#white saree look

[apple8ees]

love cook

[alternate versions/no overlay under the cut]

"e why are there so many of him" listen. i like gradients

[maraudersbitchesassemble]

I'm at a wedding right now and I just It's so pretty

[sweettanya8]

[ebachikan52]

Latest design chikankurti :: lucknowi chikankari

Latest Design Chikan Kurti and Suit collection online on EbaChikan at guaranteed lowest price. Shop on Lucknowi chikan kurtis, suit and saree. Murri and Phanda are types of stitches used to make chikan embroidery (or Lucknowi Chikankari work). This type of embroidery comes from Lucknow. Also known in the West as the French knot. https://ebachikan.com

[gguk-n]

Hi could please write one where the reader is bengali and celebrates Durga Puja with Lando in india ( ollie or kimi works too but I'm not sure if you write for them)?

I did a ‘spin the wheel’ and got Ollie.

Puja Vibes

Ollie was as white as white gets and his girlfriend was the embodiment of the Bengali culture prancing around. She had helped Oliver expand his horizon; taught him new experiences and delicious food. She will argue, that there’s no dessert like Bengali dessert.

So, when it was time for Y/N to return home for Durga Puja, Ollie would be joining her too since he had no races or prior commitments.

They hadn’t dated for long but Ollie had showered her with gifts on Christmas and taught her all his family traditions. Y/N just wanted to do the same for him.

At the airport, they landed together with Ollie in tow who was enamoured by the hustle and bustle of the city. He saw cows crossing the road like it was another Tuesday and no one batted an eye. Y/N pointed out all the building explaining the significance and the reason behind their construction during the colonial era on the way to her home.

At home, preparations for Durga Puja were in full swing. Y/N’s uncle and aunt had decorated their house ornately. Oliver greeted everyone.

The festivities would start the next day. Everyone was up bright and early for the invocation (bodhon) Oliver was mesmerised by the shining lights and the bright colours and the beautiful way Goddess Durga was dressed.

The main event was Maha Ashtami which Y/N’s father had great pleasure in explaining to Oliver. Oliver was like a kid in a candy store; eyes wide open and mesmerised by the events unfolding in front of him.

You would find the poor boy following Y/N around like a lost puppy. It was adorable watching him hold onto her saree palo as she walked in front of him. “Lemme hold your hand” Ollie whined. “Everyone is here for the festival. What will the elder’s think?” Y/N reasoned. In Indian culture, blatant show of affection was frowned upon especially in the older generations, the younger ones couldn’t care less. That’s why Ollie was walking around holding her palo.

They were stood next to each other while Y/N’s mother made the preparations for Maha Ashtami. “Your dress looks so beautiful. Red truly is your colour” Ollie said. “Thank you babe” she said. “How did you do this?” He asked playing with the folds. “My mum helped. I’m still pretty bad at tying a saree” she said. “Is that what it’s called? A saree” he said enunciating each word. “Yup, it’s an Indian traditional wear but everyone wraps the cloth around them differently, depending on the region of the country” she explained. His mouth formed an O in understanding.

They finished up the celebration with all the rituals being done and Oliver asking way too many questions each step of the way.

On the last day after Vijaya Dashami, after the immersion in the water everyone returned back home, exhausted by the events of the past days when Y/N’s cousin showed her a video; actually a few.

One video, had Ollie following her around like a lost puppy. The other one was of him holding her palo so as to not get lost. And the last one was straight out of a Shah Rukh Khan movie where Ollie’s watch had gotten stuck in her palo and he tried to free himself while actively trying to follow her and not let her know that he might fray her outfit. Eventually, he did free himself but his eyes never left her as he walked behind her.

She showed the video to Ollie and the Shah Rukh Khan scene from Om Shanti Om. Ollie was seen laughing, “didn’t know I would be getting my Bollywood moment this year during Puja” she said. “I’m happy I could be of service, m’lady” he said tipping his imaginary hat. “I would still have loved if it was Shah Rukh Khan” she teased. “Wow! I can’t believe this.” He acted hurt with his hand on his chest. “You are unbelievable.” She muttered pressing her lips on his cheeks. “Don’t try to bribe me with kisses” he huffed. “I’m not. I love you my cute little bear” she cooed. “I’m not cute” he huffed again. “Sure, my rasgulla” she laughed pinching his cheeks. “I like that dessert. Can I have some more?” He replied lost in thought. “I’m sure my mother will find great pleasure in feeding you” she said laughing. “Let’s go” she said pulling him along. “I love you Y/N.” Ollie called out while being dragged along. “I love you too” she replied turning to look at him.

Y/N’s family cooed at them, young love

Hope you liked it! I tried my best

[rowretro]

SHE'S MEANT TO BE MINE

♡Warnings: angst, kissing, death, violent description with blood, royalty au, yandere riki, desi reader (or any race uw but she;s described as a desi girlie in the historical part), ponniyin selvan inspo. (I'll make a sunghoon ver which will be more suggestive)

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

That face... that hair... that girl... she's all too familliar. It's her. she's reborn in the modern times. Riki was over the moon to see his darling still alive. Except there's one problem... She doesn't know him... she doesn't know what they had all those years ago. The woman bound to be her princess, the woman who died for their love, now reborn without a scratch on her...

The sound of anklets echoed through the empty greenery of the forest. The prince was drawn to this beautiful woman, he'd do anything to see her smile, to hold her in his arms as they sit under the moon talking about random things, he'd give anything just to kiss her. Him a vampire prince, had fallen for this orphaned, human girl. He watched as she danced oh so elegantly among other girls, her long black hair in a braid with a few baby hairs shielding her forehead.

How she carefully threaded the flowers for the sage when he had a pooja to do in the morning where many humans would come and share their concerns as they wish to be blessed. She was beautiful, and that little black pottu on her forehead just added to her beauty. She wasn't one who wore much jewelry, or expensive clothing, given she couldn't afford such luxury, but she looked luxorious with even the white, basic saree (yk like sara wore in ponniyin selvan).

