high society. Having observed it well enough from the borders, she knew that the Maliks and Raizadas were patriarchal enough to want heirs.

She cringed at the concept, and that helped her to make up her mind. Even if she lived the rest of her life in poverty, she won’t be succumbing to this trap called ‘marriage’ to a wealthy, powerful Raizada.

--------

02

[pyaargulzar]

guidance (pt. 5)

summary: with both lovers being miles away, their yearning intensifies. maybe what arnav taught khushi can be put to use to help them both?~

themes: romance, mature, mutual yearning woohoo, self-exploration on khushi's end, smut heehee, "main jo karunga, kya tum woh kar paogi?"

a/n: please feel free to show love/drop your thoughts!! these last 2 parts made me feel so down, i was literally writing to my depression playlist LOL 🥹 would LOOOVE to know if you liked this read 🫶

The boardroom was a battlefield.

Arnav’s voice cut through the heated debate like a blade, his fingers steepled under his chin as he dismantled arguments with ruthless precision. The numbers on the screen were his ammunition—every decimal point, every projection—and he wielded them with the same cold focus that had built his empire. The air was thick with tension, the hum of the projector the only sound as his team waited for his next move.

“If we pivot now, we lose leverage in the Asian markets. The data doesn’t support this gamble.”

His CFO opened his mouth to protest, but a single glance from Arnav silenced him. The man’s jaw snapped shut, his fingers tightening around his pen. The room exhaled. Deal closed.

Yet as his team shuffled out, murmuring praises, Arnav’s gaze drifted to his phone—dark, silent. 

They didn’t know that his sharpness today stemmed from the fact that he hadn’t spoken to his wife. Nor did they know that he had begun yearning for her more desperately after dreaming about bending her over his desk, his hands gripping her hips, her breathy moans filling the silence of his office.

Maybe it was something in the air—the sterile, impersonal scent of the hotel, the endless cycle of meetings with new clients, the way every interaction felt like a negotiation. Whatever it was, it left him on edge, his skin too tight, his thoughts too loud.

That night, as the shower steamed around him, water sluicing off his tense shoulders, he braced his palms against the tiles, head bowed. It had been years since he’d let himself ache like this. He felt like a teenager in heat, restless and desperate, wishing he could teleport home. No one else and nothing else would do—he needed Khushi.

Her absence wasn’t just an emotional void; it was a physical torment—the hollow in his chest, the way his fingers twitched for the warmth of her waist. He’d spent half his life believing love was transactional, something he’d never earn. Too harsh. Too broken. As if he was too difficult to be loved.

But Khushi…Khushi loved him like breathing. Without reason, without limits. Her love never felt like too much—it was just right. A fresh sunny day, a warm cup of coffee, a blooming garden.

And everything felt right again once he finally heard her voice.

His thumb swiped over his phone screen, pulling up the private memo he’d drafted earlier: Gulfstream G700 – expedite purchase.

A ridiculous indulgence. But one he could most definitely afford. The thought of Khushi waiting at airports, worrying—no. He’d burn the money if it meant she’d never look that scared again. A cost-benefit analysis could never fulfill nor justify this need.

Four whole days without Arnav had passed.

Khushi’s clock was still stuck, her heart heavy with his absence. She missed him in everything she did—the way he’d grumble into his coffee in the mornings, the warmth of his hand at the small of her back, the sound of his voice when he whispered her name in the dark. The house had quickly become a whirlwind of activity—baby shower plans, nursery decorations, endless discussions about names—but none of it filled the space he left behind.

Today, she was helping Paayal select clothes for the baby, her fingers lingering over impossibly tiny onesies, her heart swelling at the thought of something so small and fragile coming into their lives.

Arnav had asked her to stop by his office later to pick up some files Aman had prepared. During their brief FaceTime calls, her world finally slowed. 

As she drove to the AR Design office, her mind wandered. She wanted to do so much—but what? Arnav had reassured her that her restlessness wasn’t a bad thing, but it didn’t make the confusion any easier.

The office buzzed with its usual energy, employees moving with purpose, the hum of printers and hushed conversations filling the air. Khushi lingered near Arnav’s empty desk, running a finger along the polished edge.

How would it feel to sit here? To run these halls again, this time with real purpose?

She cringed inwardly at the memory of her first chaotic days in the office—her unprofessionalism, the team’s resistance. But she had tried. She had learned. And now, standing here, she wondered what it would be like to be part of it all—the proposals, the projects, the thrill of building something.

Aman’s knock pulled her from her thoughts. “Ma’am?” He hovered in the doorway, holding a file. “The reports Sir requested are here.” He placed them on the desk.

“Aman-ji,” Khushi blurted, then hesitated. “How is it working here?”

Aman smiled, as if he understood exactly what she was asking. “I like it. There’s a lot to learn from Arnav Sir.” He nodded toward the desk. “There are some documents in the right drawer for you as well.”

Khushi hummed, pulling out the envelope with her name on it. But what caught her attention was the file labeled ‘AR Design Quarterly Results’.

As she flipped through the pages, something flickered in her chest. Columns of numbers, profit margins, KPI’s—this was the language of her husband’s world. The same world she’d dipped into blindly before:

Selling sweets to keep her family afloat.

Running a tiffin service after marriage, bartering with suppliers.

She’d done it all by instinct, never realizing she’d been building skills. Her father had been a businessman—of course this felt natural.

A realization bloomed in her chest, warm and certain. She didn’t need to overthink it anymore. Her usual gleeful smile returned as she gathered the files, her steps lighter on the way out. She couldn’t wait to tell Arnav. He had to be the first to hear.

The next day, Khushi found herself home alone, the house eerily quiet. Paayal and Aakash had slipped away on a whispered date, leaving her with nothing but her thoughts—and the growing, gnawing ache for Arnav.

His call usually came in the morning or afternoon, but today, there was nothing.

“I’ll call you late at night, your time,” he’d texted.

Now, as night fell, Khushi traced idle circles on her phone screen, the empty notification feed mirroring the hollowness in her chest. She wandered to his wardrobe, the cedar scent of his suits wrapping around her like phantom arms.

One by one, she touched the fabrics that had graced his skin—the charcoal suit he favored, the blue shirt he’d worn just before leaving. Pressing a sleeve to her face, she inhaled deeply, her knees nearly buckling at the fading traces of his cologne.

She surrendered to instinct, slipping into the black cotton shirt he slept in. The hem brushed her thighs as she crawled onto his side of the bed, burying her face in his pillow. Here, surrounded by his scent, the distance felt almost bearable.

The phone’s sudden vibration startled her awake at 1:00 AM. She fumbled for it, his shirt slipping off one shoulder as she answered.

Arnav’s face filled the screen as his eyes trailed her form. “Been wearing that all day?” His voice was rougher than usual.

Khushi shook her head, the movement making the neckline slide further. “Just since sunset.” Her fingers nervously plucked at the fabric. “I missed—”

The call ended abruptly.

Khushi’s stomach twisted—anxiety, frustration, a flicker of anger. The emotions were sharper in her sleepy haze.

Then, her phone buzzed.

“Sorry, call you back soon. Love you.” a text.

The tension in her chest eased. The next call came an hour later.

Khushi answered in the moonlight, curled in their bed, still wearing his shirt. The moment his face appeared, she beamed.

“You’re still wearing my clothes,” he noted, his voice darkening.

Her fingers plucked at the cotton as she hummed. “It smells like you.”

“Khushi,” he warned.

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Hmm?”

His jaw clenched. “Do you know what you’re doing? I rushed back to the hotel as soon as I could because of you”

She could feel the shift—the tension thickening, his gaze turning predatory. Her breath hitched.

Then, the words he’d been holding back,“Will you be able to do what I’m about to do?”

That same challenge, months later—but now, she knew exactly what it meant.

Her lips parted. “Try me,” she whispered, never one to back down.

Arnav moved the camera, revealing his bare torso, the hotel sheets pooled low on his waist.

Khushi gasped.

His skin was gilded in the dim light, muscles taut as he deliberately dragged the sheets lower, exposing the defined V leading to his manhood. His hand palmed himself through his boxers.

Khushi’s breath stuttered, her thighs pressing together.

“Arnav—”

He smirked, freeing himself from the fabric. His cock sprang free, thick and already hard, pre-cum glistening at the tip.

Khushi’s mouth watered, her fingers digging into the sheets.

“Touch yourself with me,” he commanded, his thumb smearing the wetness over his flushed head.

The slick sound made her whimper.

Obedience.

The glow of the screen highlighted every tremble of her fingers as she obeyed, tracing the neckline of his shirt.

Arnav’s voice was rough, possessive. “Slow. I want to see you.”

Khushi set the phone against her pillow, angling it so he could see everything. The way his shirt rode up her thighs, the bare skin of her legs, the rise and fall of her chest with every shaky breath. Her skin burned under his gaze.

“Arnav…” His name was a whisper, a plea.

His hand stroked lazily, his eyes locked onto her. “Move your hands…lower.”

Khushi’s fingers drifted down, skimming the swell of her breast through the thin cotton, her nipple pebbling under the fabric.

A sharp inhale from Arnav.

“Like this?” she teased, her touch slipping further, dipping between her thighs.

His groan was visceral. “Take it off.”

With shaky hands, she obeyed. The camera shook as she lifted the shirt, moonlight spilling over her bare skin—her flushed breasts, the curve of her waist, the desperate clench of her thighs.

Arnav’s growl sent a shock of heat straight to her core.

“Fuuuck, Khushi—” His hand tightened around his cock, holding himself back from spilling just at the sight of her.

She whimpered, her fingers slipping beneath her panties, finding herself already soaked.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

She did—her wide eyes meeting his darkened gaze as she circled her clit, mimicking the rhythm he used on her.

Arnav threw his head back, his hips jerking.

“I wish you were here,” Khushi gasped, her back arching. “I wish you were touching me.”

“Where?”

Her free hand trailed up her body, tracing her tummy, then moving to her breast, pinching a nipple, just the way he liked. “Everywhere.”

Arnav cursed, his grip tightening. “Take them off. Now.”

She hooked her fingers into her panties, peeling them down her legs before spreading them, her heat on full display for him.

Completely bare. Completely his.

Khushi’s fingers dipped inside herself, her moan high and desperate as she grinded down against herself.

“Arnav, I—I—”

“Tell me,” he growled.

“I’m empty—ahn—sooooo so empty without you.”

His rhythm stuttered, his cock leaking more pre against his stomach. “Fuck—”

She arched, her neck exposed, her breasts bouncing as she chased her release, his name a broken chant on her lips.

“Cum for me,” he ordered, his voice raw with need. “Now.”

