#IPKKND fanfic

[featheredclover]

Redamancy

This one shot is inspired by this prompt by @arshifiesta

Also on Wattpad

“ How long will Sahil be Aman?”

“ An hour”

Swearing under his breath, Arnav brought up a hand to loosen his tie.

“ Marcos has called the garage as well so don’t worry ASR”

Leaning back against the now broken car, Arnav took out his pack of cigarettes and offered one to Aman.

The two men cut out as dashing figures, with their impeccable suits and cigarette dangling from their mouths.

“ You want to sit somewhere? Hartford has great coffee “

“ Sure”

———

They stood in front of a glass door, below the sign ‘Cafe Captain’.

A bell tinkled as Aman swung the door into the place, the place was painted in hues of brown resembling an old British bakery. The strong smell of coffee permeated Arnav’s senses and he headed towards the counter.

“ ….so yes, while a croissant is nice, it doesn’t hold a torch to our cream bun. They melt in your mouth!”

Arnav heard the waitress go on and on about cream buns. He stopped himself from clucking impatiently.

Finally, he thought as he moved forward.

“ One black coffee “

He read the chirpy girl’s name tag- Khushi

A gasp forced him to look back up. “ It is horrendous. Why would you do this? Why? I mean I understand if you are hungover or hmm probably a diabetic, are you?”

“ Um no, I am not”

“ Great! Then darling go sit right there and let me bring you the best cup in Hartford!”

Dumbfounded, Arnav simply paid and went towards the table Khushi had pointed to. It was only when he sat down that he wanted to kick himself.

What am I doing? Black coffee was fine.

It didn’t help that Aman was smirking as he sat down, amusement filling his eyes.

“ I thought no one could boss you around. Glad I am wrong”

“ Just shut up”

He looked up to see the girl walk towards his table with a huge smile.

Placing the huge cup down, she giggled.

“ This will help you! And trust me you will find yourself here everyday “ she said with a wink.

“ And here you go! Lemon tea!”

Aman thanked her while his eyes rested gleefully on a flushed ASR.

It was only after she had taken her place back at the counter, that Arnav looked at his cup.There in white cream was a sun drawn with a smile on it.

——

He found himself at the doorstep of Cafe Captain again the next day. He couldn’t risk bringing that bastard with his all knowing gaze ,with him. Especially,when he himself couldn’t understand the helplessness he felt as he remembered her laughter “ And trust me you’ll find yourself here everyday”

Tinkling bells greeted him and he headed straight towards the queue.

Arnav couldn’t take his eyes off her. The excited bobbing of her head, her laugh, the scrunch of her nose when she disagreed with something, and the way her hands moved when she was explaining the merits of glazed sugar cookies. Everything fascinated Arnav. He felt like he was watching a doll come to life.

And when it was his turn, she flashed him a beautiful smile. “ Just go sit!”

That’s all she said to him. And that’s all he needed.

He watched her work. Preparing his cup , taking the small white jug in her dainty hands and placing it on a coaster.

“Here you go!”

Arnav looked down to see a sunflower smiling up from his coffee. He sipped as he watched her work, chatter and flutter around like a butterfly.

He would never admit the disappointment he felt when she didn’t come to talk to him again. He gulped down the last bit of the milky - sugar filled concoction and headed back out.

——

“ Hey!”

Looking up from the cream doodle of a dog, Arnav stared right into Khushi’s eyes.

“ Congratulations!”

“ Um…for what?”

“ You have been coming here daily for the past week, so now you are my regular “, Khushi said with a wink.

“ Thanks, I guess” Arnav hoped his boring drawl seemed perfect to her. Because otherwise she will know how he really felt about her grouping him with all her other “regulars”.

“ What’s your name? “ she asked in such a soft voice that he found himself answering, forgetting the earlier slight.

“ Arnav”

“Arnav” she repeated as if rolling his name on her tongue.

“ So tell me Arnav, what do you do apart from drinking my marvellous coffee?”she said with a cheeky grin.

“ I run AR.”

“ The design house! Oh my god! I love your clothes! “

“ The designers will be glad to hear that”

“ So…you don’t design any of your clothes?”

“ I used to. Lately…I haven’t found the time”

“ That’s a shame. Something so creative should never be given up!”

Arnav looked away. He should have reminded himself why he didn’t date. He didn’t want a lecture on his workaholism. Di was enough for that.

“ Hey…I am sorry. I didn’t mean to touch on a nerve. God knows I haven’t picked up a guitar since school and I want to scratch anyone’s eyes who reminds me!”

Arnav had to smile at that.

“ Guess that makes us alike”

And in the next moment, his breath caught, as Khushi’s cheeks flushed a beautiful pink.

——

Aman tore into his chapati, as Anjali served more aloo-matar onto his plate.

“ Slow down Aman! There’s enough for you to eat till you burst!” Anjali laughed.

Shyam smiled, “ Well, that’s what bachelor life is, isn’t it? Perennially hungry, filling time with cup noodles and coffee! Aman and Arnav, it’s time for both of you to get married.”

“ Speaking of coffee, Arnav does seem ready to be hitched” Aman spoke before stuffing his mouth again, oblivious to Arnav’s glare.

“ Chotte! Who is the girl? When were you going to tell us?”

“ And what is the connection with coffee saale saheb?”

The chair screeched as Arnav pushed it back and stood up, silencing them all.

“ I am done with lunch”

And he walked out, ignoring Anjali’s protests and Aman’s laughter.

That bastard.

As he roamed the streets of New York, Arnav couldn’t help but wonder about Khushi. He was smitten, he had admitted with quite difficulty one evening, when he had been driven mad when he learnt Khushi had taken a leave because she was sick. The next day he brought a basket of apples and a bouquet of lilies for her. Her giggle had been worth the embarrassment he had felt ,when Aman found out what he was planning to do.

But did she like him? He kicked a rock at the curb and exhaled in frustration. She seemed to greet all her customers with the same glee and modify their opinions on sweet treats with as much vigour as she poured the sugar in his coffee.

His only hope was the doodle on his daily coffee. He hadn’t seen her do that to anyone’s cup. The others would just get simple cream hearts.That was a sign wasn’t it?

That’s it. ASR is not so weak that he is brought to his knees by a woman. He will ask her if she’s interested in him. That’s simple. He has tackled million dollar deals with fabric companies, this would be nothing.

———

Arnav swirled the wheel, drove forward and parked, unaware of the light in his eyes as it fell on the brightly lit coffee shop.

He pushed the cafe’s door open, but the sight in front of him made him stop in his tracks.

Khushi had thrown her head back in laughter as a man stood leaning against her counter.

A splinter opened somewhere in his chest as he realised he had never made her laugh like this. He had never made her blush so red. Overwhelmed, Arnav was about to turn back and leave when his eyes caught Khushi’s.

With no choice but to get through the evening, he headed towards his usual table. He didn’t glance at the man again, he couldn’t. He wanted to tear him to pieces. He clenched his trembling hand into a fist.

He looked up at Khushi when she placed his cup down. She was still a beautiful shade of pink. Her smile was soft, her eyes glazing. Before he could say a word, she had moved back towards her counter in a hurry.

Frowning slightly, Arnav glanced down at his coffee. He gulped painfully as he saw bloody hearts on them. So, this new man comes along and he doesn’t get a special doodle. He gets what all her customers get. That’s what he was to her. A douchebag in a suit, who had nothing better to do every evening than sip her coffee.

Arnav shut his eyes, and breathed deeply. He opened them to see that it had begun raining outside. Bloody poetic, he thought. Unable to control the spiralling of his emotions, Arnav stood up in a flash and dashed out of the cafe, his coffee left untouched.

——

His leather shoes splashed against the fallen raindrops as he hurried to get to his car. To get out of this damned place.

He heard footsteps behind him before he heard the shout “ Arnav!”

He turned to see Khushi holding an umbrella above herself and another in her hand. She smiled somewhat hesitatingly, as she extended the umbrella to him.

Rage flooded his being as he stared at the beautiful woman standing before him, a deepening sorrow in him as he was reminded of his one sided love.

“Don’t need it “ he gritted out.

Her eyes widened in shock at his tone.

“ Wha- what happened ?”

“You want to know what happened? I have not been able to function normally ever since I walked into your bloody cafe after my car broke down that god forsaken day! You and your sweet coffee have driven me mad. And here I am, a grown man, waiting for the clock to strike 5 so that I can leave to travel from New York to Hartford. Just to…just to hear you laugh, just to see you smile, just to get a doodle on my coffee. A doodle that’s just mine. And today yo- you are laughing with another man, turning red when he is speaking. And..and doodling just hearts for me! Hearts you do for every other regular of yours.” Arnav burst out, every word hiding his grief.

He stared at Khushi for a moment. A moment in which both of them didn’t even dare to breathe .

Her grip loosened as the umbrellas fell from her hands, she reached him in a few steps, uncaring of the rain soaking her, entwined her hands around his neck and kissed him.

