#shubhish

[hum-suffer]

Rivals? Who, us?

(Set in future, IPL 2024)

Shubhman knows they're fighting an uphill battle. His team is doing all they can but Rohit Bhaiya and Ishan are on the crease and obviously washing out all the efforts.

(And isn't that surreal to think? His team. Oh, god, his team. They've already won a lot of matches and are already qualified for the semis. He can't believe this. It feels like a dream. He thinks he will wake up in his house in Mohali at any moment now and—

And he doesn't. He blinks. He's still here.)

Shubhman adjusts his tshirts superstitiously, studiously ignoring the crowd chanting about Sara Tendulkar. And really, he doesn't regret any friendship as he does his acquaintance with her. She might be fun to be around at some times but she is definately not worth the trouble that his name and reputation gets because of some coincidental twinning.

He focuses on the match.

Ishan is at strike and he's at 49* of 21 right now. As much of a challenge Ishan is posing, Shubhman feels a surge of immeasurable pride in his chest for his boyfriend. Rashid Bhai is bowling, and even if it's selfish, Shubhman wishes that Ishan scores at least one more run— gets one more milestone. He's allowed to be selfish this time, damn it, because it's clear to him that Ishan won't do it. Ishan will play to make sure Rohit Bhai stays on the ground and he will care only to chase the score, not for his own score.

Ishan hits a six, the ball goes flying in the stands and even from the mid off area of the ground, Shubhman can see the way Rohit Bhai is beaming at Ishan in pride and barely controls his own smile. Ishan removes his helmet and holds it up as if it's an award and Shubhman knows that for him, it is. His cricket is the biggest award he has.

It was the last bowl of the over and it's time to change the bowler and Shubhman has already told Shami Bhai to go for it. He's just checking the scoreboard when he sees the board showing off Ishan's six. Warmth fills him, seeing the potential Ishan has.

The video shows Arya Rajput abruptly, the model celebrating Ishan's half century. And Shubhman. He stares.

What the fuck.

Because he can tolerate people yelling about Sara at him but he knows for a fact that Ishan only knows Arya from a fucking jio ad and doesn't even like her all that much.

Ishan made that goddamn half century. They didn't show his celebration but cut to the woman who wasn't playing? What the fuck. No, what the fuck.

The crowd cheers and the chants start again. "Humari bhabhi kaisi ho?Arya bhabhi jaisi ho!"

Shubhman has the savage urge to cuss the crowd. He knows they're only having fun but he doesn't want it to be at his relationship's expense. He takes a deep breath and relaxes his body, the chewing mint in his mouth now feels bland.

He forces his facial features to relax as well and cracks his knuckles, focusing back on the match.

____________________________________________________

Shubhman comes across Ishan back again after the match, for the obligatory 'well played' handshakes.

Ishan grins up at him, sparkles in his big eyes and hair matted to his sweaty forehead. "Kyu bhai, aa gaya swad?" He quotes the meme and laughs, throwing his head back to be a complete douche.

Shubhman can't help but smile at him. "Beta utna hi udo jitna seh sako. Abhi you have to still fight the semis."

"So do you," he retaliates. Shubhman knows they're holding up the line and steps away and Ishan follows him, as if on total instinct.

Shubhman smirks,"Ghar jaa ke points table dekhna."

And Shubhman knows what Ishan would have said but is holding back from saying.

They're both going to go to the same home, after all. After the tournament, they're gonna go back to Mohali for a month and then to Patna. After all, they're gonna go back to each other's arms. They're going to the same home— each other.

Ishan doesn't say it, raises an eyebrow and Shubhman smirks back. Ishan retaliates by lightly punching Shubhman's stomach and Shubhman gets back to him by pinching his nose, hard.

Before the thing escalates, Rohit bhaiya is here. "That's enough from you two," he says with a grin, pulling the two away from each other. "Merko zindagi me shaanti se kab rehne doge tum log dono?"

"Aise impossible wish nahi manga karte Rohit bhaiya," Ishan says, that little shit,"You'll only be disappointed."

Rohit bhaiya flicks the back of Ishan's head. Shubhman grins in victory until he too is swatted on his shoulder.

____________________________________________________

The dressing rooms are extremely near to eachother, so the both teams create a ruckus as they move to the upper floors, almost everyone laughing and talking. The tension created in the ground disappears.

Shubhman and Ishan are trailing at the end of the entrouge and Ishan has his hand around Shubhman's waist. He's very tactile, not only with Shubhman, and that reputation of his has helped them keep their relationship a secret. Till now.

They're stopped by a girl's voice calling for Ishan with so much familiarity, for a moment Shubhman thinks it must be some old friend, before they turn around and see Arya. Oh.

She jogs upto them with a big smile and her hand is instantly on Ishan's bicep as she gushes about how much she enjoyed seeing his innings. Ishan flinches away from her touch but she doesn't falter, stepping closer. Shubhman grits his teeth and tolerates it for about a minute before he rests his hand on Ishan's shoulder and digs his elbow there. Ishan turns stiff and Shubhman knows he has his attention.

"I'm so sorry," Ishan says,"but we have to meet Rohit bhaiya now and he said it's urgent."

