#rrr bheem fic

[milla984]

Just another rainy day

Summary: Reader comes home after a few days away on a work trip and smut ensues. Sort of.

Pairing: modern AU Bheem x fem!reader (but Bheem still has a nose ring)

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: kissing, unprotected penetrative sex, mentions of food

Word Count: 2.8k

You close the front door of the apartment as the noise of the downpour fills the silence with the repetitive tapping of raindrops bouncing off the rooftop. You take off your shoes and socks to leave them at the entrance, besides Bheem’s boots, then you let your bag flop on the floor and toss the keys into the glass bowl at the entrance, producing a loud clink - which should be his cue to stop doing whatever he’s doing to give you a proper welcome back. There’s no answer, though, except for a muffled sound of water splashing in the shower and a delicious aroma coming from the kitchen. 

You hang your coat and scuttle like a mouse across the room to take a peek inside the pot cooling on the stove, lifting the lid to confirm Bheem prepared one of your favorite dishes for dinner. Food is part of his love language, and even if it’s not five-star restaurant quality the simple fact he made it is enough for you to declare all the other biryanis don’t hold a candle to his version.

It takes a moment for you to notice the crumpled mass of fabric lying on the armrest of the couch, in the living room; upon a closer look you realize it’s the nehru jacket you bought him as a birthday present, and a few feet away there’s also one of his shirts. The trail of clothes he left behind points to the hallway and you patiently pick each item up, so you could put them into the hamper. You know he doesn’t expect you to be his maid, since he’s capable of doing his share of household chores, he’s just… Bheem, getting so excited over the little things in life (such as stripping off to have a well-deserved shower at the end of a long day) that you can’t really get mad at him. 

Once you’re done with the laundry basket you walk towards the bathroom and you raise a hand to push the door fully open - that’s when he turns off the faucet, causing you to gawk, speechless: he may be as innocent and impetuous as a child, on occasion, yet you can’t help but stare at the grown man who’s in front of you.

All of him, since his imposing physique takes up half the space in the cabin.

Thanks to the semi-transparent panels you can see he’s tilting his head back to shake the excess water out of his hair and let it roll on his shoulders, down along his spine to his rock-solid ass and thighs. You lick your chops at the thought of the veins climbing up his knee, towards his hip; he could probably choke you with those legs and the fire burning in your core indicates you find the idea inviting. He’s a sweetheart by nature, nevertheless experience taught you his inherent impetuosity leads to interesting results during your most intimate one-on-one sessions.

You jump out of your trousers and toss them behind you, and with only your kurti on you rush to the kitchen to spoon some virgin coconut oil out of the jar and put it in a small bowl. When you go back he’s standing in front of the bed, a towel wrapped around his waist and his muscular calves exposed. 

“Bujji…?” you call him in a soft tone.

“Ammu!!!” he roars, his eyes shining brighter than the stars in the sky. He’s so strong he lifts you up while he greets you. “Are you tired?” he adds, enthusiastically, and doesn’t really give you a chance to reply because he can’t contain the excitement of holding you in his arms. “Hungry?! How was—”

“Kiss me and I’ll tell you all about it,” you cut him off, in the hope that he won’t be tempted to ask more questions. Right now you’re in desperate need of his nose ring pressed against your upper lip, and he obliges.

Kissing Bheem feels like being blessed by a ray of sunshine, warming you up on a cold winter’s morning; his soul is pure as dew glistening on jasmine petals, his embrace is where you wish you could spend eternity.

“I am hungry,” you whisper, “and tired, but I’ve got duties to fulfill.”

He smiles again and nods, kissing you one last time before he sits on the covers; you kneel behind him, using your palms to warm up a moderate amount of coconut until it melts completely. You’ve been dreaming of this for days: you start with a gentle massage on the nape and move up to the crown to distribute the oil on the scalp, then switch to a firmer pressure to play with large chunks of his hair to help him relax.

Calling it ‘a duty’ is a private joke, as far as possible from an old-style, strict interpretation of gender roles within a couple. In fact, you’d never pass up a chance to put your hands all over him and worship every inch of his naked body and it’s definitely a display of desire he’s very fond of.

When you bring your attention to his outer ears, rolling the flexible helices between your thumb and index finger, his head falls backwards and his curls tickle your cheek. You peck him gently on the temple and scoop a larger quantity of coconut oil out of the bowl, repeating the warming process; his hands sneakily reach the hem of your kurti to try and lift it - to no avail, since the back portion of the garment is trapped under your weight.

“Do you want me to stop?” you purr, and his laugh makes something stir in your belly.

No, he doesn’t want you to stop - what comes next is his favorite part.

You start working his shoulders and the pads of your fingers glide on his skin, dampened with the tiny droplets glistening in the dark fuzz he’s never bothered to get rid of; he groans in pleasure and you too enjoy the sensation of his firm muscles being manipulated, the light friction making them even warmer to the touch. They’re so defined you could use his entire back as a living anatomy chart, so you torture your lips in a feeble attempt to suppress the temptation to cover him in bitemarks. After reaching his waist you usually go for a knuckling technique along both sides of his spine in an upward direction, but tonight you have other plans.

Bheem lets out a surprised, short gasp as you tug at one border of the towel around his hips to peel it open. You put your palms flat on his thighs and you slowly stroke back and forth, your chest pressed against his body and the tip of your tongue following a linear path from the base of his neck to the sensitive spot behind his ear. The scent of coconut on his olive complexion drives you insane and you dig your fingers into his flesh; he winces in discomfort, so you release him and use the bed of your nails to graze over the veins you’d be able to find even with your eyes closed. 

He grows impatient soon and grabs your right wrist, dragging it towards his groin; when you’re so close you can perceive his heat you trap his earlobe between your teeth and he whimpers, like a puppy who’s gotten his tail bitten by one of his siblings. You ghost the back of your hands against his ribcage, your chin resting on the crevice created by his collarbone. You look down and the mere sight of his hardening cock hits you so good that the pounding between your legs turns into a wet patch.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper. 

He raises his arm to caress your head and the tattoo on his bicep contracts, sending jolts of pure lust to your brain. “Four days, chinna!”

“Too long,” you declare, resolute, “I want you. I need you...”

In a flash you’re sprawled on the covers, Bheem’s big hands nearly tearing the kurti off of you; he’s propping up on one knee, towering over you to pin your forearms down and rub himself over your panties. You bite your lips again: he’s allowed to do some teasing in return, and you know he likes the idea that spending less than a week apart turned you into a writhing mess, hungry for him. 

His breathing quickly becomes ragged from the fast-paced, rocking motion but the spark in his eyes is absolutely feral. It doesn’t take long before the tension mounting in your lower stomach screams for release, overwhelmed by the bobbing and pressing of his tip on the same, soaked spot. You’re a single step away from begging him to put you out of your misery when he pulls your underwear down. And almost at the same time, the whole room plunges into darkness. 