It wasn't easy trying to convince her to fall for him, but she did. How couldn't she? a man so pure at heart, he was only a few months older and that lovestruck look in his eyes had her falling. "I don't like this..." she said, clearly feeling uncomfortable. "Just hold my hand where I'm holding it and pull back with me" he instructed. Hesitant, she did as told, now in his embrace as he helped her aim the arrow at the poor deer.

"Now let go with me" he instructed. She closed her eyes, and did as told. The deer stood in it's place unharmed, the arrow shooting up at the sky instead. She smiled turning to him, seeing he aimed elsewhere. "Even if the arrow and bow are always put together, they can never live together" he said placing a soft loving kiss on her forehead "So never worry when His majesty tries to marry me off... it'll never work. I'm reserved for you, it's been carved in the strongest of all rocks." he said reassuringly as she stared up at him.

"Are you sure I'm not holding you back?... you're a prince after all... what am I but a commoner... an orphan?... everyone will be against us being together... not even my parents wanted me..." she trailed off as he just hugged her. "Don't ever think that... you're the one for me, and my love is enough for you ok?" he reassured as she nodded. That very day, the sage spotted her on the white horse, the prince behind her smilling.

He caught the fruit that had fallen from the tree that he struck his arrow at. "It's perfectly ripe, let's have it" he said giddily, as Y/n opened it for them to share. "Do you... want a taste of what our future would be like?" he asked as she wonderred "why not" she shrugged, as he helped her up on the horse, the 2 riding in public, as the others gossipped and chatterred. Riki watched as she closed her eyes, looking down at the many people who were talking bad about her, and up at the sky that felt within reach. "You could grab the stars at night, how amazing would it be?" he asked as she chuckled, leaning her head into his welcoming chest, as he rested his chin on her head

That's when all went downhill... The sage catching the lovebirds. Since then she had been kicked out, pushed around and hurt by the public, The king ordering her to leave for good. The prince screamed her name, running around like a madman until he could find her. There she laid, her soft skin now violently pierced with a sword, the metal that reached all the way through coated red, her soft white saree now stained with her blood. Riki screamed with agony, cradling her cold body.

. . .

He held the anklets, that are still as clean and silver as they were many years ago, the rock with their names carved in it remained. Even her name was Y/n. Quite different from the last time he saw her. He's a vampire, so he still looked the same, though he no longer had a mullet. Y/n had her black hair reaching slightly under her shoulders, layered, her nails sparkly. Though he noticed how she'd mostly wear white, and always wear a different bindi every now and then. She was beautiful, absolutely breath taking as the last time he saw her.

So he had to keep her. Y/n fell so easily into his trap, believing it was just luck, a handsome man around her age, attending the same Uni as her, before she knew it she moved in with him, in his rather old-timey large palace, he wore the vintage looking anklets he gave her as a valentine's day gift. He was just too sweet. She felt so comfortable and safe in his arms, as they sat under the moonlight on his balcony. "This high up, you can grab one of the stars if you wanted to" he'd say, earning an oh so familiar chuckle from her.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

A/n: I have a feeling im going to receive backlash for this ff but idk why yet-

not my best work but I hope u like it<3

[heaven444child]

What will be the first impression of your future spouse on you❤️

Pick a pile

Pick one picture🌌 AND Read these readings mindfully 👻and if you want a personal reading then DM me✨🍀

Pile1 🤵🤵‍♀️

Pile 1 The first impression of your future spouse on you will be such that when you see him for the first time, you will find him very handsome👀 and charming 💕and when you see that he is not answering anyone's question, you will feel that he is as grumpy as he is handsome 🫣and I heard someone’s say emotionless. It is possible that you will find him emotionless👻 and it is possible that both of you may meet at someone's wedding or party where both of you will notice each other🫶 but it is possible that when you look at him, he will be looking somewhere else and when he looks at you, you will be looking somewhere else and it is possible that you may be wearing a white and sky blue combination dress that day🎀 but I can see the particular saree and whenever your future spouse will be looking at you, he will be smiling at you ☺️and as soon as you start looking at him, he must turn his eyes somewhere else .🫣🥹 Awww….so sweet your ✨🍀 future spouse is really very cute 😍 and his dress sense is also very good 👻

(I hope this pile resonates with you)

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Pile 2✨🍀

Pile 2 The first impression of your future spouse on you will be such that you will feel that he is missing 🧩something in his life and he is trying very hard to find that thing ♥️🥹 And you will find this person very disciplined and career oriented and financially stable and it is possible that when you meet this person, you will remember his words and you will not be able to forget them 🫣🫶 I am seeing angel numbers 66, 99 so it is possible that when you are about to meet your future spouse, you will see these angel numbers and this future spouse will be your soulmate 💜 And I also saw 96 mirroring numbers right now so it is possible that both of you mirror each other 👀 Just like you will remember one thing he said 🤪 Similarly, he will also remember every thing you said 👻 And for some people, it is possible that this person is your twin 🌸 And I heard that this is a destined connection 🫶 which your angels and God himself have chosen for you♥️🌼 And I loved this pile very much 😍✨

( I hope this pile resonates with you )

…………………………………………………………………………….

Pile3🎀💫

Pile 3 The first impression of your future spouse on you will be that he is very hardworking and very passionate ☄️ and you will find him just like a model 🤵 and you can meet him like this when you have travelled to another country 🌉 and it is possible that this is the place where you dream of going 💫 and you will feel that his skin and his body are absolutely perfect 🎀 just like a model and it is possible that your future spouse wants to make a career in modelling or it could be you 🤵‍♀️ and whenever you will see your future spouse for the first time, he will look different even in the crowd because he will shine in a different way even in the crowd 🫣His face will have a different grace or glow ✨❤️ and you will also feel that this person is very passionate about his career and it is possible that this person has a pet dog Or it could be a cat or you may have a pet🐶🐱 And I saw angel number 101010 then it is possible that when your future spouse will come in your life then there will be double blessings and double happiness in your life, whether it is emotional happiness or financial happiness🌸🍀 And it is possible that you may see angel number 1010 or 88, these dates may be important for you👀👻

Stay blessed ✨🍀 And thankyou for your support 🫶❤️

(I hope this pile resonates with you)

…………………………………………………………………………….