And she completely shattered. A shrill cry, her body convulsing, her thighs clamping around her hand as pleasure ripped through her. She was riding her orgasm, two fingers curling to hit that spot Arnav showed her. She whimpered his name, “Cumming Arnaaav.”

Through the haze, she heard his climax—his ragged groan forcing her to open her eyes to see him fall apart. His hips jerked into his hand, cum spilling over his fist as he moaned. 

Watching him tipped her over, extending her release—her moan fractured into a gasp as she dragged her fingers out, slow and slick, her breath ragged as she studied them under the dim light.

Silence.

Then—

“Fuck this,” he panted. “I’m catching the next flight back.”

author's note: i've come to deliver on a promise teehee, i hope you liked part 5! heavily inspired by the ANON ask to tie in: main jo karunga, kya tum woh kar paogi?

lowkey want to integrate that into more intense scenes too (maybe? or a similar theme?)

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

IPKKND SS: Fall Out of Love

Chapter 1

When days got tough, and nights tougher, Khushi shivered on the poolside floor wondering what did she do wrong. In her religion, everything was a repercussion for a deed done.

The man she loved grew stranger everyday. At one point his anger was in his words, now they lived as impressions on her arms.

God, wouldn't she give her whole life if she got a day to see the softness she had seen when he had danced his way straight into his heart.

At this point she wondered if that ever happened, or if it was product of her crazy mind. Maybe Arnav had never loved her, maybe it was all a result of her obsession with him.

Her sister had been right, Khushi had been fixated far into Arnav, ever since the day she saw him. Even when he wanted nothing to do with her.

At first it was anger, then disrespect, then curiosity, then infatuation and finally...

A cold had settled into Delhi, the winds chilled her bones. Her thin salwar was no match. She could not find herself to take the blanket on the floor.

This time, it was not self preservation. It was insects.

If she tried to get it washed, questions would be raised. The househelp was familiar with the bedroom linen. Why would it be in the garden long enough to get infested? Mami had been suspicious, and Khushi could not bear Arnav directing another play of them being happily married.

She could never see the difference between his acting and reality.

-

The blanket was washed, dried, and neatly packed. The floor was cleared, and an outdoor bedroll was in the corner of the garden.

Tears of joy rolled down her cheeks as she smelled the fresh blanket. Her body cried in relief as she laid down in the mattress.

It was the first time she slept for more than three hours in a month.

-

"Slept well?" Khushi was caught off guard. Not by the question, but the person asking it.

Shyam Manohar Jha.

Khushi ran away, her mind coming to a conclusion it didn't want to.

She bumped into Arnav, anger blazing in his eyes.

Her question of the blanket being washed remain in thin air as Manorama commented on their proximity as lovebirds being unable to separate, not noticing the soft bruise that began to swell in her arms once he left her grip.

In another time, she would've thought she saw true concern in Arnav's eyes over the mention of insects.

But for now, her mind worried over other details.

Over who got her bedding clean and washed.

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

A/N: Thoughts? XOXO (Please ignore any typos/grammar errors)

Read future chapters on AO3

tagging: @shaonsim @zaphbeeblebrox @shiyaravi @chutkiandchotte @featheredclover @goals1024 @honeybellexox @darkchocolatestuff @thedupattaknowswhatsup @bigfatreader @lostafpanda @exosexosekai @hi-this-is-permabanned @scorpio-smiles @noor1025 @minpdnim @laad-governess @barshifan @whateverworks21 @maansiloves @samuraisamsworld @dropsofserenity @myloveforstuff @leila1 @onadaanparindey @dimaagkadahi @ijustchangedmyname @australian-desi @muttonthings @aye-masakalii @phuljari @msbhagirathi @rae-blogging (updating this list - lemme know who wants to be added/deleted)

[myfanficfrenzy]

What's this about?

Hello Tumblr!

Welcome to our space :)

This is a blog to catalogue the fanfictions that we have read, loved, analyzed, obsessed over and forgotten our RL for!

We hope to use this space to create a directory of Arnav-Khushi (Arshi) fanfictions with their links and summaries to come back to!

Yep, characters of a show that is more than ten years old, sue us!

Best,

A and I

P.S. Heavy Spoilers for FanFics Ahead. Tread with Caution!

[phuljari]

social media au! part 2

summary : khushi is a model and influencer; arnav just seems to stumble upon her profile one day— not so much by accident. (or what if khushi fell in love at first sight?)

warnings : just some hindi/hinglish, cussing in both languages. deliberate typos. online stalker!shyam. flirting with the boss

a/n : i am...trying something new (by using the word prompts) #IPK 13th Anniversary Fiesta @arshifiesta

hellohibyebye

liked by aakash_r, amanmathur, gulabo_devyani, anjaliiiii.r, mahendrarudrapratapsinghraizada, hari_prakash and 137 others

hellohibyebye haaye! ekdum vaijanthimaala laagat hai hum😍🥰

⚫kaala tika najar na lage e ke khatir⚫

view comments

aakash_r Maa group pe daalne ko bola tha, Instagram pe nahi 🤦

gulabo_devyani Manorama! Ye Hear. hum aapko diye naahi the... Toh kaisan aap pehen liye?

anjaliiiii.r Mamiji 👌😍

mahendrarudrapratapsinghraizada Thoda vakht nikal ke humare saath bhi ek-do photu khichwaye leti!

⤷hellohibyebye aap photo me bilkul handsome.... nahi laagat hai 😒

hari_prakash B//J...K>';edxnnnnddd

iMessage "Raizada Group"

Aakash Maa aapne instagram pe post kar diya 🤦

Manorama toh ka hui gawa? hainn

Mahendra Bohot sundar laagat hai tumhari amma 😊

Akash liked a message

Manorama liked a message

Devyani Humra. Haar. Dena mat bhulna. Onmanorama.

Anjali Arre Aakash, karne do yaar, umar hai inki 😌

HP Ji Naniji, hum abhi wapas rakhwa dete hain

HP hhhhhhhh?/?????

Aakash HP yaar tune firse phone bandh kiye bina pocket me rakh diya... buttdial nahi, yaha toh butt-typo hote hain😶

Anjali 😂😂🤣🤣🤣

Arnav seen

Anjali Chotte yahan bolna mana nahi hai!

Arnav: Di, I'm in a meeting right now. Ttyl

Anjali: Arre, chotte 🤦‍♀️

Manorama added NK to Raizada Group

NK: Hello bhaiyyon aur bhabhiyon

Anjali: Bhabhiyon nahi NK bhai, beheno!

NK: Haan wahi Di! You understand me so well!!

Aakash: 😂😂

Arnav left Raizada Group

NK: Oh no Nannav! Tum kyu chale gaye

Aakash: You know that he can't see the messages now right?

NK: Oh, Whoops! Wait

NK added Arnav to Raizada Group

NK: Nannav mere bhai!! How are you??

Arnav: Isn't it like 3 AM in Sydney?

NK: Nannav, naughty naughty, tumne time check kiya mere liye! So cutee! I'm at your home doofus 😂

Arnav: gtg

Arnav left Raizada Group

iMessage

Anjali: Ye har baat pe chotte group kyu leave kar dete ho?

Arnav: Di! WTF ye NK kya kar raha hai Shantivan me?

Anjali:😶‍🌫️

iMessage

Aman: Sir, we have officially signed Ms. Khushi Kumari Gupta!

Arnav: Good

Arnav: Kumari?

Aman: That's her middle name boss

Arnav: Oh, okay

iMessage

Aakash: Bhai, you signed THE KHUSHI GUPTA??

Arnav: Yes

Arnav: And she's not that popular c'mon

Aakash: Bhai do you even use instagram? 😭

Arnav: Of Course!

Arnav: Btw I have more followers than her 😒 So much for "influencer"

Aakash: That's her personal profile Bhai! You have to see @/thekhushigupta

seen

thekhushigupta

liked by divalavanya, payaliyaa, guptagarima, aakash_r, shyamjha, versace, arnavsinghraizada, saritaraman and 396,981 others

thekhushigupta @/versace thank you for sponsoring my cannes debut

view comments

saritaraman You dancing on hawa hawaii at cannes was the only thing left for me to see😭

⤷thekhushigupta all thanks to you babe <3

payaliyaa My babie sisterrrr 😍

⤷thekhushigupta jijiiiiii 😊

guptagarima Ae Khushi isko chalu kaise karte hai

versace It was our honour! 😍

aakash_r Amazing performance👌

shyamjha khushiji aapka koi boyfriend hai kya? 😭

divalavanya Bestie 💖

⤷thekhushigupta right back at ya! 💖

user1 i love the dressss

user2 just one chance khushi pls pls

user3 it was so cheap idk why ppl idolize u

⤷user1 get tf outta here

shyamjha hosh rubaa😍

nandiii khushi jiiiiii 💘

⤷thekhushigupta nanhe jiiiiii

nandiii

tagged: @/emirates @/anjaliiiii.r @/aakash_r

liked by aakash_r, anjaliiiii.r, gulabo_devyani, mahendrarudrapratapsinghraizada, hari_prakash, hellohibyebye, thekhushigupta and 806 others

nandiii So excited to meet you guys!😭

view comments

anjaliiiii.r Pooja ki thaal tayyar hai NK Bhai

⤷gulabo_devyani Aapan. Ka. hi intezaar hai Bitwa.

mahendrarudrapratapsinghraizada Return flight book karke nikle ho ki naahi?

⤷nandiii Now why would I do that Mausa Ji? 😊

thekhushigupta nanhe ji! iss baar aap mile bina nahi jaa sakte 😌

⤷nandiii Aapse hi toh milne aa rahe hai Khushi ji! It was fun to hangout with you while shooting in Portugal last year! 😊

hellohibyebye humre khaatir oo gucci peck kiye ki naahi?

⤷nandiii Maasi ji aapke liye toh chanel, gucci, versace sab haazir!

hari_prakash Ccooffee lenge?

Notifications (arnavsinghraizada)

thekhushigupta followed you

titaliya_k followed you

payaliyaa followed you

Notifications (thekhushigupta)

arnavsinghraizada followed you back

shyamjha unread 1475 messages

shyamjha commented on your post: hosh rubaa 😍

shyamjha commented on your post: khushiji aapka koi boyfriend hai kya? 😭

usershyam hume aap bohot pasand hai khushiji

iMessage

Khushi: he followed me back omgomgomg

Lavanya: ???

Khushi: ajgar

Khushi: arnav*

Lavanya: 😂😂

Lavanya: You didn't stop talking about him last night oh god

Khushi: i know ur friends were so pissed😭

Lavanya: Nooo, why would you thibk that

Lavanya: And look at you crushing so hard on ASR!

Khushi: you've met?