You both react with different degrees of annoyance - Bheem’s annyoed and somewhat resigned grumble covered by your vocal “No, damn it! Not now!!”

“Welcome home,” he sighs and he plops on his side to avoid crushing you by mistake.

You bang your head on the mattress and whine, as a demonstration the pet name he uses for you sometimes fits perfectly. “I hate when this happens! Hate it!”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Bheem grunts. He stands up and in the blue-ish hue filtering through the windows he walks to the dresser, clearly searching for a pair of briefs in the dedicated drawer.

“Where are you going?” you ask him, perplexed.

He gives you a little frown from over his shoulder. “Uhm, someone should check the—”

“Breaker box?! Like you always do and nothing changes and the power comes back on its own?” you point out, since you have no intention of letting a stupid blackout disrupt your evening.

“It’s just…” he stammers, then he stops mid sentence with the drawer half-open in front of him. 

Finally he turns around, and you see for yourself why he’s got such a mortified expression on his face. The random honking of scooters driving into traffic, in the distance, seem to add a poignant effect to the moment, but you shrug and pat on the sheets.

“I really missed you. Please… stay?”

He rapidly considers the pros and cons of the two scenarios he’s facing and eventually he shrugs as well. Someone else would be in charge of checking the breaker box, for once, so you wait for him to lie at your side; you put your head on his chest, your heart contemplating the power he has over your life. 

There’s so much of him to cuddle that his presence alone makes you feel safe: the worst part about work trips for you is not the consciousness you won’t be returning to the comfort and protection of your apartment for the night - it’s being forced to spend that time alone, in a stranger place without his warmth and considerable weight close to you.

The rain trickles down on the glass and the reflection of the street lamps light paints stripes on his forehead and nose. His body resembles the image of a bear in your mind, so it’s no wonder you often call him that (even though it’s such a special endearment you never use it in public to respect the sacred privacy of your bedroom). Your hand wanders briefly on his sternum, twisting and twirling the fuzziness growing on his pecs; he’s very much used to you doing this whenever you chill out on the couch, watching a movie, and he’s well aware of how good his beard feels when he goes down on you. 

You hug him tighter and envelop his right thigh with yours: the feeling of his coarse hair over your sensitive clit is painfully exquisite, the friction from the grinding movement muffled by the slick texture of your arousal. You’re literally humping the tattoo matching the one on his left bicep and the back of your fingers start brushing over his nipple; Bheem shudders and tenses up, so you wait for another possible indication of uneasiness. He clenches his fist around the messy locks at the base of your neck to offer you his left nipple, instead, and your subtle oral fixation is more than glad to please him. 

You plant butterfly kisses to trace the outline of the areola, alternating between sucking the stiff, tiny bud and blowing warm air on it; you never rush through this stage of foreplay, and he’s a terrible enabler who’s learned to use your weakness to his full advantage. When your fingers leave his chest to trail down to his navel, cupping his reinvigorated erection, he gently yanks your head back to claim your mouth for himself. 

This is without doubt what you’ve been craving all along: your moans roll on his tongue like sweet mango juice, your hearts beat in unison as echoes of an otherworldly dimension of pure intimacy. He then shifts to his side, so that your bodies align perfectly in front of each other; his palm dances on your skin, his skilled fingers unclasping your bra to help you remove it. He’s done waiting and you nod, in a silent confirmation you share the same urgency.

Bheem slips his left forearm under your right knee, lifting your leg up against his chest. He’s got you pinned in an awkward position - your calf resting on his bicep and your forehead touching the bridge of his nose - but it’s the best way to have you ready for him, and you hold your breath as you feel his bulbous tip nudging at your entrance. He’s not fully in control of this new setting, so he hesitates; he slips out as a result and you squirm in pain for a fraction of a second, which prompts him to loosen his grip and kiss your shoulder to make sure you’re alright. 

You smile and let your free hand reach for your folds. This time he holds his breath and you gently guide his head on the right spot, waiting for him to push deeper: a loud moan escapes your throat when he finally does, drunk on the blissful feeling of having him inside of you and the knowledge you belong together. He tries swaying his hips in a rising movement, still figuring out the optimal dynamics, and your lips come closer.

“Bheema…” you mutter, clawing at his muscles.

He growls, a low rumble that reverberates in your ears, and the realization seems to dawn on him: he starts thrusting with his thigh and his pounding gets faster, more confident, a wild exercise in untamed passion. He’d let go of you in an instant if you asked him to, nevertheless you cherish your status as a captive of his powerful hold. Your grip on his skin turns into a primal instinct to further assert your possession rights over him once he sets a frantic pace.

The slapping noise distracts you before you can feel his fingertips kneading your butt cheek: he buries his face in your hair and his last, ferine growl sends him over the edge and he twitches multiple times inside of you while your own climax builds up in response. You throw your head back while a second and third slap land on your ass, your legs shaking and not a single sound from your lips during one of the most intense and satisfying experiences of your life.

You collapse on his chest, panting and laughing with what little breath you’ve got left. There’s a sudden, electric buzz in the air and the lights come back on, as you predicted.

“Are you okay?” he inquires, a tangible trace of confusion in his voice. “Did I do something wrong?”

You snuggle against him to play with the earring adorning his lobe. “I can’t even think straight... you were amazing.”

Bheem blushes and tries to maintain eye contact, but has to look away in the end; he just fucked you into a mind-blowing orgasm, still he’s too embarrassed to talk about it. No amount of words could ever describe or quantify the love you have for him.

“Come on, get up! We must feed you, Pallavi...!” he bellows, back to his usual cheerful self - his smile a beautiful reminder of how falling for him was, indeed, inevitable.

“I know, I’m starving,” you agree, and you retrieve your panties and kurti to swiftly put them on as you get off the bed, “but I’m going to take a long shower, first.”

He nearly throws you off balance when he grabs you by your waist, making you sit on his lap while he stares at you like he’s got a shocking secret to confess.

“I’m so happy you’re back,” he giggles, “three nights without you is definitely where I draw the line.”

@ronaldofandom, @gifseafins, @ladydarkey, @bheemaxrama, @astrafangs, @ronnoxandlumoss, @rambheemlove, @chaidrivenwhore, @ssabriel, @burningsheepcrown, @busy-bii

»»»— read pinned post for taglist info —«««

[lobsterfork]

“You think I’m beautiful?” Raju pressed, coming closer. 

here's a quick doodle from The Tiger And The Snake by RamBheem (Daphne_Bassett) that does not even begin to do this incredible fic justice.

[normal-thoughts-official]

I wonder if Raju's cheeks started hurting after he met Akhtar. This bitch doesn't smile once before he meets Bheem and then he spent the entire Dosti montage (and most of Naatu Naatu, and most of their interactions in between) grinning from ear to ear. Genuinely. His face is always held so tightly and so carefully blank (despite the rage in his eyes) and then Akhtar comes along and he's laughing and grinning all the time. I'm afraid he's gonna pull a muscle or something

[riverroan]

okay so i’ve recently discovered that the actors of bheem and ram are actually really close friends in real life and have been for a while so…… did they intentionally cast them both for that specifically or?????