Arya's face falls but she nods, squeezing Ishan's arm one last time as she says goodnight, not having enough manners to even greet Shubhman. He doesn't care either way, he's barely holding back from cussing and he knows his parents raised him better than to cuss at people. Even if they were annoying. And intrusive. And debatably worthy. And pushy. And—

Ishan reaches up to grab Shubhman's hand and pulls it around his shoulders, ensuring that his elbow is no longer digging into Ishan's shoulder.

Shubhman moves his hand to the back of Ishan's neck and squeezes lightly, willing away his urge to kiss his boyfriend silly in a common area. The grasp he has on Ishan's nape is possessive enough, enough so that he remembers that Ishan choses him everyday, that Ishan wants to be with him and not anyone else. That Ishan is his.

He feels Ishan shudder under his hold and squirm.

They've already reached the dressing room areas and Kane raises his eyebrows at them in concern. "You two okay, guys?"

Shubhman nods,"Yeah, don't worry about it."

"Mhm," Ishan hums, almost distracted,"Got held up by a fan. You know how it is."

Kane doesnt look convinced but he doesn't press. He gives them both a smile. "Yes, of course. Anyways, I'm going to go and change. Cap, come back whenever."

Shubhman feels overwhelmed that a man as great in cricket as Kane is, calls Shubhman his captain. He's never gonna get over it. He gives Kane a bashful grin and nods.

Ishan squirms under his hand again as Kane leaves, drawing attention to himself.

Shubhman narrows his eyes at Ishan and leans down to whisper in his ear. "Stay back in the dressing room after everyone leaves."

Ishan nods, no questions asked. Shubhman smiles at him and struts back to his dressing room, knowing how dazed Ishan is.

____________________________________________________

Ishan doesn't know what's going on with Shubhman but it's delicious.

He's pressed against the wall near the lockers as Shubhman kisses him, moaning and groaning. Ishan doesn't think he's ever seen Shubhman this uncaring to keep their relationship secret.

"You've got no idea how much I've wanted to do that," he says and Ishan grins at him.

He grabs Shubhman's wrist and presses his hand into Ishan's waist even more than it's already pressed. "I think I do." Ishan says, closing his eyes and resting his head against Shubhman's chest.

His boyfriend isn't anything less than eager today, though. He ducks down to kiss Ishan's cheek and trails a line of kisses down his throat. The collar of Ishan's uniform tshirt is hindering his path so Shubhman uses his free hand to wrap it around Ishan's throat, subtly pushing away the collar and oh, Ishan doesn't want to examine the things the gesture does to him.

It makes Ishan keen and Shubhman, that little fucker, grins. Ishan can feel it against his throat. He raises his hand and grabs the back of Shubhman's neck. "Talk."

"What about?"

Ishan pulls Shubhman off of him with narrowed eyes. "You've been too tense and you're acting different. Talk, before I make you."

Shubhman doesn't speak anything for a while and Ishan thinks he will have to pull out the annoying puppy eyes routine but before that, Shubhman sighs and mutters,"I don't like her."

Ishan frowns. "Who?"

A flash of victory flashes in his eyes before Shubhman looks down again. "Arya. I don't like her. Or the way people scream her name when you score. Or the way the board shows her. Or the way the people comment about her. Or the way people make edits of you and her. Or the way she touches you. Or the way she speaks your name. I don't like her."

Ishan nods understandingly. He's amused, but he knows what Shubhman feels, he's felt that everytime they attach his name to Sara or Raveena. More Raveena, perhaps, she's...weird. At least Sara knows personal space.

He drags Shubhman to sit down on a bench that's unofficially his. As Shubhman sits down, Ishan draps himself over his lap, knees on either side of Shubhman's thighs, essentially trapping him.

He holds Shubhman's face in his hands tenderly, staring into his big eyes that are so vulnerable right now. He begins peppering kisses over his face as he murmurs. "Shubhman. I like you. Or the way people merge our names together. Or the way everyone knows we are a package deal. Or the way people comment about the two of us and call you jiju. Or the way people make those gorgeous edits of us. I adore the way you touch me. I love the way you say my name, half, full, angry, sad, desperate. Anyway you speak it, I love my name in your mouth."

He's nipping at Shubhman's jaw by the time he finishes speaking and he leans fractionally to murmur in his ear,"You are mine. I am yours. Anyone else will never matter."

Shubhman shudders under him and his hands on Ishan's thighs flex and tighten. "I know," he says,"but, I just can't—"

Ishan nods, kissing Shubhman to shut him up,"I know." He whispers against Shubhman's lips. "But I'm yours, aren't I?"

Shubhman nods jerkily, almost like his nods are forcing the truth in him. "Yeah," he rasps,"you're mine. And I'm yours."

He kisses Ishan, like his life depends on it. It's bloody and ferocious and everything that they are and more. He squeezes Ishan's thighs and pulls him nearer, as close to meshing themselves as possible.

Hysterically, Ishan thinks of a song lyric. Phool bhi ho darmiyaan toh faasle hue. He's never understood it better before this moment.