Lavanya: Briefly

Khushi: 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Khushi: I'm gonna slide into his dms wish me luck

Lavanya: Khushi wtf

Lavanya: Khushi come back you son of a bitch

Lavanya: Istg Khushi pls don't make a fool of yourself in front of your new boss😭

Lavanya: Khushiii??????

seen

(1) message from thekhushigupta

thekhushigupta: hey

arnavsinghraizada: Hi?

thekhushigupta: we met the other day

arnavsinghraizada: Yeah, you bumped into me, how can I forget?

thekhushigupta: omg i'm really sorry for that😩

thekhushigupta: can i take you out for an apologetic dinner?

thekhushigupta: tonight?

arnavsinghraizada: Are you...

thekhushigupta: asking you out? yes

arnavsinghraizada liked a message

TBC

<previous> | <next>

[titaliya]

Arshi Fiesta 2024 Theme : Colours/Stages of Love!

Sharing a one shot that I wrote sometime ago. I've added a few tweaks to include the word prompt reverie @arshifiesta

Click on the link to read it on wattpad

Scarlet Hues

Arnav held her, as she leaned into his chest, feeling his heartbeat, their heartbeats beat as one. He was in awe of her beauty- her hair, her eyes, her smile. She looked more beautiful now with a scarlet hue from the gulaal and with his senses being enhanced by the bhaang.

He never wanted this moment to end - them together by the pool, in each other's embrace. It felt like a dream, a daydream no less. In this moment, there was only love in his heart, no anger, no hatred, no thoughts of her betrayal. In this moment, she was just Khushi and he was the Arnav she fell in love with. It was perfect. So, he simply held her to himself.

As he took all of her in, her fingers entwined with his, the weight of her on his chest, her deep breathing, he realised she'd fallen asleep.

The reverie was breaking. The fog in his head, from the all bhaang was slowly lifting as well. The moment had to come an end. He carefully carried her sleeping form, not before admiring her one more time, and lay her down on his bed. She scrunched her face, as if she was missing his closeness, but went back to sleep.

"Chhote!" Anjali's call echoed through the door.

Arnav opened the door.

"Here you go, Lemon pickles. Take them, freshen up and come down for tea with everyone." She said and left the room to Khushi and himself.

Things were becoming clearer by the second and he did as he was instructed by his sister. A question rose in his mind.

Should I wake Khushi up? She had slept by the pool the past few days. Maybe, she could have the bed for the time being.

Right then, Khushi moved in her sleep, she looked uneasy and she murmured something which sounded a lot like 'no...stay away'

Concerned, Arnav rushed to her side and Khushi woke up with a jolt. Before Arnav could react, Khushi had assessed her surrounding and looked relieved and her body relaxed.

"Arey waah! When did I float from the poolside to the bed?" She asked, still very much under the influence.

Arnav simply smiled and handed over the lemon pickle. He was almost sober now.

"Have this... We have to go downstairs..."

At the mention of downstairs, Khushi's expression changed. She looked worried "no...no..I don't want to go downstairs..no...no..." She kept repeating, like a scared child.

Arnav was now sure, something was wrong.

"Khushi! Khushi!" He caught her hands gently calming her down. "Look at me! What happened?" He asked patiently.

"Woh! He is downstairs..." She replied, shaking her head.

"Woh kaun?"

"Woh Ghatiya Aadmi...Here... It's safe Arnav-ji, with you.... I don't want to go downstairs... please" she was almost having a panic attack.

A splicing pain, zapped through Arnav. What was she talking about?

His hand moved in its own accord. He took her palm in his and placed it on his chest. His other hand to cradle the side of her face, his thumb softly caressing her cheek.

"Hey...shh...shh..." He whispered. "Feel that? Feel my heartbeat... Our hearts beat as one, remember? Now breathe with me...deep breaths..."

He seemed to have assuaged her fear.

"We aren't going down, okay?" He assured. She nodded, taking comfort in his touch.

"Good..." He sighed internally, seeing her regain her composure. But, his relief was short lived, as his mind began to race in a thousand different directions.

What was I missing? Who was Khushi scared of? What the fuck is happening?

He looked down at her and she looked like she was studying is features and as if she'd read his mind, she began to speak.

"Woh.... He is taking advantage of my silence... After I found his truth, I broke my engagement with him....Told him to stay away from my family and I...he wouldn't...instead he misbehaved" She mumbled.

Arnav could barely make out from her words, that she was talking something about her ex-fiance.

Was he here? Was he still terrorizing her? Misbehaving with her? I have to find the guy... I'm going to kill him.... Aman can track him down..What was his his name?

Arnav's train of thought abruptly halted upon recalling her ex-fiance's name. A heaviness settled in the pit of his stomach.

No...It couldn't be...

"Sh..Shyam?" He articulated the name.

Khushi's facial expression was enough to confirm is doubt. Even in her intoxicated state , he could make out the fear and disgust on her face.

"Yes, him!" Khushi shut her eyes, in an attempt to will away those fateful memories.

She was visibly flinching to those memories before him.

A tumultuous anger built inside of him, seeing her fighting her demons.

What have I done? Fuck! What have I done? How could I've been so oblivious...The truth was there the whole time. I blamed her without knowing her side of the story and all the while, she was a victim. I put her through hell, when she was already traumatized. Oh no! No! I brought her under the same roof as him.

Arnav was falling deep in the spiral of regret, but, he couldn't let his emotions take over. She was very vulnerable. Her faculties had been compromised. He couldn't let re-live whatever torment that sick bastard had made her endure.

Blinking away his tears, he lightly pressed the pad of his finger to her chin, causing her to flutter her eyes open. They were bloodshot scarlet.

"Look at me, Khushi... A lot has happened today.... You should rest, okay?" He said tenderly.

But, Khushi wasn't fully listening. "I hated it..." She started her lips quivering.

"No..Khushi...You don't have to..." He pled, but it went to deaf ears.

"I hated when he touched me.... It was like..it was like acid on skin...scalding." She was going through it again. This was exactly what he didn't want happening. Her every word was like chipping pieces of his flesh.

"Please...no.. Khu..."

"First, On the day of Sangeet, by the poolside... Then, on the terrace, the day of the wedding..th..then...today..." Arnav cupped her face, finally gaining her attention. She was shivering, tears were flowing uncontrollably.

"Shhh....Khushi... Listen to me... He can't hurt you...not anymore... I'm not going to let that happen...hear me? Yes?" He soothed her, brushing away her tears.

"Yes..."she whimpered. Arnav exhaled audibly.

Without warning, Khushi threw her arms around him, almost knocking him of his balance. He stilled. He hesitated to hold her back, this time, scared, if he'll hurt her. But, Khushi was still shaking from the crying,so, he settled to run his fingers through the length of her hair.

"I never should have hid his truth..." Khushi whispered against his shoulder. Arnav knew what she was doing. He wasn't going to let her.

"Please, don't blame yourself...please..."Arnav implored, "If anything, It's my fault..I should have known, It's my fault. Mine." Tears clouded his vision.

She didn't respond, but only tightened her hold on him.

They stayed like that, till he felt Khushi's body succumb to the day's exhaustion.

He mindfully helped her to a comfortable position, pulled the comforter over her.

As he got up, Khushi clasped his hand. "Stay with me."

Arnav obliged got into the bed, beside her. She lulled back to sleep, immediately. He couldn't sleep, not with what he'd learnt today.

Tomorrow, after the effects of bhaang wore off, she was going to hate him, like she does his vile brother-in-law.

When that would happen, he didn't know what was in store for him. He didn't know if he would ever be able to right the wrongs he'd done to her in this lifetime.

He did know, there was an inferno blazing scarlet inside of him, and he was going to burn the Shyam Manohar Jha down.

_____________________________

[thedupattaknowswhatsup]

Omg why is this the best fandom I've ever come across 😭

Aman really was ASR's Alfred

The Darkest Knight - SS

So I was talking to @phati-sari about how my dream crossover would be IPKKND and Batman because Arnav and Bruce Wayne combined is nothing short of pure godly work. So it got me thinking… why sit and wait around for it when I can do it myself??? 

Starring ASR as Bruce Wayne 

Aman as Alfred

Buaji as Commissioner Gordon (I’M JOKING)

Shyam as The Joker (to be fair he has his Joker-esque moments and the Joker is my favourite villain which is why that’s who he is).

This is Part 1 of 3! 

“She did it again, Aman.”

Brandishing the offending newspaper in his hands, Arnav sighed heavily, throwing himself down into his armchair. He leaned his head back against the soft leather, pressing his eyes shut in an effort to make the cruel words fade from his mind.

‘Philanthropist or philanderer? ASR tries to wash away playboy image with charity work.’

Why did she hate him so much? She being Khushi Kumari Gupta. A journalist at The Post, one of his most outspoken critics, as well as Batman’s biggest fan.

He may also have had a somewhat miniscule and really quite insignificant crush on her. It was nothing he couldn’t control. Nothing that would make him act irrationally.

“Aman,” he began, clenching his jaw to ready himself for his next words. “I think it’s time the world found out who Batman really is.”

There was silence for a moment and Arnav suspected that he had likely floored Aman with his selfless offer to sacrifice his own peace and comfort for -

“With all due respect sir, you cannot reveal your secret simply so Miss Gupta will like you more.”

That son of a bitch.

“Excuse me?! You really think that my willingness to sacrifice my private life has anything to do with -”

“With the fact that Miss Gupta adores Batman and well… to put it lightly, despises you.” Aman finished gently, looking at Arnav with sympathetic eyes that made him want to scream.

“I couldn’t care less what she thinks,” Arnav sniffed haughtily, crossing his arms over his chest while he stared resolutely in the opposite direction. “Although I do suppose that she might like me a little bit more if she knew that I was the man she clung to in that alleyway when I -”

“With all due respect once again sir,” Aman interrupted, breaking him out of his trip down memory lane, well it was more of a dimly lit alley actually, where he had held Khushi Kumari Gupta in his arms, cradled to his chest, and had the full force of her adoring eyes on him. “I suspect the opposite.”

“You know Aman, I’m not getting much of a respectful vibe from your statements just now.” He growled, not knowing whether he was more irritated at Aman for bursting his bubble or for drawing him out of his memory.

It was something he had come to terms with long ago that Khushi liked him more in a costume and a mask, and when he spoke in a voice a few octaves deeper than his own. And while, to some, that would have been kinky enough in itself, it didn’t really count if she didn’t know it was him she was fawning over.

Though for a woman as smart as she was, and he had no qualms admitting that he sometimes felt a spark of pride at the inventive ways she managed to insult him, he couldn’t quite figure out how she didn’t know it was him. All that stood between him, her, and true love was a mask with fucking bat ears. Also the fact that she hated him, but that would be easily rectified once she realized he was her caped crusader.