[enigma-the-mysterious]

This is hands down one of the most devastating RRR fics I have read. Absolutely amazing. 100/10. Go give the author some love

Tagging @rrr-is-gay for greater reach

[misalpav]

ram being in love with the daughter of temple priest and even though he isn't very religious he still went there for sandhya aarti once he saw her one jhumke had fallen and finally able to gather some courage he decided to approach her and they had a talk or something.

also one more request don't use y/n can you pls use the name vaidehi ?

anon!!!! I love this prompt and I hope I did justice to your vision <3 (I'm on a writing high rn so I can actually write fast for once would you look at that?)

yemito ee maya

Two years after Governor Scott's death

Ram slowly walked away from his house, lost in thought. He could feel the wind in his face, rearranging his carefully styled hair and ruffling the shirt he just finished ironing. The sun, shining brightly in his eyes, slowly began its journey back to the horizon as kids laughed and ran back home from school. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, letting himself relax. There was a time when he didn’t know what the word relax meant, how it felt to feel his heart rate slowing and have time for himself. Now that he did, he never quite knew what to do with it. Sometimes, he would make a beeline to Bheem or Sita’s house to talk to them or have dinner together, other times, when he didn’t feel like socializing, he would sit at home and read a book. On days like today, when he just couldn’t get himself to pay attention to the words on a page, he’d huff and put down his book to go for a walk, thinking about how much his life and his India has changed.

“Ram anna, chai thaaguthara?” (tl. Do you want to drink chai?)

He turned his head and saw a group of kids at a street food stall looking at him eagerly and quickly recognized all of them from his colony. His mouth curved into a smile as he forgot about his earlier thoughts and started walking towards them, his hands checking his pockets to find his wallet.

“Aa thaguthanu. Anna, okka chai isthava?” (tl. Yes, I’ll drink some. Can you give me one chai?)

As the seller made his chai, he pretended to look in his wallet for money while secretly watching the kids, and smiled with a glint in his eyes as the kids’ faces fell, realizing he didn’t get them anything. He pulled out a 100 rupee note from his wallet and handed it to the vendor, who looked at him confused.

“Migilina paisalu tho pillalu ki vallaku ishtam ainadhi edhaina ivvandi, inka mitha meeru pettukondi.” (Give the kids whatever they want with the remaining money, and if there’s anything left you can keep it for yourself.)

The kids’ eyes widened at him in disbelief, and they quickly ran to the vendor before Ram could have second thoughts and asked for bajjis, dosas, lassis, and whatever else they could think of. Ram chuckled and shook his head, taking a seat at one of the tables and enjoying the warm taste of chai. He was completely aware the colony moms would make their displeasure very well known to him when he went home, but he figured he’d take it if it meant upholding his role as every kid’s favorite person.

The kids sat around him and became engrossed in conversations about their classes, the math teacher they despised, the cricket game they played last night, and a few other things and Ram sat back and listened attentively to their stories while tending to his chai, zoning out only once in a while when the conversation was directed away from him. 

At one of these moments, he heard a laugh and the jingling of bangles coming towards them, and he turned his head subconsciously. His jaw dropped as his eyes rested on the source of the laughter: a woman, busy in conversation with a younger girl, walking towards them wearing a beautiful black and yellow saree, her hair tied back in a neat braid, with a book in her hands. As they walked up to her, he suddenly stood up, catching the woman’s attention. When she turned to face him, he held his breath and examined her eyes, bordered with kohl, and the bright red bindi above the bridge of her nose. Silver jhumkas adorned her ears glowing in the sun and the smell of the jasmines in her hair radiated off her, and he was lucky one of the kids pulled on his hand to get his attention. The woman’s face softened as she smiled, turned away from him, and walked away, and he quickly reoriented himself, telling the kids he had other work to do tonight and started in the direction the woman had left towards, promising the kids they’d play cricket together another night. 

Ram speedwalked for a few minutes and finally caught up to them, trailing only a few meters behind, but he couldn’t bring himself to approach her. Internally, he was cursing himself out for making this seem easy to Bheem all those years ago, when he himself was such a mess at it. He wished Bheem, Sita, Jenny, the kids, or literally anyone was with him right now to tell him what to do and how not to embarrass himself. His shoe stepped on something and he tripped over, clasping his mouth to make sure no sound came out. When he turned to see what caused it, he found one of her silver jhumkas lying in the dirt. Ram couldn’t believe his luck and he picked up the jhumka, taking it as a sign from the universe to meet her. He then followed her, his faith in himself somehow reinstated simply by the fact he had something of hers in his pocket.

The women approached a Shiva temple, removed their shoes, and entered, and Ram stopped outside. He hadn’t been inside a temple since his father was killed by the British. Everyone close to him had tried to reinstate his faith in god, but he always shut down the idea by stating that if god was real, his father wouldn’t be dead, and if god is real and let his father be killed, then he had every reason to be extremely angry at that god. Ram almost turned around and left, but then he saw the woman returning outside, and froze, realizing she was staring at him. 

“Intha dhooram vachi lopadiki raara?” (tl. You came this far, won’t you come in?) she asked. Realizing he was stuck, he slowly took off his shoes and stepped into the temple.

Once he was standing next to her, she asked him what his name was and he replied saying his name is Ram. She introduced herself as Vaidehi, and he said the name back to her, appreciating the way it rolled on his tongue. They sat in the back of the temple, and Vaidehi opened her book and started reading while he examined her features, and noticed she had removed the other jhumka. Ram hated being interrupted while reading, but he also needed to close this silence somehow, so he craned his neck to see what book she was reading. 

“Avunu, gudiki vachi em pustakam chaduvuthunnavu? Adhi intlo guda cheyyachu kadha?” (tl. What book are you reading in the temple that you can’t read at home?)

That beautiful laughter that first got him to turn his head towards her escaped her mouth again and she told him his father was the head priest and she enjoyed attending the sandhya aarti whenever she could. She told him about the book she was reading, History of Dharmashastra, and they both fell into an animated conversation about the development of Indian ancient societies and their dreams for a modern and independent India. She said India needed more men like Alluri Ramaraju and he smiled and agreed, hiding the joy in his heart from hearing her say that. He never bothered mentioning that he was Ramaraju because he found it refreshing to talk to people normally without being treated like a savior everywhere he went. 

