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~~~~im so incredibly sorry for how unorganised and unaesthetic this looks. i've tried to get the hang of it. i've always dreamt of writing since i was a kid and uploading stuff and getting love from people so this is my shot at it! :3
~~~~dividers by @cursed-carmine and @anitalenia
§ masterlist §
Do Deewane..ek class mai?
Udaybir Sandhu x CollegeFriend!FemReader (incomplete)
chapter 1
chapter 2
chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5
chapter 6
chapter 7
chapter 8
chapter 9
chapter 10
chapter 11
chapter 12
discontinued
Same time, next life?
(3 shot with FWB!Udaybir sandhu and reader) (complete)
Maybe in another universe.
It'll pass.
In this universe.
Pinda x bengali reader:
Kukkad Kamal da (1)
Kukkad Kamal da (2) (smut)
Some bullshit i wrote with hamzair in mind:
hamzair
tagging stuff I write sometimes when I become shakespeare:
tagged with #projections but I will still link them here bc im a fucking idiot
A/N: actual cold coffee that I made. it was fire. im also losing motivation for this series for if i abandon it don't be mad i got shit to do
You were rapidly approaching your semester end, but absolutely weren't too excited for the mid term exams. It felt like the pressure was only increasing, especially considering that there was very less of a gap between the exams before these.
So you and your friends being slumped over a thousand books with a thousand more redbulls in the middle wasn't a rare right to see. Which, unfortunately, also meant seeing the spilling of redbulls constantly wasn't either.
With the amount of times it had happened by now, another time would just tick you off enough to throw yourself out the window.
Unfortunately, university was pretty expensive. You weren't getting out of here without a 6 figure salary.
If you were to perhaps cry or whatever, you'd make sure you'd do it in a pile of money.
You couldn't be broke AND sad, could you?
So all you had was to sit back down in that damn chair and grind your notes and hope for the best.
Easy enough.
Until you were somehow the only one awake. You looked around to see literally everyone was asleep.
Okay. Fun.
You had planned to complete 6 whole chapters, and you were still on the 5th one. Considering it was 2am and it wasn't the best time to be awake for studying, you decided a cup of coffee might help.
You got up to go to your kitchen, wondering how two whole cans of redbull didn't manage to give you energy, but managed to make you want to pee eight times as much.
You sighed a heavy sigh making the necessary arrangements for making a strong coffee. You thought it would be a good idea to have cold coffee.
Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder as you yelped loudly, covering your mouth and turning back in a frenzy. You put your hand on your heart, feeling it beat fast, seeing Udaybir standing with widened eyes.
Your heartbeat got faster, if that was even possible.
"Sorry." he smiled sheepishly. "I didn't mean to scare you."
You nodded frantically, leaning your back on the counter, swallowing. The air turned awkward for a moment, before you decided to break the ice and ask him if he wanted a coffee.
He nodded in response as you got to preparing another cup while he leaned against the counter top. It was quite hard to keep your eyes awak from him in a black shirt. You stole small glances at him from the corner of your eye.
"Cheeni?"
"Nahi, nahi. Aur neend aayegi warna."
You nodded in response, handing him his cup of coffee. You held yours and stood in the same stance as him.
The kitchen filled up with the sound of sips.
You fought to keep both your sleepiness and admiration at bay.
"Kitna padha?" he asked, not looking up from the ground.
"Paanch chapter ho gaye. Ek aur baaki hai. Fir aaj ke liye itna hi."
He nodded. "Mera ho gaya jo karna tha. Bhook lagri hai isliye uthke aa gaya."
As though there was some telepathic conversation in your head with him, you both instantly looked at each other alarmed.
You both speed walked to the front door as he rapidly grabbed his keys.
There was absolutely nothing that could come in between you and Döner club fries. You were very grateful for two things: it beimg opened 24 hours and being right infront of college.
Clearly, you weren't the only one impressed by those heavenly fries.
He and you sat in the car munching away on your food. And you might have been shivering a little, having underestimated the cold.
You tried to make it less noticeable that you were struggling, adding a sniffle here and there in between bites. It didn't seem to have worked really well considering he was now staring at you.
"Thand lag rahi hai?"
You nodded despite being opposed to it. He kept his half eaten burger on the dashboard for a moment and reached for the backseat. You watched intently to see what he was doing as he pulled a jacket out.
He handed it to you, holding out his hand. You stared at the extended hand in confusion as he gestured to your fries with his eyes.
"Chahiye?"
He pursued his lips as he snatched the food away from your and dropped the jacket in your lap.
"Peheno."
You slowly slipped it on, trying to be normal about how he just gave you his jacket to wear. He handed you back your food.
You stared at your now jacket covered hands, pulling up the sleeves a little. You were suddenly aware of the size difference between you two.
He continue eating like nothing happened. Driving back to the dorm, you hugged the jacket closer to you. The lingering scent of his easily drove you insane along with his sitting beside you. You turned your head to look at his arms subtly while he worked the steering wheel with precision.
Upon reaching the front door of the dorm, you heard noises of the tv coming from inside.
You and Udaybir shared a look. Opening the door with his keys, you both stepped in as all of their heads turned to you.
"Why are all of you awake?"
Karan squinted his eyes at the two of you.
"Tum dono kaha the?"
"Bhook lag rahi thi, khana khane gaye the."
"Hamare liye laye kuch?"
"Saale tu ghode bech ke so raha tha."
"Iske naak ke upar khana latkake ke kabhi dekhna kitni jaldi uth jaata hai." Kanishka snickered.
The movie played in between all the silence as Udaybir sat beside you on the sofa. He smiled at you as you returned the gesture and almost forgot about his jacket on you. When you tried to take it off, he held your hand and stopped you.
"Keep it on." he whispered.
You weren't particularly cold anymore. But god forbid you ever went against his wish.
This is completely based on Danish's fantastic portrayal of Uzair and is completely fictional. Here, they are regular gangsters, and it's an AU.
Constructive criticism appreciated. This is not beta read, so if you guys find some typos/ errors, please feel free to correct me.
Warnings: arranged marriage, mutual love, silent love, soft confessions, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, drunk!Uzair (yes, he is the warning)
Happy reading....