“Can you believe it, Aman?” He sighed, leaning back in his chair again, staring at the crown moulding on the ceiling with feigned interest.

“She studied at DU and a bat mask and my shitty imitation of a chain smoker have completely fooled her.”

“To be fair sir,” Aman interjected, “the suit does give the impression of you being more muscular than…she probably thinks you are.” He finished weakly, quailing under Arnav’s angry glare.

“That’s right,” he said matter of factly, surreptitiously flexing his chest. “How would Khushi Kumari Gupta know that I have abs of steel?”

Arnav attributed it to his amazing self control that he managed to resist the urge to knock Aman out when he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “more like reinforced plastic.”

“You should thank your stars that Khushi was wrong about me Aman,” He snapped from behind clenched teeth while brandishing her slanderous article in the air. “Despite the fact that, that wonderful vixen has managed to find 5 different ways to call me an arrogant bastard in only the 3 paragraphs that I have read so far, I am an exceptionally kind man and thus, will not take offence to your rudeness.”

“Much obliged, Mr. Raizada, sir.”

Grumbling to himself, Arnav stood from his chair and began to make his way down the hallway when his treacherous butler spoke up again.

“You can’t play dress up as Batman today sir, you have a gala to attend and the press, notably your own ‘wonderful vixen,’” Aman spoke, and Arnav didn’t have to be looking at him to know he was smiling as he spoke the words, “will have a field day if you do not attend.”

“I know,” He said, running a hand through his hair as he turned back to face Aman with a glower on his face.

“Without the mask, sir.” Aman continued and Arnav glared at him when his lips twitched with the effort to resist laughing.

“I still don’t understand why she can’t look into my eyes and recognize who I am,” He muttered under his breath, his lips curving downwards into a frown.

‘Perhaps because this is not a Bollywood movie, sir,” Aman said softly, a note of sympathy in his voice, “and no matter how much you may wish it, you are not Krrish.”

He wasn’t completely sure how he resisted the urge to throw the ornate hand painted Chinese vase he kept on the mantle at Aman’s head.

“Krrish?! In his dreams, Aman, I am much better looking than some fool who wears burnt plastic on his eyes. And for fuck’s sake, can you say biohazard? And the smell!”

It was only when he saw that Aman was already walking away and he was still shouting curses at a wannabe superhero flick, that Arnav realized he had lost this round.

…Well fuck.

[blink789]

Arshi FF Suggestion Request

So, I think I have read almost all the completed arshi ffs. And I need to read new ones or I am going mad rereading the old ones. 😭😭😭😭

Please help me out with hidden gems or the ones which were in protected blogs earlier but are open now.

[featheredclover]

Fanaa

02

01-------03

The gazebo provided her with the much needed shade in the midst of summer. But she could hardly relax under the expectant gazes of Buaji and Manorama aunty.

Payal was far more subdued, holding a neutral front. The only help against two persistent women. 

“Khushi bitiya, Arnav is a wonderful man. He is…what do people say? Yes! That he is a man of substance. You know, the kind of principles nowhere to be found these days-“

“Why didn’t he marry then?” Khushi arched her brow.

“What?” Manorama was stumped, “Well, nobody dared to question him. He was twenty six when he lost Ratna to cancer. Poor thing, it hit him hard. And after that, it just didn’t cross any of our minds. But mind you, he’s a well sought after man. Women have never been able to resist him! Khushi, I won’t lie to you, he is not a charming man. Neither does he talk sweet. But he’s a man who has a quality-“

“I just don’t understand why he must marry me! I mean just look at our ages! What would we even have in common?” Khushi scoffed.

“You are both in the field of media!” Buaji piped in.

“I have a degree in journalism ,buaji. I am going to begin from the ground level. He has been living on the peak since ages! What an awful match would that be”

“Khushi”, Payal warned.

“Let it be Payal”, Manorama sighed.

“Do you think we conjured the idea of you two out of thin air? Absolutely not! It was him who suggested it!”

She felt her stomach erupt in an uncomfortable sensation, her grip tightened on the arm of the wicker chair. 

The shock on her face made buaji squirm.

“Why don’t you meet him? Ask him all these questions yourself. And then reject him, if you find him an unsuitable partner for you. As simple as that.”

She hesitated, her mind was confused between rage and fascination.

“He’s a busy man..”, her voice trailed lazily.

“Aah! No problem! I’ll set it up!”

All was right again in Manorama Malik’s world.

———

‘Bubbles’, that was the restaurant she drove to in her fufaji’s old but sturdy car.

A prominent restaurant in the upscale neighbourhood was certainly what Khushi had been expecting of Mr. Raizada. Even with such a cute name, the restaurant screamed elegance. 

The valet was polite enough with her Maruti Esteem even though it was surrounded by Bentleys. She was beyond grateful to spot the man of the evening himself, walking over to her, as she handed over her keys to the valet.

“Miss Gupta”

His voice. God, his voice.

Is it a rich people thing, she wondered. It felt like his vocal cords were crafted out of the finest silk ,dipped in a potion of perfect masculinity. She needed to keep her cool during this dinner. But Mr Raizada, was not being fair at all. By just being himself, he was at an advantage.

“I am glad you came. Shall we?”

And that’s how he guided Khushi to an exclusive corner of this already exclusive place. His arm hovered around her, guiding her past tables and waiters, but never actually touching her. He was a gentleman, she knew. But it really didn’t help the anticipation soaked evening.

——

Seated, and having ordered some sushi and another Japanese dish recommended by him, she braced herself to fire all uncomfortable queries at him.

“I know your mind is running overtime”, he smiled softly, “Mami told me how you had tons of doubt about the prospect of us. I don’t want to leave anything unsaid between us”.

He paused. Only for a moment. Only to hold her eyes captive under his gaze.

“Truth be told, I don’t want to wait. And I hope that after I answer your questions, you won’t want to as well”

She gaped at him like an idiot for a moment, before gathering her senses

“Well…I think I’ll just…Why do you want to marry?”

“Well, why not?”

Khushi could do nothing but stare. He sat there, all calm and strong. But there was something. Something in the eyes which gave away the intensity of the man.

“I saw Akash getting married”, he continues when she stays silent, “Felt like I was missing out on something”

She narrows her eyes, “You don’t seem like someone who gets married because they feel…envy”

“I am human”, he says simply.

“Why me? We are so apart in age. It doesn’t make any sense…”, she bit her lip.

It was working. There was a creeping curiosity in her to know more about this man, his motives. But what it disguised was an embarrassing lust she felt for this man.

It was there in the way, he adjusted his cufflinks, before wielding the chopsticks. It was there in the way his fingers, attractive in the most masculine way, settled around his glass of whiskey. But most of all it was there in his air of self assurance. This was a man who could rival the K2! And damn her luck to be weak in front of such a fine specimen!

“Khushi”

God damnit! There’s that tone again.

“It’s the only obstacle that came into my mind regarding us. I can’t promise that it won’t be a problem between us. But it seems like an issue we can overcome, don’t you think?”

She knew that on paper these words probably would have seemed incomplete. But the way he said it, she knew Mr Raizada was least bothered by their age difference. His eyes held thousands of promises, some even deluding her into believing she was seeing her desires mirror in his eyes.

———

A few more questions, and two glasses of chilled lemonade later, Khushi found herself walking up to the entrance, where the valet waited with her car. 

Before she could take the final few steps to reach her leather seat, Mr Raizada stopped her.

“I don’t think you addressed the elephant in the room, Miss Gupta”

Puzzled, Khushi felt her face express her confusion.

“You didn’t share your plans after graduation.”

“Well…I plan to work.”

“You won’t work in AR”

The matter of factly tone of his voice offended her more than she could have anticipated.

“Of course! I have applied in several companies, even heard back from-“

“I meant you’ll be working in Rhapsody”, he cut in smoothly.

“Rhapsody?”

“AR’s new venture. It aims to bring a new perspective on journalism. I am sure you would understand Miss Gupta, sensationalism sells. My main channel could never do that. It goes against our brand value. So we have created this magazine. A fortnightly treat for everything scandalous.”

“And you want me to work there?”

“No. I want you to lead it”, he smirked.

Shock would have been an understatement to describe the emotions running beneath her skin.

He led her, in that very distinct way of his, to her car.

“But after all, it would all depend”

She looked up at him,dazed beyond measure.

“On whether you say yes”

And then he was gone. Like a dream you chase fruitlessly in the throes of ecstasy.

————

03>>>

[pyaargulzar]

guidance (pt. 4)

summary: khushi had always dreamt of motherhood—until the possibility stared back at her with arnav’s defiant eyes. And when he, ever the voice of infuriating reason, asked the one question she hadn’t considered—"what do you actually want?"—the dream suddenly felt too real to touch.

themes: romance, mature, COMMUNICATION, FLUFF, babies, growth, long-distance (kinda), the start of yearning

word-count: 4.2k (she's chonky)

a/n: IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!~ as always, i hope you like it (・ω<)

Nani’s laughter followed her like a playful ghost for the rest of the day, the teasing a constant hum in Khushi’s ears. But beneath the embarrassment, something unfamiliar stirred—a quiet unraveling of assumptions she’d never questioned. Marriage, children, growing old—it had always been a linear path, a script written by generations before her. Yet now, faced with the reality of it, the certainty felt fragile, like sand slipping through her fingers.

How does it happen for everyone else? she wondered, mindlessly watching Paayal pull out dishes to serve dinner in with methodical precision. Do they plan it? Do they just… know? The thought was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

She’d dreamed of a family, of laughter echoing in hallways, of tiny hands clutching hers. But those dreams had been faceless, abstract. Now, when she tried to picture a child, she saw Arnav’s sharp features softened in infancy, his stubborn frown mirrored on a smaller face. The image sent a jolt through her—theirs. A life they’d create together.

“Khushi, I-I really have to tell you something.” Payal’s whisper cut through her daze, halting her hand from carelessly stirring the pot. Khushi looked at her sister, her nervous energy contagious. 

Payal’s fingers trembled around the dish she was holding. “It’s… we’re—”

"What is it?" Khushi whispered seeing Paayal’s hesitation, now abandoning the ladle in her hand entirely.

Paayal’s fingers trembled as they reached Khushi’s. "Promise you won’t scream."

"What the? I never scream—"

Paayal leaned in, her breath warm and hopeful against Khushi’s ear. The words she spoke were soft, sacred, and Khushi’s spine straightened as if struck by lightning.

For a heartbeat, the kitchen vanished. The simmering curries and vegetables, Mami’s distant scolding in the living room, the hum of the ceiling fan—all of it blurred into white noise.