Arnav froze as her warmth permeated his whole being. A rush of joy flooded his brain. But it wasn’t enough. His hands grabbed her waist, tightening in desperation as he deepened the kiss. He tilted her back further as he drank her. A shiver ran through Khushi as she moved her hands to clutch his hair in an almost painful grasp. She pushed his shoulder lightly, as she attempted to break away from the kiss. Arnav kissed the corner of her lips, before kissing down her neck to her collar bones.

“ Arnav! “ Khushi giggled. “ It’s raining pretty heavily, if you haven’t noticed “

He stood looking at her smiling figure. Breaking out of his trance, he grabbed her hand, and began walking to his car.

——

“ Cold na?” Khushi asked with an obvious shiver, as she rubbed her hands together vigorously for some warmth.

Arnav reached into the dashboard, took out a navy blue sweater, which was a size too large for her and without a word dropped it over her head.

She giggled again. Arnav couldn’t help smiling.

He heard her gasp, before he felt her soft hand grabbing his rough one.

“Arnav” she began “ The man I was laughing with was Noah, my sister Lavanya’s boyfriend. He..he was teasing me about…er.. about you. That’s why I was umm turning red” she finished, turning more red than ever before.

His hands turned her face towards him gently. His lips taking hers in a soft kiss.

“Really?” he asked huskily.

“ Really! In fact, I thought you would understand those hearts I drew because I had been drawing something different for you everyday! It had two hearts, Arnav, and they were struck by an arrow. And no, I don’t do this for anyone else” she finished with a pout.

“ I am sorry” he murmured before drawing her into a kiss again. He felt like an addict, he couldn’t get enough of her and he definitely couldn’t leave her tonight.

As she sat, huddled close to him she whispered

“ I love you Arnav”

Tightening his hold on her, he looked down at her lying across his chest. “ I love you too Khushi, more than you can ever imagine “

For now it was enough. It was enough knowing that Arnav was going back to drink the now cold coffee with relish. It was enough knowing that they were going to spend the night in Khushi’s apartment above the cafe. It was enough knowing that two hearts were beating as one.

For now, the rain poured relentlessly , providing them a curtain of privacy as they remained wrapped in each other’s love in the car. Arnav marvelled in the redamancy, as he held the woman he loved in his arms, who loved him.

Tagging: @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @barshifan @andli @shiyaravi @muttonthings @hand-picked-star @msbhagirathi @phuljari @sankititaliya @thenainitaldisaster @thedupattaknowswhatsup @chutkiandchotte @laad-governess @laadgovernors @laadgovernorandsankadevi @leila1 @hi-this-is-permabanned @arshispyaar @minpdnim @thedustyshehnai @bigfatreader @arshiradio @simplycurlz @scorpio-smiles @bengudill

Please let me know if you want to be added/ removed from the tag list ❤️

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Saheb, Bibi aur Ghulaam

#2 Monta Re

For the lovelies who are celebrating IPK to its finest @arshifiesta

Character. Gentility. Obedience.

These were the jewels of being an honourable woman and Khushi Dasgupta had none of those.

Her character, a question ever since she was born out of a wedlock between a British soldier who never returned and a Bengali singer who never sang again. The only thing she had left was her extended family who reluctantly gave their name to her and her father’s hazel eyes.

Her gentility was nowhere to be found for she was to be often found at pro independence speeches or singing revolutionary songs. Her mother’s talent was the last thing she inherited. It is said she had driven off at least seven suitors with impeccable terrible grace, off key singing and barely controlled tongue.

Obedience was what her family tried beating into her. But perhaps it was her aunt’s gentility and selfless, guiding hand that Khushi obeyed her family as a debt owed to to the kind woman.

She took the effort to recount the love story the city never saw.

Shashikala never approved her sister’s decision of singing. Yet when Ganga Devi Burman took the stage by storm, she had no option but to smile. Especially when she fell right off the stage and landed into the arms of a British soldier - Lt. Kennedy Watson.

If it hadn’t been for the summer tan, Ganga would have never found him appealing. Definitely not for his hazel eyes nor for his flawless understanding of Bangla and its literature.

After all, he was born in the same city as her.

At first Kennedy fought with the feelings he felt for Ganga for she pushed him to unlearn the imperial love for his country if he wished to love her. Then he fought for the land he was raised in as opposed to land he was taught to worship.

The first day Kennedy returned bloody, with a rebellion in his eyes that Ganga saw in her revolutionary brothers eyes - she gave her heart, soul and a kiss-

This is the part of the story of the story where Khushi always giggled, making Shashikala shush her before continuing, continuing to stroke Khushi’s head on her lap.

And then, Kennedy did propose to Ganga. They had planned a long wedding. One Christian to honour his God. One Hindu to honour hers.

This is where Shashikala would end the story for the wedding never happened.

It was tale as old as time. Just when everything good was about to happen, the opposite occurred. The imperialists were not happy to find one of their own defect. He disappeared without a trace, leaving Ganga, their child and love without a name.

Khushi hugged her Mashi (aunt) even closer. Despite the tragic tale being her favorite lullaby, even as an adult, she could only hope for a love as strong as her parents.

And hoped to be a human as kind as her Mashi.

— — —

Things changed dramatically as Shashikala Mashi passed away due to an early sudden heart attack.

The house grew colder, the perceptions of her more apparent, and her burden on the financially strife family heavier.

Khushi had to be sent off. There were three other sons to marry and two daughters to be married off.

The man who arrived with gifts at her doorstep to relieve the Dasguptas of their burden neither promised a love story like her parents, nor kindness like her aunt.

Sharp eyed, broad framed, wealthy and the heir of the Mullick family - Shyam Mullick was here to find a second wife in Khushi.

Dread settled in her stomach as her relatives seemed pleased with the money in front, even though the man seemed at least twenty years older than Khushi.

Or that he was already married to the Anjali Rani Tagore. The finest lineage, and a pool of infinite wealth, wisdom and beauty.

Khushi ran up the stairs. She had to run. Run as far as her two legs could take her. Where did she make a mistake? When did that man see her and fancy her? Was her relatives so eager to dust her off their hands?

“Oh Maa, bachao amake,” Khushi prayed to her Goddess and ran through multiple roofs.

Except one gave away and she fell straight into someone’s arms.

She opened her eyes and stared into the strangers face. Brown eyes, clenched jaws, perfectly shaped lips and a gaze that set her heart fluttering.

Was he a prince?

But since when did princes dress up like an English babu?

The sound of hurried footsteps broke them apart. Khushi turned red, her skin flaming up at where his fingers touched her skin.

Gently, as if she weighed a feather, he set her down. Worry returned to his face and he seemed to have aged in an instant.

“Arnob-da…” a man panted.

“Ei boka, kotobar bolbo Arnav-da doesn’t like to be called Arnob” another said.

Arnav glared at the two men - probably his househelp?

“I know where he went.”

Rage filled Arnav’s eyes. And without another word he stormed out.

— — —

The monsoon storm died out overnight, leaving Khushi to enjoy one of the last things she could - a small ride on a ferry across Hooghly.

Her protests against the marriage fell on deaf ears. If anything, her ears still rang from the slap Pishimoni gave her.

Shyam Babu offered to assist in Payal’s marriage. Why was he so intent on marrying Khushi? What did Khushi even do? How did he even get to meet her?

“O Maa,” this time Khushi touched the holy Hooghly river, “please help me,”

The ferry bumped into the shore and Khushi collected herself to step out when,

“Tumi?”

“Aapni?”

Khushi blinked at Arnav. Standing tall, this time in not his entirety of a tailored piece suit, just in his full length shirt, suspenders and pant - he took a keen look at her.

Khushi touched her cheek. Did the slap leave a mark? She fixed the edge of her saree. After a moment alone, she spoke.

“Sorry, you must want this boat alone,”

“Are you going to the other side?” Arnav asked. Khushi couldn’t help but feel that she was being studied. She nodded.

“OI, TARATARI-” the ferryman swallowed his hollering as Arnav shot a glare at him.

Khushi didn’t know what happened when he boarded the ferry. Except that the ferryman must have taken his anger out on by moving it away before Arnav could fully stand.

Leading him to fall right on Khushi.

Khushi prayed her eyes didn’t reveal her secrets and desires. And prayed that he would be unable to read anything at all.

She scrambled to sit up and sat horrified at the red on Arnav’s chest.

Did she kill him?

“Oh this bloody pen!” Khushi sighed in relief at his curse and his discomfort over a broken red pen. The ferry rocked out of nowhere, splashing him with water.

Khushi could spy a devious smile on the ferryman’s paan stained lips.

Arnav let out a colourful string of words as he attempted to wipe himself, leading to the ink to spread more viciously on him.

Khushi burst into laughter as he got completely worked up.

Oh it had been years since she laughed this hard.

— — —

“Laughing suits you,”

Khushi laid awake all night. The depression of her impending wedding not settling in for the three words he said.

