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linka-from-captain-planet · 4 months ago

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don't have the spare brain cells to actually write for Kinktober this year, but I am a fan of brainstorming elaborate kink scenarios for niche ships, and thus here is my informal offering of

11 Dragon Age F/F Kinktober Rarepair/Crackship Concepts

*not smut writing - just a listing of kinks matched with a ship and a basic scenario

Drugs/high sex, armpit kink - Briala/Celene. Coming in hot with a concept which spake itself to me once the factoid that Celene is apparently a fan of the wyvern drug mentioned in that DA2 DLC entered my psyche and promptly combined with the scene from Portrait Of A Lady On Fire in which that pair of blonde-brunette French lesbians sensually rub drugs into each other's armpits, which rules. Blah blah freedom, flying, seizing liberation where they could find it in this narrow world, impending heterosexual marriage, lesbo-eroticism, etc. Celene is the one more into the armpit part (obviously?), perhaps this is the first time she dares to breach it, and Briala is happily along for the ride. A fun romp as they do deserve a break from the drama and angst sometimes.

All manner of titty play/worship, against a wall/standing, size difference - Neve/Harding. IDGAF what the companion romances turn out to be, their tension is simmering based on the early clips and Harding just so happens to be boob height to Neve. They may never agree on anything except that beating people up is cool, but they can find some common ground when frustration comes to a head and Harding detects Neve's lack of bra and Neve scouts out whether Harding is strong enough to hold her up (she is). If this occurs early enough in Veilguard, then I think Harding would be the bruised-up one, so Neve could look down tenderly and caress her bruised cheek in a moment of sincere connection that she would then reject because she's not open to vulnerability yet and makes it weird (this is also kink).

First time, instruction/talking through it - Bethany/Merrill. Bethany's curiosity about sex with women is frankly cute and hot and I think Merrill would be both an extremely funny and extremely sweet person to share a first time with. Perhaps they're both left out of the Deep Roads expedition and, resenting that the others treat them like kid sisters, they hang out and one thing leads to another. This would also be part of my Merrill Fucks A Relatively Average Amount But Just Doesn't Know Human Social Norms/Slang agenda. Also Merrill's accent is hot and should be recognized for this.

Mutual masturbation, comfort sex - Josephine/Minaeve. This ship lives in my head rent-free for no other reason that Haven is so cold and that little office they shared is so warm, eventually, when they let each other in a little bit. However they don't get very far before the attack on Haven. Rattled, they find each other in Skyhold and find that warmth and comfort in each other again, even if neither of them feels quite ready to touch/be touched by the other. Romantic!

Furs, lingerie/stockings, hand/finger kink - Svarah Sun-Hair/Celene. What if those Avvar furs ARE the shit and Orlesians DO want them? And perhaps there's a demonstration in order? This encounter would in the Frostbacks for a flimsy reason because it would be too cold for Celene's anemic bones. Thus Svarah has no choice but to drape her in sexy furs and perhaps take a tour of her delicates while she's at it (they are beautiful but foolhardy), and her tough calluses would honestly put so many runs in Celene's dainty stockings, but she probably wouldn't mind too much because she's very into hands and Svarah's are so big and strong.

Rough sex, hair-pulling - Briala/Athenril. The main kink here is actually Briala trying to rebound after dumping Celene and finding out what it's like to fuck with someone who's not delusionally obsessed with her. But also I think she deserves the opportunity to get just totally railed by someone who'd be willing to at least slap her ass in public. Hair-pulling is important specifically because Celene loved tenderly stroking her hair. It would be a mixed bag of a semi-transactional situationship with a scumbag kind of like fucking your dealer (this too is kink) but at any rate, she's getting some quality D AND low-cost fenced supplies for her alienage relief project, so it's a win for Briala overall.

Restraints, seduction, flip-flopping power dynamics - Isabela/Cassandra. So what if Seeker Pentaghast caught up with another/different friend of Hawke, who is less cooperative than Varric and thus needed to be cuffed, but that wouldn't stop her from turning that situation around. Isabela won't betray Hawke this time by yapping, but she can deploy her mouth in other ways to distract the Seeker. This is certainly not what Cassandra had in mind, but it's perhaps too appealing of a flimsy porn scenario like in her books for her to resist too much.

Anal play/butt plug, accidental stimulation - Celene/Morrigan. Allegedly butt plugs were touted as a treatment for anxiety/depression in days of yore, and Celene loves woo-woo nonsense, and the civil war/getting dumped is hard on her, and Morrigan probably has an entire grimoire about the magical-medicinal applications of butt stuff. The narrative of this would be that it starts played completely straight (it's not sexual, it's medical care obviously) but it gradually becomes undeniably erotic but neither of them are willing to acknowledge it because Morrigan thinks she's straight and Celene is clinging to a shred of dignity despite the crystal plug in her ass. They leave this encounter feeling weird and unsatisfied, which imo is essential for at least 1 entry in any kinktober collection.

Spanking, "good girl", praise kink - Leliana/Josephine. Leliana NEEDS to be some woman's goodest girl in the world, and in the Inquisition, there's nobody she could trust but her good friend Josie to help fulfill this need. An encounter of vulnerability for them both as this also isn't Josie's comfort zone, but something to learn and explore together. Actually pretty romantic imo.

Period sex - Merrill/Aveline. Take the most and least squeamish women on Hawke's team, shake em up, add in some vague justification like Merrill trying to help Aveline with cramps in accordance with Dalish conventional wisdom (but also Merrill has always wanted to climb that and takes the opportunity).

Sex pollen, grinding/dry humping, not quite hatesex (resentsex?) - Neve/Rana Savas. Back on this ship agenda, the most important question for any ship defined by unresolved sexual tension is, under what circumstance could they have fucked before but STILL have unresolved sexual tension? The answer is obviously that Neve led Rana into some bullshit and they got sex pollen'd. "Fine, but I'm gonna complain about it the whole time" type of encounter where they're so done with each other but they gotta grind it out regardless because the pollen demands body contact even if they keep it above clothes because it's business, not pleasure. But then a hint of caught feelings seeps in after because it's hard to sustain high resentment for a sexy woman once you've smelled her post-sex pheromones and maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if they'd actually touched each other after all. Maybe they scratched that immediate itch but now they're under each other's skin for real... but that's a problem for later.

#I wanted an even 12 but I couldn't think of anything and got bored of this so I'll add more if I think of something else #not tagging shit so read at ur own risk but imo nothing extreme in here (typical or tamer than any other kinktober listing)#also don't want to really tag ships/characters but we got #briala and celene (ofc)#neve and harding (also ofc)#merrill and bethany #josephine and minaeve #svarah and celene #briala and athenril #celene and morrigan #isabela and cassandra #leliana and josephine #merrill and aveline #neve and rana #technically this is fanfic #nsft

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nidhi-writes · 5 months ago

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CHAPTER - I | BEAST OUT OF HIM

MASTERLIST

The camp was alive with anticipation. Fires crackled, weapons were sharpened, and the warriors of Mahishmati prepared for the impending battle. The truth of Shivudu's lineage had sent shockwaves through the camp—he was Mahendra Baahubali, the true heir to the throne. For Shiya, this revelation had filled her with pride and determination. She had always known there was something special about her brother, but the weight of his destiny had taken even her by surprise.

Shiya, Sanga's daughter, was no trained warrior, but she was determined to stand with her brother and fight for the freedom of their people. She worked in silence, sharpening her arrows with precision. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions—loyalty, fear, and the burning need for justice. When she finished, she grabbed a jug and headed to the river to collect water for the journey.

The cool night air brushed against her skin, but it did little to calm her nerves. She was almost at the riverbank when something struck her from behind. Pain exploded in her head, and she crumpled to the ground, her vision darkening as she slipped into unconsciousness.

Shiya awoke in a cold, dark cell. The stone floor was damp beneath her, and a faint light filtered through a small barred window high above. She pushed herself up, wincing at the throbbing pain in her head. Panic set in as she realized her bow and arrows were gone, leaving her defenceless.

Her heart raced as she tried to piece together what had happened. She remembered the river, the sudden blow… and then nothing. Who had attacked her? Where was she?

Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor outside her cell, each step sending a jolt of fear through her. The door creaked open, and a figure stepped inside, casting a long shadow in the dim light.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, his presence commanding and intimidating. Shiya squinted, trying to make out his features. Something about the way he held himself, the way the shadows played over his face, made her breath hitch. He seemed older, much older—perhaps even older than her father—but there was a dark, unsettling magnetism about him.

“Who are you?” she demanded, forcing her voice to remain steady.

The man chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “You don’t know who I am?” he asked a hint of amusement in his voice. “How intriguing. It’s been a long time since someone didn’t recognize me.”

Shiya frowned, confusion warring with the unease she felt. Something about his voice, his presence, made her pulse quicken in a way she didn’t want to acknowledge. She pushed the feeling aside, cursing herself for such thoughts. This man was her captor, a cruel figure in the shadows.

“I don’t care who you are,” she retorted, though her voice wavered slightly. “Let me go!”

He stepped closer, and Shiya instinctively backed away until her back pressed against the cold stone wall. Now that he was closer, she could see the hard lines of his face, the dark eyes that bore into her with unsettling intensity. His presence filled the small cell, suffocating and overwhelming.

“You should care,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, almost intimate whisper. “I am Bhallaladeva, the king of Mahishmati.”