She was waiting for Uzair; it was past midnight. Rehman bhai had informed Ulfat bhabhi that they would be late, but this late. He knew she could never sleep alone; he was responsible for this bad habit of hers. She was also angry with him. This was completely unfair; she was angry, and now he was making her wait.
She sat on the soft, cushiony chair her husband had suddenly brought one day. He had not said it out loud, but it was for her. She had said once that his chairs were too hard and stiff, and a week later, this chair was in their room, exactly like the one she had back home. He was strange at times; she could never completely understand him. He was caring but yet distant, loving yet angry.
It had been three months since they got married. It was a typical arranged marriage. Uzair was her khala’s cousin’s son’s mother-in-law’s aunt’s daughter’s brother-in-law. Yes, she was confused too. But he was from an affluent family, and he was the right hand of the Badshah of Lyari. They were rich and had power; it was enough for her parents. However, he was eight years older than her, and she was sceptical about arranged marriage, especially to someone so much older. Her parents wanted their daughter to be a queen, but she wanted a love story. Her mother had stated, “Ye pyaar mohabaat ka bhoot do din khali peet rahegi, nikal jayega”. She had looked at her plate of biryani and chicken korma and decided her mother indeed was right. It was also not like she had a boyfriend. She spent too much time studying and reading romance novels to find one. “Waise bhi konsa mafia husband romance hota hain real life mein”, her best friend, Zoya, had commented. Thus, she had agreed to marry him.
A month later, she was sitting in a bright red jora, her hands dark with mehendi, both of which were exactly according to her choice. She had seen him properly when he stood after the Quazi had declared them husband and wife. He stood up and blocked the light in front of her. She looked at him through her veil. He was tall, with broad shoulders. He lifted her veil, and she saw his face for the first time so clearly. His jawline was sharp, his eyes darkened with soorma, his beard dark and trimmed. A small scar on his cheek. He was handsome.
“Mashallah”, he kissed her forehead. She took a deep breath; he had a deep voice, too.
“Aakhein neechi karle ab, saari raat ghoorna apne shouhar ko suhagrat pe”, Zoya had muttered, and she immediately lowered her eyes.
The haveli was a new place for her, but Ulfat Bhabhi and Rehman bhai had made sure she never felt out of place. Well, for her husband, he was still quite a mystery. He stayed beside her like a rock, listening to her when she needed, trying to become a friend. She smiled, remembering how he slipped on the carpet of his own room on their suhagraat, and she had held him to prevent his fall. His cheeks had turned red after that. He had shyly kissed her forehead and given her the mu-dikhai, a pair of gold bangles which she wore daily now.
Uzair was sweet; he fulfilled all the responsibilities of a husband. He took care of her, listened to all her ‘bak-bak’ and fulfilled all her wishes, but there was a glass wall between them. It bothered her the most. He cared so much, yet ran away whenever she tried to take care of him. He cuddled her to sleep, listening to stories of her childhood, but never mentioned his own. He would tickle her, let her trouble him. He never raised his voice at her, answered her calmly, but last week, when she was flying a kite with Naiem and Faizal, she had slipped. He had caught her and then scolded her. He had said sorry later, even bought her ice-cream, but she could never understand why he was so angry about this small matter.
Ulfat Bhabhi had told her that Uzair loved her; well, she, too, believed that, but she would like to hear it sometime. He showed his affection, his care, yet there was an empty space, a void, as if there was something he was hiding from her. A pain Uzair chose to feel to feel alone, and she knew that, and that pained her more.
Today, she was angry at him because she had gotten another harsh scolding from him. His gun was lying on the dressing table, and she had just picked it up. She had seen it several times in his hands, or in the holster or the drawer, but never touched it. She was merely curious. She had even seen Naiem pick one and practice shooting; what harm was her touching it? Uzair came out of the shower to see her holding the gun and lost it. He was furious. He had snatched it from her hand and scolded her enough to make her teary-eyed, and then left. He knew she was angry, and now, instead of saying sorry, he was with his friends. She had planned that she would not let him sleep beside her.
She was lost in her thoughts when she heard him climb up the stairs in heavy steps, swaying from side to side. She caught her as he was about to fall, “Aree Dekhke.” The sharp stench of alcohol reached her nose.
“Aap ne pi rakhi hain”
“Hehe. Meri biwi ko maat batana,” he giggled. He squinted his eyes near her face, to look properly,” Aree tum to bilkul uski tarha dikhti ho. Aree, jaan ye to tum hi ho.”
“Door hatiye. Chi. Kitna ganda smell araha hain.” She moved away as she made him sit on the deevan on the veranda.
“Tum bhi mujhe door kar rahi ho. Mujhe laga tum mujhse pyaar karti ho.” Uzair looked at her with teary puppy eyes. She was confused. What had happened to him? He looked so vulnerable.
“Aree uzair”, she held her as he fell face-first on her chest while trying to stop her from going away.
“Ammi aur abbu pata hain kabhi kabhi ladte the. Per hamesha pyaar zaada tha. Mujhe ekdam nazo se pala tha, phir ekdin, ekdin woh nahi the.” She stilled beside him. I was a sore topic for Uzair. He never spoke about his parents. She had come to know from Ulfat Bhabhi that they had passed away when he was 12, but she denied giving any details about the matter.
“Pata hain ye kangan meri ammi ke hi hain. Tumhe yakken nahi hoga, ye bilkul tumhare hath ke naap ke hi the, jaise tumhare liye bane ho”, Uzair held her hands in front of his face and kissed her palms.
“Koi nahi aya. Maine 2 din se kuch nahi khaya tha.” Uzair started again, “Meri khala ai thi, per ammi ke gehne leke chali gai. Bas ye kangan mere paas the, to reh gaye. Woh ghar ke kagaaz bhi mang rahi thi, per mujhe pata nahi tha who kagaaz kaha hain, isiliye woh mujhe leke nahi gai. Mujhe akele us baare se ghar mein bohot daar lag raha tha” Tears escaped his eyes as he told him about the most vulnerable part of his life.