And the thousand he didn’t.

He saw the slap. And she saw the tick in his jaw. The questions he refrained himself from asking. The stories she refrained herself from telling.

Khushi tried sleeping, these days of Durga Pujo were peace. She could try running away for real.

But with whom?

Khushi’s heart twisted into knots as a face became clear.

Without a full name and more than twenty words exchanged, Khushi saw more hope in a stranger than a suitor.

Oh dear, none had a more foolish mind than of Khushi Dasgupta.

— — —

A/N: omg thank you for all the love before! Let me know how you liked this chapter 💕 (also sorry not proofread!)

Tagging some lovelies here @chutkiandchotte @barshifan @laadgovernorandsankadevi @laad-governess @shiyaravi @msbhagirathi @phuljari @hand-picked-star @aye-masakalii @featheredclover

[myfanficfrenzy]

Arshi FF : Pandora’s Box

Author : Munchy

Status : Completed and available on Munchy’s blog

Genre : Romance, Angst, Tragedy

“Keep reading” for my two cents on the story. Minor spoilers ahead. Warnings at the end of the review.

My first serious caution for this story, this isn’t for the faint of heart. If you like your Arnav and Khushi wrapped up in the comfort and warmth of love, away from any and all kinds of hurt and especially morally grey situations, you should probably skip this one. But if you’re a fan of ethereal writing, imperfect characters and a tear jerking angst fest with a side of passionate Arshi, dive right in.

The story’s tagline is ‘That life is a circle is a myth. It spirals’. And that’s exactly one feels reading the story.

Munchy’s story begins in the 1940s, with British ruled India at the brink of partition. While ASR here is Arnav Singh Raizada, KKG is Khushi Kauser Ghilani, two neighbors about to be swept in a whirlwind. The author paints a stunning visual of Punjab and you will find yourself literally back in time with her words. Arnav is back to his ancestral home after his upbringing in English schools and high society of delhi, while Khushi Ghilani had enjoyed a free reign over all the love Arnav’s family could bestow on their lovely neighbor in their small part of the town.

An unfortunate first meet in a Mango Orchard turns our protagonists sour (of course Arnav and Khushi will fight. Duh uh), but they soon find themselves in the web of undeniable attraction towards each other. And right when they’re dealing with minor issues like the first wave of teenage love and heartbreak, the country goes through one of its darkest periods and their lives are turned upside down overnight.

Pointed out to me once in a discussion and I wholeheartedly agree, one of the things that caught me off guard about this fanfic was the portrayal of impact of partition on day to day life of children. You see the worsening environment from their eyes, when suddenly the families and friends they grew up with are now considered enemies. When they can’t be as carefree as they would have loved with their doting neighbours; because now their different faith comes first. Those chapters had me in a chokehold and I’ve read through them with eyes full of tears. The whole story feels like a ticking time bomb when it begins, and it blows up right in your face. Social practices prevalent at that time will also make you want to puke your insides out.

And over the base of all this anguish and tragedy, Arnav and Khushi are looking to build a life together. It hurts every step of the way, so when the small moments of happiness come along you will soak it all up as a reader.

But fair warning, this is Munchy writing angst. And it will make itself known! Every story that I’ve read from her leaves my heart longing for something more, anger at having fate play a cruel role, and almost clawing my brain out, wishing I can get into those pages and fix the whole world for my beloved pair. But as always, life and Munchy’s stories aren’t fair. They’re however emotional, beautiful and extraordinary!

Warnings- Cheating, Violence, Underage Sex

-I

[hand-picked-star]

The 13th Annniversary Arshi Fiesta

Moodboard : Historical AU

Whispers of the Heart | Chapter 05

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.

Chapter 5

(continuation of previous chapter)

'' Arnav"

She pushed herself off the bed but stumbled to reach Arnav. He wrapped his arm around her waist before she could fall. Her hands splayed palm out on his chest. She stared at him like he hung the sun and the moon and his breath caught. The atmosphere between them undulated, changing into something heavier, something alive.

"Ummm...I want to ask you something," she tripped over her words, "Why is it that every time someone says your name" feeling her pulse quickening "or you come close to me" she whispered like it was a secret "My heart starts to beat harder? ", taking his hand she placed it over her heart "I tried to understand it, but couldn't." a silence came over between them, "bataiye na!!"

Arnav blinked, her words not quite making sense. He couldn't think and that should have disturbed him, especially because he held her so close. It had not escaped him how pretty she looked. She was always pretty, but today was special. Her hair hung loose but wavy, and the dress she'd chosen, a pure white salwar-kameez with red churni dupatta, hugged her curves in all the right places. He had noticed her curves earlier. But it's difficult to ignore at this moment, not with her body up against his. And that red bindi on her forehead, it would be the death of him someday.

His pulse felt thready. And he wanted to touch her. The simple impulse to touch the tips of his fingers to her cheek was almost more than he could bear. He raised one of his hands to cup her cheek and tilted her head toward him. There was a good reason why he shouldn't touch her, but he couldn't remember what it was. Her eyes searched his, her trembling lips slightly parted. He heard the words as clearly as if she'd spoken.

Kiss me.

The heat of her breath on his lips made him dizzy with need and he gave in. At first, Khushi couldn't comprehend what was happening. One second she was asking him a question, the next second, she was in his arms, and before she could quite recover from that, he was kissing her.

Or had she kissed him? Her brain was muddled. She was thinking about him the whole day-how handsome he looked in the white kurta. She was shamelessly looking at his lips the other day when he was eating Kheer. Had she acted on those impulses? Shy and confused Khushi ducked her head, breaking their kiss.

But almost as soon as their kiss was broken, he put two fingers under her chin, tilting her head up and claiming her lips again. His free hand moved from her waist to her back, pressing her flush against him. She whimpered and forgot everything else, anything else existed. If she'd lost her mind, so be it. Nothing ever felt as good as whatever was happening at that moment.

One of her hands crept up to cup the back of his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair, while the other hand went around his back, clutching his kurta in a death grip. She tentatively tried to return his kisses. Her heart was racing. She felt weightless. His lips were hard on her while he was holding her so gently. Khushi couldn't rightly tell, when he'd begun to walk her backwards, she only knew she found herself pressed against the wall. And then, as abruptly as it all began, it was over.

Arnav groaned from the back of his throat as he pushed away from her. He stumbled back. His hair was rumpled from her fingers, his lips still moist and parted. The five seconds they stared at each other were the longest of Khushi's entire life.

And then, he left her there, pressed against the wall, flushed-face, lips swollen from his kiss, without a word.

(end of flashback)

Arnav was sitting on the garden bench, threading his hands through his hair and tugging hard. The guilt he felt was a weight on his shoulders, pinning him down as effectively as any physical thing.

It wasn't just that he had no right to do what he'd done. What made it all the worse and what could be worse than taking advantage of someone under the influence, was that to this day, two years later, he still daydreamed about that kiss. He could still remember how very sweet it was, the emotion of that kiss, the tenderness of it and the taste of her lips, and the way her body fit the lines of his. And how powerful was the need that rushed through him then. Her warmth, her scent, everything about that moment felt vivid and real as if it was happening all over again. He had to close his eyes tightly until the feeling passed.

It was not like it was the first time that Arnav had kissed a girl. The first time he kissed a girl in the Valleys of Darjeeling was a girl from Darjeeling High School at 18. it was supposed to be fun, but as soon as he kissed that girl, he discovered something, like she gave him a disease, he heard a voice inside his head that sounded very much like his Nani's. The look he gave her afterwards, she must had thought he was insane.

'you are a womanizer, Arnav'. the voice thundered. 'just like your father.'

After that every time he thought about kissing a girl, his Nani would start talking. It was really difficult to do anything with your Nani in your head. Then one day, he with some of his friends out of curiosity went to a pub to taste some liquor. He should have known better, he ended up spending the night with someone he didn't even remember.

'See, I told you so' the voice taunted him continuously the day after.

After that, he tried his level best not to hear his nani ever again in his head. There was one thing that Arnav didn't want to be and that was 'just like his father.'

But why the voice was so quiet when he kissed HER? It felt the most natural thing to do, like he was born to do that, like he was destined to be fitted into her arms. After he fled from her room, he sat on the garden bench for hours.

There Arnav had realized, he had irreversibly fallen in love with her. And she had finally quieted the voice in his head.

But instantly another voice appeared that sounded more like his since that day and they had a serious conversation with each other on the evening of Holi two years ago, sitting on that particular bench.

'what have you done, Arnav? you've proved your nani right. tumne jis thali main khaya usmehi ched kiya. What will Mahindar chacchu and roma chachi will say? How could you do that to their daughter? How could you tarnish her reputation like that? Is this how you repay them for all the love and care, they've bestowed upon you, when nobody was there for you? And Aman, what will you say to him? '

Arnav clutched his head with both hands, resting his elbows on his knees. he felt like screaming. He argued with himself for a long time. He succeeded in almost quietening the voice, when it murmured, very faintly.