[andromachos]

take the classical options as what's expected in your community/religion (white dress, red saree, patterned kilt or qipao, etc)

jumpsuits styled to look like dresses count as suit

if you're aro but would marry for tax benefits or if you don't plan on truly marrying someone but like thinking outfits you can answer too, i love reading tags

[the0verboss]

For the ask game: do your durge and gortash coordinate clothes?

I wanted to get at this when I had time cause it's a bit of a long multifaceted answer that I have spent way too long contemplating because im obsessed with fashion. I'll include some art and photos because I'm extra. but the short answer is yes.

Gortash is prone to wearing luxury Baldurian fashions in black and red with gold accents.

Achaia wears the same red and golds but is more prone to wearing white before he and Gortash become an item, and he switches to black afterwards. His fashion however is very much loose flowing art silks, folded in a dhoti style for his pants, if he wears a shirt it's a kurta style tunic. He'll wear sarees and dresses, anything flowy that's beautiful when he's moving around.

Gortash will occasionally add a long silk shawl in a matching color to his own outfits to tie their looks together. And once in a while Gortash can get Achaia in a high collared Baldurian jacket.

After the events of the game if he rejects Bhaal and destroys the brain, Achaia swaps his red primary color for a fuschia to match his new eyes, which are orchid pink, tho he keeps the golds and blacks to match Gortash(who has to be alive or Achaia takes control of the brain to go get his man, at which point he keeps the reds regardless)

After he rejects Bhaal Achaia does have a bit of a fashion crisis because he sees a lot of his clothing tying him to much to a man he can't remember being but his fashion preferences win out eventually. Also Gortash loves the easy access the folded silk pants give him.

Under the cut I'll include some of the outfit inspirations I use when I'm working on Achaia's looks

I like to think that by the time Achaia is dressing in the pinks and fuschia's that match his eyes, Gortash is also replacing the reds in his own outfits so they match.

And this is actually how they look if Gortash ascends to Demi-godhood and Achaia becomes his chosen

[room-surprise]

I understand if this is outside your field of expertise, but do you think if the ornamentation of the clothing that (some of) the kobolds drawn by Kui wear is inspired by anything?

Actually this is exactly my field of expertise! I studied costume design for about two years in university before switching to something else :) So clothing is something I love looking at and talking about, and fashion history is one of my favorite elements of history in general!

HOWEVER, though I have some experience with subject, I'm not a fully trained expert in the field, and I know that I may not have all the answers, so please take what I say with a grain of salt. This is only my educated guess.

I'm assuming that you're talking about this page from the Daydream Hour book:

To start with, the caption says: "Kobolds that appear in foreign games and fantasy often have a reptilian appearance, but we chose an appearance that is more familiar in Japan." This doesn't tell us anything about their clothing, but I wanted to translate it to make sure it didn't say anything about their culture.

(You can read more about why the Dungeon Meshi kobolds are dogs in the Half-foot chapter of my Dungeon Meshi research project)

Kobolds likely live all over the world, but their large population centers are all located in the Western Continent, so that is probably the region they consider home.

So those two kobolds on the bottom left of the chart, who appear to be wearing European-inspired clothing, are probably living somewhere in the Eastern hemisphere, where Northern/Western/Central/Eastern European clothing is the norm, while the rest are likely from the West. So we can discard the European-looking clothes, since that's probably not a part of the kobold's traditional culture.

We have very limited information about the Western Continent, but these images plus what we know about Kabru (His name and Utaya's name are both South Asian, the dessert that comes from Utaya is South Asian) and the elves (several of them have South Asian names, some elves wear South Asian clothing and bindis) makes me think there's probably a strong Indian/South Asian influence in the Western Continent. It's a large land mass, so I don't think it's all South Asian, but South Asian culture is the only thing we have conclusive evidence of so far.

The majority of the kobolds are wearing brightly colored tunics with patterns on the hems, or what seems to be dresses/tunics made of draped fabric, also with hem decoration.

It IS worth noting that Kui avoids drawing elaborate patterns, even when it would make sense for her to do so. She does it only a couple of times in the manga and uses screentones instead whenever possible. So the simple hem decoration and single color fabric may just be an artistic choice that doesn't mean anything other than "I didn't want to draw a pattern." However, it's all we have to work with, so I'm going to assume it's intentional.

The repeated over-the-shoulder draped fabric the kobolds are wearing seems like it could only be a Greco-Roman style toga, palla, or cloak, or a South Asian saree. We have seen Western elves wearing garments similar to all of these on occasion, though obviously Kui has made some changes. As I say in my essay, I don't think any of the cultures in Dungeon Meshi is an exact copy of a real-world culture, Kui is remixing things together.

(Except for the Island of Wa, which seems to be entirely based on Sengoku-era Japan.)

Roman togas were just large pieces of cloth that they draped around their bodies, and they were usually white, with brown or black reserved for the lower-classes or for use during mourning, and purple or red reserved for extremely important people. Embroidery and trim, if they had it, was usually either very simple (plain colored stripes) or very elaborate (images of people, animals, or things).

So I think that rules out the toga as a possibility.

On the other hand, the saree and dupatta are also large pieces of cloth draped either around the body and over the shoulder (and sometimes the head), and usually they are either a single plain color, a plain color with a decorative trim, or an all-over pattern. This is a lot closer to what Kui draws the kobolds wearing.

(Pictures and more text after the cut)

Toga:

Saree:

The tunics the kobolds are wearing could be many things, as what's visible is not an uncommon neck shape. They could be something like a kurta, kaftan, or abaya (tunic/robe)... And there's probably a dozen other similar garments that I'm neglecting to name.

There are a million variations on the kurta, but these neck styles looks like what Kui is drawing on a couple of those kobolds.

However, some of the tunics COULD also just be a depiction of what is often called a "Viking tunic" or kyrtill (Nordic name for a kirtle or tunic).

However in Dungeon Meshi, the kyrtill is extensively worn in the Eastern hemisphere, primarily by dwarves, tall-men and half-foots. So I don't think the Western hemisphere kobolds are wearing them, and the style of trim looks different to me than what Kui drew.