“Mujhe samajh hi nahi aya kya karu. Mujhe to ammi kitchen mein jaane bhi nahi nahi deti thi, to mujhe khana bhi banana nahi ata tha. Per mujhe bohot bhook lagi thi, to maine dekha unki banai hui thori si biryani thi. Maine 4 din tak thora thora karke khaya tha. Ammi ke hath ka khana uske baad to nahi milta na, to main bacha bacha ke kha raha tha” She was crying now, holding her husband close. She could see 12-year-old Uzair in him now, all alone, sacred, hungry.
“Ghar pe kuch nahi tha, phir kuch gunde aye aur tor phor karne lage. Tab rehman bhai ne mujhe bachaya. Mujhe bohot chot ai thi pata hain. Woh jo mere peth pe nishan hain, tum puch rahi thi na? Woh tab ka hain. Phir Bhabhi mujhe hospital le gai aur ek hafte baad mujhe acha khana mila. Puri aur sabzi.” She was always curious why his favourite meal was simple puri and sabzi; she had her answers now. Hungry Uzair got that as his first fresh meal, his first meal of love and care after his parents had died, and he was left alone to survive this harsh world. “Bhabhi tab paet se thi, per unhone mera bohot khayal Rakha. Mujhse to chala bhi nahi jaraha tha tab”
She was weeping. Her husband was such a strong man. She could not imagine such a life for a child. She held her close; all her anger was gone.
“Pata hain main biryani kha hi nahi pata tha. Ammi ki yaad ati hain, koi unke jaisa biryani bana hi nahi pata tha, bas unki yaad ati hain. Phir tumne usdin banai ekdam ammi jaisa bana tha. Tum unhe janti thi kya?” Uzair looked up at her, asking her the question, but seeing her cry, he was more confused.
“Ro kyu rahi ho. Ro maat. Mujhe daar lagta hain. Maine kuch galti ki kya? Mujhe tum chor ke chali to nahi jaogi na? Pata hain mujhe daar lagta hain, kisise itna pyaar karne se. Per tumse door reh hi nahi pata. Maan karta hain ki hamesha tumhe gale lagake rakhu, apne se alag hi na kau, per, Mard hu ladna padhta hain”
So, this is what Uzair’s deepest fear was, this is what made him scared. She places her hands on his cheeks.
“To sabse ladiye, per mere paas ake bas apne maan ki baat kar lijiye”
“Pakka? Tum mujhe hara hua, kamzoor admi to nahi samjhogi?”
“Aap sabse bahador koi hain? Is duniya mein sabse bahadoor hain aap. Ammi ke bhi sabse bahadoor bache the aap. Woh zaroor apko dekhke khush hoti hongi”, more tears left her eyes as she said these words.
“Sachi mein. Phir ammi ko to tum bhi bohot achi lagogi. Mujhse itna pyaar jo karti ho.” Uzair looked at her as if she were the moon, the star of his entire world.
“Tum jab usdin gussa karke mujhse baat nahi kar rahi thi, mujhe bohod dard hua tha pata hain? Main nahi chahta tha tumhe daantu, par tum seedhi se gir jati, patang urate-urate. Tumhe kuch ho jata to main akele kaise rehta? Isiliye dant diya. Mujhse gussa maat hona. Mere yaha bohot dard hota hain,” Uzair pointed towards his heart.
“Kabhi nahi karungi gussa. Promise” She frantically kissed his face. Her eyes were teary, full of love. “Chalo ab kurta utaro, aur jake fresh hojao.”
“Haw tumhare samne?”
“Apki biwi hu main”
“Hain woh to sahi hain. Chalo phir mujhe nehla bhi do, tumhare wale sabun se. Kitni pyaari Kushbu hain uski. Chandan jaisa, aur lagta hain phool khila hain.”
“Acha thik hain.”
“Suno, main tumse bohot Mohabbat karta hu, tumhare bina jee nahi paunga,” Uzair confessed, pulling her closer.
“Janti hu.” She kissed his forehead.
“Hamara bhi ek khandaan hoga na?”
“Kya bol rahe ho?”
“Main tum aur hamare bache.”
“Honge na zaroor honge”
“Tum mujhe chorke nahi jaogi na?”
“Main hamesha aapke pass rahungi”
“Main tumse bohot pyaar karta hu. Bohot zaada, sabse zaada”
She smiled, helping him to the washroom. Maybe her husband was not as mysterious as he seemed. Maybe it was good that she had an arranged marriage. Maybe Ammi and Abbu had chosen the right man for her, and maybe this was her love story. Well, tonight there were no maybe’s, just yes’s.
This is completely based on Danish's fantastic portrayal of Uzair and is completely fictional. Here, they are regular gangsters, and it's an AU.
Constructive criticism appreciated. This is not beta read, so if you guys find some typos/ errors, please feel free to correct me.
Warnings: arranged marriage, mutual love, silent love, soft confessions, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, drunk!Uzair (yes, he is the warning)
Happy reading....
She was waiting for Uzair; it was past midnight. Rehman bhai had informed Ulfat bhabhi that they would be late, but this late. He knew she could never sleep alone; he was responsible for this bad habit of hers. She was also angry with him. This was completely unfair; she was angry, and now he was making her wait.
She sat on the soft, cushiony chair her husband had suddenly brought one day. He had not said it out loud, but it was for her. She had said once that his chairs were too hard and stiff, and a week later, this chair was in their room, exactly like the one she had back home. He was strange at times; she could never completely understand him. He was caring but yet distant, loving yet angry.
It had been three months since they got married. It was a typical arranged marriage. Uzair was her khala’s cousin’s son’s mother-in-law’s aunt’s daughter’s brother-in-law. Yes, she was confused too. But he was from an affluent family, and he was the right hand of the Badshah of Lyari. They were rich and had power; it was enough for her parents. However, he was eight years older than her, and she was sceptical about arranged marriage, especially to someone so much older. Her parents wanted their daughter to be a queen, but she wanted a love story. Her mother had stated, “Ye pyaar mohabaat ka bhoot do din khali peet rahegi, nikal jayega”. She had looked at her plate of biryani and chicken korma and decided her mother indeed was right. It was also not like she had a boyfriend. She spent too much time studying and reading romance novels to find one. “Waise bhi konsa mafia husband romance hota hain real life mein”, her best friend, Zoya, had commented. Thus, she had agreed to marry him.