Khushi’s free hand flew to her mouth. "Paayal!" Her voice cracked. Paayal’s eyes—wide, vulnerable, joyous—held hers, and then they were clinging to each other, stifled giggles shaking their shoulders. 

Khushi’s heart hammered against her ribs, her mind racing. The future unfurled before her, bright and terrifying.

Dinner was a symphony of clinking plates and familiar banter, but Arnav was quiet, exhaustion lining his shoulders. Still, Arnav noticed Khushi’s restlessness immediately. He ate every bite of her palak paneer, sending glances her way, his smiles small but deliberate—gentle and constant reassurances that settled like warmth in her chest. He was comfort embodied. Her comfort. 

She’d barely touched her food, her fingers drumming against her thigh under the table. Every few seconds, her gaze darted to Paayal, then away—like she was guarding a secret.

"You okay?" he murmured, nudging her foot with his under the table.

Khushi startled. "Hmm? Oh! Yes, just…thinking." Arnav arched a brow. Her tells were painfully obvious—the way her nose scrunched when she lied, the nervous flutter of her pulse at her throat. He would question her later, he thought. 

Before he could think of anything else, Aakash cleared his throat. Khushi’s grin split her face before he even spoke. Across the table, Payal’s blush was answer enough. 

“We’re expecting…Paayal is pregnant!” Aakash’s voice boomed, pride lighting him up from within.

At first, there was pin drop silence around the table, the news settling in, eyes widening, gasps beginning to form. And then the room erupted at the announcement. Anjali’s chair toppled backward with a clatter as she vaulted over the table, nearly knocking over the raita in her rush to crush Paayal in a hug. “My little sister is going to be a mother!” she shrieked, leaving greasy fingerprints on Payal’s shoulder from the ghee she’d been eating. Anjali clung tighter, her chest heaving. She needed this—a new light, a fresh heartbeat in the family.

“Oh my goodness!” Mami screeched, hands fluttering like panicked birds—before grabbing Akash’s cheeks in a vice grip. “You rascal! Making me a grandmother before I’ve even formed a wrinkle!” Her dramatic wail couldn't disguise the sparkle in her eyes.

Nani rose with quiet grace, her movements belying the tears glistening in the creases of her radiant smile. "My grandchild's child," she murmured, the words thick with emotion. With trembling hands, she plucked a golden gulab jamun from the dessert tray and pressed it into Payal's palm. "For my strong Paayal," she whispered, cupping Payal's face with her other hand. They both looked at each other, as if Nani’s wisdom was passing through their tear glazed eyes alone.

Arnav clapped Akash’s back, pulling him into a brief, tight hug. “Congratulations,” he said, voice rough with warmth. After taking in the moment with his family, he turned on his heel, desperate for the sanctuary of sleep.

Just then, with perfect comedic timing, Nani's gaze snapped to Arnav. "You're paying attention, aren't you Arnav?" she called, wagging a finger. "Your turn next!"

Khushi’s laughter melted into the chaos, but her hand drifted absently to her own stomach—a quiet, unspoken wonder.

Arnav and Khushi walked to their room after the family's joyful celebration of Payal and Akash's pregnancy news. Khushi practically glowed with excitement, her smile infectious.

"Are you that excited?" Arnav asked, amusement coloring his tone. He himself hadn’t given children any thought at all, ever, he realised.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, bouncing slightly. "We'll be uncle and aunty soon! Can you believe it?"

As the door clicked shut behind them, Arnav automatically reached for her wrist, pulling her into his space. Their bodies aligned, as if they were molded for each other, warmth radiating between them.

"Today, nani-ji kept asking me..." Khushi trailed off, her nose turning pink.

"Mhmm?" Arnav prompted, curiosity piqued by her sudden shyness. His finger intrinsically reached to gently flick her rudolph nose, a habit of his only Khushi evoked.

"She asked...when I'll give her grandkids," Khushi blurted, wishing the floor would swallow her whole.

To her surprise, Arnav's chest vibrated against hers as he burst into laughter—a rich, unfiltered sound that rolled through him like monsoon thunder. His arms tightened around her, pulling her so close she could feel the rumble of his amusement in her own ribs as his breath caressed her when he gasped between chuckles.

"Thanks Khushi, I needed that," he said when he finally caught his breath, gazing at her like she hung the stars.

"What's so funny?" she huffed. "I'm serious! I'm ovulating right now anyway—"

Another laugh cut her off. "Arnav!" she protested, tugging his shirt. "I'm serious!"

His eyes never leaving Khushi’s drained of amusement, the mirth dying on his lips as he searched her face. "What the—" he started, before stepping back. "Khushi..."

Her hands animatedly sketched visions in the air. "Imagine if we had a baby too! They could grow up together, go to school—"

"Khushi!" Arnav interrupted firmly. "Do you want children? Now?" 

Her brow furrowed. "We're married, isn't that the next step?"

Arnav shook his head. His left hand running down his face as his other guided Khushi to sit on the bed. He sat beside her, now keeping hold of her hands with his. "Khushi, having children is a big decision. It's not just the 'next step.'"

"I know that!" she bristled.

"Listen first," he said gently. When she opened her mouth to argue, he added, "I'll listen to everything you have to say after. Promise."

"Why do you always think you know everything?" she exploded, scooting away. "You can be wrong too!"

"No…I'm always right," he said in his usual smug tone. But he caught the hurt flashing across Khushi’s face at his words and instantly regretted it.

"Then I'll prove it by becoming the best mother!" Khushi declared, her chin jutting forward defiantly as she moved to stand. The words tasted bitter even as they left her lips - another challenge thrown down, another gauntlet picked up in their endless battle of wills. Her hands trembled slightly where they gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles whitening as she prepared to storm out.

Arnav's fingers closed around her wrist with surprising gentleness, his calloused palm warm against her skin. "Wait—just wait a second." His voice had dropped into that low register that always made her pulse stutter - not commanding, but tender.

Khushi sank back onto the mattress, her body tense as a coiled spring. "For what?" she snapped, eyes flashing like sunlight on steel. The familiar ache bloomed in her chest - that hollow feeling of being once again the student to his teacher, the child to his adult. "So you can tell me how wrong I am again?" The words came out sharper than she intended, laced with years of accumulated frustration.

She watched as Arnav dragged a hand through his already disheveled hair, the dark strands standing up in chaotic peaks. The shadows under his eyes seemed deeper in the dim light, the lines of exhaustion more pronounced. "No," he said, and something in his tone made her breath catch. Not exasperation, but...recognition. "Just...why do we always do this? Turn everything into some competition you have to win?"

"Me?" Her voice climbed an octave. "You're the one who started with your 'I'm always right' nonsense!"

Arnav opened his mouth - no doubt ready with some infuriatingly logical retort - then froze. Khushi saw the exact moment realization struck him, his dark eyes widening slightly, lips parting on an unspoken thought. "Shit." The curse fell softly between them, weighted with understanding.

Khushi's arms folded protectively across her chest, her nails digging into her own biceps. "What?" she demanded, though her voice had lost some of its fire. The defensive posture was as much to steady herself as anything - her heart hammered against her ribs.

"You're right. I did say that." He exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound like steam releasing from a pressure cooker. His fingers flexed at his sides before rising to hover near her face - close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his palms, but not quite touching. "And then you immediately—"

"Wanted to prove you wrong," Khushi finished, her own anger giving way to something softer, more vulnerable. Her arms uncrossed slightly. 

Arnav's hands finally made contact, cradling her face with a tenderness that made her throat tighten. His thumbs swept over the apple of her cheeks, wiping away tears she hadn't realized had fallen. "That happens a lot, doesn't it?" he murmured, his voice rough with recognition.

Khushi nodded, scooting closer in silent understanding.

Arnav continued, "I say something arrogant. You get that look—"

"What look?"

"That 'I'll show him' look you were wearing." He tapped her furrowed brow gently. "Then you charge ahead trying to prove something."

Khushi swatted his hand away, but her scowl softened. "Well maybe if you weren't so...so..."

"Insufferable?" he offered with a wry smile.

"I was going to say 'matter-of-fact'," she muttered. "Like you're some all-knowing—"

"And you're not?" Arnav countered. "Who decided she'd become a mother just to win an argument?"

Khushi's mouth opened, then closed. A reluctant laugh escaped. "Okay, that was...maybe not my best plan."

Arnav caught her hands, his thumbs brushing her knuckles. "The thing is...when you challenge me, I forget. Forget how much younger you are. How unfair it is to hold you to my standards."

Khushi tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." He searched for words. "If I know more about business, it's because I've been running companies since you were in school. If I seem 'always right,' it's because I've already made all the mistakes you're just now getting to make."

Khushi's eyes widened slightly. "I...never thought of it like that."

"And I never stopped to explain it," Arnav admitted. "Just lorded it over you like some—"

"Laad governor?" she supplied helpfully.

He snorted. "Exactly." His grip on her hands tightened. "But Khushi...the fact that you challenge me at all? That's what amazes me. No one else does. No one else could."

A slow smile spread across her face. "So you're saying...I'm extraordinary?"

Arnav rolled his eyes but pulled her closer. "I'm saying maybe we both need to stop keeping score. You're not behind, Khushi. You're exactly where you should be."

Khushi flopped backward onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, Arnav followed, positioning himself to lay sideways so he faced her. "No keeping score," she declared, poking his chest.

Arnav caught her finger with a chuckle, then his warm hand wrapped around her finger. "No keeping score," he agreed, pressing the captured finger to his lips.

They lay there for a moment, Khushi's rolled over to face Arnav as well, her knee absently rubbing against his. When her fidgeting finally stilled, Arnav nudged her chin up, knowing she was getting all in her head again. "What's that look for?"

She worried, her lower lip between her teeth. "Then...about the..."

"Baby talk?" he offered, earning a half-hearted swat from her free hand. Catching her hand, he laced their fingers together against the mattress. "Khushi." He waited until her eyes met his. "We've got time. Decades of it."

"You're so young, Khushi. We have our whole lives ahead of us. I want you to think about what you want - not Nani, not your family, not even me." He cupped her face. "School? A career? Travel? Whatever it is, I want you to do it all."

Tears welled in her eyes as she laid down a trail of thought she was avoiding. "Do you think I wouldn't be a good mother?"

"God, no." His voice broke. "Is that what you were thinking in that head of yours?” he paused, finally understanding Khushi more.

“If anyone will be an amazing parent out of the two of us, it's you Khushi. I can't wait to see you with my—our children someday." He kissed her forehead. "But I want that 'someday' to be when you're ready. When it's your choice, not anyone else's."

Khushi exhaled shakily, the weight of his words settling over her. She hadn't realized how much external pressure had shaped her desires until now.