Suddenly, a man, who he assumed was Vaidehi’s father, stood in front of the garbhagriha and everyone in the temple stood up. They recited bhajans, and while Ramaraju knew all of them from memory from his childhood and his mother, he quietly listened to Vaidehi’s voice. At the end, he took the prasadam from one of the other priests and walked back outside with Vaidehi. She asked him if he didn’t know the bhajans, and he replied saying he did, but he enjoyed listening to them much more than singing them, opting to leave out the truth about his father. They talked more about their interests, exchanged addresses, and talked about meeting again. As the sun finally set, she told him she needed to leave, and that they’d definitely meet again. Ram watched her walk away and put his hand in his pocket, touching the jhumka he never returned, whispering, “I promise we will.”

---

(a/n) should I make this a series lmao I have so many ideas for where this could go. also, I haven't been to india in like 6yrs now (curse the pandemic and then school/work) so idr if 100 rupees is acc a reasonable amount for the chai scene 🗿

open tag list: @obsessedtoafault @rambheem-is-real @lil-stark @manwalaage @contemporarykafka @sinistergooseberries @budugu @the-gayest-tree-you-ever-did-see @hufhkbgg @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @hissterical-nyaan @how-is-it-in-london @gauri-vishalakshi @sada-siva-sanyaasi @bromance-minus-the-b @darlingletshurttonight @voidsteffy @itsfookingloosah @mad-who-ra @fadedscarlets @justmeand-myinsight @rasnak2 @ghungru @irisesforyoureyes @vijayasena

I copied a rrr tag list I literally haven't used in a year and tried to remember as many old urls as I could. if you want to be added/removed from the list pls lmk <3

[fangirlshrewt97]

RRR - Honey Gold Eyes and Tiger Cubs

Hey guys, long time, no write. Real life has been really busy and I’ve just not been feeling that spark from before. I am not sure how many more stories I will manage to write for the fandom, or how many people are even reading my stories, but I did want to contribute to the Tales of the Tiger 2023 (@talesofthetigerrr) event. 

It’s really rough, and I am definitely out of practice, but I think it turned out ok in the end. Let me know what you think!

///

Bheem puffed up his chest, chubby fist tightening around his small wooden stick. He adjusted the small sling bag his Amma had given him that morning. He gazed around the tall trees, craning his neck as far back as he could to see if something looked familiar. His Nana was going to be mad Bheem had wandered away. Again.

But there had been a really pretty baby squirrel. He'd just wanted to see it closer. He didn't realize he had wandered from the group until he lost sight of the animal. And now he couldn't find them. Oh, they were going to be very angry.

Bheem bit his bottom lip, hard. He was eight years old! He could find his way back! He was one of the best trackers. Peddanna had said so to his Nana. Bheem had heard him, even though he was actually supposed to be asleep. Peddanna said he could even become the Protector one day. Protector! Him!

Bheem had had to curl into a ball to keep from shouting from joy! Everyone knew the Protector was the strongest and bravest and cleverest and coolest person in the tribe! Everyone. So, if Bheem was going to become a Protector, he was not going to be scared. Or cry. And when he made his way back to the village all by himself, Amma would make him a big plate of laddu all for him.

He tried to retrace his steps. He had come from the direction opposite of the sun, so if he walked toward the sun, then maybe he could find his friends. He walked forward, eyes darting between the trees to see if he could catch sight of anybody.  He focused so hard on what was ahead, he forgot to also pay attention to his feet.

Accidentally stepping onto a slippery patch of mud, Bheem flailed as he fell roughly to the ground, hissing as rocks scratched his arms. He pushed himself up, falling back on his butt. He bit the inside of his cheek harder as he ran a hand over his red arm, whimpering when it made pain shoot up his arms. Moving slowly, he brushed away the tiny rock and leaves still stuck to his arms and knees.

He took in a few deep breaths, wiping away furiously at the tears in the corners of his eyes. He was not going to cry!

He reached to grab his stick, slowly rising to all fours, and then stood up. He checked that nothing had fallen out of his bag. He took a few more steps, this time, eyes firmly on the ground in front of him till he reached a more well worn dirt path. A road! If the ground was so clear that means other people must come this way often! If he just followed it, he was going to go home!

Pleased at himself, Bheem started to walk down the path.

But.

Wait.

Bheem froze midstep.

Which way was home? What if he was going further into the forest?

Nana always said it was dangerous to be alone in the forest at night, especially if you didn't know that forest.

Bheem definitely did not know this part of the forest.

Bheem bit his lip as he swiveled his head both directions, trying to find a clue for which way led home. As he stood there trying to decide which way to go, he heard a weak whimper.

Someone else was nearly!

Could they be lost too? Bheem perked up. If he could find the other person, then surely between the two of them they could find their way home. Amma always said two heads were better than one.

"Hello?" Bheem called out.

No reply.

Maybe they hadn't heard him.

"Hello?" Bheem shouted, cupping both hands to make himself sound louder.

A couple of birds that had been resting on a nearby tree took off, but there was no response. Bheem didn’t think he should call out again. What if he woke up a bear? Bheem had seen a bear the hunters had killed. A bear would probably step on Bheem and not realize it.

Bheem chewed on his lip. What if the other person was also hurt? Bheem was not very big, he didn't think he could help them much. But maybe they knew the way home! And he could go home and bring help!

Amma always told him that he should try to help people as much as he could though.

Decision made, Bheem squeezed his eyes shut and listened as hard as he could.

There! He'd heard the whimper again. It was coming from beyond that tree!

Bheem darted in that direction, keeping his gait light as he moved through the forest. As he moved closer to the sound, it became louder, and it turned from a whimper to a steady cry.

One more turn, then straight ahead…

Bheem froze.

It wasn't a person.

There was a clearing, about as big as his home.

And on the opposite side of the clearing from Bheem was a tiger.

It was the first time he had seen a real life tiger so close. Its eyes were golden like honey. They sent a shiver down Bheem's back. It looked just like the statue of the tiger Bheem had seen in the temple of Durgamma Devi.

Bheem's grip on his stick turned white knuckled. He really did not want to get eaten. Amma would be angry with him too.

The tiger was looking at him, golden eyes seeming to stare right through Bheem. The tiger growled lowly. Bheem took a step back, trying to calm his racing heart. If he ran, the tiger would definitely chase him. And eat him.

He took another slow step back. The tiger took a step forward.

Tried to.

It jerked back, crying out as it batted at its leg.

Bheem craned his head, gasping when he saw its leg had been caught in one of the hunter traps. It was bleeding a lot.

Bheem looked at the tiger again. It wasn't very big. It was bigger than Bheem, but less than half as big as the tiger his Nana and the other hunters had brought to the village a while back. Maybe this was a tiger cub?

The tiger whimpered again as it turned back to its own leg, losing interest in Bheem.

Amma had told him he should always help everyone, including the animals of the forest, as they were his brothers and sister too.

This tiger was hurt.

And it was a kid, like Bheem.

Bheem should help the tiger.

Tightening his grip on his stick, Bheem reminded himself. If he was going to be the Protector, he couldn’t be scared of helping! He was not going to be scared of a tiger! He was going to save it!

"My name is Bheem!" He said cautiously. One needed to introduce themselves to strangers. The tiger stared at him.