A month later, she was sitting in a bright red jora, her hands dark with mehendi, both of which were exactly according to her choice. She had seen him properly when he stood after the Quazi had declared them husband and wife. He stood up and blocked the light in front of her. She looked at him through her veil. He was tall, with broad shoulders. He lifted her veil, and she saw his face for the first time so clearly. His jawline was sharp, his eyes darkened with soorma, his beard dark and trimmed. A small scar on his cheek. He was handsome.
“Mashallah”, he kissed her forehead. She took a deep breath; he had a deep voice, too.
“Aakhein neechi karle ab, saari raat ghoorna apne shouhar ko suhagrat pe”, Zoya had muttered, and she immediately lowered her eyes.
The haveli was a new place for her, but Ulfat Bhabhi and Rehman bhai had made sure she never felt out of place. Well, for her husband, he was still quite a mystery. He stayed beside her like a rock, listening to her when she needed, trying to become a friend. She smiled, remembering how he slipped on the carpet of his own room on their suhagraat, and she had held him to prevent his fall. His cheeks had turned red after that. He had shyly kissed her forehead and given her the mu-dikhai, a pair of gold bangles which she wore daily now.
Uzair was sweet; he fulfilled all the responsibilities of a husband. He took care of her, listened to all her ‘bak-bak’ and fulfilled all her wishes, but there was a glass wall between them. It bothered her the most. He cared so much, yet ran away whenever she tried to take care of him. He cuddled her to sleep, listening to stories of her childhood, but never mentioned his own. He would tickle her, let her trouble him. He never raised his voice at her, answered her calmly, but last week, when she was flying a kite with Naiem and Faizal, she had slipped. He had caught her and then scolded her. He had said sorry later, even bought her ice-cream, but she could never understand why he was so angry about this small matter.
Ulfat Bhabhi had told her that Uzair loved her; well, she, too, believed that, but she would like to hear it sometime. He showed his affection, his care, yet there was an empty space, a void, as if there was something he was hiding from her. A pain Uzair chose to feel to feel alone, and she knew that, and that pained her more.
Today, she was angry at him because she had gotten another harsh scolding from him. His gun was lying on the dressing table, and she had just picked it up. She had seen it several times in his hands, or in the holster or the drawer, but never touched it. She was merely curious. She had even seen Naiem pick one and practice shooting; what harm was her touching it? Uzair came out of the shower to see her holding the gun and lost it. He was furious. He had snatched it from her hand and scolded her enough to make her teary-eyed, and then left. He knew she was angry, and now, instead of saying sorry, he was with his friends. She had planned that she would not let him sleep beside her.
She was lost in her thoughts when she heard him climb up the stairs in heavy steps, swaying from side to side. She caught her as he was about to fall, “Aree Dekhke.” The sharp stench of alcohol reached her nose.
“Aap ne pi rakhi hain”
“Hehe. Meri biwi ko maat batana,” he giggled. He squinted his eyes near her face, to look properly,” Aree tum to bilkul uski tarha dikhti ho. Aree, jaan ye to tum hi ho.”
“Door hatiye. Chi. Kitna ganda smell araha hain.” She moved away as she made him sit on the deevan on the veranda.
“Tum bhi mujhe door kar rahi ho. Mujhe laga tum mujhse pyaar karti ho.” Uzair looked at her with teary puppy eyes. She was confused. What had happened to him? He looked so vulnerable.
“Aree uzair”, she held her as he fell face-first on her chest while trying to stop her from going away.
“Ammi aur abbu pata hain kabhi kabhi ladte the. Per hamesha pyaar zaada tha. Mujhe ekdam nazo se pala tha, phir ekdin, ekdin woh nahi the.” She stilled beside him. I was a sore topic for Uzair. He never spoke about his parents. She had come to know from Ulfat Bhabhi that they had passed away when he was 12, but she denied giving any details about the matter.
“Pata hain ye kangan meri ammi ke hi hain. Tumhe yakken nahi hoga, ye bilkul tumhare hath ke naap ke hi the, jaise tumhare liye bane ho”, Uzair held her hands in front of his face and kissed her palms.
“Koi nahi aya. Maine 2 din se kuch nahi khaya tha.” Uzair started again, “Meri khala ai thi, per ammi ke gehne leke chali gai. Bas ye kangan mere paas the, to reh gaye. Woh ghar ke kagaaz bhi mang rahi thi, per mujhe pata nahi tha who kagaaz kaha hain, isiliye woh mujhe leke nahi gai. Mujhe akele us baare se ghar mein bohot daar lag raha tha” Tears escaped his eyes as he told him about the most vulnerable part of his life.
“Mujhe samajh hi nahi aya kya karu. Mujhe to ammi kitchen mein jaane bhi nahi nahi deti thi, to mujhe khana bhi banana nahi ata tha. Per mujhe bohot bhook lagi thi, to maine dekha unki banai hui thori si biryani thi. Maine 4 din tak thora thora karke khaya tha. Ammi ke hath ka khana uske baad to nahi milta na, to main bacha bacha ke kha raha tha” She was crying now, holding her husband close. She could see 12-year-old Uzair in him now, all alone, sacred, hungry.
“Ghar pe kuch nahi tha, phir kuch gunde aye aur tor phor karne lage. Tab rehman bhai ne mujhe bachaya. Mujhe bohot chot ai thi pata hain. Woh jo mere peth pe nishan hain, tum puch rahi thi na? Woh tab ka hain. Phir Bhabhi mujhe hospital le gai aur ek hafte baad mujhe acha khana mila. Puri aur sabzi.” She was always curious why his favourite meal was simple puri and sabzi; she had her answers now. Hungry Uzair got that as his first fresh meal, his first meal of love and care after his parents had died, and he was left alone to survive this harsh world. “Bhabhi tab paet se thi, per unhone mera bohot khayal Rakha. Mujhse to chala bhi nahi jaraha tha tab”
She was weeping. Her husband was such a strong man. She could not imagine such a life for a child. She held her close; all her anger was gone.