"Breathe, Khushi," Arnav murmured, rubbing her back as he pulled her in for a cuddle. "There's no rush. Think about it. We'll talk whenever you're ready." 

The weight of possibilities suddenly felt dizzying—like standing at the edge of an endless ocean, toes curling into unfamiliar sand. "But..." Khushi's fingers twisted. "Where do I even begin?" The question came out smaller than she intended.

Arnav’s palm was gentle on her back, the other on her face. "Anywhere you want," he murmured, eyes lost on Khushi’s face. "We could make a list. Visit colleges next week. Or—" He paused as her eyes widened slightly. "—just try things, take it slow. Take a class you hate. Quit it. Try another." A corner of his mouth lifted. "I’ll fund every terrible idea until you find a brilliant one."

Khushi stiffened. "I don’t need your money." The words came out sharper than she meant, her spine straightening against his warm hand. "I can figure it out myself."

Arnav blinked, then huffed a quiet laugh—not mocking, but fond. "Khushi." His palm cradled her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze. "My money is your money. I’m not doing you some grand favor. I’m your husband, this is your right. This is what sharing a life means."

Her lips parted to argue, but he pressed on, voice softening. "You don’t have to be defensive. Or pay me back. Or turn this into another competition." His thumb swept over her cheekbone. "Let me be part of this with you. Not because you need me to, but because I want to."

A beat of silence. Khushi’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her. "…It’s hard," she admitted, voice small. "Letting you in like that."

"I know," he murmured, pulling her even closer. "You trying to means a lot to me."

Khushi exhaled, long and slow, her body finally yielding against his. The weight of the day—the excitement, the arguments, the revelations—settled over them both like dust after a storm.

With that, the couple called it a night, too tired to untangle anything else.

Before they knew it, Sunday slipped away.

With Arnav back at work, Khushi was left alone with her thoughts—and the daunting question he’d handed her: What do you want? She turned it over in her mind like a pebble in her palm. Likes. Strengths. Arnav’s guidance from Sunday had echoed. 

Jalebis. Arnav. Family. Children. Desserts. Cooking. Clothes. Stitching. Handwork. The list spilled endlessly, but the more she added, the heavier her chest grew. A chef? Fashion designer? Teacher? The possibilities sprawled before her, vast and paralyzing.

Just as her thoughts threatened to overwhelm her, Arnav arrived home Monday evening with news that shook her fragile focus. "I need to fly to New York tomorrow. There's a business emergency."

Her chai cup clattered against its saucer. "How long?"

"Five days." Seeing her face fall, he immediately added, "Come with me. We'll make it work."

She shook her head. The thought of being alone in some sterile hotel room, stranded with her thoughts in an unfamiliar country, made her skin prickle. "I…I need to stay home."

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t push. Instead, he pressed a sleek iPhone into her hands, expecting her to say no to his initial offer. "I’ll call you every day. Promise. This way, we can still see each other."

"I already have a phone—"

"Not one that can do video calls," he countered, already setting it up. "I want to see your face, Khushi. Really see you. Not just hear your voice." His thumb paused over the screen. "I need this."

Her protest died on her lips. There it was - that raw vulnerability he rarely showed. This wasn't about the phone. It was about tethering them across continents. "Okay," she whispered, accepting both the device and the unspoken promise: no matter how lost she felt, she wouldn't be alone.

Khushi had insisted on driving with him to the airport despite his protests. "It's a 4:00AM flight, Khushi," Arnav had argued, his thumb brushing circles on the back of her hand as their car idled at a red light. "You should sleep." But the memory of that terrible period when he'd disappeared—the hollow terror of not knowing if he was alive—had lodged like shrapnel in her chest. She needed to see him board that plane with her own eyes.

Now, standing at the security barrier, Khushi's fingers twisted in the fabric of his coat sleeve. The airport fluorescents washed out his complexion, highlighting the exhaustion in the lines around his eyes. Around them, travelers rushed by in a blur of rolling suitcases and boarding calls, but time seemed to slow as Arnav turned to face her fully.

"You'll call when you land," she said, not a question but a command. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears—too bright, too brittle.

Arnav's gaze dropped to where her knuckles had gone white against his arm. Instead of prying her loose, he covered her hand with his own, his palm warm and steady. "Before the wheels even touch down," he promised. His hand then came up to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, lingering there.

As Khushi trembled against his touch, Arnav made a mental note to have his CFO run the numbers again. He'd dismissed the idea of a company plane last quarter as an unnecessary extravagance, but feeling the barely-contained panic in her grip—the way her eyes kept darting to the security line as if expecting armed men to drag him away—the $50 million price tag suddenly seemed trivial.

She should be able to accompany me every time, he thought, watching her bite her lower lip raw. Or at least know I'm flying on a secured aircraft. He pulled her lip free by gently tapping her chin, his thumb brushing over the delicate skin beneath her eye where dark circles were forming. She hadn't slept properly since he'd mentioned the trip.

The boarding call for his flight crackled over the PA system. Khushi's breath hitched.

"Khushi." Arnav waited until her eyes met his. "I'm coming back." Simple. Certain. 

Her throat worked around all the things she wanted to say—about the conversation they hadn't finished, about the future that suddenly seemed both too close and impossibly far away. Instead, she surged forward, pressing her face into the space between his shoulder and neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his clean cologne mixed with sleep-deprived warmth. His arms came around her instantly, one hand cradling the back of her head as if memorizing the feel of her on him.

When they pulled apart too soon, his lips brushed her forehead—a silent vow—before he turned toward security. Khushi stood rooted to the spot, watching until his tall frame disappeared into the crowd, her arms wrapped around herself against the sudden chill of his absence.

Only when the final boarding call echoed through the terminal did she finally move, her feet carrying her to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the runway. Khushi pressed her palm to the terminal window, the glass cool against her skin as Arnav’s plane taxied toward the runway.

Dawn painted the aircraft in streaks of rose and gold, its massive bulk dwarfed by the endless sky. Her phone buzzed suddenly in her hand—his name flashing with a photo she’d taken just that morning, his hair still sleep-mussed, his smile lazy, half-hidden behind a coffee cup.

She swiped to answer as fast as she could, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re supposed to turn your phone off.”

Through the tiny window of his seat in the First Class seating area, Arnav watched her silhouette shrink against the terminal glass. The plane’s engines whined as the cabin pressurized, the sound muffling his words. “Two minutes left.” His fingers tightened around the armrests—not from turbulence, but from the visceral need to stride back down that jet bridge. “I love you damn it”, he whispered humorously, hoping to lighten Khushi’s mood.

“Me too,” Khushi let out a light chuckle, easing the knot in Arnav’s heart.

Then the call disconnected.

Khushi stayed rooted to the spot as his plane taxied away. She watched until the aircraft became nothing more than a speck against the dawn-streaked sky, praying for her husband’s safety.

Shantivan had never felt so cavernous. Khushi wandered through rooms that seemed to hold their breath, her footsteps echoing off marble floors that usually absorbed sound when Arnav was home. In the kitchen, the stainless steel appliances reflected her solitary figure back at her, distorted and lonely. She caught herself reaching for two mugs instead of one when making chai, her body operating on muscle memory.

When her phone rang that evening, the sudden vibration against her hand made her jump while she walked back into their room. Arnav's face filled the screen—his hair slightly mussed from travel, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. Behind him, an elegant hotel room stretched into darkness, the only light coming from the bedside lamp that cast gold highlights in his tired eyes.

He had texted her when he landed, promising to call once he was settled into the hotel.

"You're still awake," he said by way of greeting, his voice roughened by the late hour and miles between them. The corners of his eyes crinkled in that way they did when he was trying not to smile. "I told you not to wait up."

Khushi curled her legs beneath her on the chaise lounge in Arnav's room, the fabric of her loose shalwar pooling around her. "Who said I was waiting?" she teased, but the effect was ruined by the way her free hand had already risen to touch the screen, as if she could bridge the distance through the glass.

A quiet moment passed between them, the silence comfortable yet charged with everything left unsaid—about family planning, about her uncertain future, about the way the room felt too large without him in it.

Arnav broke first, his voice dropping into that private register he used only with her. "I miss your snoring."

Khushi's laugh was startled out of her, bright and unexpected. "I do not snore!"

A rough chuckle from Arnav followed.

"I need you with me Khushi." 

The raw honesty in his voice made her breath catch.

"Of course you do," she chided gently, earning a fond eye-roll from her husband.

"Now stop distracting me—we need to get this working properly." He leaned closer until his face filled her screen, his tutorial on FaceTime controls interspersed with affectionate jabs. "See this button? Swipe up for brightness."

Khushi mimicked the gesture with exaggerated care. "Like this?" He loved seeing her face crinkle and scrunch as she played with the device.

"Too much—you'll blind yourself." His laughter was a warm rumble through the speakers, momentarily bridging the distance between continents. "Gently. There."

Then with the brightness up, Khushi noticed the way his eyelids grew heavy even as he stubbornly fought sleep. "Now go to sleep," she murmured, pressing her fingertips to the screen where his lips appeared. "You'll call me tomorrow?"

"Try and stop me." His voice was already thick with impending sleep. "Text me if you need me before then—time zones be damned, we'll make it work."

The call ended with his drowsy smile still lingering on her screen. Khushi sat in the quiet, the weight of his absence settling around her shoulders. Outside, a night breeze stirred the curtains they'd chosen together just a few weeks ago.

Somewhere over the Atlantic, Arnav was likely already asleep, his phone still clutched in his hand.

She reached for his pillow when she made her way to their bed, pressing it to her face to inhale his scent. The ghost of his laughter seemed to echo in the empty space beside her as she whispered to the darkness:

"I miss your snoring too."

author's note: i've given you fluff back to back, you know what that means ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)~

i posted a zaroon drabble and realized there may be no audience 4 it LOL, regardless, i shall still simp for him too. i FINALLY have time this week, can't wait to go crazy and read everyone else's arshi fanfics i have been saving up 🤠.

had a RRROUGH week last week, busy, slightly (heavily) depressed and hormonal. i literally overthought every sentence i wrote ╥﹏╥ ; BUT since i was able to etch guidance out more (yay!) the next part will be uploaded during this week too (double update yayy!!).

[thedupattaknowswhatsup]

“He’s tall…and handsome, wealthy too.”

“And is that all that matters?”

“Well….I mean, it helps.”

Yeah Arnav, it sure does help.

“It’s so cold out here -”

“ASR once saved a dog’s life, you know,”

“What?”

“What?”

“Well yes, of course, it’s cold.” Batman scoffed, looking at her like she was a fool now, “I don’t know why you came out here without a sweater.”

“What are you waiting for?” He continued, “Go get a sweater. In fact, change out of that dress, you’ll get sick.”