'You can marry her'

'And what can I give her?.' Now it was Arnav's turn to contradict 'I have nothing, no house, no money, no reputation, no family and what made you think that Chachu and Chachi would want to marry off their beloved daughter to a nobody like me'. A pressure bloomed in his chest. With every breath he took, it increased. 'And what made you think that she would want to marry me?'

'She loves you, isn't it obvious? '

His vision blurred 'Have you forgotten that she was drunk? and I took advantage of her drunken state.' The silence that followed was suffocating, and his mind raced back to that moment, the memory haunting him. He remembered the way she had returned the kiss, her eyes fluttering shut just before their lips met. He remembered the vulnerability in her gaze, the way she had leaned into him as if seeking something more. 'She may have developed a silly little crush.' He whispered to himself, the words barely convincing even in his mind. An invisible rope tightened around his throat, 'it's temporary.' he told himself, desperately wanting to believe it, 'it will go away with time.'

'Bullshit' the voice whispered.

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@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSOM SHADE

Prologue

The Monster in the Shadow

2 Weeks ago

A shadow loomed in the dark stillness of the night.

A pair of eyes gleamed.

The eyes of a predator.

Eyes like fire and thunder, laced with venom.

Multiple computers flickered to red all of a sudden. Someone had dared to invade the monster's lair. He was at once thrilled and in awe of the audacity of the intruder, "TheSwallow."

TheSwallow had breached the first layer of firewall the monster had built around his empire of dark web.

And the monster was no stranger to TheSwallow.

He knew her.

He had stolen from her.

How did the monster know the intruder was a "her"? Experience. Years of navigating in the dark corridors of hacking taught him to distinguish between a "he" and a "she". The "she"s usually had a specific style in writing code. These codes in his screens were so damn gorgeous to be written by a man.

The "she"s were very rare in the hacker business, but when there was a "she", it was a fucking spectacle to behold.

Just like what's transpiring right now.

The monster could kiss her dainty little fingers for the show she was putting on. So sexy, so sensual.

A smile curved in the corner of his lips.

His smile was a blade wrapped in silk.

A sinister mixture of danger and delight.

It was time to lay a trap for the little bird. Let’s see how the swallow fared in the sky of the eagles.

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

Chapter 1

A Serpent in the Eagle's Den

TheShadowMonster

It was the name she hated the most in the whole universe right now. Who was TheShadowMonster? She didn't know. No one knew. He was a notorious hacker on the dark web, the lord of that shadowy world. Hackers all over the globe admired him, some worshipped him, others peed their pants at the mere mention of his name. He was a name of admiration, reverence, and fear in their world.

Khushi Sen Gupta used to admire him, even worship him in certain weak moments, but not anymore. Right now, she hated his guts.

TheShadowMonster was a thief.

He had no morals.

Growing up in a notorious mafia family of Kolkata wasn't bad enough, now she had to face this drawback in her secret life as well.

Yes, Khushi Sen Gupta was a hacker.

A highly proficient one.

A childhood full of mommy issues and daddy issues does that to you, when you find computers more emotionally available to you than your own parents.

Khushi Sen Gupta was a born genius. She discovered the language of computers when she was 8 years old, and since then, she never looked back.

Her father, Sashidhar Sen Gupta, the Deputy Commissioner of Police in Kolkata, was also the most corrupt in the country's history, not that anyone knew about his crimes. He was a member of 'The Serpents,' one of the three families that established the mafia in this country in the fifties.

The infamous 'Triad.'

Three families had formed an organized mafia syndicate that had been dominating the county for decades. They had vowed to follow the rules set by the Godfathers and assist one another in times of crisis.

When territories were being distributed, the head of the Serpents, Samol Kumar Jha, had claimed West Bengal and its borders. They had started operating from there. The Sen Gupta family had the honor of being the consiglieri of the Serpents and had held that position ever since.

A consigliere was someone not related by blood to the family.

An outsider.

But he offered legal and financial counsel to The Boss while shielding them from impending threats. That was Khushi's father now. The consigliere of the Serpents.

The Serpents ruled West Bengal for decades, but a few years ago, they moved to Delhi when The Boss, Prakash Narayan Jha, decided to dip his toes into politics. As a result, the Sen Gupta household also relocated to Delhi. Even after The Boss was mysteriously murdered, they didn't move back. The Serpents now operated their business in Kolkata from Delhi, as the brother of the deceased boss took over that part of the business. The Heir wanted to venture into even more dangerous games.

The Politics.

The son of the deceased boss, Shyam Manohar Jha, was eager to try his luck in the political arena, just like his father.

People called him "The Viper".

A fitting description of his nature.

The second family was the Mumbai Wolves. As the name suggested, Mumbai was their territory. Khushi didn't know much about them. She had never needed to. She hadn't encountered any of them in her entire 22 years of life. But she could vaguely recall that last month, the boss's daughter was killed in plain sight, such an insult to the power the Wolves possessed.

And the last but not the least, the most notorious of them all.

The Black Eagles.

In whose territory she was standing right now. The Serpents and the Black Eagles didn't see eye to eye. They were enemies. But since they were in the same alliance, they had to tolerate each other. Why were people who were once friends now enemies? That's a long story. Let's just store it for another time. For now, there's more pressing issue to focus on.

Her whereabouts.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.

It was a mistake.

It could be nothing but a mistake.

A grave one in nature.

Entering enemy territory like this!

But it was a mistake she needed to make.

A party was going on. A costume party with masks, nonetheless. At least it would be a tad bit easier to hide her identity.

The knives she strapped to her thighs were biting her skin.

Ignoring the pain in her thigh, Khushi simply observed. She had been preparing for this night for days. She had meticulously transformed her appearance for the evening. The long black gown concealed the knives strapped to her thighs. She paired the dress with a simple black lace mask. Her dark hair was curled into long waves with lips painted a vivid red.

It wasn't her.

But it was essential for her plan.

She forced herself to maintain an air of nonchalance, her wine glass raised in one hand. She feigned drinking from it, but her eyes were locked on the crowd, never losing focus. A few sips of the drink might have soothed her jittery nerves, yet she refrained. A clear head was more crucial than any liquid courage. The party was being held in a mansion associated with the Black Eagles. The mansion was alive with the vibrant energy of the party in full motion.

Perhaps tonight she would get some answers. It was good that she had gathered as much information about them as possible over the past few days.

"Mr.Rathore, so nice to see you."

A man's loud greetings drew her attention. Khushi studied the man being greeted. He stood tall, his medium-built frame filling out the sharp lines of his tailored suit, a classic black that contrasted with his neatly combed white hair. His face was wrinkled with age.

Vikrant "the Butcher" Singh Rathore.

The boss of The Black Eagles.

He had so much blood on his hands. Everyone in her world did. But he had the bloodiest of them all.

Hence the name "The Butcher."

His ruthless demeanor commanded respect in their world, admired by many. Khushi had encountered enough men like him in her life to remain unfazed, or at least to hide it well.

Standing beside him was his son, the Prince of the Rathore Empire, Akash Singh Rathore. A tall, well-built man. His role within the Eagles was still uncertain. Rumor had it that the Junior Rathore wanted to leave the mafia world. Not a promising prospect for the Rathore family, with an heirless empire hanging in the balance.

Those men in the eastern corner cared very little about the masquerade, standing barefaced while others concealed themselves behind masks. Good for Khushi. Nonetheless, she had studied them so much over the past few days that she would recognize them anywhere-masked, unmasked, veiled, or unveiled.

Khushi finally let herself take a little sip of the red liquid for the first time that night. The bitterness of the wine burned her throat. A spark compared to the burning hate prickling her skin as her eyes wandered to the man who stood silently beside Junior Rathore.

The man she had come here for.

Arnav Singh Raizada.

The consigliere of the Black Eagles.

The Outsider.

Her eyes traced over him, lingering on every detail. He stood tall in an all-black suit. The black shirt underneath had its top three buttons open in absence of a tie. His black hair was slightly messy, as if he had just run his fingers through it. He kept his gaze fixed on the man in front of him with the most bored, expressionless face she had ever seen. It was hard to see his eye from this distance.

But she knew they were brown.

Light chocolate brown.

Like caramel and chocolate mixed together, sprinkled with a hint of orange and green if you got the right angle.

Eyes like shadow and flame.

Eyes that could kill you, literally and figuratively.

She had seen pictures of him in great detail, just for research purposes.

Purely and absolutely.

Not because she found him attractive or anything. Like right now, she couldn't take her eyes off the handsome man, not because his well-built body was flexing in all the right places as he shook someone's hand, but because of the stories she had heard of him over the years since he returned from the States seven years ago.

The words had it that after Senior Rathore's retirement, he would be the boss of The Black Eagles, not Junior Rathore. They said Vikrant Singh Rathore favored Mr. Raizada over his own son. In parts, Mr. Raizada even bore a closer resemblance to Senior Rathore than to his own father.