He approached the tiger slowly, one step at a time. The tiger growled at him, baring its sharp teeth. Bheem swallowed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Tigers could smell really good right? It could probably smell how nervous Bheem was. Bheem took deep breaths to try and calm his racing heart.

He stopped a few feet from the tiger, shifting his stick in front of him.

The tiger snarled.

Bheem avoided looking at its eyes, instead focusing on the leg, and gently reached out to poke it with the stick.

The tiger growled loudly, and batted away the stick.

"Hey! I'm just trying to help!" Bheem said as the stick fell from his grasp.

The tiger just looked back at him. This close, Bheem was more confident the tiger was just a cub. It was only a little bigger than Bheem if he laid down.

"Where is your Amma?" Bheem asked, looking around. Hadn't Peddanna said tiger cubs were always with their mother until they were able to hunt on their own? This cub didn't look big enough to hunt by itself.

"I don't know if you have a name, so I am going to call you Durgamma." He stated.

The tiger kept looking back at him.

Steeling himself, Bheem lowered himself onto all found, and crawled a little closer to Durgamma. The tiger's shoulders bunched but it didn't make a sound.

"I want to help. I promise I won't hurt you. I need to see your leg." Bheem said as he spread his arms to show he was empty-handed.

Durgamma was still looking warily at him but she hadn't tried to claw his face off. That was good.

Bheem crawled closer, till he was behind Durgamma, close enough to touch. Maintaining eye contact, he reached one hand out to rest on Durgamma's leg.

"Oh." The fur was really soft. Like of the newborn kittens Amma had shown him before. Bheem lost himself in just running him fingers through the fur, the heat of the body underneath hot and warm. When his fingers slid a little lower, Durgamma growled.

Bheem grabbed his hand back. "Sorry!"

Durgamma tossed her head back...almost as if she was rolling its eyes.

Bheem blinked and then ducked his head to look at the trap. There should be a pin to open the trap....there it was. Underneath Durgamma.

Hm.

Bheem rose, meeting the tiger's eyes. "I can help you, but you need to get up. You're too heavy."

Durgamma just stared.

Sighing, Bheem pressed both hands against Durgamma's trunk and shoved.

He yelped when Durgamma batted at him, sharp claws scratching him. "Hey!"

He rubbed at the scratch, hissing when it made the area that much redder. He glared the tiger, who glared back at him.

"You are the one trapped. Do you want to get out or no?"

Durgamma flicked her tail.

Bheem harrumphed and tried to shove her again. Again he narrowly avoided getting his face clawed off.

Durgamma growled at him, baring her teeth. Bheem growled back, baring his teeth.

"I am going to do this one more time, and if you push me away I am going to go. And then you will have to wait for your Amma. Who may not be able to help you." Bheem said firmly.

They glared at each other for another moment before Durgamma turned her face away. Bheem gasped when he saw scratches to the side of the tiger’s head, like...like something had tried to claw Durgamma's head.

Bheem shook his head. Leg first. Gathering all his strength, he leaned all his weight against Durgamma, closing his eyes and pushing. The tiger snarled but didn't try to hurt Bheem. Bheem peered down, crowing quietly when he realized he had guessed right to Durgamma being a girl.

Bheem smiled, petting Durgamma's side before he went back to the trap and reached down to pull the pin. His hand was chubby, and his finger couldn't grasp it properly, but he had come so far, and he had promised Durgamma he would help her.

Finally, his fingers snagged the pin, and he yanked as hard as he could. Durgamma roared as the trap opened, freeing her leg. Bheem scrambled back as Durgamma curled into itself, licking at the wound. Bheem wrinkled his nose.

He reached into his bag, and pulled out the water carafe.

Durgamma turned her head when he came closer but didn't do anything else when Bheem sat by her side.

"Peddanna says when we get hurt, we need to wash it with water. It will hurt a little, but you will feel better." Bheem explained.

Durgamma blinked slowly.

Bheem opened the carafe and tilted it over Durgamma's leg. The tiger hissed, batting at Bheem, but Bheem kept going until the carafe was empty. He pulled out the towel Amma had also packed.

He grabbed the injured leg, glaring at Durgamma's warning growl. "Do you want to get better or no?"

Durgamma was watching him closely as he clumsily threaded the towel underneath the leg before bringing the ends up to tie it as tight as he could. The tiger huffed but lifted her leg back from Bheem. She pressed her foot lightly on the ground, and seemed to blink in surprise.

Bheem grinned back, as wide as he could. "I've been practicing with Amma! How is it now?"

Durgamma rolled back, and Bheem stood up to give her more space.

It took a few tries, but with Bheem holding onto her sides, Durgamma managed to stand up.

Bheem was still smiling widely, so proud of himself.

Durgamma stared at him before pouncing.

The joy immediately flipped to fear as he thought Durgamma had decided she actually wanted to eat him.

Except.

Durgamma licked him.

Her tongue was rough and it tickled, making Bheem giggle and squirm.

Durgamma then nuzzled her head against Bheem's chest, exhaling a breath against Bheem's face before she got back up.

Bheem rose up to prop himself by his elbows. Suddenly he heard someone shouting his name.

"Here! I'm here!" He called back.

Durgamma turned to leave.

“Wait!”

The tiger paused, looking at him over her shoulder.

“Will I see you again?”

Durgamma tilted her head, blinked at him before turning away and walking back into the forest.

Bheem got up from where he was and walked to the edge of the clearing through which Durgamma had disappeared. Within a couple minutes Nana and another one of the hunters, Akhil babai, burst into the clearing. They went pale at the sight of him.

Nana scooped him up in his arms, holding him so tight Bheem felt it hard to breathe. "Nana..." he choked out.

His Nana let him go far enough to seat him on his hip, running a hand over Bheem. "Bheema, chinna, are you hurt? Where is this blood from?"

Bheem blinked up at him before looking down. He noticed his hands and belly were all red and itchy from the blood.

"It's Durgamma's."

"Dur-Durgamma? Who is that?" His father asked, surprised.

"Anna, look, something was caught in the trap here!" Akhil babai called out from the other side of the clearing.

"Durgamma was trapped!" Bheem clarified.

"Bheem, did, did you free that animal?" Nana asked slowly.

Bheem nodded his head fiercely. "Yes! It was hurting her!"

"What animal was it Bheem?" Akhil babai asked.

"She's a she! Not an it!" Bheem responded, offended on Durgamma's behalf.

"Who is she, chinna?" Nana asked, stemming the argument.

"The tiger!" Bheem replied, voice giddy.

His eyebrows scrunched when his father seemed to pale again. "Nana?"

"You...freed a tiger, Bheema?"

Bheem nodded his head again. "Yes! She was trapped, and her leg was bleeding, and she was crying Nana. Amma said we have to help every person and creature right? She was hurt! So I helped her!"