Shiya’s breath caught in her throat. He is the one she heard from Kattappa, the tyrant who had brought Mahishmati to its knees, the one who killed Amerandra Baahubali, her brother's father. But standing so close to him, she couldn’t help but notice his sheer power. His broad shoulders and the dark, almost predatory glint in his eyes made her feel small and vulnerable in a way she had never felt before.

The thought sent a flush of heat through her, and she cursed herself silently. How could she feel anything but hatred for this man? How could she let herself be affected by him in any way?

“A true King would never have to announce himself as a King. And the one who does cannot be one. You are nothing but a cruel man who has brought so much pain to my people,” she managed to say, trying to focus on her anger, on the injustice that had been done.

Bhallaladeva’s smirk deepened, but there was something else in his gaze now��something almost like curiosity. “Your people?” he echoed mockingly. “You’re just a villager. You have no claim to Mahishmati.”

Shiya’s heart pounded in her chest, but she met his gaze with all the defiance she could muster. “My brother, Shivudu, has a claim. And I will fight for him, for our people.”

Bhallaladeva’s expression darkened, the amusement vanishing from his eyes. But she noticed a flicker of something else—was it a surprise? Intrigue? “Your brother is nothing,” he hissed, leaning in closer. “He may have the blood of Baahubali, but he will fall like the rest, Like his own bloody father, by my own hands.”

Shiya’s breath quickened as he drew nearer, his presence suffocating, yet… Something in his nearness made her heart race for reasons she didn’t want to admit. She shook her head, cursing herself for feeling anything other than hatred. This was Bhallaladeva, the man who had caused so much suffering, and she couldn’t allow herself to feel anything but hatred.

“We’ll see,” she whispered, her voice filled with resolve.

Bhallaladeva studied her for a long moment, his gaze searching her face. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a darkness that sent another shiver through her. His eyes turned to her lips, her plump and round lips inviting him, and his body sure did react to the cute little bird before him. He smirked at her.

“You’re brave,” he said finally, almost as if he were admitting it begrudgingly. “But bravery won’t save you.”

With that, he turned and left, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Shiya alone once more in the darkness. She was shaken, not just by the encounter but by her reactions. How could she have let herself be affected by him, even for a moment? She clenched her fists, forcing the unwelcome feelings aside.

She had to escape, warn her brother, and fight for their people. The shadow of Bhallaladeva loomed large, but Shiya vowed that she would not let it consume her. She would stand strong for Shivudu, Sanga, and Mahishmati.

And no matter what, she would never forget the kind of man Bhallaladeva was, or so that she promised herself.

***

Bhallaladeva sat on his throne, the weight of the crown heavy on his brow. Mahishmati had stood unchallenged for years, its power unrivalled, its king unbowed. He was waiting for his son Bhadra to return with that wretch Devasena, who got away with the help of some foolish boy.

One of his most loyal guards, Nandha, entered the throne room with sadness looming in his eyes. Bowing deeply, he awaited Bhallaladeva's acknowledgement before speaking.

"My King," Nandha began, his voice laced with sadness, "We have sad news: our Prince Bhadra has been beheaded" hearing this news, Bhallaldeva stood up with anger evident in his eyes.

"What are you saying? Who did it?" He is ready to have his way with the one who caused him and his son pain." Nandha explained everything that happened, bringing Bhallaldeva to his knees, and his father beside him was also angry about the news. But before Bhallaldeva ordered anything, Nandha interrupted as he revealed, "But we have captured something invaluable that will ensure our victory without a single drop of blood being shed."

Bhallaladeva's eyebrow arched in interest. The guard's confidence was intriguing. "Show me this prize you speak of," he commanded, rising from his throne. He wanted to see for himself what Nandha believed could be so valuable.

The guard led him through the palace's winding corridors and down into the cold, damp dungeons, where the crown's most dangerous enemies were kept. As they approached a particular cell, Nandha gestured towards it, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Inside, Bhallaladeva saw a young woman, no more than twenty years old, sprawled on the floor, her long hair fanned out around her like a dark halo. Despite the cell's dirt and grime, her youth and beauty were undeniable. Her face was peaceful in unconsciousness, but there was an undeniable strength in her features that caught his attention.

A smirk curled at the corner of Bhallaladeva’s lips as he turned to Nandha. "Explain."

Nandha straightened, eager to please. "My King, this girl is the sister of Shivudu—the very man who beheaded your son Bhadra. I overheard Kattappa's revelations to this boy—Shivudu is no other than Mahendra Baahubali, the son of your greatest enemy, Amarendra Baahubali."

Bhallaladeva’s eyes darkened with fury at the mention of Shivudu’s name. The wound of losing his son Bhadra was still fresh, and now, to learn that the one who killed him was Amarendra’s spawn filled him with a burning rage.

Nandha continued, sensing his master’s anger. "This girl was with the rebels, preparing to march against you. I seized the opportunity and captured her, knowing she would be the perfect leverage. With her in our grasp, Mahendra Baahubali will surrender without a fight."

Bhallaladeva’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. "You have done well, Nandha. Very well, indeed. Guard the gates, close off the kingdom. No one enters or leaves without my command. Let them come, let them try to breach Mahishmati. They will find nothing but death and despair."

Nandha bowed deeply, his chest swelling with pride at the king’s praise. "It shall be done, my King."

As Nandha left to carry out his orders, Bhallaladeva remained, his eyes fixed on the girl in the cell. The thought of using her as a pawn in his game brought him grim satisfaction. But something more about her stirred an emotion he couldn’t quite place.

Hours passed, and word reached Bhallaladeva that the girl was beginning to wake. He wasted no time returning to the dungeons, eager to see how this little bird would react when she realized who held her captive.

As he entered the cell, he saw her stirring, her eyes fluttering open. She pushed herself up slowly, disoriented, and Bhallaladeva watched with a dark, silent amusement as she took in her surroundings.

When she finally looked up and met his gaze, he saw the confusion in her eyes, the way she didn’t immediately recognize him. That made him pause, an unfamiliar feeling creeping over him—was it... shyness? He dismissed it quickly, but not before the thought had planted in his mind.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice steady despite the fear he knew she must be feeling.

Bhallaladeva chuckled, the sound reverberating through the small cell. “You don’t know who I am?” he replied, stepping closer, towering over her. “How intriguing. It’s been a long time since someone didn’t recognize me.”

She frowned, a flicker of defiance in her gaze that only intrigued him more. He had expected terror and submission, but this girl… was different. There was strength in her that drew him in despite the circumstances. He could feel his heartbeat quicken—a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Let me go!” she demanded, though he could hear the tremor in her voice.

He leaned in, his eyes locking with hers, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “You should care who I am,” he said, a sinister edge to his tone. “I am Bhallaladeva, the king of Mahishmati.”

He watched as her eyes widened in realization, fear finally creeping into her expression. But along with that fear, there was something else—something in how she looked at him that made his chest tighten. Was it… attraction? The idea was absurd, yet he couldn’t deny how his blood heated under her gaze.

Despite himself, Bhallaladeva felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in years—an awareness of his power, not just as a ruler, but as a man. The thought made him smirk, but it also unsettled him. This girl was his prisoner, a tool to be used against his enemies. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by anything else.

But as he turned to leave, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was different from anyone he had ever encountered. She wasn’t just a pawn but a challenge he couldn’t wait to unravel.

For now, he would let her stew in her fear and uncertainty. But soon, he would return. And when he did, he would ensure that she understood exactly who held her life—and her brother's fate—in his hands.

Bhallaladeva left the cell, his mind racing with thoughts of the battle ahead and of the girl who had, for a fleeting moment, made him feel something other than the cold, unyielding rage that had defined him for so long. But whatever that feeling was, it would not deter him from his purpose.

Mahendra Baahubali would come for his sister. And when he did, Bhallaladeva would be ready.

The sun hung low in the sky as Mahendra Baahubali, Devasena, Kattappa, Avantika, and their loyal followers marched towards Mahishmati. Devasena carried the severed head of Bhadra, her face set in grim determination. The image of vengeance incarnate, she was ready to end the tyranny of Bhallaladeva once and for all. Mahendra, walking beside her, was the very image of his father, Amarendra Baahubali, the legendary warrior who had once protected these lands.

As they approached the gates of Mahishmati, Mahendra’s likeness to his father was undeniable—his strength, resolve, and gait mirrored the great Amarendra. Bhallaladeva, watching from the high walls of his palace, felt a shiver of unease. It was as if a ghost from his past was marching towards him, ready to exact retribution.

But that moment of unease quickly faded as Bhallaladeva’s lips curled into a dark, twisted smile. He had a card to play, one that would shatter the resolve of this army of rebels. He turned to his guard, his voice a low, commanding growl. “Bring the little bird here.”

A short while later, the heavy iron doors of the palace creaked open, and Shiya was dragged out, her hands and feet bound in heavy chains. Her once vibrant eyes now reflected fear and defiance as she was forced to the front of the balcony where Bhallaladeva stood. He reached out, gripping her long, dark hair, and yanked her forward, ensuring she was visible to those below.

The rebels came to an abrupt halt. Their eyes widened as they recognized Shiya, Mahendra Baahubali's sister, bound and at the mercy of their enemy. Devasena’s heart clenched, her warrior’s facade faltering momentarily as she saw the young woman in such a vulnerable state. Mahendra’s hands curled into fists, his anger seething beneath his calm exterior.

Bhallaladeva’s smirk widened as he leaned down, his face close to Shiya’s. The scent of her hair filled his senses, and he revelled in the power he held over her—and, by extension, over the army below. He nuzzled his nose against her hair, feeling the involuntary shiver that ran through her body. Despite her defiance, he could sense her fear and something else—something she was desperately trying to suppress.