Kobold fashion could also be influenced by any culture from North Africa, West Asia, or the Middle East, as these are also cultures that appear to dominate the Western hemisphere of Dungeon Meshi, and that have similar fashion cultures involving patterned textiles and draping cloth/veils/head coverings...

However, because of what seems like a large draping cloth over the shoulder, and the combination of trim with a solid color, I think the primary influence is South Asian rather than these other cultures.

I hope that helps! And keep in mind that Kui loves to remix things, so I'm sure there's elements from other cultures that would fit right in with what she's shown us of the kobolds, if you want to get creative with your fan works!

[flippinpancakes64]

I’D LOVEEEE if you could do a cullens x indian s/o ? there’s NOTHING with Indian x Twilight so i’d super appreciate it ! you don’t have to be super educated about the indian culture just mentioning the outfits and food are enough ! TYSM ! also its fine if u can’t do it . I loveee ur work and I ADORE the fact that you don’t like angst like LETS BE HAPPY LOL !

The Cullens with an Indian! SO

I’ve mentioned it before but I am a white woman and I do not know like anything so sorry if this is completely wrong 🙏

And I’m so glad that someone else loves fluff!!! Like just let me be happy if I wanted to be sad I’d go talk to my dad or smthn fr

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

This man has over 10 degrees

He loves to learn

So he is more than willing and happy to sit down and learn about your culture

He asks so many questions

The last thing he wants is to assume something to be true and then embarrass himself when it’s not

So yes he will ask about literally every single little thing

Does his best to respect your culture as well

He wants to learn about all of your folk tales

He wants to listen to all of the music

Hell, he’ll even fly you out to India if you want to go

And he doesn’t take shit from anyone

If anyone says anything that could be even remotely perceived as racist, he is sending them the hardest glare ever

Also there’s a pretty good chance that he can speak Hindi so at least he’ll impress your family

Alice:

She LOVES your culture

She appreciates fashion of all kinds

But I feel like she would love the intricate designs and patterns of sarees and henna especially

Invite her to a wedding please please please

She doesn’t care whose it is

She just wants to go and admire all of the outfits

She is also very open to learning anything you want to teach her

You have a recipe that has been passed down in your family for generations? She’s ready to learn it

Also your parents definitely love her

How could they not tbh

If you wear henna a lot, look no further than your personal artist

She just has so much love and respect for your culture

And you of course

Jasper:

He’s pretty inexperienced

If you asked him what language is commonly spoken in India he would say Indian

But once he meets you and starts to get more comfortable around you, he does his own research

He doesn’t want to burden you with making you explain everything to him

He’s so worried about screwing something up that he just… doesn’t do anything

Like if he reads something about there being a specific holiday, he doesn’t do anything for it

He just gets in his head about what if you don’t celebrate that, what if he does the wrong thing, what if it’s not a holiday at all

You’re gonna need to help him out a little

Or else he’s just gonna stay stewing in his own self doubt for forever

But he’s got the spirit

Rosalie:

She knows next to nothing about basically every culture that’s not American

Not because she doesn’t want to learn

But because it’s just never been a relevant thing for her

Like no she has no idea about the cultural practices in India because she’s never had to go there or been close to anyone from there

But now you’re here, she loves you, and she wants to learn

She finds that she absolutely loves the clothing styles

Especially at weddings

I mean, she already loves extravagant weddings

So this is right up her alley

She’s a little sad to find out the fact that henna doesn’t do anything to her skin

So she just makes do by doing it on yours ❤️

Emmett:

Ok this is going to sound bad but stick with me

He doesn’t particularly care about your culture

Not in a mean way of like “you want me to celebrate what with you? No not doing it”

But in a way of it’s not what’s most important to him

You as a person is more important to him than your cultural background

That doesn’t mean he isn’t willing to learn

It just means he’s more likely to remember your birthday than a holiday

But again, he is more than willing to learn anything you want to teach him

He will sit down and listen to anything you want to say

And he will remember it perfectly

But he doesn’t go out of his way to seek out the knowledge

But he is the best when it comes to people being racist

He can throw a punch with the force of a semi truck and he’s not afraid to do it

Esme:

We know that she does her homework when it comes to meeting new people

She made Italian food for Bella because she was 90% sure she was Italian

I feel like she carries that same energy

She does her best to cook food or put on movies that she thinks you’ll like

But overall food is definitely her favorite

She loves to cook, it’s one of her favorite hobbies

But she doesn’t have anyone to cook for

So you best believe she is always making something for you to eat

And she does her best to learn traditional dishes and how to make them

Carlisle:

He has traveled all over the world and experienced many cultures

He knows all about the history and culture of your country

So you don’t really need to explain anything to him

He’s just respectful like that

King

He will go with you to all of your parties or family get-togethers

He will help you make any dish at all

And he will fly you anywhere in the world or sightsee any country you want

But your culture isn’t the thing he notices most about you

He just loves you

Vampire! Bella:

She’s super curious

She has been three (3) places in her whole life

Forks, Arizona, and Italy for all of a day

So she knows actually nothing about your culture

Sure she knows what she learned in school, but honestly that’s not a lot

She wants to know everything that you’re willing to tell her

What holidays you celebrate, your favorite foods, the history of your family

And she will definitely try her best for you

You might have to be the one to drape her saree

[presidentlokis-hornyhelmet]

Pavitr x fem reader

- Jealous HEADCANONS

A/N: Apparently, Pavitr's costume and fighting style is inspired from Kerala, so I went with him also being from Kerala. (Malayalam is google translated)

Also read on AO3

Pav Pooh is a uwu little jelly bean 

It began even before you started dating. You were bffs so, naturally, you're invited to his house for Onam celebration. 

Pav stands spellbound at your beauty as you'd worn the traditional off-white saree with golden border, your hair done and decorated with flowers. He's about to compliment you when his cousin beats him to it. 

"Are all of Pav's friends gorgeous, or is it just you?" 

Pav's face drains of colour as his cousin flirts with you. And you're indulging him!? That's it, you're not leaving his sight anymore. 

"Flattery takes you nowhere, cousin." 

His cousin ignores him. "Chuchudu, you should really visit Kerala sometime! We can go to all the tourists sites, go on a boatride -just the two of us, I can even teach you fishing!" 