Ishan's heart is beating fast, one of his hands is under Shubhman's tshirt and other hand is tangled in his ever perfect hair. Shubhman moves his hands from Ishan's thighs to his hips and the other one to his throat.

He digs his thumb just under Ishan's chin and Ishan moans in his mouth, his hips stuttering on their own accord.

"I'm gonna mark you up," Shubhman says, voice croaky. "That fine, Jaana?"

Ishan nods, dazed as all hell as he focuses on the way Shubhman feels under him, the friction delicious and his hold addictive.

Ishan only realises that he's had his eyes closed when Shubhman changes the position of the hand on his throat and Ishan whines. It's something he knows Shubhman will tease him later but right now, he dives to bite at Ishan's collarbone.

The sting makes him hiss but Shubhman blows air on it and presses a chaste kiss on the spot, following the ritual all over Ishan's collarbone.

Ishan has to wear high collared tshirts for the next two days.

____________________________________________________

Tagging: @mayakimayahai @kyayaarkiraa @ronika-writes-stuff @onthecloudseven @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou

[fortunatelycrazyyouth]

shubman is down so fucking bad for ishan. he lets ishan do anything to him. he just lights up whenever ishan is nearby

[hum-suffer]

Brotherrrr

Us🤝🏽 Shubhman simping over Ishan

(i also wrote a slightly steamy/spicy one shot focused on Ishan's thighs lmaoooooo)

Theory: Ishan keeps tattoos and beard because he knows that if he got rid of them, he would look like a teen (a really pretty teen whom everyone would fawn over) (also probably wouldn't be taken seriously)

[Shubman has already been exposed to the unavoidable charm]

[45cementry-gates]

.｡.✰ 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 ✰.｡.

Ishman/ Shubhish :

RRR :

ICT :

[hum-suffer]

I'm Yours 2

Ishan has always been a light sleeper. His mother was proud of him and his dad, a man who craved snacks at midnight, bemoaned his habits.

So when he wakes up on Sunday morning with a fresh gajra tied on his wrist, for a moment, he wonders if this is a hallucination or a dream. He blinks and pinches his thigh, the sharp sting reminding him that it's reality. He frowns, and touches the gajra. It's real.

Ishan takes a deep breath.

"Let's bathe first and then deal with this," he says to himself. Another beat passes as he reconsiders his promise to himself. "Maybe have some tea first."

____________________________________________________

He's so fucking glad that he had the tea first.

The moment he was more awake, he was panicking.

Someone fucking broke into his house? His house? His ancestral, beloved house that had marble flooring which made clancking sounds everytime he walked? Ishan cracks his neck and takes another fortifying breath, staring at the discarded gajra on the dining table. It feels very audacious. And flattering.

The thought is horrifying and for a moment, Ishan imagines his grandfather shaking his head at the bloody idiocy Ishan possesses. Wryly, he says outloud,"I'm a very good source of entertainment, aren't I, Dadaji?"

The house obviously remains silent. In a surprising turn, the loneliness he often feels seeps right back in.

He glances at the gajra again. "Hey, at least, someone alive gets entertainment from me."

He knows he should report this. But for now, he doesn't want to care. It's a bloody Sunday and he will be damned if something ruins his Sunday, even if it's a stalker/admirer.

A message pops on his phone just as he's about to wash his cup. 'Did you like the gajra, love?'

'don't have the hair for it, dude.'

He probably shouldn't antagonise a probable sociopath.

But hey, what is life, if not had decisions taken in the spirit of loneliness?

____________________________________________________

When he's more settled, in the evening, Ishan goes out for a walk. His body aches in protest and the ink marks on his fingers dictate his profession to anyone who cares to see.

End of semester season is horrible, but more so when he already has to plan so much. Tomorrow's the seminar for something techy— Ishan doesn't know, he's the Hindi teacher, and he'd rather prefer not to know. Those things just rot his brain and he hates the seminars more than students, probably, but he'd do just about anything to take some load off of Virat bhaiya. Jaddu almost always lightens the mood at seminars, and he's back from his holiday to Jamnagar, and Ishan is counting on him to be the better part.

Apart from Shubhman, that is.

Ishan cannot get over his silly little crush, no matter how hard he tries and he hates it. That's a celebrity. A good looking, smart philanthropist who also owns a registered firm.

Ishan doesn't know the name of the firm, he realises with a groan. He gets his phone out, shoots a quick text to Shreyas to prepare the introduction speech for Shubhman.

The admirer, has sent him another message.

'Do you have any favourite colour?'

'yes, it's the shade stfu of the colour mind your business.'

'Lol. Really, tho. Don't make me dissect your wardrobe and make a guess, love'

Ishan's eyes narrow. He's not going to be ordered around by this bullshiter.

'Be my guest, love'

'i'm gonna overlook the rudeness for that endearment'

'Im gonna kill u'. Ishan doesn't even realise he's smiling until he casts a random glance at the windows of parked car. He controls his smile instantly.

'your looks already have'

Ishan scoffs at the blatantly cheesy line. Ew. 'Stay dead.'

____________________________________________________

'You have an awful amt of blue clothes'

The message greets Ishan early in the morning, and so does the smell of jasmines. He looks down and there it is— a gajra tied on his wrist.