“Pata hain main biryani kha hi nahi pata tha. Ammi ki yaad ati hain, koi unke jaisa biryani bana hi nahi pata tha, bas unki yaad ati hain. Phir tumne usdin banai ekdam ammi jaisa bana tha. Tum unhe janti thi kya?” Uzair looked up at her, asking her the question, but seeing her cry, he was more confused.
“Ro kyu rahi ho. Ro maat. Mujhe daar lagta hain. Maine kuch galti ki kya? Mujhe tum chor ke chali to nahi jaogi na? Pata hain mujhe daar lagta hain, kisise itna pyaar karne se. Per tumse door reh hi nahi pata. Maan karta hain ki hamesha tumhe gale lagake rakhu, apne se alag hi na kau, per, Mard hu ladna padhta hain”
So, this is what Uzair’s deepest fear was, this is what made him scared. She places her hands on his cheeks.
“To sabse ladiye, per mere paas ake bas apne maan ki baat kar lijiye”
“Pakka? Tum mujhe hara hua, kamzoor admi to nahi samjhogi?”
“Aap sabse bahador koi hain? Is duniya mein sabse bahadoor hain aap. Ammi ke bhi sabse bahadoor bache the aap. Woh zaroor apko dekhke khush hoti hongi”, more tears left her eyes as she said these words.
“Sachi mein. Phir ammi ko to tum bhi bohot achi lagogi. Mujhse itna pyaar jo karti ho.” Uzair looked at her as if she were the moon, the star of his entire world.
“Tum jab usdin gussa karke mujhse baat nahi kar rahi thi, mujhe bohod dard hua tha pata hain? Main nahi chahta tha tumhe daantu, par tum seedhi se gir jati, patang urate-urate. Tumhe kuch ho jata to main akele kaise rehta? Isiliye dant diya. Mujhse gussa maat hona. Mere yaha bohot dard hota hain,” Uzair pointed towards his heart.
“Kabhi nahi karungi gussa. Promise” She frantically kissed his face. Her eyes were teary, full of love. “Chalo ab kurta utaro, aur jake fresh hojao.”
“Haw tumhare samne?”
“Apki biwi hu main”
“Hain woh to sahi hain. Chalo phir mujhe nehla bhi do, tumhare wale sabun se. Kitni pyaari Kushbu hain uski. Chandan jaisa, aur lagta hain phool khila hain.”
“Acha thik hain.”
“Suno, main tumse bohot Mohabbat karta hu, tumhare bina jee nahi paunga,” Uzair confessed, pulling her closer.
“Janti hu.” She kissed his forehead.
“Hamara bhi ek khandaan hoga na?”
“Kya bol rahe ho?”
“Main tum aur hamare bache.”
“Honge na zaroor honge”
“Tum mujhe chorke nahi jaogi na?”
“Main hamesha aapke pass rahungi”
“Main tumse bohot pyaar karta hu. Bohot zaada, sabse zaada”
She smiled, helping him to the washroom. Maybe her husband was not as mysterious as he seemed. Maybe it was good that she had an arranged marriage. Maybe Ammi and Abbu had chosen the right man for her, and maybe this was her love story. Well, tonight there were no maybe’s, just yes’s.
Prompt: Chosen numbers: 5. A line of dialogue to include: Bhabhi ko bulao!!! and 6. Writer’s choice: Left blank; so I will take your trope! (Body swap)
Disclaimer: This is fiction inspired by the characters portrayed by the actors in Dhurandhar, not the real individuals themselves.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
When Rehman Baloch came to your father to strike a deal, your father - being the dramatic man he is - jovially added, “Ab iss deal ko rishte mein badal dete hain”. And the next thing you knew was you were sitting next to Uzair Baloch, shakily saying, “Qubool hai”.
It had been two months since your nikaah, and you were still essentially strangers.
Every morning, you woke up on your own side of the bed, before going down to get tea and breakfast ready for the house with Ulfat bhabhi. Two hours later, Uzair would come down, eat, nod at you and then disappear until late in the night, when you were already asleep.
You had gone from being two strangers to two strangers who had been forced into a union.
It was just another night, with you and Ulfat bhabhi cleaning up after dinner.
“Aaj saalan bahut achcha bana tha,” she complimented, as she collected all the cutlery onto a tray.
“Thank you, bhabhi,” you beamed, “Meri nani ki recipe hai”.
“Uzair ko aisa saalan bahut pasand hai,” she said absentmindedly, “Waise woh kab tak aayega?”
You shrugged, “Pata nahi. Rehman bhai keh rahe the ki docks mein aaj kuch kaam hai?”
Ulfat paused and looked up at you, “Ab bhi baatein nahi kar rahe ho?”
“Bas busy hain, bhabhi,” you collected the last of the plates, before changing the subject, “Waise kal bachchon ke tiffin mein kya daalna hai? Aap kahein toh chicken rolls bana dun?”
—
When Uzair returned, he saw you reading with the lamp on.
“Tum soyi nahi?” he asked.
“Nahi. Aap ne khana khaya?”
“Haan, raste mein kisi dhabe me ruk gaye the”.
A pang of disappointment hit you as you nodded, “Theek hai”. You placed the book to the side, switched off the lamp, and lay down, turning away from him.
—
When you woke up the next morning, something felt off. Your pillow didn’t smell of faint jasmine like it usually did - instead you could smell cedar and cigarettes. When you sat up, your body felt heavier. You squinted and rubbed your eyes, gasping when your hands felt rougher than you remembered. You pulled it away, only to notice they weren’t your hands.
Your hand looked longer, darker, with a faint scar running from your wrist to the middle of your palm - like the one you had seen on Uzair’s hand. You whipped your head to the side to see YOURSELF sleeping next to… you?
“Yeh koi khwaab hai. Yeh koi khwaab hai,” you tried to convince yourself, even as the voice that came out of you was lower and rougher.
Before the panic could overtake you, the body next to you stirred, “Abey kaun hai, lodu” in your voice. Your eyes widened, and the woman next to you sat up with a jolt.