Shiya cursed herself inwardly for the way her body reacted to his touch. This man was a monster, cruel and ruthless, and yet his proximity ignited a confusing mix of emotions within her. She bit her lip to stifle a gasp as his teeth grazed the delicate skin near her ear. Bhallaladeva smiled wickedly, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"Take another step," Bhallaladeva’s voice boomed across the battlefield, "and you’ll be collecting your precious Shiya’s lifeless body." He tightened his grip on her hair, pulling her head back slightly to expose her neck, a silent threat that chilled the blood of those watching.

The rebels stood frozen, their plan in tatters. Mahendra and Kattappa exchanged glances, the need for a new strategy clear. They couldn’t risk Shiya’s life, not when she was so vulnerable. This wasn’t just a battle of swords and strength—it was a battle of wills, and Bhallaladeva was forcing their hand.

Satisfied with their hesitation, Bhallaladeva pushed Shiya back towards the palace's interior. His hand found its way to her neck, his grip firm as he forced her to follow him inside. Shiya stumbled slightly, her heart pounding with fear and confusion. Her mind raced, searching for a way to escape and warn her brother, but Bhallaladeva’s hold was relentless.

As they disappeared from view, Bhallaladeva’s mind buzzed with the thrill of his victory. The look of terror in the eyes of his enemies was intoxicating, but the woman at his side—this unexpected and intriguing little bird—added a new dimension to his triumph.

Mahendra and the others watched helplessly as the palace doors closed behind them. The sight of Shiya in chains, at the mercy of Bhallaladeva, left a bitter taste in their mouths. They couldn’t afford to lose her but couldn’t rush in blindly.

"We need a new plan," Kattappa murmured, his voice heavy with the weight of their situation.

Mahendra nodded, his mind already racing through possibilities. They had come so far, but now faced a ruthless and cunning enemy. Bhallaladeva had shown them that this battle would not be won by strength alone.

But one thing was sure—Mahendra would not rest until his sister was safe and Bhallaladeva’s reign of terror was ended. No matter the cost.

***

Inside the palace, Bhallaladeva led Shiya deeper into the labyrinth of halls, his grip never loosening. Shiya’s heart pounded as she tried to steel herself against her overwhelming situation. She couldn’t afford to show weakness—not to him or the man who held her fate.

But as she walked, she could feel the weight of his gaze on her, how his presence filled the space around her, and it took everything to keep her composure.

Bhallaladeva’s mind was already working on how to use this situation to his advantage. The little bird at his side was more than just a captive—she was a weapon he intended to wield with precision. And perhaps, along the way, he would find out just how much power he held over her.

For now, though, he would savour the victory he had already claimed. The rebels were at his mercy, and with Shiya as his leverage, Mahishmati would remain unchallenged, its throne unshaken.

But in the back of his mind, the image of Mahendra Baahubali haunted him—a reminder that the ghost of Amarendra was still alive, and this war was far from over.

And as for Shiya, he couldn’t help but wonder—how long before she would break under the weight of his will? Or perhaps, just perhaps, would she be the one to challenge him in ways he had never anticipated?

Only time will tell.

***

After being pulled away from the balcony where Bhallaladeva had held her in his grip, Shiya was led back into the palace. But instead of returning to the cold, dark cell she had been thrown into earlier, she was taken to a lavish chamber. The sudden change in her surroundings caught her off guard—how could her circumstances shift so drastically in such a short period?

The chamber was adorned with luxurious silks and rich items, starkly contrasting to the grim cell she had been kept before. Before she could process the situation, an elderly woman with a kind smile entered the room.

"I am Bangara Amma," the woman introduced herself, her voice soft and soothing. "I’ve been instructed to take care of you."

Shiya narrowed her eyes, suspicion immediately rising. How could one man, Bhallaladeva, be so mercurial? One moment, he was a predator, lurking too close, making her feel things she loathed herself for, and the next, he seemed to want to treat her like some cherished possession.

Bangara Amma guided her to the bathhouse connected to the chamber. Shiya reluctantly followed, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. As she was bathed and dressed in luxurious silks that clung to her skin, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being a prisoner in golden chains. The richness of the attire did nothing to ease her discomfort; it only heightened her awareness of the strange, twisted game Bhallaladeva was playing.

Left alone in the chamber again, Shiya immediately began searching for a way out. The walls were thick, the windows high and unyielding, but as she scanned the floor, something caught her eye—a sharp nail, probably left behind by accident. She quickly grabbed it and hid it in her hair, a reassuring weapon in the face of her helplessness.

She moved to the balcony, briefly considering the idea of escaping by climbing down. But the height was dizzying, and she realized with a sinking feeling that it was impossible—there was no way to scale down with just a saree. Before she could think of another plan, footsteps echoed through the chamber. She stiffened, knowing exactly who it was.

She faced the outside, trying to ignore the growing tension in her body as Bhallaladeva’s presence loomed behind her. She could feel the heat of his body even before he spoke.

"Not planning to jump, are we?" Bhallaladeva’s voice was laced with amusement as he chuckled softly.

Shiya kept her eyes fixed on the view, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. "What if I did?" she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

Bhallaladeva laughed, a deep, resonant sound that sent a shiver down her spine. He stepped closer until she could feel his breath on her neck, the proximity suffocating and intoxicating all at once. He was so close that the warmth of his body seemed to seep into hers, a sensation that made her knees weak. To her shame, a faint moan escaped her lips, but thankfully, it was too soft for him to hear.

"Well, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to my little bird, now would we?" he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice sending a jolt through her entire being. Her cheeks flushed a deep red as she swallowed hard to maintain her composure.

"Why do you care?" Shiya managed to ask, turning her head slightly to look at him, though she regretted it immediately. His gaze was intense, almost predatory, and yet there was something else—something that made her pulse race even faster.

Bhallaladeva smirked, clearly enjoying her defiance. Despite the tremor in her voice, he could see that she was trying to stand her ground. His little bird was brave, even in her fear.

Without warning, he reached out, his hand wrapping lightly around her throat. He pulled her back against him, her body now fully pressed against his. Shiya gasped at the contact, the heat of his body radiating through the thin fabric of her saree, making her breath hitch.

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path from her throat to her lips, the touch sending a shockwave of unwanted desire through her. Shiya’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the railing, her body betraying her mind’s refusal to acknowledge his effect on her.

"I care for what is mine," Bhallaladeva whispered, his voice dark and possessive. "And my little bird, everything that ventures into my kingdom belongs to me. That includes you."

Just as he loomed above her, merely away from her lips as his breath covered her face, causing her to tremble inside, a part of her wanted his lips on her and wanted to taste him and have his way with her.

With that, he released her, stepping back as if nothing had happened. But Shiya was left trembling, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her mind was a whirl of confusion and fear, her innocence tarnished by the dangerous man who now claimed her as his own.

As Bhallaladeva left the chamber, Shiya collapsed against the balcony railing, her heart pounding. What had she become in this short span of time? A prisoner? A pawn? Or something more twisted—something she didn’t even want to think about?

But what scares her is that her body and mind are trying to betray herself and others to be with him and have what she craves. HIM

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#bhallaldevaxreader #bhalladeva x fem!oc #bhallaladeva #bhallaladeva x oc #baahubali #baahubali the conclusion #baahubali fanfic #rana daggubati #desi aesthetic #desi tumblr #desiblr #smut #fanfic #south indian fanfic #indian fanfic

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mahi-wayy · 1 month ago

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Next part of toxic please

It’s been too long .NEED.GIVEE

A/n : here you go anon. also this fic supports my headcanon that bhalla inner monologs like a tired eldest daughter who wants to set the world on fire.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 - 𝐈𝐈𝐈 | 𝑻𝑶𝑿𝑰𝑪

PREVIOUS | NEXT | MASTERLIST

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Bhalla really questioned if this was the same place he and his brother had to create such a ruckus to sneak inside. It was definitely tougher to pass these guards last time.

The thoughts don't stay long in his mind however, his eyes catching the familiar golden fabric. He grins before his feet take him after the light footsteps.

He comes to stop around the brothel part of the city, woman after woman in sight but not the one he was looking for. He makes it a point to ignore the catcalls and whistles as he walks in the area, he was almost out of the area when he was pulled inside one of the rooms.

“What the-” The curse dies on his tongue when he comes face to face with the one he was looking for. Now changed into a little more covering blouse and skirt as she rubs her wet hair.

“The older prince of Mahishmati, the upcoming king. What brings you to a place like this?”

Her voice was higher pitched than a male but it had that weight that was unique to it, it wasn't that it was deep like his own but it still made him feel the bass of things she spoke.

“You do, why didn't you reply to the proposal sent to you.”

“I wasn't in the kingdom, I don't know about any proposals.”

“And yet you recognize me in one glance.”

He smirks as a smile forms on those beautiful lips.

“Caught aren't I. I do know that you want to marry me but it's also true I wasn't in the kingdom to write a reply. Your highness.”

She speaks picking up a glass of wine sipping from it before offering it to him.

“Right, so can I ask what brings you here…”

He trails off bringing the glass up to his lips, his eyes locking on the way her's sparkled in utter fascination before they widen when he lets the glass slip and clatter on the floor.

He really got himself a interesting woman.

“...other than trying to poison me and killing people.”

He watches as she blinks before breaking out in a full smile and he is suddenly made aware that he had a heart which was literally banging against his ribcage to let out with how fast it was beating.

“You're fascinating.”