His Nana seemed to be stunned for words, instead just hugging him tightly again. Bheem was confused but wrapped his arms around his Nana's neck.

The trek back to the village was faster with Nana and Akhil showing him the way, and his Nana told him he had done well to find him way back to the path all by himself. He promised he would show Bheem how to find his way home if he got lost again.

When they got home, Bheem narrated his adventure to his Amma with a big smile, and then laughed joyfully when he got his reward of a plate of laddus all for himself.

The other kids were all in awe of his adventure, and the adults had even gone back to try and find Durgamma, but couldn’t find her, even if they did find evidence she had been there.

As Bheem grew up, and kept venturing into the forest, he grew more and more certain of his footing. Of every tree and turn and creek and rock.

He explored and trekked and hunted. He ran. Ran through the trees and between bushes.

And if, in between those sprints, he could make out a streak of orange between the trees, or honey gold eyes looking at him from the other side of the river, he kept that to himself.

Durgamma was his friend. And he had promised her he wouldn’t let her get hurt. It seemed like she had made the same promise regarding him.

 ///

 Bonus:

Ram yawned again as he scratched his belly, going towards the entrance of their hut. It had been a long few weeks, and last night had been the first proper night of rest he had had in a long time.

The sleep deprivation was also what made him freeze at the threshold, unsure if he was hallucinating, or about to become lunch.

Packing as much urgency and tightly held panic as he could, he called out to his partner. "Bheem!"

"You go ahead Rama! I need to finish this poultice and then I'll join you!"

"Bheem!" Ram ground out again.

There, standing a mere 15 feet from the entrance of their hut was a tiger. Easily as big as any of the creatures from that night at the Buxton mansion, and this one had two very easy prey. This was not going to be a pleasant death.

"What is it with you?" Bheem asked, as he tried to shoulder past Ram, only to pause as he took in the sight past Ram's shoulder.

And then.

"Durgamma!"

WHAT.

"You-you know that tiger?" Ram choked out in disbelief.

Bheem rolled his eyes as he hip checked Ram away and approached the beast.

"Bheem!" Ram whispered urgently, heart racing as Bheem went closer and closer. Ten feet. Five feet. Three, two, one.

Ram opened his eyes when sounds of Bheem being ripped apart didn’t happen. His jaw fell to the floor.

The tiger had one paw on Bheem's shoulder where he was kneeling before it - her? - and was nuzzling her head against Bheem's shoulder. Bheem for his part had wound both arms around the tiger's head and was hugging it.

What. The. Hell?

"Bheem?" Ram asked, still not daring to raise his voice above a whisper. The tiger opened its eyes to look at him. Ram swallowed.

Bheem sank back to sit on the ground, the tiger still right next to him. "Ram, come meet her!"

"I-I'm good here..." Ram muttered.

Bheem's eyebrows scrunched but he shrugged and turned back to the animal.

"Durgamma! So good to see you. And look at you, finally put on some weight again. Been hunting well?"

Durga-the ti-for God's sake, Durgamma bumped her head against Bheem's chest before turning away from him. "Durgamma?" Bheem asked.

The tiger went to the bushes and grabbed something before turning back to them. The two men's eyes widened. Hanging from the tiger's mouth was a tiny cub, barely bigger than Bheem's hand. He grunted softly as the tiger dumped the cub into Bheem's waiting arms. Without waiting for another word, she went back and retrieved two more cubs, depositing them with Bheem too.

Bheem blinked at his now full lap occupied by tiger cubs. "Do...you need me to babysit?"

Durgamma huffed at him, bobbing her large head once, as if she could understand him. And then disappeared into the forest.

After a few minutes silence where Bheem was just staring at the tiger cubs who were staring back at him, Ram was the one to speak.

"What the hell just happened?"

"Ram!" Bheem scolded. "Language! There are children present."

Ram felt his eye twitch.

Bheem stood up with all three cubs pressed tightly to his chest, somehow managing to keep them in his arms despite their wriggling. "Please help me by asking Loki akka for more milk. And Lacchu for any leftover meat? These cubs are probably hungry."

Ram went. Because what other choice did he have?

This is what he got for falling for a child of the forest. He wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

(He did put in a prayer that he would get through this "babysitting" with all limbs attached and un-mauled.)

(Bheem laughed at him when he heard about his prayer. As if Durgamma would ever raise such ill-mannered children. Just because she was grumpy didn’t mean she was rude.)

(Durgamma for her part just thought the two-legger was going to keep her cubs from falling into a ditch. Or at least retrieving them if they managed to fall anyways.)

///

@rambheem-is-real @budugu @bromance-minus-the-b @hissterical-nyaan @obsessedtoafault @hufhkbgg @yehsahihai @rorapostsbl @fangirl-from-discord @fadedscarlets @alikokinav @chaotic-moonlight @rambheemisgoated @rambheemlove @jaganmaya @burningsheepcrown @kaagazkefool @lovingperfectionwonderland @rosayounan @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @thewinchestergirl1208 @dumdaradumdaradum @ronaldofandom @jjwolfesworld @jrntrtitties @kashpaymentsonly @jeonmahi1864  @stanleykubricks @m3gs1mps4a @tulodiscord @teddybat24 @sally-for-sally @ssabriel @jadebomani @stuckyandlarrystuff @veteran-fanperson @ohfuckoffpls @bheemaxrama @chaidrivenwhore @gifseafins @umbrulla    

[rrr-is-gay]

Really really really wanna write a fic about Ram & Bheem’s psychic connection. They clearly, obviously have the ability to read each other’s minds to some extent, like, that rescue sequence on the bridge (the divine timing of the meeting of their SOULS) literally could not have worked if they weren’t sensing each other’s thoughts and intentions. I don’t necessarily think it’s literal mind-reading, like hearing clear dialogue in their head of the other man’s coherent thoughts. I think it’s more of an empathic, soul-level connection. They feel each other.

It makes the betrayal arc all the more compelling! Even though each man has access to the other’s deepest feelings, they still exercise such intense mental restraint on their secret missions, they totally blindside each other. Ram wants to protect Bheem from the truth about who he is, and Bheem wants to protect Ram from the consequences of what he’s planning. That protective instinct is so strong, it sublimates all their thoughts about The Work when they’re together. Also they’re just so blissed out in each other’s company, they kind of forget about their troubles and just think about how horny they are for each other, lmao.

[carminavulcana]

The once in a bluemoon urge to write an RRR crossover fic with Baahubali.

Follows from the trajectory set by my Silences and Insanities universe. What became of the Mahishmati royal family once they bowed out of the traditional system that allowed the destruction of Amarendra Baahubali. And what does it have to do with the dreams that dominate the sleep of Alluri Seetharama Raju?

If you will read it, I will write it. Should I do it?

[ronaldofandom]

They sat under a tree and had their lunch. She showered him with compliments on the food, and he preened under her praise. Once done, she rested her back against the tree while Bheem laid his head in her lap. Wrapping her arm around his neck, he nuzzled his beard against it, tickling her sensitive skin and making her burst into a fit of giggles. While her other hand carded through his unruly curls.