“Kya? Kya?” she said, before looking at you and almost falling off the bed, “Yeh kya hai, bhen-”
“Bas!” you said, “Aur gaaliyan na dein!”
You gently got off the bed, stumbling as you tried to get used to the tall body you were somehow inhabiting.
“Tum kuch zyaada hi calm nahi ho?” you heard your voice.
“Yeh khwaab hai,” you insisted.
—
It wasn’t a dream, you realised quickly, when it felt like your bladder was about to burst.
“Uzair,” you said sheepishly, “Mujhe bathroom jaana hai”.
“K-kya?”
You hid your face in your hands, and he chided you, “Aisi harkatein mat karo”.
You squirmed, “Uzair, mujhe bathroom jaana hai! Kya karun?”
“Main- main madad-”
“Mere haathon se?” you were on the verge of sobbing, “Aap kya keh rahein hain?”
“Tum batao, main kya karun?”
You put your head in your hands again, ignoring his chiding, “Theek hai. Main jaati hun. Aap bhi,” you gulped, “Dekho, ek na ek din humein ek dusre ko dekhna hi tha. Ab- ab aise hi sahi”. You rubbed your face and made your way over to the washroom.
—
You firmly avoided thinking about what you had to do in his body and what he was doing in your body as you made your way down to the kitchen.
You stood up straight, “Bhabhi. Y/N. Haan, woh. Woh shayad bathroom mein hai toh, main chai bana dunga”.
“Tum kab se chai banana seekh gaye ho?” Ulfat asked as she brought the pot out and started measuring the milk, “Baith jao, Y/N aati hi hogi”.
You quickly ran back to your room, and came face to face with Uzair - or, well, you - trying to braid your hair.
You closed the door, before walking over, “Baith jao, main baal bana dungi”.
As your body sat in front of the mirror, you started to section your hair into three parts, “Sunein. Aap Ulfat bhabhi se kahiyega ki aapki, matlab meri, tabiyat kharaab hai. Kyunki aap khana toh bana nahi payenge”.
Uzair said, “Theek hai. Par aaj tum factory kaise-”
“Ya Allah,” you panicked, “Mujhe toh gaaliyaan deni bhi nahi aati”.
“Tum- tumhe kya lagta hai, main din bhar sirf gaaliyaan deta hun?”
“Mujhe kya pata aap kya karetin hain,” you grumbled, “Aap ne kabhi bataya bhi hai?”
“Tum ne kabhi poocha bhi nahi. Mujhe kaise pata chalega ki tum kya jaan’na chahti ho?”
“Main aap ko pehle batati thi ki mera din kaisa tha. Aap sirf haan-hm kar-”
“Uzair,” you heard Hamza’s voice cut through your speech.
The panic returned, “Main Hamza bhai se keh dungi ki meri tabiyat kharaab hai, toh aap ko ghar reh kar apni biwi ka khayal rakhna hoga”.
You could see your own face give you such a deadpan look, you backtracked, “Theek hai, hum keh denge ki hum dono ki tabiyat kharaab hai. Bas ek saath reh kar soch lete hain ki ab kya karein”.
You tied your hair, and reached around your body to pick up your attar. You pulled your body’s wrists towards you, rolling the oil on and adding some behind your ear. Noticing how he had suddenly gone quiet, you looked into the mirror taking in the sight properly for the first time.
To those that didn’t know of your current predicament, it looked like Uzair was getting his wife ready. His wife, who had gone pink in the cheeks.
—
You ambled downstairs, taking care to appear casual as you’d seen Uzair. “Hamze,” you said, lowering your voice, “Mujhe bukhaar hai”.
“Kya?” Hamza asked,”Mujhe toh ekdum theek lag raha hai”.
You bit your lip and then quickly let go of it, chastising yourself, before crossing your arms as you had seen your husband do a million times before.
“Woh, bas aap ko- tujh ko batane aaya hun. Aaj nahi aaunga, l-l-lodu,” you squeaked, before turning up and walking back up the stairs, choosing not to look back at what you knew would be confusion all over Hamza's face.
You shut the door to the room behind you, waiting for Uzair to return after informing Ulfat that both of you weren’t keeping well.
When he entered he looked puzzled, “Hamza pooch raha tha sab khairiyat se toh hai. Tum ne kya kaha?”
“Yahi ki aap ko bukhaar hua hai”.
He shrugged and sat next to you on the bed, careful to keep his distance, “Ab kya karein?”
You turned towards him, “Aap ko kya lagta hai, humare saath aisa kyun hua hai? Hum ne koi ladai nahi ki, na hum ne koi curse-wurse kiya hai. Matlab,” you squinted at him, “Maine toh nahi kiya hai. Kahin aap ne-”
“Pagal ho kya,” he countered.
You rested your head against the headboard, “Humein plan karna chahiye ki agar kal bhi aisi haalat mein hain toh kya karenge”. You turned towards him, “Main har subah chai banati hun, aur phir naashta aur bachchon ki tiffin”. You bit your nails, recounting your day, “Aur phir lunch aur dinner bhi. Aap itna khaana nahi bana payenge-”
“Ek second,” he interrupted, “Tum teeno waqt ka khaana banati ho?”
“Haan…”
“Toh Aqlaakh yahaan kya kar raha hai?”
“Woh meri madad kartein hain,” you defended him, “Subziyaan aur sab wahi toh kaat te hain”.
“Aur bhabhi?”
“Aap ko kya lagta hai, yeh haveli apne aap chalti hai? Staff ke kaam par nazar rakhna, guests ko welcome karna, aap sab ke hazaaron last-minute saawaton ki arrangements karna - yeh sab kaun karta hai?”
He sighed, “Mujhe nahi pata tha ki tum har roz itna saara kaam karti ho”.
You shrugged, playing with a stray thread on his sleeve, “Hum dono itni baatein kartein hi nahi hai, aap ko kaisa pata chalta”.
Before he could say anything, you added, “I’m not complaining. Bas humare haalat hi aisein hain”.
“Khaana banana, kamre ki safai, humare kapde… Aur kuch jo main miss kar raha hun?”