Her voice once again draws his attention to her as she steps in his personal space, her hands planting themselves on his chest before she pushed him back to have him sit down on the bed.

“You're interesting.”

He replies, his brow raising as she slips on his lap, her legs on his either side of his waist and arms looped around his shoulders. His arms work on autopilot to, circling her waist to prevent her from sliding down.

For several minutes they just stare at each other before she leans forward and he leans back.

“What?”

“As much as I find you interesting, you aren't sleek enough for me to forget that those lips of yours are covered in poison.”

“Smart.”

“I'm the only one in my family, trust me on that one.”

She hmmed slipping off his lap to sit beside him, messing with her bangles.

“The men I killed were former soldiers, who were planing on treason.” She said, looking at him.

“Why don't arrest and kill them infront of kingdom?”

“To keep the fear? tempting but I like deception more.”

Interesting. She liked deception, no wonder her reputation is totally different from-well her.

“My mother wishes to see you.” He says. The woman looks at him, there is a sparkle in them, like something inside him was being reflected in her eyes.

“Sure.”

They leave that night, it's quite a journey with both of them riding their own horses side by side. Singhpuram wasn't far from Mahishmati but it wasn't exactly near either.

Hence why it had one stop between it, a small lake used by villages nearby and travelers as a water source.

It was rather early in the morning, the sun wasn't up fully just sneaking enough to dull the darkness of the night sky and Bhalla was reminded he hadn't slept. Like all past eighteen hour-ish. Good thing his father's temper tantrum conditioned him to stay up at ungodly hours.

How else was he supposed to witness her in almost all her glory-those under clothes just to cloth around her chest and skirt barely reached the end of her thighs-testing the water with her feet before stepping it.

Was it rude to stare? very much. His mother would have his head not such a princely act but the thing was his mother would have his head for just about anything. This way to at least get a view before he dies or whatever.

He was tempted to join. He really was but Bhalla was a creature of habit and he would rather drown himself in the boiling water he gets in his baths than this poor lake.

For now he will just look at the view.

And in his defence from his earlier point of staring, he hasn't made a single protest that he can't watch. He wasn't a goodie two shoes to not take that hint, that was his brother.

She didn't look at him during her short bath, at least directly, he was very much aware of not so sneaky glances.

Oh did he mention he was at least washing his face and very much shirtless right now.

He follows her figure as she walks out of water, hair damp and clothes sticking to her figure, averting his gaze away once she reaches the tree and flaura cover.

He was an anti-social plotter not a pervert. Thank you very much.

Her outfit is better fitting for a princess, a little more loose, covering-not practical at all-and shiny. He blinks at the red fabric of the ridiculous long skirt reflecting the early sun rays, it makes him scowl because his eyes hurt.

Gotta love sleep deprivation.

He climbed the horse first, before helping her sideways, her left side pressed against his chest, her chunari wrapped around her covering torso and half of her face.

By the time they reached the palace, it was ticking to late afternoon. He swore in at least six different ways in his head as he noticed Devasena of all people came to welcome them.

His perfect poker held up as he climbed down the horse and helped the princess. The princess walked upstairs, her veil falling off her head, her now dry hair flowing behind her. A caramel contrast to blood red fabric.

He bites his tongue to suppress the scoff and the disapproval in Devasena's eyes, she has a good poker face but he has been reading people since he was like five.

“I hope you forgive my appearance princess, I was under some work when your highness came to me.” Mohini says.

Her voice is smooth, letting her words flow in a way he hasn't talked back in Singapuram.

“It's not a big hindrance. I am sure the palace has things worthy of you.” Devasena replied.

Bhalla almost whistled from the sheer tension, he was sure he would be able to cut it with a sword in thick slices.

It was all okay he guesses, boring even, when both females did not exchange more words heading inside.

That was until, she stopped in her tracks-Devasena parted ways with them ahead-turning to right and they, conditioned for years to catch it, picked up a familiar strong footsteps.

Mother.

His eyes flickered to her, who honest to god was smiling, heading in the direction of footsteps.

His life just got a hell lot interesting.

-----

tags : @mayakimayahai @warnermeadowsgirl @voidsteffy @jkdaddy01 @rambheem-is-real @allari-ammayi @mellaga-karagani @ulaganayagi @ahamasmiyodhah @ranisingnewyetagian @myvarya @toomanyfanficsbruh @harinishivaa @chaliyaaa @tumharisakhi

#bhallaladeva #bhallaladeva x oc #bhallaladeva x fem!oc #bhallaladeva x reader #bahubali the conclusion #bahubali fanfic #rana daggubati #rana daggubati fanfic #south indian fanfic

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hyewka · 4 months ago

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i started dating this guy at work recently and ive just had this big revelation that its made this fic so much easier to write

#im just a girl with her fanfics #at the end of the day #✶ ━━ rana ; answered

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thisisasafezone0 · 1 year ago

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°˖✿˚⋆ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆 ⋆˚✿˖°

CHAPTER ONE — Saved By The Bell —

third person pov

Y/N woke up with a start. Her head was throbbing as was the need to turn her alarm off. She blindly tapped at her screen and mentally complained about school. Once the 'stop' button was pressed, she got up faster than normal. A shiver went up her spine when her feet touched the floor. She hopped off her bed and instantly stumbled into her desk chair, hitting her new uniform.

'Oh, I would hate to damage that.' She rolled her eyes. She, as normal, didn't want to go to school. This time for a much different reason than usual. Her parents had forced her to move, despite the fact that she was officially a legal adult. She blamed the whole situation on her parents' partnership with Saiko Corp. To say the least, she was not exceptionally happy about it.

"Live alone, they said, you'll be fine, they said. It's as if they want me dead," she muttered, brushing off her uniform and beginning to change. She hadn't wanted to live alone, especially with rumors of a murderer running loose through her future school. But as she hoped, if she was nice enough, she wouldn't get hurt. Back at her old school, she was popular, fun, and people were oh so disappointed when she left. She couldn't help but think back to her many admirers. She never particularly liked them. She thought they were annoying douchebags who were trying to win her over by flexing their muscles.

As she zipped up her skirt, she noticed how the uniform was slightly too revealing for her taste. 'Who the hell designed these? I feel like I'm in a stereotypical romance anime.' She took note of the too-short skirt and put on tights under, just to be safe, all while mentally cursing the principal. She swiftly put on her shoes and ran downstairs after grabbing her bag. She mentally recounted all of her items about five times while eating breakfast. Quickly, Y/N grabbed her phone and keys and made her way outside.

Once her door was locked, she turned around to see a suspicious-looking man with black hair at her mailbox. He was wearing the male Akedemi uniform and looked to be a year older than her. He seemed as if he was waiting for her. This had to be the guy her mother hired to watch her. 'Great. Yet another guy following me around. Why don't you add a few more?'

Y/N walked up to him and tapped his shoulder when he didn't look up from his phone. Piercing red eyes met doe-eyed cautious ones and Y/N wished she had brought her taser, just in case. He looked her up and down and her skin started to crawl, her fingernails digging into her palm.

"You're Y/N L/N." The man's eyes narrowed and he revealed his phone screen, a screenshot of some texts, one of them a picture of the girl in question. He then stepped back and held his hand out, Y/N shaking it a moment later. "I assume you know why I'm here, so let's start with the basics. You can call me Nemesis."

The gears in Y/N's head started to turn and she let out a small, unexpected wheeze. Her hand fell from his and his eyebrows furrowed. "Oh wow, I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting that. Don't you have a last name?"

"I am afraid that would be none of your business." His eyes seemed to be staring right through hers, and she struggled to not argue that it is technically her business. She just hummed a response and began to walk past him. "You do remember I need to stay with you all the time, correct? That would also entail me walking you to and from school."

"Awww, Nemesis, you want to walk to school together? How sweet." The ravenette rolled his eyes and followed after her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"You act as if this is a choice."

"Oh come on, you chose to take this job. You're basically in love with me." The man merely huffed at her words, Y/N sticking her tongue out at him playfully. "Don't be so grumpy. I need more positive energy in my life and you are one hundred percent not helping."

The two continued walking in silence (aka Nemesis refused to answer any and all of Y/N's questions). Once the two reached the Akademi High gates, Nemesis cleared his throat to get the girl's attention. She quickly turned to him and put on a bright smile. The ravenette, of course, being trained in telling when someone is lying, immediately knew it was fake. So, as what seemed to be usual, he stared at Y/N, unimpressed.

"Listen, I know that you do not want this whatsoever. And I understand that, believe me." He took a step closer to her, his hands falling on her shoulders. "However, I was ordered to protect you. And I swear that I will. There is no need to pretend around me, just please cooperate." Y/N stared into his dull, red eyes, getting slightly flustered from their close proximity. She feared saying anything, so she mutely nodded instead.

Nemesis sighed and looked around at the students walking in. He was reminded of how important it was to be safe and respectful around others, especially his clients, so he swiftly stepped away from Y/N. The h/c-ette started to fiddle with her hair nervously and she took a step forward.

"Come on, Nemesis. I'm getting bored already."

He paused and pulled out his schedule. Well, technically their schedule, since the student council president arranged for Nemesis to never leave Y/N's side. The girl in question crossed her arms over her chest and smiled, putting on a confident facade. She couldn't have people knowing she was nervous, who knows what they would do if her guard was down.

By the lockers, most of the people stared at the two new students. About three-quarters of the highschool had been going to school together since they were children, and if not, people transferred before their first year. Second or third year transfer students were unheard of. Especially ones that looked so... different.