Far from ravishing her as she’d hoped. Instead, she’d gotten a scolding that sounded like something she could have called Payal to hear.

“Well alright, you know best, I suppose.” He said casually & she felt like wrenching one of the weapons off his suit & using it on him. He was supposed to become protective, demand she change before she got sick. Instead, he treated her like an adult who knew her own body & could make her own decisions?

One of the best things I've read in my life. Arnav babua can be so clueless sometimes. How to have a crush on a girl and not see the hints she's giving u. My poor, stupid babies.

"What were you saying before?" she prompted, taking a step closer to his form.

"You mean before you drew my attention to how careless you are with your health?" Batman said, turning to face her again, seeming unfazed at her sudden closeness. His eyes bore down into hers and the expression of displeasure on his face made her heart thud erratically in her chest.

Oh. she was going to swoon.

Yeah, same khushi same. Rude hot men are also my kryptonite, especially when they're displeased with me. *swoons in dhak dhak & acidity*

Meanwhile, across town, lying on the floor of his Batcave, Arnav could think only one thing.

Where the fuck was he going to get a dog?

One of my favourite fics out there. This was so good. I'm still laughing at how accurate the characters are

The Darkest Knight - Part 3

WE’RE BACK!!! Thank you all for your votes and for your support while I’ve been AWOL in fic-writing! I hope this makes up for it somewhat and that both old and new readers alike find something to enjoy here! 

Find the other parts here 

Wrapping her arms tighter around herself as the chill of the night set in, Khushi took her keys from the valet and hurried into her car, hissing slightly when the cold leather came into contact with her skin.

She had really fucked up tonight, that much she was sure of. She couldn’t figure out where, but something had thrown her off and she’d been unable to recover for the remainder of the gala, barely cracking a smile when Rohit Mishra slipped on a spilt cocktail and fell into the fountain, something that would have made her shriek with laughter otherwise.

He was such an idiot. Arnav Singh Raizada - not Mishra.

Keep reading

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

IPKKND SS: Madaari

Madaari - Puppeteer. Trickster. Magician. Conjurer. A street performer who entertains the public by training (torturing) animals to dance. 

Trigger Warning: none | Word Count: 2400+

Read Chapter 1

#Chapter 2

Shyam watched the Gupta family fret over Khushi. It was Devi Maiyya’s sign, he had to do away with Khushi Gupta and her family as soon as possible. The strings were too messy, and what if her memory recovered? 

He smiled at the paralyzed Shashi Gupta - so much for playing hero for his daughter. Shashi grumbled, tears and rage filling the old eyes but Shyam could only hide a laugh as Garima had to tend to wipe the drool away from Shashi’s face. 

That man was never going to be fine, Shyam made sure of it. 

The medicines they diligently fed Shashi were his path to a slow, natural, death.

After all he was Khushi’s father, he couldn’t condemn him to a painful death. 

Khushi’s heart hurt more than her head. A sharp pain. Arnav was here.

She woke up, looking around, barely remembering the ride to her home. Shyam had assisted her to her room, tucking her neatly and explaining the situation to her family. 

She slept even before she knew it. 

“He’s not here.” Khushi stiffened as Payal sat next to her, a fresh bandaid and antiseptic bottle in her hand. 

“Woh Jiji, I was looking for-” Payal shot Khushi a look, and for the grace of her sister she did not mention the name of the man Khushi was clearly looking for.

For someone who had read Khushi since childhood, Payal Gupta found it no mystery who was the love of her darling sister’s life.

It was definitely not Khushi’s fiancé. 

How had Khushi fallen for Arnav, it was beyond her. But Payal had said nothing, fearing that speaking about Khushi’s infatuation with Arnav would flame the fire Khushi’s heart.

So she feigned ignorance. 

The rest of the family barely paid heed to Khushi anyway, they never saw her spending hours learning sugar free sweets in the kitchen. They never heard her whisper words in English to herself.  They never realized how Khushi inserted Arnav Singh Raizada in every conversation. 

“If he cared, he would’ve been here,” Payal emphasized, blowing at the injury on Khushi’s head. Khushi turned away in shame, her secret caught in the open.

She flinched at the sting of the antiseptic.

“He’s engaged.” Payal now whispered, afraid that the Goddess might punish her sister for a mistake her young heart made. 

“It’s nothing like that,” Khushi denied the unsaid accusation. Payal could only smile sadly. 

“You will be perceived as the other woman, regardless of context,” Payal advised, fixing the bandaid on Khushi's forehead. 

“It’s nothing like that,” Khushi repeated, clenching her blanket.

“Khushi, one mistake cannot fix another.” Payal sighed. Her sister truly had the worst luck. Her options were either a doomed romance or a doomed marriage. 

A tear rolled down Khushi’s cheek. She loved Arnav. It was a fact that she understood at her worst. He, his feelings, meant the world for her. She had to tell everything to Payal.

For once, Khushi did not want to hold all the burdens in her heart. God knows Khushi needed Payal’s guidance and help now more than ever. 

“Jiji” Khushi froze as she saw the reflection on the window in front of her. 

Payal didn’t have to look up to know who had been standing all along.

Arnav Singh Raizada

— — —

Lavanya watched Arnav return home, face crumpled in anguish. When she had returned from visiting Khushi earlier in the day, she thought the anguish on her face was a result of the accident. 

But with the similar pain on Arnav’s face, she realized physical pain had little strength to heartache. 

Her engagement was over before it even began. 

It’s ironic that the closer she got to Arnav in societal recognition, the farther away he grew from her. 

“Everything will be fine,” Arnav stopped short in his tracks, staring at Lavanya intertwine her hand with his, compassion on her face. 

Will everything ever be fine? His world fell beneath his feet when he learned from Akash that Khushi was involved in an accident, and from the conversation between Payal and Khushi, his worst and best dreams came true. 

He must be sadistic to feel relief that Khushi was just as miserable in her engagement as he. 

The relief was just as strong as finding her safe and healthy. 

And to be honest, he was glad her fiancé was not around when he stopped by. He could hardly be trusted these days. 

Arnav looked at his own fiancee, and guilt settled in his heart. It was never about Lavanya, was it? 

One look at Khushi in her bed, wounded, and he realized that this was the only woman he’d ever feel so intensely for, regardless of the context. So what was he promising Lavanya? 

The life his mother lived? 

“La,” Lavanya teared up as Arnav took her name far more affectionately than he had over the past few months. She savored and feared as he gently cupped her face, a flicker of tears in his own eyes as well. 

Arnav felt a lump in his throat. It was a pity to realize he had been surrounded by the best of women despite being a terrible man. 

There was a time where if asked who he could’ve spent a lifetime with, it would be Lavanya Kashyap. 

“Arnav, please don’t,” Lavanya whispered. Let Arnav be guilty enough to at least give her a few days of affection before the doom she anticipated. For once he became the ASR she knew.

The one who took her to dates to the fanciest of restaurants, booking the cozy booths where he’d hear her endless frustrations of the press and terrible fashion trends with a barely there smile. 

The one who grumbled at every gift she gave him, but had them delicately stored in some corner of his office - be it a paper weight or a Mont Blanc pen. The one who’d often stop by her place for a cup of coffee and an hour of silence as they heard Jazz. The one who’d indulge her when she’d drag to him to dance with her in her quiet apartment, the radio fading as she’d undo his tie while he pulled down the zipper of her dress. 

“I am so sorry La,” He whispered, touching his forehead to hers. 

“Fuck, they were right.” Lavanya whispered, glad to finally utter an expletive in this house. No one thought they’d last. Most viewed her as Arnav’s latest arm candy - but hell he barely had the time to date and she had believed, so strongly, that what she and Arnav shared was beyond the rumors. 

Arnav looked at her in confusion, Lavanya smiled as a tear slipped through.

“The papers. They were right. Everyone was. And the problem is, I won’t be able to justify to anyone that I wasn’t a ‘phase’” Lavanya chuckled, being able to imagine the headlines. How wouldn’t she - marketing and PR was her speciality. 

“Fuck the papers. You were a lot more. You are a lot more. It’s precisely why I can’t do this anymore.” Arnav said, wishing for once that he could’ve loved her for her sake. 

“You love me La, you always have. I don’t know why, I don’t deserve it. You deserve far more, far better. And don’t mistake this as me making a choice for you. I’m just stating facts. And the thing is the only people who were right about this is, unfortunately, my family. Di knew I was doing this to prove Nani a point. I… fuck… La you can’t be a collateral damage to my feelings.” Arnav confessed, feeling the most defeated in his life. 

He had never wanted to be like his father. He had never wanted to hurt another woman.

But just like his father he hurt the first woman who had loved him. 

“I know. I know the minute you announced our engagement that you’re going to break up with me. I know you were proving a point” Arnav was surprised, just how much had Lavanya understood? 

“The only thing I didn’t realize is who you were proving it to,” Lavanya concluded, stepping away from him. 

“La,” Arnav sighed, “I never wanted to,”

“When are you going to tell her?” Lavanya cut him off, alarming him with her question,

Arnav closed his eyes in resignation, “there’s no her,”

“ASR, I’ve always respected you for being an honest man. Don’t change that.” Lavanya’s voice held rage for the first time. 

She understood breakups, she did not understand stupidity. Just how many people was Arnav willing to sacrifice as collateral damage just because he could not understand his feelings? Hell, in no universe would Lavanya want Khushi to become the next victim. 

“La, this is not the time. I cannot take you fixing my stuff when I’ve barely apologized.” Arnav stated, and he meant it. Khushi was not important right now. 

“Oh I’ll make you apologize, don’t worry about it. After all you broke Lavanya Kashyap’s heart and more than that, your family made me wear terrible clothes ninety percent of the time,” Lavanya cracked a pained smile.

Arnav let out a hollow laugh, and held her hand. 

“No, ASR, I am serious.” Lavanya pushed his hand aside, “You can’t keep sacrificing people left right and center because you can’t figure things out. You’re an adult, act like one. And don’t think about me because I will hold you accountable for how much you’ve hurt me. But right now, you’re against time. Because as far as I know her you can chase her after she’s married but she won’t break her marriage for you. She’s a good person ASR, a bit too good.” Lavanya said, fixing her face as the rest of the family set into the dining table. 

Lavanya was right, no matter what he and Khushi were at this point, he had to be honest to both women.

But above all, he needed to have a serious chat with his family not just about his breakup but about how they’ve been grooming La all along. Yes, he enabled them, but he had to ensure that this could not happen again. 

Wasn’t Payal having similar reservations to joining the Raizada family? Mami would give her worse than what Nani handed to Lavanya. 

Granted, Akash was going to have a tougher time convincing his mother for a wedding now that Arnav was not getting married - but it was high time his younger cousin fought his own battles as well. 