The idiot rambles on and on but Pavitr's eyes blaze in green fury 🔥 Chuchudu!? Chuchudu!?! How dare he call you cutie! 

And, Gayatri just HAS to add fuel to fire. "Aww, you guys look so cute together! Don't they, Pav?"

"Of course! You look like father and daughter. What a rare bond, right?" 

Pav tells himself it's because his cousin is an a-hole, which they are, and he doesn't want to see you hurt. 

Lies, all lies. He jello 

He constantly tries to separate you guys or atleast just be next you like a bodyguard, shadowing over your convos. If his cousin got irritated, they don't show it. And, thanks to his spidey sense, his cousin can't talk to you alone for more than 5 seconds, though they do manage to ditch Pav at times XP 

Pavitr lets out a sigh of relief only after his cousin leaves. 

The next time it happens is when a new guy, Ravi, joins school. Ravi takes one look at you and he's interested. He's always flirting at you everywhere: cafeteria, by your locker, in the hallway -even in the field. 

Weekends usually mean extra superheroing so Pav can only meet you again on Monday morning at school. Or atleast, that's what usually happens. Today, though, you're at your locker with Ravi's arm around your shoulder as he talks to his friends. He says something in your ear which makes you laugh and slap his shoulder. 

Pav is seeing green. And you seem to hang out with Ravi more as the days pass!

You suddenly find Pavitr showing up at your house whenever Ravi comes around, tagging along with you two and always standing inbetween, telling how long you guys are besties at every opportunity, touching you a LOT..

"WHAT do you think you're doing, idiot?" Gayatri traps Pav into a corner and gets him to spill. 

"Okay, okay, I am jealous! I.. I like Y/n. Like, like her like her.." 

"You what me?" 

Long story short, you guys (FINALLY) get together and Gayatri squeals in joy.

After You Begin Dating 

Boy, you underestimated how much he flaunts you

Hand-holding, kissing your cheek when he senses potential threat (thanks, spidey sense!), hugging a lot, lost of texting ("miss u moloo 😘", "can i come overrrr I'm boreddd :< ") 

You assure him he's the only guy for you. "Pav, baby, I don't want anyone else. I've always been yours." 

And, a little later in your relationship, you admit that the whole flirting thing with Ravi and Pav's cousin was a ruse to make him jealous. And Gayatri was in on it! ;P

"I'm sorry but you just look sooo cute when you're jealous!", you say, squishing his cheeks. 

Pav feigns offense but he's melting inside knowing you only have eyes for him. 

Also... C'mon, can anyone resist making this cutepie jealous? 

________

reblogs and comments appreciated!!!

[aratrikauwu]

"I did it!" She whispers, "I am a Doctor now." She wonders. Her family is elated, "Our daughter is a doctor." They say. She donned the white coat, Took the Hippocratic oath, To serve the hypocrites. She worked in the hospital, day and night. She told her father, "Don't worry, I'm safe here." One lie, among the many that are being told. She worked, served, for 36 hours. The old, the sick, the wounded, the hurt. She cared, she loved. Only to get hurt. She yearned some rest, only to get killed. She sat in the bench, and closed her eyes, Wanting some rest. Then came the devils, they held her down. They broke her bones, hit her, hurt her, raped her. She bled, from her eyes, from her mouth, from her vagina. Her glasses were shattered, into tiny pieces, The shards entered her eyes, left her bleeding. Her screams were muffled, the CCTV broken. The evidence removed, the culprits hidden. Her family cried, over her dead body. Wondering why they let her work so late. Wondering why they allowed her to become a doctor. Her mother wanted to wipe the blood off her face. Her father wanted to kill the devils. They wanted their daughter back. Had they known, saving lives, Would cost her life. They would have never allowed such plight upon her. The worst of all, the devils who raped her, Worship the Mother Goddess, have wives and daughters at home. They hoisted the flag today, celebrated Independence. While the doctor looks at her corpse and wonders, Was the white coat so arousing? While the 2-year old wonders, Was the onesie so arousing? While the 89-year old wonders, Was the saree so arousing? Happy Independence Day, to the men only. For the women will never be free, In a world, where a "no" will end me in a concrete-box. In a world, where serving people will kill me. In a world, where going out at night will kill me. I will never be independent, I will never be free.

[ltash]

Ashes to flames

Part 1

British India:

1940s.

The flames flickered and crackled ominously as they prepared the pyre. You stood there, clad in a brilliant red silk saree that shimmered under the fading light. The red dot between your eyebrows, the sindoor parted across your scalp, and the heavy gold jewellery that adorned your fragile frame all marked you as a widow, a bride bound to her husband, even in death Your pearly white skin, striking against the deep red of your garments, seemed too pure, too innocent for the fate that awaited you.

Your long, dark black hair, wavy and unbound, cascaded down your back like the night sky, and the henna tattoos that covered your slender arms and feet were still vibrant from your wedding day. Each intricate pattern felt like a mocking reminder of what should have been, but never was.

The weight of the moment pressed upon you, and memories rushed through your mind like a torrent you couldn’t stop.

You had been born into a wealthy Rajput family, one of privilege and tradition. Your parents, progressive for their time, had sent you to school with British girls. You could still hear your father's proud voice.

"You're not just a daughter," he’d said, his eyes gleaming with pride, "you're my pride. You will make your own path in this world."

But the dream of forging your own path had shattered the day he passed away. The vibrant, strong man who had nurtured your hopes and dreams was gone, and with him, your world collapsed. You remember standing there, watching as your mother stepped into the pyre beside him, her face serene with acceptance, fulfilling her role in the cruel practice of sati.

You had begged her not to go, gripping her hand tightly, but she had only smiled. "This is my duty, my child," she had whispered. "It is what we must do."

And now it was your turn.

At 23, you had been forced into a marriage with an 80-year-old man, a frail and terminal figure you barely knew. Your uncle had orchestrated it all, ignoring your protests and pleas. Your life, once filled with promise, had been reduced to caring for a dying man, a man who never loved you, never saw you as more than a young wife to be bound to his deathbed.