The two were polar opposites, Y/N grinning and waving at people while Nemesis glared and overall ignored everyone they passed. Some students were clearly afraid of the man, their fear bleeding into their eyes. Y/N noticed and lightly nudged him in the side, trying to mentally tell him to 'just be cool'. He only raised an eyebrow and sped up to approach the stairs. The girl sighed and hurried after him.

Once in the classroom, the duo was met with stares from the currently present students, making up about half of their class. The whispers about them started the second Nemesis leaned towards Y/N.

"Just don't be nervous, alright?" The girl next to him smiled and nodded, her expression changed into excitement when her eyes landed on two specific people behind him. Her grin grew tenfold as she rushed over to the duo.

Taeko Yamada and Osano Najimi. Two childhood best friends, one sweet, one salty, both missing their other friend.

The ravenette leaped out of her desk to wrap Y/N in a tight hug, her face buried in the girl's shoulder. The ginger behind them breathed out Y/N's name in disbelief as he leaned against his desk. Taeko pulled away and stared at the h/c-ette in front of her. She starts laughing, her eyes glossy.

"Oh my god, you're here, you're really here. How- I mean- why didn't you tell me, uh, us that you were coming back? I- we missed you so much." The girl with gray eyes stared into the excited ones before hers.

The orange boy's astounded voice rang through the classroom, exclaiming his friend's name. Y/N looked over Taeko's shoulder at the male, him blushing under her gaze.

Osano nudged the ravenette and stared at the other girl, unsure of what to do. In a second, his arms are wrapped around her, her face buried in his neck. He sighed contentedly after a moment, then quickly pulled away and placed his hands on her shoulders.

He smiled slightly, "So how've you been without us?"

"Well, you know. I've managed."

He laughed a bit and gestured to the girl behind him, "Taeko has been going crazy without you. I'm telling you, just the other day, she was complaining about how much she still missed you. I mean, I also missed you, but, like, not as much as her." Y/N laughed along with him as the black haired female elbowed him, her face flushing slightly.

The bell rings after they chat for a moment, reminding Taeko that she has to go to a completely different hallway, due to her being a third year. She quickly waved goodbye, embracing Y/N before running off. Y/N giggled quietly, rolling her eyes, sitting down where Taeko was. Osano paused for a second and then sat down next to her.

Behind Y/N, the forgotten ravenette started talking, startling her. "Wow, I didn't know you had friends here."

Osano looked confused as he pointed to Nemesis who took the other seat next to Y/N. "Oh, it's the other new student. Do you know him?"

Y/N smiled at him brightly, "No, I don't."

"Ok, cool." His head snapped back towards Y/N and Nemesis, "Wait what?" She waved him off as the teacher started talking.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

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myvarya · 5 months ago

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Chapter 1 of the unspoken vow is deleted.....(AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHJHHHHHHHJHHJHJJHJJJ)...I am fine, I will write another one😊

#i am totally fine 😊#totally normal about this #completely fine #prabhas #rana daggubati #kalki2898ad fanfic #bhairava kalki #kalki cinematic universe

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idontknowanametouse · 4 months ago

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One shotzinho dos escriptas porque eles merecem mais

Gal sentou-se em silêncio ao lado de Leo. Seu amigo, mesmo repetindo sempre "Kian", não era nunca alguém que o incomodava, nem antes, nem agora.

-Oi, Leo. - não há resposta. - Hoje aconteceu uma coisa engraçada. Lembra que o Anthony adorava roubar post-it da papelaria aqui perto só pra colar na cara dos outros? - silêncio. - Pois é, ele fez isso de novo, acredita? Com o Henri. Ele adorava fazer isso. - ele dá uma risada. - Ele tentou esfaquear o Anthony de vingança e sem querer jogou a faca na Rana, que acabou batendo nos dois. É a primeira vez que eu vejo a Nubi rindo em... sei lá, anos? - sem resposta. - A Erika e o Gregory também quase morreram de tanto rir. O Kish até teve que fazer aquela manobra na Erika pra ela desengasgar! - ele deixa a cabeça escorregar por sobre o ombro do amigo. - Cê lembra... da Lilian e do Gaspar? Sabe por onde os dois andam? - em seguida, riu. - Não, que bobagem, óbvio que você sabe. Eu tava pensando nos dois ultimamente... Gaspar eu sei que a Ordem pegou, mas a Lilian... sumiu! - mais uma risadinha. - Cê lembra como eles eram grudados quando pequenos? E que viviam lendo "A Divina Comédia"? Teve até uma vez que eu cortei o cabelo da Lilian e o Gaspar emputeceu comigo! Foi engraçado... pena que ela chorou... - e suspirou baixinho. - Às vezes eu... sinto saudade deles. Eu queria que eles tivessem aqui, com a gente. Seria bom... ter mais companhia. Enfim... acho que era só isso que eu queria falar, mesmo. Até depois, Leo.

Com isso, Gal foi embora.

#eu amo tanto essa família gótica vcs não tem noção #escriptas #ordem fanfic #ordem paranormal #gal #anthony scelto #henri #nubi #rana #gregory #beatrice portinari #dante #kish #leonardo gomes #erika

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ranacr0ak · 2 years ago

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I think it’s funny that the only “guy” I ever had a crush on, and my last thread of bisexuality, ended up being a trans girl lmao

#also apparently she ALSO had a crush on me in middle school #I thought she was cool bc she was super cool and confident and she thought I WAS COOL bc I was the smart goodie two shoes #sounds like a fanfic lmao #just thought it was funny and wanted to share #rana rants #not art #lesbian #pride

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kingfranpetty · 2 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Minecraft (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Herobrine/Steve (Minecraft) Characters: Steve (Minecraft), Alex (Minecraft), Herobrine (Minecraft), Rana (Minecraft) Additional Tags: Minecraft, No Dialogue, Flowers, Silly, Stalking, Creepy, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Family Fluff, Family, Family Feels, Family Dynamics, Found Family Summary:

Rana goes exploring but something is following her.

#minblr #mineblr #minecraft #rana #rana Minecraft #minecraft rana #fan fic #fanfic #fan fiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link

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pink-tonic · 8 months ago

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A New Week and a New Teacher📰

All Chapters

Warnings: Mentions of Rana being a creep to the girls (flirting with underaged female students + with the reader)

The weekend comes and go, and I'm left with my thoughts about Kana. The article that was published on Friday hasn't been updated, and everywhere I check there doesn't seem to he a mention of the nurse from other news outlets.

I hope that this was all just a misunderstanding and that he will be here today. If he really did go missing, then it's another problem that the school will have to deal with.

When I make it school this morning, I go to the nurse's office after I switch out my shoes. There is hope in my heart that Kana is there walking around, waiting for me.

I tell both of the siblings that'll be back soon, and I quickly turn around and make my way to the nurse's office.

When I make it to the white doors, I slide it to the side and I step inside.

Inside I'm met with... someone else.

It's a different nurse. It's not Kankoshi or Kana. The nurse has short black hair, and she's wearing glasses. She turns around from what she's doing and looks at me.

"What might you need?" She asks me. Her tone feels cold, unlike Kana. She pushes up her glasses and walks over to me.

"I was just wondering if Mr. Kana was here," I tell her, ready to turn around and leave.

"Oh, him. I'm not sure when he'll come back. What might be your name? Is it (Y/N) by any chance?" She asks me as she places her hands on her hips.

"Yeah, that's me. Why?" I ask her, wondering what she might want from me.

"I was told you were helping him out. I was told to tell you that the uniform needs to be returned. Orders of the headmaster when I first got here."

The uniform... I forgot about it.

"Yes, I'll return as soon as possible. Thank you for telling me," I give her a short nod, and I turn around and leave.

So Mr. Kana is really gone. I wish I could know where he went, but maybe that type of case would be too large for me to handle.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"Ugh, I can't stand that guy," Taeko blurts out as the three of us set down on the rooftop to eat our lunch. She pops open her bento box and starts eating quickly.

"Why? What happened?" Her brother asks her as he starts to eat too. His voice holds a tone of worry, wondering what made his older sister so angry.

"We have this new teacher. He's just a substitute, but he is so annoying. I don't know how they hired that guy!" Taeko complains to the both of us.

"Well, what did he do?" I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.

"What didn't he do?" She replies back, "He was flirting with all the girls, even me. And it was just so... so weird! You shouldn't be doing that to us!" Taeko continues on, hoping that we will understand.

"Why don't you tell another teacher?" Taro suggests, hoping that his idea could make her calm down.

"They would probably want evidence of what he does," Taeko says with a sad tone, playing with her food with her chopsticks.

"How about recording him?" I now suggest, hoping that could help her.

"Okay, sounds good. But how do I do that?" She asks me back.

"Oh..."

"Exactly," she quickly says back, "I can't just take my phone out and record him during the middle of class. He'll kick me out and tell me to go to the guidance counselor. I'm about to graduate, and I don't want that happening."

"I forgot that you're graduating," Taro tells her with a slight smile, "But we still have a three months or so before it happens."

"Yeah, but this stupid teacher is getting in the way. He shouldn't even be called a teacher. They should take his teaching license away," complains further about the man.

I want to help her, but I can't. I doubt that the teacher would be interested in me in the first place, and it would be hard to record him. I don't have the needed items to bug his classroom and get evidence about what he is doing to the girls.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The bell rings, and Taro meets up with me. Our classes are just down the hallway from each other, but we usually meet up on the first floor.

"I'm curious, (Y/N)," he starts off as we approach the stairs, "I wonder how the teacher looks like. I can't be the only one wondering, right?"