The pounding headache that he already has becomes more pronounced as he passes through the motions of his schedule, the message a background chatter in his head until he has the cup of tea in his hands.

So.

That happened.

Yesterday's gajra and today's gajra, side by side, stare at Ishan. Ishan gulps. He should not have done that— any of that.

"Kya kar Raha hai tu," he mutters to himself as his thumb hovers over the block button. Why is he hesitating?

(Maybe because he doesn't care of he's dead or alive. Maybe because he wants the attention. Maybe because the idea of being so desired makes him warm. Maybe because someone only focusing on him makes him feel cherished.

Ishan doesn't dissect these ideas.)

He blocks the number and reports it for good measure.

He's already almost late— the quest to find his beloved oversized blue silk shirt had taken too much time. He's probably left it back home, maybe. He doesn't remember taking it there but he's always been clumsy so who knows? He'll continue the quest later.

The smell of jasmines cling to his nose even after he's deliberately choosen a woodsy perfume.

____________________________________________________

Shubhman is at perfect time.

Avesh, the admin staff manager, came almost running to Ishan when Shubhman, bless him, called in advance to say that he'll be at the college withing fifteen minutes.

If Shubhman keeps this up, Ishan will do something embarassing— like quoting Hannibal or something. The sheer appreciation Ishan feels for the man is beyond words.

As always, Rohit bhaiya had forgotten the matchsticks somewhere but Jas had come through and Ishan is now running around only making sure the height of the mic and the placement of flowers.

Siraj drags him forcefully to the gate of the faculty, to greet Shubhman. A volunteer student clicks photos as Virat Bhai hugs Shubhman, who always appears star struck at the attention from their resident King. Rohit bhaiya squeezes Shubhman in a tight hug and the smile Shubhman has on his face is blinding.

(Ishan wishes someone was as happy to see him. His colleagues are always fun, but they have lives— Ishan doesn't.)

When Shubhman turns to him, Ishan can't help but stare. He's wearing a navy blazer over a white shirt and dark blue jeans. His eyes, they're dark and intense. Ishan feels frozen.

"Ishan." His voice sounds so fucking good. He steps forward and before Ishan can hold his hand out for a handshake, Shubhman steps in his personal space and gives him a side hug.

Ishan breathes in, to calm his heart, and catches a distantly familiar scent from Shubhman. It's probably a kind of perfume Ishan knows, he's obsessed with scents.

"Shubhman. It's a pleasure to meet you again."

What the FUCK is he saying. Ishan wants to dig a hole in some lonely ground and bury himself. A pleasure to meet him? Could he be anymore obvious?

"Trust me, the pleasure is all mine."

____________________________________________________

The seminar goes on for two hours, perfectly adhering to the scheduled time and Shubhman has prepared enough to be also able to do a QnA. Ishan will marry him.

The students rush out of the seminar hall without a second thought, all of them sleepy and wanting to enjoy the rest of their day after the cancellation of their classes.

Ishan hums to himself as he wraps up the extra papers and wires, the bag for Shubhman ready to take. "Tulsi, reusable pen, certificate." He counts everything outloud and puts the bag aside. Someone lifts it up instantly. Ishan whips around, seeing Shubhman standing there grinning at him.

"Hello, there."

"Hi, Shubhman. How long have you been standing here?"

"Just long enough to hear that aap Mumbai aa sakte hai."

Ishan feels his face heat up instantly and shakes his head. Shubhman laughs. "Come on, I feel like we should close this hall before someone closes us inside it."

Would it really be so bad?

Oh god, when did he turn into a desperate teenager?

Ishan follows Shubhman out, talking about measley things like movies and songs, to see him off and help him settle with the gifts but they're met with Virat bhaiya and Rohit bhaiya standing at the gate of the faculty and a thundering rain.

Fuck.

They both despise the rain. Ishan does too, to be honest. Almost everyone at the college hates it. Mostly, because after rain, their usually pristine college roads turn into water holding corners at some areas and the greenery in their college always allows for mosquitoes after a good rain.

Virat bhaiya shakes his head,"Unnatural rains, at the time of diwali no less! Kya zindagi hai yaar."

"Why are you being dramatic?" Ishan asks with a groan,"I have to go back on my bike! I'm already applying for sick leave for tomorrow, Rohit bhaiya."

Before Rohit bhaiya can say anything, though, Shubhman frowns at him. "But why do you want to get soaked? I have my car, I'll drop you off at your place."

"Absolutely not, I'm not going to impose on you like that. And what about my bike?"

"I'll send Rutu or someone with it tomorrow to pick you up, bhai." Rohit bhaiya says. "Don't get sick uselessly! Shubhman is right, you don't need to get soaked for nothing."

Shubhman nods along,"And it's not imposing if I offered. Come on, let me do my good deed for the week."

Ishan looks helplessly at Virat bhaiya. He lifts his chin and gives him a reassuring look.

"Okay."

____________________________________________________

Tagging: @mayakimayahai @kyayaarkiraa @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou @onthecloudseven @khwxbeeda @ek-ladki-bheegi-bhagi-si @fortunatelycrazyyouth @ishkrisq

[hum-suffer]

I'm Yours 3

Welcoming Shubhman into his house is an awkward affair.