As you stood upon the pyre, your heart pounded in your chest, cold terror coursing through your veins. The deceased body of your husband lay beside you, his wrinkled face unmoving, eyes closed in eternal sleep. It felt like a nightmare you couldn’t wake from.

Your uncle’s voice boomed from behind you, cold and resolute. "It is time. Your duty is clear. You belong to him, in life and in death."

Tears stung your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. You were an abomination, they said, cursed to burn beside your husband. There was no escape now. You looked at the faces in the crowd, their expressions a mixture of reverence and indifference.

"I don’t want to die," you whispered to yourself, the words barely audible above the crackling wood and the ceremonial chants. Your body felt too fragile for the weight of what was expected of you.

For a moment, the world around you blurred, and you were back in the classroom, sitting at a desk with your British classmates, laughing and learning. You remembered the joy of those days, the dreams you had once nurtured, and the freedom you had tasted.

But it was all gone now.

The fire beneath the pyre roared to life, the heat licking at your feet, pulling you back into the present. Your breath hitched, your hands trembling as they were bound for the final rites. The crowd began to chant, their voices blending with the wind, carrying you closer to your fate.

You stood in shock, your mind screaming for escape, but there was none. The flames rose higher, and the scent of burning wood filled the air.

In that final moment, as the fire closed in, you closed your eyes and let the memories of your father, your mother, and the life you had once dreamed of wash over you. You had been a flower, once full of life, now destined to wither in the flames.

The flames raged around you, a roaring inferno that licked at the edge of your red silk saree, threatening to consume you whole. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning wood, filling your lungs with every breath. Your screams had become raw, a desperate plea that seemed to vanish into the night, absorbed by the rising chants of the crowd. Their faces, once familiar, now appeared distant and monstrous in the glow of the fire. Every inch of you trembled, trapped in the suffocating weight of tradition, knowing there was no escape.

Suddenly, through the deafening roar of the flames, another sound broke through, the thunder of hooves pounding the earth, fierce and unyielding. The chanting faltered, and for a moment, all eyes turned toward the source of the sound. Out of the swirling smoke, a figure emerged on horseback, riding at full gallop. The villagers stumbled back, their voices fading as the rider approached.

"Enough!" A voice rang out like a clap of thunder, so powerful it seemed to silence the world. It cut through the noise through the chaos, commanding attention.

Through the haze, you saw him, Lieutenant Admiral Simon Riley. His tall, imposing figure sat astride a powerful black horse, the silver insignias on his pristine uniform gleaming under the darkening sky. His face was set in a mask of anger, jaw clenched, eyes burning with purpose. His gaze met yours across the pyre, and in that moment, time stopped. The weight of the flames, the pressing heat, the terror, all of it disappeared as his eyes locked onto yours. They were sharp, focused, and filled with a fierce determination that left you breathless.

In one swift motion, Simon dismounted, drawing his sword in a fluid arc. The blade gleamed like polished silver, a beacon of power in the dim light. Without hesitation, he strode through the crowd, parting them with the sheer force of his presence. The people, once so confident in their cruelty, shrank back in fear.

His gloved hand reached for you. Strong, steady, unwavering, he grasped you by the waist as though you weighed nothing. With effortless strength, he lifted you from the pyre, cradling your fragile frame against his chest. The heat of the flames still crackled beneath your feet, but in his arms, the terror that had gripped you began to fade. You clung to him, your heart pounding, your body trembling from shock.

“I am taking her with me,” Simon declared, his voice low but lethal, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. His sword remained raised high, its deadly point gleaming, daring anyone to approach.

Your uncle, face flushed with rage, stepped forward. “You can not do this!” he shouted, his voice trembling with fury. “She is an abomination! The consequences, " He faltered, his eyes flickering with a mix of fear and arrogance. “The consequences won’t be good. Saahib, I warn you.”

Simon’s icy blue eyes narrowed as he turned to face your uncle. “You dare threaten me?” he asked, his voice dangerously calm. His grip on you tightened, his body a wall of strength and defiance. “You call her an abomination, yet you are the one trying to murder an innocent woman in the name of your backwards traditions.”

One of the villagers, emboldened by your uncle’s words, stepped forward. “She has a duty to fulfil! She must burn with her husband. It is our way!”

Simon’s jaw clenched as he glared at the crowd. “Over my dead body!” he thundered, his voice booming across the gathering. “You barbarians think you can hide behind your so-called customs? Killing an innocent woman under the guise of tradition? I will not allow it.”

His eyes swept over the villagers, daring them to defy him. No one moved. Even your uncle, who had always wielded power over your life, seemed small and insignificant in the face of Simon’s wrath.

The soldiers who had followed Simon arrived on horseback, dismounting swiftly and surrounding their commander, their faces set in grim determination. They moved into formation, shields, and rifles at the ready, forming an impenetrable barrier between Simon and the villagers. The crowd’s courage crumbled as Simon’s men stood at attention, their loyalty to him unshakeable.

Simon sheathed his sword with a sharp clink and swiftly mounted his horse, never once loosening his protective grip on you. With one fluid motion, he pulled you up onto the saddle in front of him, his arms encircling your body as he guided the reins. You pressed against his chest, your heart racing, your body trembling, still reeling from the terror of what had almost been your fate.

“Hold on,” Simon whispered, his breath warm against your ear, his voice gentle now, a stark contrast to the fury he had shown moments before.

As he urged the horse forward, the powerful animal surged ahead, hooves pounding the earth as the village disappeared behind you. The wind whipped through your unbound hair, and the world blurred around you as Simon rode with speed and precision, cutting through the night. His chest was firm against your back, a solid presence that anchored you as the remnants of the horror faded into the distance.

You glanced up at him, still too shocked to speak. His face was set in determination, but there was a tenderness in the way he held you, as if he had just saved something precious. His residence came into view on the horizon, a beacon of safety amidst the storm of chaos you had left behind.

As the horse galloped toward his estate, you knew that the life you had been condemned to, the pyre that had almost claimed you, was far behind. In Simon’s arms, you had been saved, not just from death, but from a life you had never chosen.