He shut his eyes, enjoying the sound of her pearly laughter. They started working on his English practice at some point in the next hour. Jenny had taught him ABCD in a different way.

‘A for?’ 

‘Akhtar.’ He remembered this one easily. The name was special for both of them. This is how she had first known him.

‘Good. And B for?’

‘BHEEM.’ Pat came the reply and she smiled fondly.

‘Yes, B for Bheem. Beautiful. Brave. Bheem. Now, C for?’

He thought for a few seconds.

‘Chandni Chowk?’

‘Correct. And D?’

‘Delhi.’ 

All of these being special places in their life. Delhi had changed her world, and how. Delhi also made Bheem meet the two people who he loved with all his heart. Who he couldn’t imagine his life without.

‘Wonderful. And E for?’

‘Earth.’ 

He touched the ground below him.

‘Excellent. And F for?’

When he was stumped, she motioned to the place around herself.

‘Forest. F for forest.’

‘Fabulous. Now, what about G?’

He turned his face to kiss her arm.

‘G for Jenny. My Jenny.’

He said happily, looking up at her with immense adoration. Her heart melted, and she blamed the English language for that to be not true.

In moments like these, Jenny was convinced that God was a woman. Only a woman could conjure a man this perfect. A man of every woman’s dreams.

...........................................

From my fav work of mine - Ch 10 of Love Eternal.

[tasavvur-e-jaana]

Blessings Beneath the Stars

//

After a long time, and because I am a liar who lied about not coming back, I wrote for RRR. it is not what you think. it is quiet and gentle, but not romantic. whatever it is, hopefully, it is not total trash.

MY boy (Lacchu) is back. And oh, not beta read. all mistakes are my own.

Companion piece to 'Will you be my Valentine'.

//

“I’ve been thinking. If I die tonight, would it really make a difference in the world? Who'd mourn me?” Lacchu mumbled after a drag of a joint held lazily between his forefinger and thumb. It seemed as if he was only thinking out loud. “More importantly,” he continued, “Why would anyone?”

His companion for the evening was a bit shocked at the confession. He really was not built for that sort of thing. Sympathy. Kindness. Saying the right words. “Bheem would. Jenny would. Malli. Loki.” I would. He stopped himself from adding that. Lacchu would definitely think of that as pity. Even if Ram’s sentiments would be honest. Ram was actually growing to be fond of Lacchu. The guy had will. And he was funny. With Bheem being busy with either the fight or when free, with Jenny, Ram had started to feel lonely. He was, and always had been in dire need of friends. No one else in the tribe seemed to understand him or be honest with him as much as Lacchu had. At least, that is what Ram felt. 

“Yeah, sure.” Lacchu acquiesced. And Ram, Ram felt relieved as if he’d dodged a bullet. When he had gone with Lacchu to get the supplies, he had not thought the night before returning to the tribe would turn this desolate as the younger man opened a packet of marijuana with a twinkle in his eye and carefully rolled a joint. They had begun to form an acquaintance. Well, acquaintance would still be too far-fetched. Lacchu had not forgiven him. Was likely not going to ever. Ram was okay with that. It was definitely not friendship. Fraternizing? God, he hoped not. Whatever the confines or definitions would be, the crux of the matter was Lacchu was tolerating him gradually, in small quantities, for when they either had to work together, albeit reluctantly, judging by the amount of complaining Lacchu would do, or in the rare events of Lacchu wanting someone to share his joint with. “But they'll get over it. I'm not important enough. Not useful enough.”

“You are useful.”

“Yeah, not like you! It’s like-,” Lacchu mused for a second, “like salt in gulab jamuns.”

Ram could not help but huff out a tiny laugh. “Well, at least you’re funnier than I am.” “Ah, a clown then.” Lacchu glanced sideways at Ram.

“Please don't. Being morose and melancholic is my jam.” 

“Well yeah, glad to piss on your parade!” He offered the lit joint to Ram who declined with a wave of his hand. Lacchu shrugged.

“Please tell me this is your stupid idea of a joke. Because I am not going to lug all this-” Ram gestured vaguely to the supplies, “back alone.” The attempt for the humour absolutely fell flat but Lacchu smirked nonetheless, his dark eyes emanating waves of sadness in the pinkish evening light. “You're not serious, are you?” Ram was actually worried now.

“Maybe. ‘M not suicidal if that's what you're worried about. Just you know, indifferent.” The younger man took another lazy drag.

“To death?” Ram squealed - which he would absolutely deny later. 

“Why not?” he retorted. Ram had no answer. Fortunately, Lacchu did not notice the dumbfounded look on Ram’s face, going on his own trajectory. “I mean, I am just a microscopic cog in a catastrophic war. Unimportant. Replaceable. I have no purpose. If I die, someone else will take my place and the revolt will go on. It’s not like I am Bheem. Or you.” He added as an afterthought. 

“Do you genuinely think if Bheem or I die, the revolt will suffer?” Lacchu nodded his head. “Well, let me tell you. That is not true. I think the inquilaab has gained enough momentum that no one man will be able to take it ahead or stop. We will be free. I feel it in my bones.” There was a twinkle of hope in Ram’s eyes that made Lacchu bite back his comeback. If he were bothered to look closely, Ram would find a glint of appreciation for him in the dark eyes of the other man. 

“Maybe. But your village, this tribe, a small part of it will be devastated.” Before Ram could assure him that they would be saddened by his demise too, Lacchu continued. “I used to think that we, as humans, do not serve a glorious purpose. We too are meant to exist in harmony with nature. Birth, do your thing, and death. Soil to soil. Ashes to ashes. That sort of thing. You know, most of us, who live in the forest think so. I was very much at peace then.” Lacchu contemplated out loud, taking another puff. At this point, it was more like he was babbling, not for Ram. for the surroundings. For the very forest on whose precipice they were sitting. As if the Universe or Nature would have an answer in the form of the rustle of the dark leaves, a quiver of the branches, an occasional hoot of an owl, or the rapidly rising chirp of the cicadas. 

“Hmm… A glorious purpose is bad for mental peace.” Ram chuckled softly. He liked this Lacchu. Free. Open. And just the right side of insane. 

“But then YOU.” He jabbed the finger of his free hand in Ram’s chest. “OW!” Ram was surprised by the sudden force. “You had to capture me. You had to torture me. You had to torture my- Bheem.” Ram gaped at him openmouthed. Eerily similar to a goldfish in the tank. “Actually, you know what? It goes further than that. Before you. THEY had to capture Malli. And then Delhi. I was so ignorant. Naive. Stupid. But happy. I sure was happy.” He sounded too nostalgic for Ram’s liking. “How do you do it, Ram?” 