"Yeah, I wonder too. From what I'm hearing, it seems that Taeko is the only one complaining about him," he informs him about what I heard throughout the day from the third year girls.

"How about we go check before everyone leaves?" Taro asks, hoping that I'll agree to his suggestion.

"Let's just make it quick," I tell him as I we start going up the stairs.

We quickly make it to the third floor, and we walk over to class 3-2. We make sure we aren't seen by anyone inside of the room. We peek our heads into the classroom and take a look inside.

"That's him? Taro asks, dumbfounded by how the substitute teacher looks. I'm sure he had his own thoughts about how the teacher looked like, but nothing could have prepared him for what he really looks like.

His clothing looks normal for the most part. It's just that his half of his chest is exposed.

I couldn't lie and say I guessed right. I was just as stunned as Taro. I was expecting someone older, not a young teacher doing all this.

"Crap! He's coming over!" Taro tells me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

Taro rushes off and down the hallway. He must have thought that I ran too, but I'm still standing in place.

I see the teacher walk over to me with a smirk on his face. I can't form any words, and I only stare at his approaching figure.

He eventually makes it over to me and leans against the doorframe. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at me. I can feel uneasy as I feel his sharp, red eyes looking over my smaller figure.

"What brings you here, little thing?" He asks me with another smirk forming on his face.

"I was just... I...," I cursed myself in my head. Why was I stuttering? I knew why I was here, but at the same time I didn't want to admit it to the teacher. I felt it was too embarrassing.

"How cute. You can barely form any words," he teases me, his smirk only growing bigger from my stuttering.

I start to feel myself get flustered at his comment and at my own actions. I want to run away and go with Taro. I secretly hoped that Taro would come back up and take me away.

"I usually have the girls come over to me. You're the first boy to come here. How interesting," he continues on, knowing that I won't be able to respond to him.

He tilts his head and asks me a question, "You're not a first year, right?"

I shake my head, "No, I'm a second year."

"That's cute. A second year student has even fallen for me. How about I let you come inside, and I can teach you what the third year students are doing. Think of it as a head start," he moves aside to let me in.

"No!" I blurt out loudly. My words take him aback, and he gives me a smile in return.

He turns around, "Well, my door will always be open for you."

He closes the door, and I'm left standing alone. I blink, and I look around, hoping no one say what transpired.

I quickly leave and met up with Taro. When I make it to the first floor, I'm met with Taro and Taeko.

"There you are!" Taro calls out to me as he sees him go into the locker area, "What happened? I'm sorry I left you there by yourself."

"I'm fine. He just scolded me, that's all," I lie to Taro, not wanting to worry him about what happened.

"Okay. What happened?" Taeko asks, wondering what we got ourselves into.

"We just went to your classroom to see how the substitute looked like, and he caught us...," Taro tells his sister with a little bit of shame seeping into his words.

A look of surprise takes over Taeko's face, "Really?"

We both nod. We expect her to scold us or even laugh at us getting caught.

"Just don't do it again, but do you see what I mean?" She asks us.

"Yeah, I can't believe they let him walk in like that," I tell her.

"I know, right? He should just be fired at that point," Taeko rolls her eyes as she speaks.

"Let's go to the clubroom. Maybe writing will help you?" Taro asks her as he points to the stairs.

"Yeah. I think that would help me," she answers happily. She seemed ready to start writing agian after a week of the club being closed.

All three of us start to make our way to the stairs and into the clubroom.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"You gotta be kidding! It's raining?" Taeko complains as we stand a few feet away from the entrance.

"None of us brought an umbrella," Taro adds on, as he watches the rain to continue to pour down to the ground.

"We can't just stay here. We have to leave eventually," I tell the siblings. I would hate to get wet, but it's the only thing we can do.

Taeko lets out a sigh and nods her head. "You'll just have to run through the rain then," Taeko tells us before letting out a sigh of disappointment.

We step closer to the doors, and we put our bags on top of our heads, in hopes that our heads will be spared from the rain droplets.

Once we're all ready, we start to run. I can almost feel myself slipping, but I am able to retain my balance. The three of us keep running under the dark sky.

Taro and Taeko make it home, and I'm all alone. I only have to run a little more before I'm finally home.

I make it home without trouble, and I slam the door behind me. I take off my shoes and I drop my drenched bag to the ground.

I'm finally home.

#fanfic #yandere #yandere simulator #yansim #male reader #reader insert #x reader #mido rana

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linka-from-captain-planet · 29 days ago

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Biography of a Detective, Part 1

An elaborate (also like 3000 word) headcanon backstory for Neve for my fanfic universe purposes, featuring: family trauma, making shit up about Tevinter and Tevinter Circles, little oil lamp girl, a Rana cameo, and (later) Calpernia

This is Part 1, covering up to around age 20

Neve Gallus was born in Dock Town, Minrathous, in 9:18 Dragon. She was the first, then only, child of two dockworkers. Whether conscious of it or not, the Galluses, like most Soporoti parents, watched their child carefully for signs of magical talent practically from birth—hoped for it, too. While the Galluses weren’t the poorest in their neighborhood, they survived just below ‘comfortable enough’. While all mages are not made equal in Tevinter, being a mage at all is a leg up in their world, if nothing else a step-up in class by definition, and what parent doesn’t hope for a better future for their child?

The Gallus family was close-knit and warm in Neve’s early life. While they had little materially, they wanted for little so long as they had each other. Besides her parents, Neve was particularly close to her uncle, Omar, who tutored her and other Dock Town children in lieu of formal schooling, and who encouraged her natural curiosity (and stubbornness). When her magic started to show, he helped her foster it, but it rapidly outgrew his ability to even fathom, let alone help shape; by age 10, it was clear Neve’s talent vastly eclipsed the party tricks, scams, and teapot-heating that Dock Town’s few, weak mages could muster. She would need a proper school to meet her potential and—a quiet, jealous hope started to creep into her parents’ hearts—pull the rest of them up along with her.

Like any hopeful Soporati parent would, Neve’s mother arranged a meeting with representatives of the Minrathous Circle. If Neve could impress them, she could earn a spot in a circle preparatory academy—one for lower- to-middle-class children, of course, but a foot in the door leading out of Dock Town regardless. Naturally, Neve succeeded, wowwing the mages with her effortless casting and raw power despite her lack of mage guidance. Mother and daughter left with a school charter in-hand, and in that one afternoon, Neve achieved more upward mobility than the Gallus name had known in generations.

This didn’t go unnoticed by their relatives: aunts, uncles, cousins, so on, crawled out of the woodwork, hoping to ingratiate themselves to a child. Even her parents began to treat her differently. At first, Neve loved it. She was spirited, stubborn, sharp; she loved being treated like an adult, all of a sudden, and the expectations—only ever implied, of course, as it’d be gauche to admit that the whole family was riding on the coattails of a child still with baby teeth—motivated her to study hard, work hard, dream hard. Neve flourished in school, honing not just her spellcasting abilities but her academic talents and social graces. She was frustrated that her Uncle Omar kept treating her like a baby, bringing her storybooks about the Wardens’ griffons to read between mage tomes and encouraging her to play with the Dock Town children she’d started to turn away from. Her parents and other relatives painted a picture of a future for her—and them—that she looked up upon with clear eyes and determination.

The first wrinkle in the picture came in 9:31 Dragon, when Neve snooped on the docks late one night, curious about rumors she’d heard about Tevinters profiting off the trouble in the South. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was a shock to observe the unloading of scores of Fereldan-accented elves in chains. She’d of course often seen slaves, blended into the background of Minrathous daily life, but she’d never doubted the story that most slaves are Tevinters who willingly sold themselves. Realizing this great lie was heartbreaking, but by this time, she knew better than to question the status quo. She couldn’t help them; she could only help herself, and her renewed, big family.

At age 15, she graduated first-in-class from her academy and became eligible for admittance into the Circle system. The prestigious Minrathous Circle was far out of reach for someone of her social and economic status, of course; but attending even a cut-rate Circle elsewhere would open doors a girl from Dock Town could hardly have imagined. To her surprise, her exceptional talent trumped all else, and her parents both cried when they watched her open the same gold-trimmed letter that young Altus mages and the wealthiest Laetans in the city were receiving. The student stipend provided by the Magisterium alone was more money than her parents made in a month.

This was it—Neve had done it. With her, the family became Laetans, and the Gallus line was officially logged in the Magisterium records as one capable of producing noteworthy mages. The first benefits of this recognition came quickly; before Neve even began her semester, both parents had been offered more lucrative jobs, and the family was able to move out of Dock Town. They weren’t bathing in riches, yet—that would come when Neve completed her training, with accolades, and took her spot in the upper crust—but for the first time, the Gallus name was worth something, and the family was comfortable. Only Uncle Omar chose to stay in Dock Town, claiming he was too old for a big change; and besides, the Dock Town kids still needed a tutor. Her parents called him a jealous fool—said that most people they were leaving behind would feel the same way and it was best to focus on the future, not the past. It didn’t ring true, but Neve didn’t know who else to trust if not her parents.

The first years in the Circle were immensely difficult for Neve. Not because of the academic challenge—she may not have been effortlessly head and shoulders above the pack anymore, but her talent and work ethic kept her successful in the classroom. She wasn’t the only Laetan, but was the only one from a poor background. It was impossible to fit in with the other students, who wore their generations of privilege and power like crowns. They were future Magisters, future law-makers and leaders, future slave-masters. The next generation that would uphold the status quo. And it was abundantly clear that Neve would never truly be one of them.