By the time you reached his mansion, your body had given up. The exhaustion, the terror, the sheer weight of what you had just survived had drained you of every ounce of strength. You could no longer hold on, and with a faint sigh, you collapsed in his arms, your head lolling against his chest as unconsciousness claimed you. Simon’s strong arms caught you, his grip unwavering as he dismounted his horse with practised ease, cradling your limp form close to him.

The grand doors of his mansion swung open as Simon carried you inside, his boots echoing sharply against the marble floors. His face was a mask of calm control, though the tension in his jaw betrayed the turmoil raging beneath the surface. The servants, startled by the sight of their master carrying an unconscious woman, rushed forward, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"Sati! But she is alive!" one of the servants gasped, his eyes flicking nervously between you and Simon. The whispers spread like wildfire, murmurs of shock and confusion filling the air.

Simon’s eyes, cold and resolute, silenced the room. “She will stay alive,” he said, his voice brooking no argument. There was a finality in his tone, a command that left no room for doubt.

“But, Saahib… you shouldn’t have brought her here,” another servant, an older man with worry etched into every line of his face, stepped forward cautiously. He glanced nervously towards the door, his voice lowering as he continued, “They will come for her. The village… they won’t let this go.”

Simon’s eyes darkened, a flash of anger crossing his face as he looked down at you, your fragile form still limp in his arms. “She will stay here from now on,” he declared, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. His gaze returned to the old servant, daring him to say otherwise.

The servant hesitated, wringing his hands together anxiously. “But, sir… she has committed...”

“She has committed nothing,” Simon interrupted sharply, cutting him off with a glare that froze the words in his throat. “What they tried to do to her, that was a crime.”

Without waiting for another word, Simon turned and carried you through the wide, opulent halls of his mansion, the luxurious surroundings a stark contrast to the horrors you had just escaped. He moved with purpose, his grip on you gentle yet protective as if he were carrying something precious and fragile. As he reached his private chambers, he nudged the door open with his boot, striding inside.

He walked toward his grand bed, the soft linens and dark wood frame a world away from the pyre you had almost perished upon. Lowering you carefully onto the bed, Simon’s touch was tender, as if he feared you might break. He adjusted the pillows beneath your head, smoothing your hair from your face as he stood over you, his gaze softening for the briefest moment.

“She has nowhere to go,” he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else, his eyes never leaving your unconscious form. His fingers brushed against your cheek, the warmth of his touch a faint comfort against your feverish skin.

The silence hung heavy in the room as Simon stood beside you, the weight of his decision clear in the set of his shoulders. He had saved you from the flames, but he knew the storm was far from over. They would come for you. But as long as you remained under his roof, under his protection, they would have to get through him first.

And Simon Riley had no intention of letting you go.

The soft clink of your heavy gold bangles stirred the quiet room, breaking the early morning silence. You blinked your eyes open, the weight of the ornate jewellery and the lingering scent of smoke bringing back the harsh memories of the night before. Your body felt heavy and exhausted, but you were alive. The bed beneath you was soft, a far cry from the pyre you had stood on, and the air was cool and still.

Simon, who had been standing near the window, turned at the sound of your stirring. His eyes, sharp and alert, softened when they met yours. "You’re awake," he said, his voice low but gentle.

You slowly sat up, feeling the weight of your golden jewellery shift as you moved. The red silk saree you still wore clung to you, a reminder of the ritual that had nearly claimed your life. Simon watched you closely, his expression unreadable for a moment, but there was something in his gaze, something like awe. You looked like an Indian goddess sitting there, the rich red fabric and gleaming gold of your attire contrasting with the delicate vulnerability of your face. Even in your weakened state, you were breathtaking.

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “You are safe now,” he said softly, his tone reassuring, firm. “Nobody will touch you. I will make sure of that.”

The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten with gratitude and fear all at once. He was offering you something precious: safety. A luxury you hadn’t known since you were forced into this nightmare.

“The servant will prepare breakfast for you,” Simon continued, his voice softening as he spoke. “Whatever you wish to eat, just tell him.” He offered a faint smile, one that barely reached his eyes before turning to leave, giving you space to gather yourself.

But something inside you panicked as you watched him turn away. Your hand reached out instinctively, fingers curling around his wrist. “They will come back for me,” you whispered, your voice trembling, the fear returning in waves. The memory of the village and the pyre still haunted you, lurking just beneath the surface.

Simon paused, his back still to you, his muscles tensing beneath your grip. For a moment, he said nothing, his silence weighing heavy in the air between you. Then, he turned his head slightly, his voice calm but resolute. “We’ll see,” he replied, his tone carrying a quiet confidence that made you want to believe him.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Simon’s servant stepped into the room, bowing slightly. “Saahib,” he said, a nervous tremor in his voice, “the village minister has come to see you.”

Your grip on Simon’s wrist tightened, fear surging through you once more. “They’re here to take me,” you muttered, dread filling your voice.

Simon looked down at you, his expression softening as he gently removed your hand from his wrist. “Relax,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “I will take care of them.”

He turned and strode out of the room, his footsteps purposeful, leaving you alone with the crushing weight of your fear. You sat there, frozen, barely breathing as you listened to his retreating footsteps echo down the hall. The walls of his grand mansion felt suffocating now, closing in around you as the threat loomed just beyond the doors.

Simon entered the living room, his posture straight, his face unreadable as he approached the man waiting for him. The village minister stood at the threshold, his weathered face lined with anxiety. As Simon drew nearer, the minister removed his turban and knelt before him, bowing his head low in submission. The gesture, one of both respect and desperation, seemed to fill the room with an oppressive air.

“Saahib,” the minister began, his voice thick with pleading, “please… I put my honour before you. Give her back to us.” He kept his head bowed, his hands trembling as he placed his turban at Simon’s feet, a symbol of his surrender.

Simon’s eyes flashed with anger, his jaw tightening at the man’s words. He took a step forward, his presence towering over the kneeling minister. “Give her back to you?” Simon’s voice was low, but there was an edge to it, sharp as a blade. “So you can burn her alive again?”

The minister flinched at Simon’s words but kept his head bowed, the weight of his shame clear. “It is our way, Saahib. The village demands it… her duty...”

“Her duty?” Simon’s voice rose, cutting the minister off sharply. He took another step forward, looming over the man. “Her duty is to survive, not to be thrown into the flames like an offering to your backwards traditions.”