“Honesty? I have no idea anymore. It is like I am on autopilot. I had no choice. I have no choice. Sometimes I wish I could- I just-” The next part was confessed, so tender, so soft, that Lacchu barely could hear it. There is something about nature and nights that make you vulnerable to an unnerving degree, and Ram, Ram was no exception. “want to run away.” He laughed just as he said it out loud. And laughed harder still. “Look at this! The great Alluri Sita Rama Raju wanting to run away like a coward!”

“Well, you could. At least I’d get back my best friend.” 

“Lacchu I-”

“Please don’t.” 

“Right.” Ram cleared his throat which sounded like an apology in disguise. "You never told him, did you?"

“Told him what?” 

Ram pointed his eyes at the hand lying in Lacchu’s lap, the middle finger slightly bent, not having healed properly from Ram’s assault. Lacchu reflexively coiled his hand into a fist as if that would hide the injuries Ram was intimately aware of being the one who put him there. “There’s no point,” he said dismissively. But of course, because he was just a little bit of a bastard, he added, “The question here is, why didn’t you?”

Now, Lacchu was not by any means a petty man. Then again, he was also not the very embodiment of sweetness and benevolence as Bheem. Ram visibly jerked as if he had felt a literal whiplash to his face. And that reaction brought a minuscule satisfaction, a soothing effect of a salve to his otherwise aching heart. 

“I don’t know.” Well, Ram exactly knew why. There was no point in hiding anymore. “I didn’t,” he corrected, “I don’t want him to hate me. Not any more than he does, if he doesn’t already. I know it is incredibly selfish of me but-”

“He doesn’t hate you. If he did, you’d know. He hates just as he loves, with a dangerous fury. It can be scathing when directly aimed at you. Like the Sun.”

“Huh. perhaps that is true. Like the Sun. Too near and you burn, too far and you freeze to death.”

“Hmm. It is a double-edged sword. Finding the perfect distance. For what it’s worth, I am a little relieved you didn’t tell him. Bheem- he,” Lacchu paused to collect his words forming at a speed in his mind which his tongue could not keep up with. “He does not do well with hate. He was not made for it.”

“Isn’t that an irony?” Ram smiled sadly. “I was made exactly for that.”

“Right. I guess it goes something like - opposites attract?” Lacchu raised an eyebrow, and Ram could not help but add a hint of authenticity to his smile, widening by a mere millimetre. Lacchu wanted to say something, his mouth opening to form a wide yawn instead but he didn’t bother to cover it with his hand.

"Lacchu," Ram called out softly to the man who was already teetering on the edge of dozing off. "Get some sleep. I'll take the first watch." It usually meant Ram would end up being awake for the whole night anyway. Not waking lacchu up. They never spoke about it. Lacchu never offered or chastised. 

Lacchu just hummed in response, stretching more on the makeshift bed, and turning onto his stomach. Ram stole a glance at him, he looked innocent. And younger than he was. The past few months had made him grow up sooner than he should have. Those early years of youth, stolen. Passing him by. Just like Ram and his childhood. However, here, Ram was one of the major culprits. 

For now, all he could do was to protect him from physical harm that may befall him. And hope that he would learn his worth someday. By himself. An opportunity that was robbed of Ram. He had not worked that out you see, his worth had always been thrust upon him. More so after Baba's demise. Ram tried not to think about that gruesome episode. Although, lonely nights were the perfect catalysts for such thoughts. However, tonight, Ram refused to draw into the familiar feeling of despair - his constant companion whom he’d learned to be more than comfortable with. 

So, in the dark, almost silent, very much serene backdrop of the late hour, Ram pulled out the packet from his companion’s backpack and rolled himself a new companion. It was a little out of shape, pressed a bit too hard on one side, but it would do. He lit it, the first drag blowing into the breeze, mingling with the damp air… and the smoker began to count his blessings beneath the stars.

//

let me know if it was good, bad, or downright ugly. comments are welcome as always :))

@ronaldofandom - you are going to love me for this.

@carminavulcana @vijayasena @yehsahihai @ladydarkey @taylorklaine @fathomlessbabbling idk who else to tag. Lmk!

[kanhapriya]

Just watched RRR for the first time, and the urge to write a fic is extremely overpowering

[astrafangs]

New regulars

"Hello!"

Bheem: "Hello miss! How can I help you?"

You: "A bird flew into my side mirror, could you please try and fix it?"

Bheem: "I'll just take a good look at it, don't worry."

Bheem: "Pidgeons are really clumsy birds arent they?"

*Wink*

*You begin to blush as your heart made a leap*

Bheem: Woah! That's such a big crack, it's even gotten off the hinge! I'll get you some new ones in no time."

Bheem methodically and patiently went off to pick out two brand new shiny backmirrors.

"Do you think these will look good?"

The pair was round but smaller at the tips and almost in a teardrop shape, they were colored black, a perfect fit for your blue bike.

You: "I love them, these will look just perfect!"

*Bheem gives you a proud grin and he continues fixing your bike*

*You look down at your feet*

*You twirl with your hair as you see the strong man attend to your vehicle with his care and expertise*

///

*Half an hour later*

Bheem: "All done! I hope they please you.

You: "Hmm, I still see something there, is that a scratch?"

*You couldn't just leave him yet*

*Bheem felt over the spot with his finger*

Bheem: "But there isn't anything there?"

You: "Oh, just please look a bit closer."

*Bheem glances up at you puzzled, then back again to the bike*

*Brows furrowing*

*Your heart races*

*You can't wait any longer, lifts his face*

*Kisses-his-cheek*

*The light press of your lips makes his upset face light up and his eyes grow big.*

*Hand still on his cheek*

*His face turns redder and hotter than the sun and his eyes shimmer like two rainbow beetles*

*Mouth open in an o just like a small child would*

You: "I think it's all fixed up now."

You sneak in some paper bills into his pocket and take your bike from his stunned hands before if falls over.

*As he hears the motor start spinning he comes to his senses*

Bheem: "Wait, don't leave! When can I see you again?"

*Already having left him in the dust you yell back*

"When I need saving from the pidgeons again!!"

---

The idea for this story came from @kaagazkefool and @gifseafins, will make a part two soon😆😊😊

####❤️‍🩹🏍:@ronaldofandom @kaagazkefool @fangirlshrewt97 @ladydarkey @stanleykubricks @ssabriel @burningsheepcrown @milla984 @minusculetony @carminavulcana @rambheemlove @ramcharantitties @ramcharanobsessed @jjwolfesworld @ronika-writes-stuff @umbrulla @yehsahihai @teddybat24 @badtabbywhitecat @gifseafins @mesimpleone @boochhaan

[luxshine]

My hand slipped...

Dragon!Ram bats his wings when he dreams.

And here's a sketch of his half form... Need to color it.

[riverroan]

i wrote another fic!!!

[enigma-the-mysterious]

No, but this poster from a cut scene makes me insane actually. Should I write a fic filling in the gap? Yes or absolutely yes?