They were just harmonising, badly, to Rim Jhim Gire Sawan, and the parking area of Ishan's house doesn't have a shed or something, so they're left carefully sprinting across the garden to the house. Ishan had been in dilemma the whole ride, knowing that there was no shed and if Shubhman got out, he'd be drenched too, but not inviting him felt like Ishan was the world's biggest asshole.

However, Indradev made the decision for him. The rain slowed a bit, not completely stopping, but just enough to not develop pneumonia or something. And Shubhman helps as well— his voice, his beautiful fucking voice, turns deeper in the car ride. It's a sign of an incoming cold, Shubhman says, he gets cold easily.

Shubhman hovers awkwardly at the threshold.

"Are you a vampire, man? You won't come in until I invite you? Come on in!" Ishan will end up hitting himself in the wall. What is he saying. Yes, why doesn't he embarrass himself further and admit that his fictional crush is Elijah Mikaelson—

Shubhman grins,"Nope, but I must respect your privacy." He makes jazz hands at the comment as he walks in. "Lying, I respect your furniture more."

Ishan chuckles. "Wait here, I'll get you a towel."

Shubhman hasn't moved an inch in the two minutes that Ishan precariously ran to get him a towel and. And. Okay.

He shakes off the power rush with a shake of his head and smiles lightly at Shubhman, who shakes his head as he dries his hair, not unlike a puppy.

"Come, I'll make us some tea. You can go home after the rain stops."

"Thank you, Ishan, but I don't think i ven impose on you like that," he says, eyes impossibly shy. He's adorable, Ishan thinks.

Ishan shakes his head,"It's not an imposition if I'm asking you to do it, Shubhman. Come, and I'll have some company too."

____________________________________________________

They sit at the dining table after Ishan hastily slides the gajras to the other end.

Shubhman raises an eyebrow. "Girlfriend?"

No, a stalker, actually. Someone who's actually broken into my house and hasn't stolen anything, hasn't hurt me but brought me gajras. Someone who somehow managed to enter the house even after Ishan added the age old heavy, traditional lock.

Someone who was his, wholly.

The possession ignites like lava in his chest.

Since the days he was a child, Ishan has been mindlessly possessive. He did not share, not willingly. What was his, remained his in entirety. Him sharing anything he owned was a privilege equal to a gods gift, he'd been teased. But it was nothing less, either. Ishan would bleed for someone he loved, yes, but his possessions? He would wage war for them.

Now, for the first time in his life, he had something that was wholly his. Not like the house, which had been his grandfather's. Not like the bike, which his dad gifted him. Not like anything else. His admirer, he was the only person who wanted Ishan so madly, and Ishan craved the attention. He'd been checking his phone in between the seminar too, for any new messages, and the disappointment at the lack of any messages was sour and bitter.

Ishan steals a glance at the gajras and another at Shubhman. Shubhman patiently raised his eyebrows with an amused and interested smile.

"Something like that, yes."

____________________________________________________

Shubhman leaves after they get way too involved in an Anupama rerun and both of them begin to simp on Gaurav Khanna whilst wishing him a divorce.

Ishan is still on the serotonin high, the cups of tea feeling like some sort of achivement. Was it a date? He doesn't know. But he definitely adored each second.

He sinks down in the bathtub with a satisfied hiss, the warm water making him feel the best he's been. Maybe he needed this evening, he thinks, closing his eyes. He needed the relaxation, the chance to just calm down. The seminar preparation had him bouncing around the college and now that it's done, he could just sleep for the next three days.

He hums under his breath, his mind wandering to the admirer he has.

What is his name? What does he do? Is it a he? When did he become obsessed with Ishan? Why?

The warm feeling stays and before long, Ishan delved into the memories he has of movies and series he's seen, wishing that he'd be loved so. What would Ishan do, he wonders, if he got asked on a date?

He'd bring flowers, for sure. And maybe dance on Kishore Kumar songs.

Absolutely dance on Kishore Kumar songs, actually.

The water is turning colder and he opens his eyes with a groan.

He streches to reach his towel and. And.

There's a bunch of jasmines over his towel, which weren't there before.

His breath hitches and he looks around. He doesn't know if it's anticipation or panic or hysteria.

Ishan takes a deep breath. At least he was wearing his boxers.

He grabs his phone as soon as he's out of the fucking unlocked bathroom.

'Don't be so careless, love,'

'Not everyone has intentions as pure as I do.'

For some reason, Ishan shivers at that. The messages aren't even a minute old and he runs out to the porch in his sweats and the ratty tshirt that's inside out.

"Where the fuck are you?" He says out loud in frustration when he finds no one around him and he immediately feels like an idiot for saying things aloud to air. It's one thing to talk to himself and other to speak so loudly.

His heart thuds uselessly in his chest and Ishan gulps, listening to air.

His phone vibrates in his hand.

'Are you sure you want me to come to you, love? No more fake courage?'

Ishan doesn't answer the message.

"What should I call you? A creep? That was ridiculous and rude!"