Arnav "The Vulture" Singh Raizada.

He was The Vulture among The Eagles.

In the business world, people called him ASR. He was the son of the former consigliere of The Black Eagles, Arvind Singh Raizada. After Arvind was murdered, his wife committed suicide. Following that, Senior Rathore had sent him to the USA to study at Harvard. He had taken over the Rathore Industries at 25 and transformed the once-dying company into a Fortune 500 corporation. People said his net worth was over 500 million dollars, with some even claiming it was more.

But the more impressive thing was how he got his nickname. He cleared away all their illegal affairs and whitewashed all of their black money, giving them the cleanest reputation in the entire mafia world in the police database. Under the shade of the massive wings of The Vulture, The Eagles could easily operate their business without any hitch.

Such a waste of a Harvard education, Khushi huffed.

There's a saying in her world that became popular in the last few years, "When the vulture surrounds you, try not to die."

He had the reputation of being the deadliest Eagle of them all,the most predatory. He would rarely go on a hunt though, but when he did, it was over. He went straight for the jugular.

No distractions.

No playing around with the prey.

But no one had ever seen him in action. Her bodyguard-turned-driver, Mohan, thought it was all just rumors The Eagles spread to create fear about the next boss among the masses.

She smiled politely at an older lady passing by, slightly raising her wine glass and pretending to take a sip. She kept her inspection ongoing from under the rim of her glass. She was right. Mr. Raizada did run his fingers through his hair a lot. The tattoo on his hand caught her eye.

He had a tattoo of a swallow on his right hand. Her favourite bird.

She had even named her hacker ID "TheSwallow." She yearned for the freedom of the bird and wanted to fly away to a far-off land one day. She didn't want to be frowned upon like the peacock or the swan. She wanted to be free, lost in the crowd like a normal human, not caged away in a castle.

She felt bad for the bird inked into his skin. Such a pretty bird trapped on the hand of such a despicable man. Just as he had caged the swallow forever in his skin, The Vulture had robbed her of her freedom as well.

She worked through all her university years at IIT Delhi to collect information and proof about the crimes committed by his father and the Serpent, so that by the end of her graduation, she could share them with the police in exchange for protection and escape from the country. She also coded a deadly virus that could evade any high-end security system, which she intended to sell on the dark web for a high price. But as she was transferring the data to the CBI, it stopped at the 10% mark, and all her data and the virus she created were gone. Absolutely gone. Not a single file remained on her computer. To make matters worse, her computer was formatted.

He was hacked by none other than TheShadowMonster. Why the infamous hacker in the history of all hackers needed to target someone like her, she had no idea. She didn't have any idea about the 'why's, 'how's, or 'who's anymore.

She only knew that the information he had hacked was dangerous. It could destroy the entire mob world if it fell into the wrong hands. They could use it as leverage against the mob families, especially the Serpents, to achieve anything. And it had fallen into the worst hands possible.

The hands of an enemy.

She had been tracking the data and TheShadowMonster relentlessly for the past few days. She even managed to hack TheShadowMonster's server. All of this tracking had led her to Mr. Raizada. TheShadowMonster had sold the information to him. She discovered text messages, transactions, and every detail that pointed to the fact that the information was sold to Mr. Raizada in exchange for a huge amount of money.

And with that, all her escape routes had been blocked. She was trapped in this hellhole.

She couldn't stay in Delhi any longer. She couldn't afford to wait to collect more information against them as the day of her wedding approached rapidly. She needed to retrieve the information tonight, at any cost, from none other than Mr. Arnav Singh Raizada.

She was going to kill The Vulture.

She knew it seemed foolish, utterly illogical, but she had no other choice. Either she would kill him and obtain the information, or he would kill her and put her out of her misery. Either way, she would be free.

There was one more reason behind her desire to eliminate The Vulture.

Her only friend from university, despite her father's hovering and overprotectiveness, had vanished after the hacking incident. She didn't want to assume the worst, but her efforts to track him down and inquiries among other students led nowhere. Nikhil Khurana, whom she called NK, had vanished without a trace. She knew NK could remain untraceable if he wanted, as he was skilled with computers and in removing his online tracks as well. But Khushi was Khushi. She discovered a number NK had shared text messages with before his disappearance, and that number belonged to Mr. ASR.

Khushi didn't have time to cry over her pathetic life or the fact that she had befriended someone sent by The Eagles to keep an eye on her. Not just befriended, but she had made him her best friend for life-the pathetic, lonely, friendless life that she had.

That was indeed a solid reason to kill Mr. Raizada, for giving her a best friend and then snatching it all away.

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@featheredclover @arshifiesta @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @arshisrabbaves @titaliya

[msbhagirathi]

Word Prompt "Colly wobbles" for the IPK 13th Anniversary Fiesta by @arshifiesta.

Character: Kaveri Khushi Gupta, Arnav Varun a.k.a AV

FF: A River Runs Through It

Author: meera30

Reason: Coz I am in love with this ff right now. Now stop finding reasons and read on.

Khushi didn't know how did he do it. It was freezing cold outside in Detroit and here was the man in question giving out a presentation which he had prepared ~in merely five minutes~ before the meeting had to be started urgently.

Clad in a crisp white shirt rolled up to his forearms, the angry gash visible just as a slip of cut, the jacket and the waistcoat already lying on the chairback. Tie hanging a lil bit loose from its usual place. Shiny charcoal colored trousers hugged his legs like a second skin. Yet, he looked as fresh and energetic as ever.

Illegal.

How can he be so perfect?

Why did I of all people had to fall for him?

She knew that her being physically bulky had nothing to do with who she fell in love with. And yet she felt a bit wretched for having fallen for such a personification of perfection.

Sometimes, she didn't know which one was more comforting? To have been immune from his charm and just keeping to herself in college or having badly fallen for him strong enough to keep away all the strangers she had met just so she could forget that one man. And yet, the 'date other men to forget him' idea was as terrible as it sounded.

As she could go no further then two minutes of looking at them and instantly comparing them to him. She knew she was being horribly desperate. But then anyone would be if the man in question was the subject of discussion...

She started scribbling an insignia (for the umpteenth time) in her notepad which she had used earlier to jot down the good points.

"Ms. Gupta. Its good that you are at least concentrating on something but I would much rather that something to be nothing but this presentation."

Arnav Varun was looking at her with that knowing smile as if he had found a key to a mystery puzzle he was looking for. His glasses gleaming at an angle.

Embarrassed at being in the wrong side, Khushi immediately changed the page and looked up at the projector screen.

"Sorry sir."

Did he know?

Had he seen her drawing his name initials in her notepad with such an interest?

What was with that smile?

And yet now he continued with his presentation as if nothing had happened. Voice unflinching and firm. Emanating an authority. An air of importance.

Hey shivji! Why do I have to be the one target that you are never tired of playing with?

The gravel in his voice still used to send chills down her spine in a good way of course.

"Okay everyone that would be it for now. If I happen to have something else I would be calling all of you back. Please be ready for more impromptu meetings this week. If anyone has any questions please do ask or you're free to leave, thank you for your attention."

Khushi gingerly raised up from her chair praying to let her go to a certain someone sitting in the Kailash parvat with his wife who loved creating sweet troubles for her in situations like these. She quickly wanted to slip away along with the rest of the others.

But, Arnav Varun didn't let that happen. He looked up from his laptop at her.

Please don't tell me to stay back.

Please tell me the one thing I am yearning to hear from you for half a decade now.

Please let me go.

Please stop me and kiss me.

Hey shivji! She might have as well become a lunatic by now.

She was about to leave when..

"Khushi.."

She turned back only to find him sitting at his chair relaxed. All tension and seriousness gone with everyone else from the room. He sipped his glass of chilled water.

There was something in this man that made her feel at peace and nervous at the same time.

"Yes sir."

She heard the sound of her voice which shivered slightly.

Don't get the wrong idea okay? I am DEFINITELY NOT scared of you.

"No 'sir' please, just AV, when we are alone."

"Okay.. AV.'

He smiled.

"Show me your notepad once Khushi."

NO. PLEASE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

'Uhh.. I am in need of it urg-"

"Yeah yeah I know you need it I had seen you noting down points in it. But please I assure you I don't eat paper and I would return it within a few sec. Please?"

Khushi very hesitantly held it out and before he could open it to her eternal mortification and second hand embarrassment, Arjun's name came flashing out on her mobile screen.

A whole wave of relief hit her whole being as she excused herself to pick it up as an important call, leaving behind all her things in the room.

After fifteen minutes when she came back to her cabin she realized she had left all her things in the meeting room. She was about to sprint back to the room. When she spotted her things: her laptop bag, her water bottle and her notepad neatly sitting in the center of her desk.

At lunch break, she entered the cafeteria and already found the whole team along with (of course) AV himself sitting at the corner-most booth. She walked up and sat at the chair two seats away from him. She saw his phone lying on the table.