Secretly? That was a relief. The more time Neve spent rubbing elbows with highbloods, the more she missed home—her first home, even if she dare not think of it as her real home, Dock Town. The more she missed it, the more she thought about the kids she left behind, the slaves on the docks. But she knew to keep it to herself. She’d been handed a golden ticket, whether by dumb luck or favor by the Maker, and she’d be stupid and selfish to squander it. Her family was counting on her to succeed, to pull even more Galluses up the ladder with her. All there was to do was tuck in, and get through it. Her natural charm and keen ability to read people won in the end; she learned how to play the game, and how to win. She learned how to fit in, at least on the outside. How to dress, talk, walk, act. How to listen, and snoop, and squirrel away information for later.

By seventeen, she felt like a proper fraud. Restless. She couldn’t slip where anyone else could see, but privately, it felt like she was losing her grip on this new world. Like all Circle apprentices, she lived in the dormitory, but was free to visit home on the weekends. Sometimes, Neve would tell her parents she was staying on-campus to study or work on a project, but she’d actually steal away to walk Dock Town’s streets, carefully avoiding her Uncle Omar’s place, just to breathe the sea air and skip stones on the old dock she’d left behind.

On one night walk, she glanced up and caught a glimpse of a girl her age in a window, reading by candlelight. At this time in her life, it was becoming increasingly difficult for Neve to ignore her being attracted to girls as well as boys. It wasn’t wrong, per se—her family had no meaningful inheritance, of course, and theirs wasn’t a prestige bloodline, yet. But it wasn’t right, either, and the flutter in her heart felt like a gut punch. But curious and stubborn (and desperate-for-something-she-couldn’t-name) Neve couldn’t quite keep away; soon enough, she found herself walking that same path every weekend, watching the girl burn candle after candle down and collect the stubs in a little pile on the windowsill. After a few weeks, the stub collection was gone, and a big lumpy grey candle sat on the sill.

She wasn’t sure what came over her, but Neve stopped at a trinket shop and bought a little oil lamp. It would be a few more walks before a night came when the girl wasn’t in her window—because she’d come downstairs, and was waiting in her doorway to talk to the girl she’d often caught looking up at her—and a few more before Neve nervously pressed the lamp into Dulci’s hands. In exchange, Neve received her first kiss.

The relationship was a secret, more for the sake of having something to themselves than for necessity. Dulci and her large family of fish-factory laborers lived in one chaotic room, and Neve spent most of her time in the twisting bed of serpents that was the Circle. The more time she spent in Dock Town again, and with Dulci, the more she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was her home and these were her people. It felt like the light in her was turned on again, even if she didn’t know what to do with it—what she could do with it.

It was a warm light while it lasted. But they were young, and their paths were set in stones too far apart. At the end of the summer, Dulci confessed to Neve that she intended to take vows. For a Dock Town girl like Dulci, the chantry was the only easy escape from a life of backbreaking labor or running for the Threads, from a future built around a husband and children. Neve’s heart was crushed, but she couldn’t not understand. She, too, had chosen the best future she could find over all else.

She decided to recommit to that future. She studied harder. Badgered her professors for more attention and more projects. Gradually, even her classmates stopped needling at her low birth, her humble family. Mage power reigns supreme in Tevinter, and nobody could deny her prowess. She specialized in elemental magic, particularly ice. The crystalline, mathematical perfection, the control of it appealed to her. It made sense, no matter how much the rest of her life didn’t.

There was no reason to delay. The day after her twentieth birthday, Neve walked through a small crowd of friends and family, gathered outside the Harrowing chamber with sparkling wine on ice, awaiting her inevitable triumph. A few of her male classmates attended with their parents, no doubt scouting her out as a potential match. She pushed down the feeling that someone—Uncle Omar—was missing. And she paid no mind to the squad of Templars lurking in the periphery—she even looked right through the nervous, green-eyed recruit clutching the ceremonial sword that would be used to strike Neve down if she failed.

The demon of Neve’s Harrowing was Desire. It took not the form of a naked, seductive woman, but a haggard, melancholic one. One better styled as Yearning. For understanding, and to be understood. For a satisfying life, one that lies in opposition to everything she’d strived for half her life. For the cold Dock Town rain, the smell of the sea, the sound of a smooth rock plinking across the water. For freedom from the weight of familial expectation and social stress and mage supremacy, urging her closer and closer…

Not like this, Neve knew. She resisted. Her mentors patted her on the back when she came to; her parents hugged her, teary-eyed, and she didn’t have the energy to push away the gaggle of relatives that clamored for her attention. She’d achieved the formal title of Mage Gallus—a fitting title to reduce her only to what mattered, if she stayed the course—but there was more work to do. A few more years of study, and she’d earn the status of Enchanter, and any prestigious job in the city would be within reach. A salary worth more than half the land in Dock Town, a House Gallus, a perfect match and perfect mage children flashed before her mind’s eye.

Neve left the Circle and never returned.

Her parents were furious. Had she any personal effects in their home, she likely would have found them thrown out on the street. They'd nearly outgrown the middle-class life Neve had secured for them, and demanded she follow through on their expectations for more. But Neve's mind was made up, and she'd realized her heart was long since broken. The truth had always been there, and she'd just refused to see it. It didn't mean that it wasn't painful, that she didn't cry herself to sleep those first nights in the cheapest hostel she could find. It just meant she finally wised up.

She wasn't sure what, exactly, she wanted from her new life. Just that she'd have never found it, going on like that.

It took a few weeks for her to gather up the courage to visit Uncle Omar. But he welcomed her back with open arms once she did. Her family may have shrunk to just one, but one who truly cared was enough.

#technically this is fanfic #afaik nothing in this is explicitly contradicted by canon but if it is it's just AU shhh #neve gallus #oil lamp girl #rana savas #dragon age #still hammering out deets for the rest up to Tevinter Nights

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nidhi-writes · 1 month ago

Text

CHAPTER - VII | HIS NIYATI

MASTERLIST

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When the wedding day arrived, my heart pounded so furiously that it felt like it might leap out of my chest. I had pestered Bhalla all week about when Baahu and Deva would arrive, and his vague responses had only added to my growing anxiety.

Yesterday, the people of Kuntala arrived—Kumar, Jayasena, and Devasena's sister-in-law. Seeing them again had been both a comfort and a dagger. Especially Kumar, whose piercing gaze practically shot daggers at Bhalla when they crossed paths.

Last night, I had the opportunity to meet with them. It was a brief but heartfelt conversation with the people who treated me as their own. They deserved to know at least some of what I had planned. But I had to tread cautiously.

Kumar, as expected, was not having it. "Are you being blackmailed? Forced into this?" he demanded, his voice low but firm, his eyes full of fire.

"If you are, just say the word. We'll take you away from here. Mahishmati be damned."

I shook my head. "You can't. Even if you did, Mahishmati is bigger and stronger. Any rebellion against it would only bring suffering to Kuntala. The people would struggle, and the kingdom would fall. I can't let that happen."

Jayasena, who had remained quiet, finally spoke, his voice heavy with concern. "Why are you doing this, my dear? You're not someone who values material possessions over the well-being of people. We're genuinely worried for you."

Kumar nodded in agreement, his expression a mix of frustration and worry.

"This is my fate," I replied softly. "But it's not without purpose. Baahu and Deva will be here for the wedding, and I see that as a small victory."

"Victory?" Kumar asked, his brow furrowing. "How is this a win?"

"Bhalla accepted my choice to have them attend. That alone is a crack in his resolve. If I can make this happen, then in time, we can bring Baahu and Deva back to Mahishmati for good. Not just as guests, but to see them rightfully crowned."

Kumar's expression shifted, the slightest hint of a smile forming. "You have a sharp strategy," he said approvingly.

Devasena's sister-in-law, however, was still uneasy. "Even if you're confident in this plan, Bhalla can be dangerous. What if something happens to you?"

I gave her a sad smile. "I'll take care of it. Whatever comes, I'll handle it. But you must promise me that this stays between us. Baahu and Deva cannot know about any of this."

The group exchanged glances before nodding in agreement.

***

As I sat there, my body washed clean with milk and rose petals, my hair massaged with fragrant oils, and my skin wrapped in the finest silk, I closed my eyes and let the moment's weight settle over me. The scent of roses and sandalwood filled the air, and my hair was adorned with jewels and flowers. I never imagined my wedding would be like this—away from the people I love, marrying someone I never thought I would, a man I once saw as a villain.

My thoughts were interrupted by a soft touch on my shoulder. I gasped and opened my eyes, only to see a reflection in the mirror that I hadn't expected.

Devasena.

Her face radiated grace, love, and strength. Her sharp, queenly eyes softened with warmth as she smiled. I turned around in disbelief and threw myself into her arms, hugging her tightly.

"Oh, Deva, I missed you so much," I whispered, my voice breaking as tears filled my eyes.

She chuckled softly, her own eyes glistening as she cupped my cheeks. Her touch was gentle and comforting, yet it carried the weight of all she had endured.

I stepped back to take her in, noticing her simple attire. She wore an old, plain sari without jewels, yet her pregnancy glow outshone any ornament. She looked content, but this only made my heart ache more.

I turned and removed the other helpers and people inside the chamber, as I only needed my Deva with me.

"Why are you still wearing this old sari? Let me give you something new—something beautiful," I pleaded.

Devasena shook her head and smiled. "This is my life now. I live as my husband does and endure as he endures."

Her words struck a deep chord, and my lips trembled as fresh tears spilt. Baahu and Deva deserved so much more than this.