'Ah, there he is'

'Call me yours, Ishan. Already told you this, haven't I?'

And Ishan.

Ishan is tired.

He's been yawning for a while and he'd almost fell asleep in the bathtub. He's too tired to shout at an empty space and receive more messages.

He sends a message that he knows he will regret as he closes and locks the door.

'Whatever is mine, works in any way I want it to. Be careful what you wish for.'

____________________________________________________

The gajra on his wrist isn't even a surprise.

The surprise, is the rose on his bedside.

'I don't even like roses,' he writes.

'Your way of thanking me is always weird.' his admirer writes back. Ishan gets up from the bed with a smile on his face.

Ishan did indeed take a leave on Tuesday, a late night message to Rohit bhaiya and another one to the group of his students was all it took to arrange his leave for the day. He never has more then three lectures on Tuesdays, and he knows he deserves a day to laze around after all the hellish work he's done.

He ends up watching a Marathi movie that makes him sob like a child. And then going to sleep again.

____________________________________________________

It's Aditi that drags him out of the house.

"Enjoy your life, at least!" She yells at him through the phone. "If I hear one more complaint about your students, I will burn your college!"

Just to be cheeky, Ishan complaints about the schedule he keeps and ends up getting cussed. He cackles all the way to his closest, ruffling around for clothes to change into, because he knows his friend. If she's determined, she will definitely drag him out of the house.

He doesn't think it's a very bright idea, if he's honest. What could be better than drinking tea while watching cooking dinner and watching YouTube roasts?

But, he digresses.

He changes into a plane white shirt and folds the sleeves to the elbow and changes into a pair of black dress pants he favours particularly well. He would have worn the bloody blue silk shirt had it not been swiped from him.

The thought of his admirer makes him check his phone again.

The last message reads,'Go and get some fresh air, love. Give me a challenge.'

He wanted a challenge, Ishan thinks with a smirk. He's going to get one.

____________________________________________________

Tagging: @onthecloudseven @mayakimayahai @kyayaarkiraa @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou @ms-potato @khwxbeeda @ek-ladki-bheegi-bhagi-si @fortunatelycrazyyouth @k-h-watari (aur koi reh Gaya hai toh pls tell me!)

[hum-suffer]

I'm yours

Ishan is a hopeless romantic. In the sense that his romantic interests never let him hope.

The most recent person that he has been head over heels for is going to give a seminar in their college and he's Ishan's favourite.

Ishan is the head of the Cultural and Intellectual Committee and as such, he's in charge of almost all the extracurricular events that take place in the college. He's always had such bloody issues with 90% of the guests and speakers for being unprepared or late that these days he just assumes that the guests will be late, but hopefully not too late.

Which, brings him back to his current romantic interest— Shubhman Gill.

The man has been guest speaker in their college twice by now, third time monday, and he has never disappointed Ishan. He's always on time, he's always perfectly dressed, and he always emails Ishan his speech and let's Ishan point out details that he would humbly request to add or remove. Ishan could have kissed him for being a half decent human being the very first time he did that.

Plus, the college being the Techno faculty, the super famous technological prodigy of India coming as a guest speaker, Shubhman sometimes gets assaulted with too many questions and people and sometimes with no good interactive audience at all and yet, he smiles and talks to the teachers afterwards.

The first time Shubhman talked to him, Ishan had been putting away the gifts Shubhman received so that the man could take them on his bike without damaging the Tulsi plant.

(And that was another thing. A famous and important personality coming on his fucking bike? Ishan drooled a little bit when he heard Shubhman softly ask Ritika ma'am for a place to keep his helmet at.)

"Thank you for inviting me," Shubhman told him in a bashful way, an embarrassed blush on his cheeks.

Inexplicably, Ishan wanted to bite those cheeks. He held himself in chem and smiled back,"Thank you for coming, Mr. Gill. You've been a pleasure to work with."

"Please, it's Shubhman! And honestly, I had fun coming here as well. I hear you're the organiser of the event; it's amazingly done, I must say. Your management is impeccable."

So what if Ishan let the praise get to his head? So what if he stalked Shubhman on Instagram later? They had exchanged numbers—for future seminars, Shubhman had explained, much to Ishan's misfortune— and Ishan was entitled to be a little over his head for once!

The second time they talked, was when Ishan congratulated Shubhman on his award as the leading influencer of social media. The third time was when Shubhman wished Ishan on his birthday. The fourth was when Ishan had to invite Shubhman for ALASKA organisation's collab with their college and his presence as a guest judge.

Shubhman had sought him out again.

"I had a lot of fun," he said with that damnable smile of his,"thank you for inviting me again, Ishan."

Ishan shook his head,"Thank you for coming, man. Honestly, your way of interaction makes learning more interesting for the students. And, well, throws me some points to become the favourite teacher of the year."

Shubhman laughed, a sound that Ishan wanted to get drunk on for the rest of his goddamn life. "You have those competitions?"

Ishan looked around dramatically and leaned towards Shubhman, as of telling a secret. Shubhman, that perfect man, leaned forward as well, looking completely serious about this so called secret.