Suddenly it came alive with a notification and she saw the lock screen. A sprawly drawing. Careless strokes of blue ball point pen. Carved into the paper on a ruled page which seemed familiar.

An insignia, which she had scribbled on her notepad, out of boredom, sitting in the meeting room, a few hours ago. She couldn't believe her eyes.

Heat rushed to her ears and a slow blush crept onto her face and refused to go away. She couldn't believe the fact that Arnav Varun had taken a click of her drawing and set it as the lock screen on his phone.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him check the notification and quickly closed off the screen, checking if anyone else noticed it or not and went back to the conversation going on.

Khushi couldn't pull out the image of her insignia on his phone screen. Her mind kept replaying the image and she couldn't stop herself from blushing. Her body had gone into over-drive. Her heart was fluttering. Her hands and legs felt shaky. Her palms felt clammy. Warmth surrounding her face and neck and the rest of her body. Her stomach was in colly-wobbles.

Hey shivji, please, I must be looking like an idiot. Please help me staaaap this blushing, my cheeks are hurting now. Uff. Stupid AV. Stupid me.

[sankiraizada]

Bandage to the Heart | Part - 1

Entry to the IPKKND 13th anniversary fiesta

Word Prompt : Jouska

"Khushi, do you think it is wise, what we are doing?" asked Payal, drawing her little sister's hand away from the ornate deep blue lehenga he was unfolding.

"What? Your Shaadi? If this is not wise enough, what else would you like to do? Ohho, Jiji! I never knew you were interested in live-in!" The aforementioned little sister widened her eyes while fighting a smile.

Payal smacked Khushi's head with her free hand.

"Nahi!" -

"Going ahead I would never hide anything from you Payal-ji. However big it is."

Akash is definitely the better of both of them. He is sincere and it shows in each promise he makes to her. Doesn't he deserve the same loyalty?

But what good would that do? On the day of the havan before their engagement, he walked into the house bearing the news of his marriage to Anjali-ji. Brought out thunders from Buaji. Disbelief and devastation in her Amma. Seems like both her daughters had bad luck with walking up to the wedding altar. Her Babuji surprisingly was strong considering the whole wedding was his plan. He huffed and looked away, but didn't shed a tear when he heard all that. What else could a paralyzed man do anyway.

Everything Shyam-ji had claimed sounded almost.. true. It was Buaji who hounded him and Khushi to be wedded. He didn't have enough time to process the situation when they got hastily engaged by the bedside of their very sick Babuji. He was an outsider in the haughty Raizada clan. He just wanted apnapan. He finally got enough courage to reveal the truth this day, heaven forbid he didn't, he couldn't go against his principles even if he was in a loveless marriage.

But Payal also noticed how he spoke about Khushi to their elders. Egging them on to hitch them up together. How he never involved any of his family from Lucknow even after the engagement. Who carries their Kundali in their work suitcase anyway? He could have denied the wedding firmly right from the start. Buaji could force Khushi citing her adoption, but she couldn't make Shyam-ji do anything he didn't want to do, could she?

Anyway, it's not as if Akash nor any other member of the family would believe an iota of whatever she would tell them against their beloved Damaad-ji.

Why is this so complicated? If only she could love Akash freely, not burdened by the truth she's holding from him.

Khushi is technically her little sister. But she has seen more of the world than herself. Stood up for the family in need of a head. Has been cheated on. Takes up the challenges life throws at her with a smile and a quick prayer to her Devi Maiyya.

She's always been there for her chutki and supported her through numerous "disasters" that keep following Khushi Kumari Gupta wherever she goes. But today strangely she is the one feeling exposed to vultures in Shaantivan. Her sister has no business hanging about in this place come tomorrow and she can't think of a way to keep her support system to herself for the rest of her life.

Nightmares of her soon-to-be MIL keep her up at night anyway but it is Shyam who worries her truly. She couldn't pin upon anything unseemly in his behaviour since he left Laxmi Nagar, but who was she kidding? He seemed harmless while he was living with them too, at least till the truth came out. And had she not sensed his veiled threat? (Bhale hi her Amma and Buaji saw that as no more than an unwelcome consequence). Of Payal's marriage prospect crumbling if the Raizada's knew.

God knows what he would do or make her do by dangling the truth over her head. He's not truly in love with this family, is he? It's she who would suffer. Something had to be done here.

"Khushi, woh hum soch rahe the ki.."

"Yeh woh kuch nahi." Khushi came and sat by her sister who was lost in her train of thought.

"I know what's going on in your head. Waise if I say something it would be chhoti muh badi baat, but I will say it anyway. One thing I've understood by hanging around Arnav Singh Raizada is this. Be selfish in the matters of your family. And Akash Jiju is going to be your family in a few hours. Your relationship with him should matter the most. What good would it do if this wedding stopped now? Let him become your Pati and tell him whatever you want then. He is a good man. And smart. He would see the truth. And I have given my Maiyya murti to you. She would be with you always."

"Shyam-ji wouldn't dare put a toe out of the line under this roof with Arnav-ji and Jijaji around. But don't wait around until he does something irreversible. Hell, even if he doesn't, you should speak to Jijaji about this. If your husband can't understand and trust you, who would? If he can't share your pain and burden, who else would, Jiji?"

"He adores his Di. He has to know if you have something to share about her. But all in good time. Whenever you are ready."

Payal blinked and stared at her sister. Relief and resolve spread through her chest as she thought about what to do. Gently she cupped Khushi's face and kissed her forehead.

P.S. I know OG Khushi loves being in denial and would like to close her eyes and pretend there's no problem.. or justify being quiet by telling herself she should give Shyam a second chance for the sake of Anjali's marriage.. but here I just wanted to explore a little of what happens if these characters were just a bit more.. vocal. Thanks for reading!

P.S. P.S. This is my first attempt at posting something I wrote please be kind 🥹

@arshifiesta

>> part - 2

[honeybellexox]

Note - Hi guys, I know it’s been ages and please forgive me but for IPK’s 12th anniversary I’m really determined to post the next chapter of The Unraveling. I’m panicking because I’ve edited it, re- edited it and edited it some more and I’m still not happy but I don’t care, I’ll finally post it and if there are mistakes in it or things that could have been written better please let me know!! (I don’t even mind anyone rewriting it better atp! 😭)

Once again, I’m so sorry for the wait this chapter has been so difficult to write for some reason and I’m still not satisfied. However, there’s nothing worse then waiting for a fanfic update!😭❤️

Love you guysssssss💖💖💖

Honey!

[chutkiandchotte]

girls aren't dumb and i absolutely take it seriously & hate it when anyone tries to imply this. its an absolute and instant ick for me when a real and/or fictional person expresses such a sentiment.

long story short i really hate the IPKKND fanfic cliche of Arnav/the narrator commenting on Khushi's "peanut brain" "tiny brain" "don't use your peanut brain" "don't use this tiny brain of yours" (🤢🤢🤢 its a trope...its actually a trope...)

like first of all that is demeaning AF its not funny at all (sorry i have no sense of humour about this...i just don't) and second of all, KHUSHI IS CANONICALLY SMART. I KNOW THE WRITING GOT BAD AT TIMES BUT SHE IS A SMART AND RESOURCEFUL GIRL WHO HAD THE CAPABILITY TO WIN ARNAV'S CHALLENGES AND IMPRESSED HIM AGAINST HIS WILL EVEN WHEN HE WAS AT HIS PEAK OF HATING HER. EVERYONE AROUND HER KNOWS HER AS THE IDEAS PERSON AND GOES TO HER FOR CREATIVE SOLUTIONS TO DIFFICULT PROBLEMS. NANI CALLS HER SMART AND MATURE FOR HER AGE, REPEATEDLY!!!

look, she is not stupid, any more than Arnav is a violent & abusive, which is to say, yes sometimes when the writing was bad, this is how they came across but at their core this is not who they are. i don't want this smart Arnav dumb Khushi dynamic, I like them as two smart people (maybe with different types of intelligence) who match each other's level like no one else can and IDK why you'd want it any other way!

[phuljari]

Hello, I love your fanfic work and I am a huge fan of Ipkknd! Could you please tell me how you were able to make the social media (insta) accounts for khushi, arnav and the others? Thank you again!

hello darling! thank you for appreciating my work <3

for the soc med accounts— you can find editable templates online in any workable file version you'd like such as .psd (for photoshop) or vector files for illustrator. just search for instagram account template in any format you could work with!

i was a bit lazy so i simply used canva cos i wouldn't have to download all pictures as it's entirely online. i've hyperlinked the template in case you wanna check it out.

thanks for stopping by :)

[featheredclover]

Orphic

Chapter Seven

Read from the beginning

Also on Wattpad

Chapter Six> < > Epilogue

Stray dogs lazed around, with the sun’s rays kissing them gently. A lone car drove by.

Hari Prakash yawned discreetly.

Khushi knew he had a barrage of questions for her. After all, she had woken him up to drive her an hour before the actual timing!