“Naieem aur Faizal ka homework kabhi kabhi main karati hun. Jab bhabhi busy hoti hain”.
He rubbed his face, and you could see the guilt etched on his face.
“Aap fikr na karein,” you said, “Aap bas bataayein ki aap ke din kaise hote hain. Main adjust kar lungi”.
“Gaaliyaan de paogi?” he teased, and you flushed, remembering the fiasco from earlier.
“Waise,” he cleared his throat, “Jab tak yeh masla theek nahi ho jaata, hum sab se kahenge ki meri tabiyat kharaab hai”.
“Kyun? Main aap ka kaam kar lungi, sach mein-”
“Humari abhi ek bahut badi deal chal rahi hai. Aur kaam bahut khatarnaak hai,” he raised an eyebrow, “Tumhein bandook chalaani aati hai?”
“B-b-bandook?”
The corner of his mouth lifted, “Mera yeh sab roz ka kaam hai. Tumhe pata toh hai na ki Baloch khandaan kya karta hai?”
You looked away, “Pata hai. Par kabhi socha nahi tha…” The guilt now clawed at you.
“Sorry,” you looked at him, “Maine kabhi theek se poocha bhi nahi ki aap kya kartein hain”.
“Main batata bhi nahi,” he nudged your shoulder, teasing you.
—
The next morning, Uzair woke up early as planned, and went downstairs to make chai.
Before heading to the kitchen, he stopped by the washroom downstairs, annoyed at the faint twinge in his stomach.
When he sat down, he realised why.
“Bhabhi ko bulao!” he screamed, and a servant knocked on the door.
“Bhabhi,” he asked, “Ulfat bhabhi ko bulaun?”
“K-kya?” Uzair fumbled, “N-Nahi. Main. Main aaya. Matlab, main aayi”. He quickly cleaned up, and ran back to your room, and woke you up.
“Y/N, utho!”
You sat up immediately, “Kya? Kya hua? Aap theek toh hain?”
You saw your own face, pale and trembling, “Nahi. Tumhara shayad. Shayad period shuru ho gaya hai”.
You paused and took a deep breath, “Okay. Okay. Mera date toh agle hafte ka tha”.
“Kya?”
“Matlab agle hafte aane wala tha. Okay,” you took another deep breath, “Aap ko periods ke baare mein kuch pata hai?”
“Mujhe class baad mein de dena, abhi batao kya karun!”
You sat up and walked over to your dresser, pulling out your comfortable period panties. You pulled him by the hand to the washroom, and showed him how to put a pad on the underwear.
“Main har baar nahi kar paungi, toh aap dekh lein,” you said, “Har teen ghante mein change kar lena, just to be safe”.
You gently brushed his hair - your hair - and smiled at him, “Ajeeb lag raha hoga na?”
“Yeh itna ajeeb nahi hai jitna apne aap ko pad lagate hue dekhna ajeeb hai”.
You laughed, “Aap fresh ho jayein, main dawai taiyyar rakhti hun”.
“Dawai?!”
—
It was an herbal concoction your mother would have at the ready every month for you. It was bitter, but worked wonders.
Of course, he didn’t listen to you and had one sip, before gagging, “Yeh kya hai”.
“Chup chap pee lein!” you scolded him, “Ek tara itni taqaluf ho rahi hai, aur janaab ko dawai bhi nahi leni hai”.
“Main mard hun, mujhe koi taqaluf nahi hogi”.
“Abhi aap aurat hain,” you reminded him, and thrust the glass in front of him, “Aap agar yeh jaldi pee lenge, main aap ko chocolate dungi”.
“Main koi bachcha nahi hun jisse chocolate chahiye”.
“Trust me,” you smiled wryly, “Aap ko uski zarurat padegi”.
—
You woke up next morning to the sound of your own voice complaining.
“Uzair?” you grumbled, marvelling at how easily you had accepted that he was now in your body, “Sab khairiyat?”
He sighed, “Tumhari woh dawai kaam nahi kar rahi hai”.
“Dard ho raha hai?”
“Maine aisa kuch nahi kaha”.
You rolled your eyes, “Just admit you’re in pain. Koi kam mard nahi ho jaoge”. You placed your hand on his stomach, pausing as you realised that essentially Uzair’s hand was on your stomach.
“Kya- kya kar rahi ho?”
You massaged your lower stomach, the way you always did on your period, “Yeh rahat dega. Bas paanch minute phir main hot water bag le aaungi”.
“Humesha itna dard hota hai kya?”
You continued your ministrations, “Jab waqt par nahi aata hai tab. Iss baar jaldi aa gaya toh shayad isiliye dard ho raha hai. Did the chocolate help yesterday?”
“Hm,” he replied, “Mujhe pata bhi nahi tha ki tumhare paas chocolate ki ek puri drawer hai”.
You laughed, “Stash ready rakhna padta hai. Aur toh aur, jab Naieem aur Faizal ka padhai ka mann nahi hota hai, toh kabhi kabhi bribe kar deti hun”.
He placed his hand on yours, “Shukriya”.
You shrugged, “Aap ne shayad zindagi mein nahi socha hoga ki ek din aap ko bhi yeh experience karne ko milega. I’m just trying to make it easy for you”.
—
By the fourth day, both of you were restless.
“Hum kab tak yahaan baithe rahenge,” you whined, “Bhabhi kitni pareshan hogi, sab kuch unhein manage karna pad raha hai”.
Uzair watched you walk around with a serene expression, “Iss waqt bhi tum dusron ke baare me soch rahi ho”.
You pointed a finger at him, “Aap bade aaraam se baithe hain?”
“Mera period chal raha hain,” he smirked, “Rest ke alawa kya karun?”
Both of you paused and took in the absurdity of his statement, of the situation and burst into laughter. You leaned against him, careful of your new body, “Mujhe mera shareer wapis chahiye!”
“Iss haalat mein?”
You pretended to think, “Theek hai, period ke baad”.
Both of you agreed to try and ease into the day.
Uzair burnt three rotis, before Ulfat banished him from the kitchen, insisting he only return once he felt better.