Ishan reached on his tip toes to whisper,"The students do that in their classes on Teachers' day. If they do it publically, they have to give the best teacher paper crown to teachers senior than me. So, a private award for me to take."

Somewhere in the background, something huge fell and Ishan startled badly enough to almost stumble but Shubhman caught him by the arm and grinned,"Cheers to the best teacher, then. What's the other activities you planned amazingly?"

And that's how Shubhman had ended up getting VIP passes to see the Darshan Raval concert that had been arranged.

Virat bhaiya had raised an eyebrow at Ishan showing Shubhman around the campus while they prepared for the concert lightings and all, but hadn't said anything. Ishan was so thankful.

They haven't talked in the four months after Ishan wished Shubhman a happy birthday.

____________________________________________________

So, in short, Ishan is a hopeless romantic. He turns every little gesture into a gesture of love and he has many one sided love stories that live rent free in his head.

He would have romantisized this as well, to be honest, if he wasn't confused as fuck.

He's been home for all of five minutes after a damn long day— it's exam season— and all he wants to do is flop on his bed and sleep for the next four weeks. A text pops up on his phone, from an unknown number.

'Are you tired, love? Anything I can do to help?'

Ishan frowns. None of his friends changed their numbers recently and moreover, none of them use nicknames. Can't be a student, no student of his would dare disrespect him. He may be lenient most of the time, but he's tempered enough to break their audacity on the very first lecture.

'Who is this?'

The reply came instantly. 'Your admirer? Your worshipper? Your fan?' a second passed as Ishan gawked at the message. Another message dropped. 'Whatever I am, I'm yours.'

Well, damn. Someone's smooth.

'Thank you for your kind words, but I prefer not to own people. It's illegal yk?' Ishan feels like an idiot as soon as he sends the text but he can't do anything because it's seen immediately. The person on the other side must be bloody stuck to their chat.

They send a few laughing emojis. 'I could turn the world around for you to be mine, though.'

Goddamn.

Ishan leaves the message on seen as he types the unknown number on Truecaller, but there's no registered name under the number.

He's about to leave and go freshen up when another message pops up.

'Searching for me on Truecaller will result to nothing, love.'

Ishan leaves the message on delivered as he looks around himself, his big house feeling emptier by the second. He blocks the number, somehow feeling a weird mix of anticipation and trepidation. He takes a fortifying breath and nods to himself, throwing his phone on the dinning table on his way to his bed room.

He tries to get the message out of his head as he looks for another YouTube video to see while eating his dinner.

'Do you know that blocking someone in the middle of the conversation is rude, Ishan?' the pop up message reads.

'Fuck off.'

____________________________________________________

There's a swarm of notifications going off and that's how Ishan wakes up at the ungodly hour of 2:34 am.

He blindly reaches for his phone, the brightness will kill him he's sure, but somehow manages to read the notifications with squinted eyes.

It's an annual Spotify subscription? What the fuck?

He scrambles to sit up and turns on the lamp, trying to focus more. The bloody notifications are an absolute onslaught to his ears. He even has an email announcing his annual Spotify premium account but there's no SMS of deduction from his account. What even—

Before he can start to plan a schedule to go to the bank tomorrow and also somehow plan a call to the customer service of Spotify, another message from that unknown number pops up.

'Happy belated Birthday, Ishan. Sorry I couldn't get you any actual gifts this time, I'll do better next time.'

Next bloody time?

'There won't be a bloody next time. Don't interfere in my life again. And cancel this bloody premium, i don't need it.'

And he lies.

He does need the premium for when he pulls all nighters and for when he drives to and fro to college. He needs it because he needs someone to talk and listen when he wants to be awake and podcasts are the only way that happens lately when he's off work.

Yes, he has a horrid social life— as a professor often does. All his friends are his colleagues. His family usually knows that he pulls insane hours and they only call at weekends.

'Don't reject it, pls' the message comes, as Ishan ponders his lonely life. When was the last time he enjoyed his life thoroughly? Another message pops up. 'Look, I just want to do something nice for you, okay? Leave it be, it's not your money thats costing you and I've got plenty of money to spend on my dear ones, with god's grace.'

Ishan doesn't know what to reply and he is incensed at himself for it. What the fuck? Ishan has never been greedy or wanted what he couldn't have. This random person suddenly gifts him a Spotify premium, Ishan contemplates his life and he hesitates in doing the right thing?

'Pls Ishan?'

Oh god, he can hear the puppy eyes. He turns off his internet and throws the phone on the bed. Somehow, Ishan manages to sleep.

____________________________________________________

The next morning, it's thankfully Saturday. His Saturdays go great almost always.

His hand itches to listen to his Spotify playlist he's made specifically for travel, but he doesn't want to use a stranger's gift. The stranger might know him and do it out of good of his heart or whatever, but Ishan, in all good conscience cannot use someone for their money.

As he absentmindedly drinks his evening tea, Ishan contemplates any tasks he has for the next day— grocery shopping, getting a haircut, finding a plumber to fix that minor leakage in his kitchen tap. It's gonna be a long day.

"Ishan!" He blinks up like a deer in highlights as he's startled by Rohit bhaiya. "What are you thinking?"