But she couldn’t tell him what even she didn’t know yet….

Even now, she knew it was a gamble to assume Arnav would be there just because Aman mentioned once that he always liked to be in the office before his employees.

What an odd man! 

——————

Her cold hands knocked on his cabin door.

“Come in, Aman “

Hesitating at that, Khushi took another moment before going in.

He sat hunched over a piece of paper, while a bunch of files lay haphazardly around him.

A strand of hair marred his forehead, his eyes scrunched with focus.

He finally looked up, dropping his pen as he stood up. 

“Khushi?”

“I wanted to ask you about yesterday “

He bit his lip and she resisted the urge to blush at the action.

“So Miss Gupta. You are here an hour early because you wanted to ask me about….?”

“Yesterday “ she repeated innocently.

“What about it?” He pushed the files aside.

“You left me without saying a word-“

“I did say a word”

“ ‘No’ doesn't count!” She almost scolded before seeing the smirk on his face.

Realising he was wearing her thin, he put up his hands in surrender.

“Okay, I admit I was not expecting the news”

“And what about dinner?”

“Your father got the deal, didn’t he tell you?” He stepped around his table and walked up to her.

“So you and your dad came to dinner to celebrate the deal?” She frowned.

“Smart girl, “ he whispered.

“How dare y-?”

He cut her off with an arm around her waist as she was pulled up against him.

“What are you doing?”she gasped.

“What I have been wanting to do since you sat there sipping whisky, dancing and wearing that dress which made me want to rip it right off you” 

His husky whisper made her shiver.

“Arnav” she moaned as he pulled her closer.

“Khushi” he whispered as his nose nudged hers.

Their eyes caught each other for a moment . A moment before he kissed her.

She clutched his shirt as he kissed her softly. Tenderly. Her knees trembled. Her hands shook with desire. She parted her lips, and he thrust in letting his tongue twirl around hers.

Too much. This was too much.

Sensing her need to breathe , he let her lips go. But there was no respite as he kissed hotly down her throat. She felt feverish with lust when his hand wrapped around her breast.

“God” she called out.

“Arnav “ he corrected cheekily.

He claimed her lips again. Another swift kiss later, they held each other as their breathing calmed. 

“Breakfast?”he grinned.

——————

The majestic view of Lucknow glittered, as Khushi sat on the beautiful terrace of an English breakfast place. They seemed to be the only customers this early in the morning.

She wondered vaguely about Arnav vanishing as soon as he drove them here. 

What’s taking him so long?

She looked around again, smiling when she caught sight of him.

“Where have you been?”

“Oh, Aman called for something “

The waiter set down the pancakes and bowls of banana yoghurt.

Arnav grabbed the teapot and started pouring it into her cup, his hands trembling slightly.

“Arnav?”

His eyes melted something in her. She was used to the devilish glint in them. This new vulnerability he was unravelling for her to see, made her heart flutter.

“Khushi I….” He looked around nervously.

He shuffled his pocket before he set something on the table.

A flask of whiskey. Her flask of whisky.

She looked at him in disbelief, as he smiled helplessly.

“I stole for the first time in my life because of you Khushi Gupta “

He gently took her hands in his own. 

“ I meant what I said….You had me smitten the moment I saw you”

Khushi didn’t know what to say. He was saying what she had wished deep in her heart for him to feel. The desire for him had grown even without her realising.

“I had confided in my father to ask the Guptas for your hand in marriage”

“What?!” She felt a strange joy in the pit of her stomach.

“Yes Khushi. But he wanted me to wait because he felt your family would feel pressured. You know because of the new venture?......I had to convince myself to wait, and yet when you came that day all, looking all guilty…”

“You took the hotel projects away from the Khandelwals?”

“It was never theirs” he flashed her a sardonic smile.

“My brother-in-law, Shyam leaked the false news to the media. He knew dad hates to be known as someone unsure of his decision. So he thought if it was announced that Rocky had the contract, we would be forced to give him the contract!”

“Your sister knew?”

“Of course she did” bitterness clouding his voice.

“She values that crook of her husband more than dad”

“I am sorry Arnav “

“It’s fine Khushi. If Di wants to be with him, I am no one to interfere. She is an adult after all,”

“I guess” she sighed.

“Now there’s no reason to wait”

“To wait?” 

Arnav stood up, his face set in tense lines.

He kneeled down, his hands holding a velvet box.

Khushi gasped.

He opened the box to reveal the most beautiful diamond encrusted in a gleaming gold band.

Her eyes filled with tears, as she raised a trembling hand to her lips.

“Khushi Gupta, wise men say only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you!”

She giggled, “Elvis Presley! Really?”

He smiled.

“You are an orphic mystique, Khushi. The moment I saw you, I felt…something beyond me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you please do the honour of marrying me?”

Tagging: @arshifiesta

——————

Next chapter>>

@hand-picked-star @msbhagirathi @phuljari @thenainitaldisaster @thedupattaknowswhatsup @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @barshifan @andli @shiyaravi @chutkiandchotte @laad-governess @leila1 @minpdnim @bigfatreader @arshiradio @simplycurlz @scorpio-smiles @bengudill @exosexosekai @0218fm

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Saheb, Bibi aur Ghulaam

#3

Thank you to the lovelies @arshifiesta for celebrating IPK and setting up the great moodboards and AU.

1878, Calcutta

Eleven years old Arnav Mullick had not spoken a word in a year.

Some thought it was his parents' traumatizing deaths that led to his silence. But death was nothing new. The house had lost its middle son, his Mejda Akash at tender age of 19.

So no, death made no difference to Arnav. In fact he was happy when his philanderer of a father died of drinking as well. He deserved it. Not once had he seen his father home at night.

Arobindo Mullick would often scoff when stopped, that if any man of this house had ever spent a night in his own house?

So then some speculated that Arnav's behavioral issues had gotten worse, hence why he stopped speaking for a year.

If his darling mother was alive, she would've wrestled with anyone who thought such against her Arnob. Shyam, Arnav's Borda (boro-dada = older-brother) would perhaps be the only one to chuckle and agree with the society. Arnav was tempestuous as a child.

But quiet? Never quite.

The society would never understand that it was Akash's falling for a Baiji (courtesan) at the age of seventeen, his frequent visits leading his early introduction to alcohol despite their mother's best to protect them for it that hurt Arnav the most.

This was when Arnav swore off love.

That his otherwise pious brother was gullible to follow his father's footsteps to a kotha - where Arobindo Mullick spent all his nights.

It was his mother's haunted face and tears that left Arnav speechless. Or rather Arobindo's reply to her request to stay at home.

Has any Mullick ever spent a night in their own home?

This was when Arnav swore off marriage.

Or that despite Raja Rammohan Roy having abolished Sati-pratha a good sixty years ago, Arnav's mother was dragged to her undeserving husband's pyre by her conservative in-laws to follow patni dharam.

This was when Arnav swore off religion.

But if maa was alive, what life would she have had? Arnav saw how his uncle, Kaku, eyed her. And Arnav had seen that in the months prior to his mother's death, how she was shaved, dressed in white and forced into a strictly ritualistic dreary life.

His mother, whose hair spilled like the Ganges from Himalaya, had a beauty who could rival the Goddess, lived a life none deserved simply out of rituals and religion.

Thus when Shyam gave their mother mukh-agni, Arnav found his devotion die in his mother's pyre. And when his only hope, Borda (Shyam) set sail to London abandoning him, his words died as well.

-- -- --

1880, Calcutta

Arnav had been wrong about Borda. He returned as a Barrister from London, swiftly kicking out Kaku (father's younger brother) by bringing up property possession rights and threatened the rest of the Mullicks with incarceration for having forced their mother to die.

Thirteen years old Arnav did not know what to do when the brother he thought so wrongly about did the most just thing. It was then he decided that he too would run away to London when he came of age.

But the other thing he couldn't figure out was what to do with Boudi (bhabhi; sister in law). Their grandmother had fixed Borda (Shyam's) alliance with a member of the Tagore family.

Barely two years older than him, fifteen years old Anjali Devi was to manage the household of a twenty five years of Shyam Mullick. How could Arnav accept her as the lady of the house when the post truly belonged to Maa and only her.

But Arnav realized no rebellion was needed. Boudi arrived with the biggest reverence to their mother, along with the grief of losing her own. She chatted constantly with Arnav, not questioning his silence at all - Borda had gotten fed up after a few tries.

And over the years Arnav realized he had a sibling more in Boudi than in Borda.

Perhaps, perhaps maa's essence found its way into Anjali Boudi. It would explain why Arnav's first words were celebrated by Anjali as if it was her first child who had uttered their first words.

A child she was unable to give through all of her married life.

And perhaps his family was cursed against joy for the moment Arnav saw his mother in Anjali, he saw his father in Shyam.

The easy money he made as a barrister faded quicker given his lavish expenditure in trying to out-host the British and the Indian royalties. He belittled Anjali's lineage as much as he could and tried to prove that he was a bigger industrialist than the Tagores.