— — — 

The family looked at Arnav as he sat at the first table, his face reserve. Devyani rejoiced at Arnav pulling the chair for Lavanya, passing her a smile. Manorama clapped as she watched Lavanya, in her older clothes, settle at the table. Finally, modern clothes were back at Shantivan. 

Anjali, though, closed her eyes even before Arnav opened his mouth. 

This was not going to be good. 

— — — 

This was not good, Garima concluded. This had to be Devi Maiyya’s signal that this relationship was not meant to be. First Shashi had a paralytic stroke, now Khushi was nearly saved from the jaws of death, and all these happened right around the corner of Khushi and Shyam’s engagement.

As a mother her heart trembled. She could feel her dead sister bore holes into her back every time Madhumati forced Khushi to accept Shyam as a suitor. 

Garima had promised Khushi’s happiness to her dead sister. 

Why was Khushi’s happiness not aligning to the one man who could bring stability to her life? 

“Amma,” Garima broke from her chain of thoughts and assisted Khushi to the dining table. 

“Arrey, you should’ve just called for me!” Garima admonished Khushi, fixing a warm shawl around Khushi’s shoulders. Was it just her or had Khushi grown older over the past few days?

Shyam wheeled Shashi to the dining table and sat next to Madhumati. Payal sat by Khushi’s side, nodding gently to her. What were the sisters thinking? 

“I have something to tell you all.” Khushi said.

— — —

“What? Why?” Devyani cried, she had grown to love Miss Kashyap! Yes it took her time to understand that beneath the modernity she despised, was a heart of gold she had grown to love!

“Nani, I will say this for once and only once. Lavanya deserves a lot more than what I can give. I cannot subject her to what,” maa went though. Arnav broke off, the questions over the past half hour hitting his head. Anjali was hugging Lavanya, an angry ‘I told you so’ in her eyes. 

For the first time Anjali acknowledged she failed as a sister, that she had not stepped into her mother’s shoes at all. And she made no lack in conveying so to her brother. 

Arnav accepted all the blame. 

Perhaps Nani was right that day, he was closer to his father than he thought. 

— — — 

“Jiji told me something that has just set itself in my heart.” Khushi began, her eyes misting. 

“It is so important to look at who is with us when we’re going through our worst times. And with us, actively doing things to help us. That, is an indicator of a companion far more than any fantasy.” Khushi continued, her reality becoming clear as Shyam wiped the drool from Shashi’s mouth with the gentleness of a son. 

He was unfazed when Shashi spit up the food onto Shyam’s sleeve. There was not a single trace of disgust on his handsome face. How did she never see this? 

“Shyam ji,” Shyam looked at Khushi, stunned at the beauty of her soft smile, “I am so sorry.”

“Haye re Nandkisore!” Madhumati interrupted, fearing the worst. The girl couldn’t be thinking of breaking her engagement could she? 

“I am so sorry for not seeing you,” Khushi apologized, tears flowing as her smile grew wider, “you have been there. Always. When I needed rescuing from the goons, when I needed a job, when Buaji needed help in this house, when Babuji faced a stroke. Devi Maiyya has been constantly showing me the truth but I was just unable to see it.” Khushi wiped her tears and shot him the biggest smile she had.

“So yes, to answer the question you had posed on the night you decorated my house as if the stars had been here." Khushi reminisced the day he gave her jalebis and promised her companionship. How could she have been so blind?

"Yes, I will marry you. Not for the sake of my father. Not for the sake of the society. Not for the sake of Buaji. But for myself.” 

———————————————————

A/N: Yes, I am very evil. Enjoy :D

tagging: @shaonsim @zaphbeeblebrox @shiyaravi @chutkiandchotte @featheredclover @goals1024 @honeybellexox @darkchocolatestuff @charucoal @thedupattaknowswhatsup @bigfatreader @lostafpanda @exosexosekai @hi-this-is-permabanned @scorpio-smiles @noor1025 @minpdnim @laad-governess @barshifan @whateverworks21 @maansiloves @samuraisamsworld @dropsofserenity @myloveforstuff @leila1 @onadaanparindey @urwatueat @dimaagkadahi @ijustchangedmyname @australian-desi @muttonthings @eunoiabeyours @aye-masakalii  (updating this list - lemme know who wants to be added/deleted)

[phati-sari]

Hello PS, I hope you are having a good day.

I don't really have a question but I recently started getting ipkknd reels on Instagram and some people are really into hating Anjali, it surprised me.

The kind of comments they wrote about how she was evil and a deliberate obstacle in Arnav and Khushi's life (despite being their og shipper lol) made me kinda mad lol.

They seem like they don't know how emotionally damaged she must have been after suddenly finding out about Shyam the first reveal time, they just want her to blindly believe Arnav and Khushi. (Same people praising Khushi for never doubting Arnav during the Sheetal drama 💀)

I don't know if it's misogyny or plain stupidity honestly. She wasn't doing anything out of malice, she was a victim just like Khushi but somehow there's so much vitriol directed at her :(

Was it like this when the serial was airing too? Or is it like a new trend recently?

Hello!

It's not a recent thing, it was around in 2011 as well. Anything that came between Arnav and Khushi was deeply disliked, including Anjali, Shyam, Dadi, Sheetal and Aarav. If you go to the IPKKND sections of IndiaForums, you will find hate towards Anjali from very early on.

You've made a few points that I have been making since 2012! Such as here, here, and here. Reproducing because I like it:

And honestly, if the audience didn’t know already that Shyam was guilty, if the audience hadn’t seen his behaviour first hand, it would be tempting to think that Arnav was acting under the power of his lust. If this show was from Anjali’s point of view then everyone would hate Arnav for believing Khushi without proof lol, and for separating his pregnant sister from her God-like husband. Plus and also, it’s very common in ff to show Khushi’s unwavering trust in Arnav by putting him in a potentially compromising position with a model or some other woman, and then having his wife pontificate about how she’s sure Arnav-ji loves her and would never betray her like that (sometimes she slaps the other woman ha). It’s somehow a testament to Arshi’s Great Love when Khushi does it and a weakness when Anjali does it. Pfffft.

On one hand, I think many people consume IPKKND (and any media for that matter) without thinking about it beyond the surface level. They're just there for the vibes. Which is a perfectly valid way to enjoy things, and I sometimes do it too, but it does often lead to interpretations of characters and situations without nuance.

On the other hand, I think it's very important for all of us to understand the media we are consuming. Not to the same extent as me with this blog, but we need a minimum level of media literacy and critical thinking. I'm no longer following any ITV or really any serials / dramas etc, but I do still work in publishing. And the things I see on instagram, what passes for discourse these days in 15 second reels, is appalling.

People argue over things that are established in the canon, and seem to genuinely lack the ability to critically think about the things they're reading. There are so many ~content creators~ who happily admit they don't need books to make sense, and are generally not paying attention when they're reading, and forget everything that happened the moment the book is closed. Again, this is a valid way to enjoy books -- the world is too hard to always be thinking, especially when you're trying to escape -- but somehow these are the people with the largest platforms telling you how to spend your money on your next read. Let me reiterate -- people who don't pay attention while reading are telling the masses which books to buy. So it comes down to an entirely subjective recommendation of ~vibes~ and then we end up with these TikTok sensations that are objectively not-so-read books with not-so-great themes and alarming messages that we're feeding teenagers who often lack the ability to think critically about what they're consuming.

And now that everyone has a platform to be heard, emotional interpretations are more likely to reach large audiences (and go viral) than nuanced and balanced ones. While this has always been true of the internet, not everyone was on tumblr or livejournal or india forums in the way everyone is on TikTok and instagram. On top of people not thinking critically about the media they consume, you have people just blindly agreeing with whatever sensationalist opinion or interpretation they come across, on platforms with algorithms that are biased at best and dangerous at worst.

In summary, people have always been people but now it's much easier to reach like-minded people and social media is making everything worse.

[msbhagirathi]

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

To my readers:

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

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

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

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

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

[laadgovernorandsankadevi]

OS: Here

can be read here as well: wordpress

He yawned while flipping the channels to ultimately settle on the sports channel replaying highlights from a test match earlier. Rarely the one to turn on the bedroom tv, his attention shifted to his wife sitting across from on the green recliner in front of the television.

Her head was bowed in concentration. Yards of fabric lay in her lap which was being embroidered with small golden motifs. It must be for her sister, he concluded recalling the list of presents she had made and narrated to him.

“Suno–” [listen] He called her out softly.

Her head shot up and her hands stilled with the needle in between her fingers. Her brows furrowed at the softness of his tone and the way he had beckoned her, “ji?”

“Idhar aao.” [come here] He said. The words felt like lightness in midst of the silent night and buzzing of the voices from the television.

She smiled, her face softening. “Kyun?” [why?] She breathed.

“Yahan bathe jao na?” [come sit here please?] He requested, pulling her pillow towards himself. A coy smile danced on her lips.

“par—” [but—] she resigned a sigh pointing out the fabric in her lap.

“Thodi dair ke leye?” [for just a little bit] He asked, his voice lowering and his face appearing dejected.

She looked at his pouting face, the needle in her hand, the lingering sourness of her wrist, and the fabric left to be embroidered in her lap. She looked up again. “Theek hai!” [okay] She replied.

She put the threads and needles into the tin box next to her feet and left the fabric on the recliner. She climbed into the bed, scooted over to wrap her arm around his, and placed her head on his shoulder.

“We can watch whatever you want.” He offered.

“Nahi.” [no] She said, “Yeh theek hai.” [this is okay]

He lowered the volume of the television, pulled his arm out from hers to wrap it around her. She frowned for a moment before wrapping her arms around his torso. Her head leaned on his shoulder.

She tried paying attention to the statistics shared by the newscaster but his heartbeat wouldn’t stop echoing in her ears. He kissed her head.

“Khushi?” He said.

She didn’t reply. He looked down to see her sound asleep. He smiled shaking his head. She could be quite predictable at times.

[dimaagkadahi]

I wrote a thing after an eternity. Anyway, here’s an Ode to Khushi, courtesy of one Arnav Singh Raizada

——————————

She comes to my home like the monsoon wind

With the hope and life it brings

She passes by like a thunderstorm

To wash away my sins

She comes to my home like a starry night

That brightens up the sky

But no nightly lights can compare

To the twinkle in her eye

She comes to my home like fairy bells

A symphony in art

The magic of her tinkling laugh

Heals my wretched heart

She comes to my home like a calming balm

All suffering she seeks to ease

She graces us with her smiles and warmth

And brings peace to my house of peace

She comes to my home like a trusted friend,

Who knows me, not my disguise

Hand in hand and eye to eye

We set out to conquer the skies

~ fin ~