"Kuch nahi, bhaiya," he says and grins when Rohit bhaiya puts his hand on his shoulder. Ishan has always been a fan of skinship, and while Virat bhaiya being touchy is normal and comforting, Rohit bhaiya being touchy is rewarding and privileged. "Aap batao, how was your day?"

He groans in reply,"Puchh mat, Bhai. These B.Com students look innocent but they're so not! Apparently some kids sold around a paper of Accounts saying it's a leaked paper but it wasn't and making it clear to the students as well the board members? Hell. Why did I even accept to be the Secretary there when I'm Dean here too?"

Ishan laughs,"Because you love Virat bhaiya and lost a bet?"

"Shh, don't speak about it where students can hear you!"

Ishan laughs again. Feeling happy is a natural state of his when he's around his colleagues, they're all so good to him. It's what makes him stay in the college despite him getting offers from a lot of colleges in bigger cities. He's never gonna get the same affection anywhere else and he's ready to face some separation with his family while he works here. He's already made it clear that they're gonna come love with after his father finally retires.

"Accha, tell me what is the status of overmorrow's seminar?"

The one where his celebrity crush is going to be the main speaker?

"Spectacular. I've done everything, bas I'll get the flowers and the gift watch and everything else is set. Bhaiya bas Monday ko maachis dhundhni na pade, haa?"

It happens almost every damn time. It'd be ten minutes from arrival time of the guest and Ishan would tell some student to get the matchsticks for the auspicious diya lighting and no one would find the matchsticks. With everyone else, it's fine, but Shubhman? He's a punctual man, running around like headless chicken in front of him is not how he wants to establish himself and his students.

Rohit bhaiya nods understandingly. "Pakka. Varna ye apna hai na vo, usse lighter le ke candle light karke de Dena."

Ishan shakes his head at the confusing slang Rohit bhaiya uses. Amar, one of his students, has a smoking habit and hence carries around a lighter. The idiot always saves himself by offering his lighter at times when lighting something was necessary.

"Thik. Anyways, I'm going home, bhaiya. Anything left for me to do?"

Rohit bhaiya shakes his head with a grin and lets him go.

Its almost reflex when Ishan puts his earphones in and starts Chhaiya Chhaiya.

The bloody quality makes him blink and straighten up. And oh. Yeah, he's using premium.

Even as he feels a little guilty, his head bops to the beat as he drives back home.

____________________________________________________

When Ishan comes back home again, his garden looks different.

He's convinced that it's because he's not inspecting it properly so he crouches down and cranes his neck to look at the grass and some flower plants he has. He can't put his finger on it, but it's different.

He glances around the rest of his garden and that's when it catches his eye— the mower. And the pile of grass beside.

Someone fucking mowed his garden? And somehow, to the exact way he likes it.

And then, he hears the start of a two-wheeler, and before he's even out of the gate, the person has turned the corner and all Ishan can see is the shade of their taillight on the trees.

Ishan hightails it inside his house and checks it all over.

No lock broken, no thing stolen and no money moved. Everything is as it was when he left in the morning.

His phone pings with another message.

'Sorry to leave like that, ik it was obnoxious'

'how'd you like your garden tho? Did I do well?'

And. Ishan is a weak man, okay?

He knows this is wrong, he knows he has a stalker probably, and someone with probably deep issues, but. He bloody can't accept such big help without saying anything in gratitude, okay? He's weak.

'Its fine, tho I'd like to meet you someday' what the fuck is he saying. He wants to meet a probable sociopath?

'And thanks for the garden. You've done it perfectly and it's a great help. Thank you' there. He's been polite.

Another message comes. 'I think you'll enjoy our meeting a lot, love. And your welcome'

No other messages pop up throughout the evening.

Ishan denies to even himself that he checks his phone every five minutes for the stranger.

He's intrigued, he says to himself when he goes to sleep.

____________________________________________________

Tagging: @mayakimayahai @onthecloudseven @ek-ladki-bheegi-bhagi-si @kyayaarkiraa @fortunatelycrazyyouth @khwxbeeda @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou @ishkrisq

[hum-suffer]

My fellow ishman brainrot darlings, I've got a question:

I saw a prompt reel where instead of the Haunting Adeline characters, Ishman were the main characters and Shubhman was the stalker, right? (Assuming you're already aware of the horror that Haunting Adeline is)

And then I saw another reel where the main character has a stalker but the stalker is v helpful and stalker just yk folds his laundry, cleans his driveway etc because stalker knows MC is tired from his everyday life.

Now, i wanted to mesh these two for Ishman. Tags would be

Versatile Ishman, slight spice, stalker romance ofc, puppy Shubhman, tired professor Ishan, NO STUDENT TEACHER RELATIONSHIP, Virat playing the protective big brother, Rohit actually getting shit done by forgetting the shit he's SUPPOSED to get done. Also, NO NON CON/ DUB CON

Would y'all read this?

Also if you've got any ideas pls do tell me, i literally don't know how to start with this one

Tagging: @kyayaarkiraa @onthecloudseven @mayakimayahai @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou @ek-ladki-bheegi-bhagi-si @amrut-aa @khwxbeeda