The minister dared to look up, his eyes wide with desperation. “Please, Saahib, you do not understand… This is how it has been for generations. The village...”

“Don't try to lecture an officer of the East India Company. I don’t care about your village,” Simon snapped, his anger barely contained. “I will not let you murder her. Not under my watch.” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, and he leaned in slightly, his eyes blazing. “If you think you can come here and take her, you’ll have to go through me first.”

The minister’s face paled, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words, but there was no room for argument. Simon’s authority, his sheer presence, left no space for negotiation.

“Go back to your village,” Simon said coldly, stepping back. “Tell them she is under my protection now. If anyone dares try to harm her, they will face the full force of the British army.”

The minister, trembling, scrambled to gather his turban and stumbled to his feet. He nodded hastily, backing away toward the door. “Yes, Saahib. I will… I will tell them,” he stammered before turning and fleeing from the mansion, leaving Simon standing alone in the heavy silence of the room.

Simon exhaled slowly, his fists unclenching as the tension ebbed from his body. He had made his stance clear, but he knew the battle was far from over. They would return, perhaps with more men, more pressure. But for now, you were safe.

And that, Simon vowed, was all that mattered.

[hand-picked-star]

The 13th Anniversary Arshi Fiesta

Moodboard : Historical AU

Whispers of the Heart | Chapter 12

I am not very good at writing ffs. I even read ffs very selectively. But it was an attempt of me to participate in the 13th-anniversary arshi fiesta.

I might be wrong about certain aspects of that age and era, but it's a fantasy, so why not? I don't own Arnav and Khushi and the story is purely fictional and has no relation to any living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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

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

Chapter 12

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

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

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

"You don't believe in such things."

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

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

"Am I not doing it right?"

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

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

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

"Are you hungry?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ab theek hain?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How many girls have you been with?"

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

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

"How do you know this name?"

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

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

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

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@featheredclover @arshifiesta @phuljari

[ramayantika]

Parvati (mystery academia)

Black. black. Stillness and dissolution. Nothingness is draped in shades of black which now surrounds you. This darkness however is not heavy. It surrounds you like a gentle mist, and there is a shower of large hibiscus flowers donning the darkest shade of red, like blood.

The chiming sound of anklets wake you up at night. A slow whisper rings in your ears. 'Wake up.' You lie wide awake. Your heart thuds in your chest, but the wake up call never recedes. Wake up from which sleep? There is no answer replying you.

Your mother sends you to light the incense sticks. By routine, you circle the sticks twice around the images of the gods. A jasmine flower falls on your hand, and for the first time, the eyes of the goddess bore into yours.

You sleep soundly. The wake up call of a feminine voice repeats once again. Your subconscious steals you into a dream. A room of mirrors welcome you and there is a sound of distant laughter outside the mirror. It is sweet and lively.

You stand in front of the mirrors. Seven mirrors and seven pieces, each a fragmented image until you peer closely. A woman stands behind you, tall and graceful with her hand raised in a blessing. The pearl stud on her nose shines like a mirror and you remember only the large gold nose ring.

'Wake up.' A warm hand caresses your head. Golden glow surrounds her hand. Your eyes are dazzled and you squint hard. Slumber takes you again in a comfortable embrace, but your soul has never been this aware, as if arising from a long slumber.

'Mother,' you call out. A soft hand caresses your head and some velvety fabric touches your cheek. It reminds you of a distant but loved maternal touch, and you feel like a child again. You are safed and loved.

A large serpent coils around your body. Its hood sits on the top of your head like a crown. Atop its hood lies a lotus. The serpent must terrify you, but there is a sweet smell of sandalwood, a shower of kadamba blossoms, and red gulal sprinkled in the air.

A woman dances in abandon. There is grace, there is desire, there is passion and there is liberation in the air around her, and in her being. It is electrifying. The beautiful queen-like woman transforms into a beacon of darkness, and red fades in your vision. A loud howl alerts your ears and loud thudding sounds of a drum beckon you closer. Black. You faint.

Nine women surround you. Each woman wears a different coloured saree. Some look motherly, some look youthful, and some look terrifying -- every shade of life taking its existence in their bodies.

A flash of lightening and your body jerks open. The serpent from your dreams coils around you tighter. A trident manifests beside you. Your hands touch the weapon and electricity fizzles through your body.

It is dark again. In pitch darkness, a lady in red and white, decked in gold and long flowing hair manifests herself in front of you. 'You have woken up then.' The serpent from your dreams has followed your path and hisses in agreement. It understands human language, some strange way of nature to show her power, the power of the divine feminine, Her. The serpent looks at you. There is humanity in its eyes. What a curious play of Prakriti!

The youthful woman who giggles as sweet as sugar, beware, she is wild and untamed. You may desire to claim her for yourself, but she shall not. She is the Mother of the Universe, manifesting in different forms. The little girls with pigtails who sweetly handed over her ladoo too is her, and so is the frail old lady in your neighbourhood. She is everywhere.

Nobody knows how did those vile men die, but justice was served. The wise old woman whispers about the devi serving justice, a feat these strong and burly policemen who claim to be the protectors of the common public, and the 'fair' judiciary had failed to achieve. 'I saw the devi drink their blood. Their severed heads served as her garlands. It is true.' The rest of the crowd roll their eyes at the rambling woman.

The final night. Loud sounds of the drums make your heart beat thud in excitement. Women march ahead, their foreheads adorned with red vermilion. Little children dance their way to the river as vehicles carry the idols of the goddess to the river. There is a huge crowd, each person chanting the name of the goddess. Amidst the humungous crowd, there is a call that makes you turn your head towards the sky. A golden glow forms against the dark clouds of the night, and there she is.

The cosmos manifests in her. Adorned with the stars and galaxies, she stands tall and large in the skies, her large doe-like eyes looking at her children with love and affection. She is jagat janani after all. Her trident manifests in her arms and she solemnly swears to protect her children from every harm. Jai devi! Jai maa durga!

'It isn't a dream. You have reached out to me, just like I. A mother want her children around her. Remember, you and me, we all are one.'

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