"Now," she said gently, brushing my tears away, "today is not about me. Let's focus on you."

Deva moved quickly, selecting the finest jewels from the piles before us. She then adorned me piece by piece, lining my eyes with kajal and dabbing behind my ear to ward off the evil eye.

I kept waiting for her to ask questions, to scold me or express anger. But she didn't. She just smiled—a serene, knowing smile.

"Aren't you mad at me?" I whispered hesitantly, lowering my eyes, ashamed to meet hers.

Her hands were warm and steady as they lifted my chin, forcing me to look into her eyes. They glistened with tears but were full of understanding.

"Mad? At you?" she whispered. "Are you crazy?"

She placed the mang tikka delicately on my forehead and continued, "How could I be mad at my sister for marrying and becoming queen?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "But you're the one who's supposed to be queen, and Baahu should be king—not Bhalla."

Devasena chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Baahubali is king wherever he is, and my life is happiest. And you, my dear, are destined for much more than you realize. I could never be mad at you."

Her words enveloped me like a warm embrace, but then her gaze turned sharp, piercing into my soul. "All I want to know is this: are you happy? Are you doing this willingly?"

Her question hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. I felt the weight of her concern and love and knew I couldn't hide the truth from her.

I couldn't spill everything out—not here, not now. Maybe later. I just nodded, looking as shy and demure as possible. But I could see it in Deva's eyes—she didn't fully buy it. Still, she said nothing, simply focusing on helping me get ready.

My breath hitched when she finished and led me out of the chamber. Standing just outside was a figure with such a commanding, strong presence that I felt a familiar pull in my chest.

Baahubali.

Even in his worn, simple cotton dhoti, with a shawl draped loosely over his broad shoulders, he looked like the king he was born to be. His smile widened as our eyes met.

"Baahu," I whispered, running to him and wrapping my arms around his strong frame. He hugged me back, his hand gently patting my back and his lips pressing a warm kiss to my forehead. His affection was like that of a father to his daughter—a pure love made my heart ache.

"Well," he said, his voice rich with warmth, "we couldn't let you get married without giving you a gift."

He pulled out a small bundle wrapped in a cotton cloth and carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a delicate gold chain, more like a bracelet.

"I found this in the market," he said, his smile softening, "and I hope it will be your good luck charm."

He gently tied it around my wrist. Tears spilt from my eyes as I looked at the two of them—Baahu and Deva—two people so pure, so kind, who deserved so much more than the life they had been given.

As we made our way to the wedding arena, I held on to Deva and Baahu's hands like lifelines. The moment's weight pressed on my chest, making breathing hard. My heart pounded so fiercely that I feared I might drop dead then and there. Part of me even wished I would.

Bhalla stood at the centre of the grand stage, his piercing eyes fixed on us as we approached. I could feel the tension in the air—his anger towards Baahu and Deva was palpable. But then, his gaze shifted to me, and something changed.

In his eyes, I saw more than just anger. A softness, a longing, a quiet vulnerability made my steps falter. He looked at me as though I were the only person in the world, as though I were his salvation.

And just like that, it happened.

The rituals unfolded in a blur, the priests' chants echoing through the arena. Bhalla tied the three sacred knots around my neck, sealing our union as flower petals rained from above. The trumpets of elephants sounded in celebration, and the crowd's cheers filled the air.

A simple girl from the 21st century had just married one of the most infamous villains she had once watched on her screen.

And in that moment, as the world celebrated, I couldn't tell if I was stepping into a dream or a nightmare.

***

My body shuddered with nervousness as they finished preparing me for my wedding night with the King of Mahishmati. My stomach churned, and I felt like I might vomit.

I clung to Deva's hand as she prepared to leave me alone in the elaborately decorated chamber. I had settled stiffly on the bed, but my heart raced, my palms clammy.

"Please, don't leave me," I whimpered, holding her hand tightly, desperate for her comfort.

A soft chuckle left her lips as she knelt beside me, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.

"What's the matter? It's your wedding night. It's supposed to be the start of your union with your husband," she teased gently, though her eyes softened with concern.

I swallowed hard but was not scared, but it's just that I had never gone that far with any guy as much as I could see them as tough and acted like I had done it; I never did.

I tried to hold her back and tried to find an excuse. "But I want to spend more time with you," I said quickly. "You'll be leaving tomorrow, and..."

She chuckled again. "You'll be fine, my dear. Trust yourself," she said before rising to her feet and leaving me there.

I sighed, stood up, and walked to the balcony to get some air. The cool night breeze kissed my skin as I looked at the glowing moon.

The reality of it all hit me like a wave. I couldn't believe it—I was married. Married to Bhalla, the King of Mahishmati, a man I once thought of as nothing more than a character on a screen.

My fingers tightened around the balcony railing as I tried to calm my breathing. The thought of what lay ahead made my heart race even faster.

I closed my eyes, letting the cool breeze wash over me. Its gentle touch was a comfort against the storm of nerves swirling inside me. I exhaled slowly, willing myself to relax and find some calm in the chaos of my thoughts.

But then, I felt it—a soft hand clasping the exposed skin of my waist. My breath hitched as I was gently pulled back against a broad chest, the heat of his body seeping into mine. The scent, the presence, the familiarity—I knew exactly who it was.

Bhalla.

His breath fanned my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. My heart raced as his lips brushed against my temple, trailing downward to bite the curve of my ear softly. A gasp escaped my lips, my body betraying my attempt to remain composed.

His hand slid upward, lightly clasping my neck. His touch was firm but not harsh, his fingers tracing a path from the column of my throat to the edge of my jaw. He tilted my face slightly, his thumb brushing over my lips. I felt the pressure as he parted them gently, his intent clear in how his touch lingered.

I couldn't breathe or think—my body frozen between uncertainty and the undeniable pull of his presence.

"Finally, after all these years, you had no idea how much I waited for this day," he murmured, his voice thick with longing. His lips travelled down my neck, pressing fervent kisses against my skin. Each touch left a trail of fire, and I couldn't help but shudder under his intensity.

I scrunched my eyes shut, his words echoing in my mind. He waited for me? For years?

The thought barely had time to form before his lips found mine, silencing any questions I might have had. His kiss was fervent and consuming, and I felt the weight of his emotions pour into me. My fingers instinctively tangled into his thick hair, holding onto him like he might disappear if I let go.

The world around us seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of our breaths and the heat of his touch.

I wasn't sure how we moved from the balcony to the bed, but every thought dissolved under the haze of his touch. My body, my senses—everything could only remember the way his lips travelled over me, from my own to my neck, then lower, leaving a trail of fire and possession.

The chamber filled with the melody of my moans and whimpers, a symphony that seemed to match the rhythm of his hands and mouth. His lips lingered, branding me with marks of his claim as though he wanted the world to know I belonged to him.

His hands skillfully worked at removing my saree, the fabric slipping away and leaving me half-exposed. A shiver ran through me as the cool night air contrasted with the heat in his eyes, which never left mine. His gaze showed a raw intensity, making me bite my lip in nervousness and anticipation.

God, I shouldn't be doing this, my mind screamed. But then a louder thought overpowered it, reminding me—he is my husband.

Slowly, his fingers worked to untie the knots of my blouse behind my back, the fabric loosening and slipping away, leaving me bare. Instinctively, I crossed my arms over my chest, shielding myself from his gaze.

But, ever so gentle in that moment, Bhalla smiled—a smile that softened the edges of his otherwise commanding demeanour. He leaned in and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a firm yet tender embrace. His lips brushed against my ear as he whispered sweet nothings, each word a balm to my racing heart.

"It's me," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "You don't have to be shy or scared. I am yours as much as you are mine."

With those words, his hands found mine, gently guiding them away from their defensive position. My heart thundered as our chests met, the warmth of his skin melding with mine. At that moment, I felt a strange mix of vulnerability and comfort, as though his presence alone could shield me from the world.

His lips moved almost reverently as though he were following an invisible map etched across my skin. Each kiss sent waves of sensation through me, his touch igniting parts of me I didn't know could feel so alive.

When his lips reached my chest, I gasped, the stars behind my closed eyes bursting into constellations. His mouth left a trail of warmth, his every movement deliberate and worshipful. My fingers found their way into his thick curls, clutching them like my anchor to reality. I tugged gently, eliciting a low hum from him that sent shivers through me.

As his lips travelled lower, tracing their way to my navel, I could do nothing but whimper, my breaths shallow and uneven. My heart pounded wildly as I dared to lower my gaze, only to meet his piercing eyes—intense, full of unspoken promises and burning desire. The way he looked at me, even in this most vulnerable moment, made me feel seen in a way that was almost too much to bear. Yet, I couldn't look away.

I was utterly his, and he made sure I knew it.

His hands traced my knees and slowly higher as they caressed my thighs, making me force my thighs together; just as his hands claimed higher and my moan raised, a loud calling of Bhalla's name made both of us gasp.

Bhalla's hands froze mid-motion, and I felt the air in the room shift. For a moment, neither of us moved, our chests heaving as we tried to process the interruption.

His brows furrowed, irritation flashing across his face, but his expression softened as he turned back to me. Though his frustration was evident, I could see the unspoken apology in his eyes.

"Well, just my luck," I muttered under my breath, unable to hide the mix of disappointment and embarrassment that tinged my voice.

Bhalla sighed deeply, brushing a hand through his thick curls before leaning forward to kiss my forehead. "Stay here," he murmured.

Alone in the chamber, I clutched the sheets tightly around me, my mind racing and my body still humming with the remnants of his touch.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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