Lawyer he was, businessman he wasn't.

And thus at age eighteen Arnav had to run to London, no longer chasing any dream, but at least attempting to make the fortune his brother boasted of having.

-- -- --

1893, London

London was far more accommodating than India would ever be. This was what Arnav believed until, of course, an intellectual sparring with Boudi's cousin - Rabindranath - would get him thinking about perspectives.

To think of it, majority of India's existing regressive laws were nothing but British Victorian laws.

Then who was regressive?

It had been a lazy afternoon where Arnav was entertaining his thoughts, alone, as usual when a telegraph changed his life.

URGENT STOP SHYAM DA MARRYING AGAIN STOP

Arnav tossed the telegraph aside, grabbed his documents and hailed the first ship - premier class - to India.

He only had two goals.

Stop Shyam Mullick from marrying and ruin everybody who stood as an obstacle to Bo- Didi's happiness.

-- -- --

A/N: Yes, babua is here and so is his very very painful history! Lemme know what you all think :)

Tagging @shiyaravi @maansiloves @featheredclover @chutkiandchotte @laad-governess @msbhagirathi @phuljari @hand-picked-star @barshifan (updating it slowly and steadily)

[myfanficfrenzy]

AI art inspired from beautiful Arshi fanfic by Meera30 : A river runs through it

[hand-written-dreams]

Hi, it's tania here from the blog @hand-picked-star. It's a side-blog I created to post my stories. I'm not the best at organizing things, so since I use the mobile app, I've decided to open a separate blog. Please follow me here!

It's almost unbelievable that I've finished my first-ever story. 25 chapters!!!!!!

It feels monumental to me. I want to thank everyone who took the time to read even a single line of what I’ve written. I am truly grateful.

You can also read the story on wattpad. HERE

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18

Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21

Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24

Chapter 25

[msbhagirathi]

Moon-struck (For Arshi Fiesta)

Aao parmeswariyon welcome. :)

He stared at the random but ~not so random~ word, google had dared to suggest to him today, staring back at him. As if to challenge him to deny the truth written beneath it as it's 'meaning'.

He slammed the cover of the iPad and threw it away on his bed. He pulled out his belt only to slam it away on the floor.

He tore through his hair with both his hands, resting them at the nape of his neck, with the fingers intertwined.

He couldn't deny the effect that, that slip of a girl had on him ever since she had bombarded into his life quite literally.

He still used to feel restless and anxious almost all the time but it was not due to the anger and desperation of the trauma that he had to go through as early as fourteen. He could admit it to himself that he still used to wake up in the middle of the night with a start. But it wasn't due to the fear and panic which used to make him feel like breaking into tears and cry away for the rest of the hours in the vicinity of the walls of his room.

Rather it was due to the fact that a certain someone in a red chiffon saree, a barely there blouse, with no room for a bra had started coming to meet him in the privacy of his dreams.

The two frail doris tied above the shoulder blades, jet black straight hair pushed to one side of a shoulder. And just when he used to about to touch them, grab them in a bunch to bring them at the back and run his fingers through them.

There would be nothing accept the darkness around him to comfort him of the teeth shattering anticipation.

Heart galloping as if no tomorrow, and lungs struggling as if there was a sudden shortage of air around him. The hair pulling frustration running back to him and he used to fall back on his bed.

Again going through the charade of tossing and turning around until light flimsy excuse of a sleep used to evade him.

And yet when he used to wake up in the morning to start his day. He ~very strangely so~ used to feel as fresh as ever. Well rested, satiated and calm and absolutely at peace.

He knew he had somehow fallen for her.

He had seen her innocence when she used to distribute prasad and teeka to everyone around her cubicle on her floor, greeting them with 'shubh prabhat' and 'devi maiyya ki kripa se apka din mangalmay ho.'

He had seen her brilliance in the way she had handled the menial tasks that he had given her.

He had seen her kindness when she had given away a pair of bangles, which she had liked and bought for herself, to a little girl who had also liked them but was far from being able to afford them. Across the street of where his car had happened to be parked one day.

"Fuck."

He slammed his hands on the window in front of him.

He knew he had fallen for her hard. A lil bit too hard for his own liking.

He knew he was love-struck.

He knew he was moon-struck.

P.S.: So. ladies and gentlemen Sanka devis and Laard governors. *bows down with exaggerated gRaCe* This sweet short rendition was written much to the threat invitation received from @phuljari di. Hope you enjoy. :)

Credits: @arshifiesta

[sankiraizada]

Bandage to the Heart | Part - 3

<<part-2

Khushi shrieked and dashed inside Anjali's room forgetting all formalities and filled with worry.

Arnav slowly pushed himself up with his face turned away. "Anjali ji, what's all this? What happened to you? All these bandages and.. and blood!?"

Anjali slowly registered her presence as she wiped her tears.

"And this hospital report? I knew this was an odd time to get a check-up! How did this happen to you?" Khushi demanded with a slight shiver and worry etched on her face.

"Woh.. nothing Khushi ji. Please don't worry. I just.. slipped and fell while helping with the mandap decoration.. woh kya hai, my… leg braces came undone.."

"You fell? And you have got all these serious injuries with a fall? Anjali ji, there's a lot of blood on your bandages, it can't be just a fall! Hey Devi Maiyya, look at your state! You were going to go to the temple, weren't you? I saw you leave with a thaali. Anjali ji… what…"

"Di's car got into an accident Khushi." said Arnav faintly finally turning his face towards her, looking somewhere at her feet.

"Car… acci..dent…?.."

Khushi's face slowly drained out of colour as she sank to her knees beside the bed. Flashes of a speeding car and blood, and a little girl sitting along the road by herself waiting for help to arrive in a dark deserted highway came to her mind.

She closed her eyes to shake the unwelcome thoughts off and held Anjali's hand.

"And.. and are you fine now..? Do you have any other injuries other than these? I assume you've been to the hospital already if you're getting your reports.. but do you feel okay? Should we go back and get you thoroughly checked? Anjali ji aap ghabraayiye mat.." her voice came out thickly and filled with all the ghabraahat she was denying Anjali of.

"Khushi." Arnav put a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed trying to bring her back to her senses. He felt a pang in his chest as he wondered what locked away memories must have bubbled up to the surface of her mind.

"Khushi ji, hum ab bikul theek hain", assured Anjali drawing her other hand from her Chotte's shoulder to rest upon Khushi's trembling one.

"I can't lie, I was scared. Scared I would never get to see any of you again". Khushi whimpered in protest, her eyes now freely shedding tears.

"But I am here now Khushi ji. With all my family and family-to-be. In my house, safe and cared for. That's all that matters". Anjali said trying to sound strong for her precious Chotte and Khushi ji who currently looked like two wounded puppies.

"And thanks for this," she said taking the report from Khushi's hands. "I'll check it later. Aap yahan aayiye. Sit with me" patting the space beside her on the bed.

Khushi warily rose and sat beside her good friend and facing her Arnav ji. He looked miserable with messed up hair and puffed face, with red eyes; he looked like he thoroughly wept. Khushi's heart sank even lower. She wanted to comfort him. Hold him close to her and let no pain in the world touch him.

Anjali let herself smile against her tears, and with her hands one each cupping Arnav and Khushi's faces, started - "This is why I was so scared. There is so much in my life to lose. There is nothing more dear to me than these relationships. Not even myself, Chotte."

"Do you remember me telling you? Nothing stays forever. There is no guarantee to anyone's life. And that is why… if one has a moment worth sharing with their loved ones, they should. Khushi ji, no word unsaid, no feeling shared, no truth hidden and left to fester lets one sleep a peaceful night's sleep. No matter how silly it might sound in the present."

"Life is too precious to let slip from your hands. And the colours you want to paint it with are of completely your choice." She ended with a kiss of blessing on their foreheads and hugged their red faces closer.

"Don't think about anything a lot. Just listen to your hearts always." She pulled out of the hug and wiping their tears said - "Acha, I have a brother to marry off. I'll start getting ready. You two run along, someone might need help downstairs. I'll join you as soon as I can." Arnav smiled at his sister and stood up along with Khushi to head outside.

What was that bhashan about? Arnav's stomach filled with warmth as he remembered his Di had never failed to read him like an open book.

Khushi fiddled with her dupatta as the frown of worry left her forehead to be replaced by a frown of pakdi-gayi-chori. What does Anjali ji think of her?

Khushi ji, no word unsaid, no feeling not shared, no truth hidden and left to fester lets one sleep a peaceful night's sleep.

Does she mean to imply she knows about… would she have kissed her affectionately if she knew? The thought of Anjali's trust over her broken scared Khushi. Or maybe she means to hint at...

Was Khushi that easy to read? She glanced uncertainly at Arnav as they walked alongside each other through the corridor to find him already looking at her.

In an instance, he held her hand and walked to his room quickly before HP/JP/OP could interrupt his plans.

part-4>>