You tried to direct Hamza to bring in a shipment, but your “Please le aana” made Hamza fret over you, begging his Y/N bhabhi to keep Uzair locked in the room till he returned to his old self.
Banished to the room, you pouted at your husband, “Kya karein?”
“Pehle toh waisa muh banana bandh karo, mere chehre pe bilkul suit nahi karta hai,” he grumbled, before walking over to his desk.
He returned with a book, “Yeh mere accounts hai”.
“Aap mujhe kyun bata rahe ho?”
“Ab tak kuch nahi bataya. Us hi galti ko theek kar raha hun”.
He explained the numbers, his system, and how much of his earnings went to you, to the house, to charity, and to savings.
“Aur aap ke liye?”
“Kya matlab?”
“Aap apni kamayi mujhe, ghar ko, aur dusron ko dete hain. Toh aap ke liye kuch bacha hi nahi hai!”
“Mujhe kis cheez ki zarurat hogi?”
You frowned, “Yeh sahi nahi hai. Mujhe thode kam do, aur apne liye kuch rakhein”.
“Nahi”.
“Main pure paise use bhi nahi karti hun. Aadhe se zyaada bach jaate hain”. You played with the edge of his kurta, “Woh maine savings account me daalein hain. Aap kahein toh aap ki savings mein wapis kar dun?”
He gently pulled the kurta straight, “Achchi baat hai. Woh tumhare savings hai”.
“Ab woh humare savings ho sakte hain,” you said, covering his hand with yours.
—
The fifth morning, Uzair woke you up with a cup of chai, “Try karo, theek toh hai?”
You took a sip and looked at him, “Yeh aap ne banayi hai?”
He nodded, nervous all of a sudden.
“Bahut achchi bani hai. Sach mein aap ne banayi hai?”
He nodded again, a light smile on his face.
When you went down for breakfast, Ulfat pressed her hand against both your foreheads, “Tabiyat toh tum dono ki theek lag rahi hai, par pata nahi tum dono bade ajeeb lag rahe ho”.
Rehman, who sat at the dining table, cleared his throat, “Uzair miyaan, kaam par wapis aane ka iraada hai ya nahi?”
You looked at Uzair, suddenly remembering whose body you inhabited. You turned to Rehman, “Bhai, aap kahein toh aaj hi aa jaun?”
Rehman nodded, “Bas factory aa jaana do ghante ke liye. Nayi guns ki testing karni hai”.
You panicked and gestured to Uzair to follow you outside.
“Uzair, mujhe bandook test nahi karni aati!”
Uzair gestured for you to keep your voice down, “Tension mat lo. Hamza se keh dena woh kar lega. Bas do ghante jaana hai. Apna muh dikha dena aur wapis aa jaana”.
He added, “Aur haan, do teen gaaliyaan bhi de aana”. You laughed, pushing him lightly, apologising when he almost tumbled over.
“Aap bahut strong ho,” you whined, helping him back up.
—
You sat with your back ramrod straight as Hamza drove you and Rehman to the factory.
“Uzair, tu theek toh hai?” Hamza asked for the hundredth time, “Aise kyun baitha hai jaise koi jung me ja raha hai?”
If only he knew.
You relaxed slightly, arm coming to rest against the window.
When you entered the factory, the men stood up straighter, asking after your health. You nodded and smiled, immediately dropping the latter when everyone looked at you with confusion.
“Bhai, chai mangwa dun?” Donga asked.
You nodded, “Haan, please. Aur sab ke liye mangwa do. Aaj mausam achcha hai, toh samose bhi mangwa hi do”.
Donga looked at you like you had grown two heads, before nodding, “Ji bhai”.
You ran your hand across your face, “Kya kar rahi hun!”
“Oye khotte,” Hamza piped up, “Chalein bandook try karne?”
“Hamza,” you stuttered, “Aap- Tum try karo. Main bas dekhta hun”.
“Kya? Tu abhi bhi beemar hai kya? Bandook try karna tujhe itna pasand hai…”
You scratched your head, “Bas jab tak 100% nahi ho jaun, tu try kar le na… Lodu?”
He shook his head at you, “Tu bas rest kar. Ek ghante mein ghar chhod aaunga. Pata nahi kya ho gaya hai tujhe”. He muttered to himself as he left the room.
You sat down, praying the next hour went by fast.
—
You returned home to the smell of food burning. You rushed into the kitchen, “Kya hua?” only to see Ulfat and Aqlaakh in a corner and you/Uzair at the stove, running his hands through your hair in frustration.
“Y/N,” you started, moving closer, “Kya hua?”
Uzair turned towards you, “Mujhse roti nahi ban rahi”.
You could see the frustration and helplessness simmering within him and placed your hand on his back. He stiffened and turned towards you, “Kya kar rahi- rahe ho?”
“Chhod do. Kamre me chalo aur thoda rest karo. Hum dono ki tabiyat theek hi nahi hai”. You turned to Aqlaakh, “Aqlaakh, iss hafte khaane tum banaoge. Bhabhi ki tabiyat theek nahi hai”.
You turned to Ulfat, “Bhabhi, please Y/N ko kahein ki rest kare. Ye bas stress liye jaa rahi hai”.
Ulfat softened, “Y/N, tumhara shohar ek dum sahi keh raha hai. Please rest karo. Dono rest karo. Main doctor ko bula lungi”.
“Bhabhi, nahi,” you said firmly, surprising even yourself, “Doctor ki koi zarurat nahi hai. Bas, aaram ki”. Ulfat looked at you suspiciously, but let it slide, “Theek hai. Jao”.
—
That night, you stayed up late. Around midnight, you crept into the kitchen and quietly made a helping of kheer, before taking it back to the room.
When you returned, Uzair was already up, “Kahaan gayi thi?”
You showed him the kheer, “Khaana banaye hue itna waqt ho gaya, mann nahi maan raha tha”. You sat next to him on the bed, “Aap try karenge?”
He took the spoon from your hand and took a bite. You sat in silence, before he broke it, “Kheer mera sabse favourite dessert hai”.
“Pata hai,” you said, nudging him for the spoon, before taking a bite, “Isiliye banaya hai”.
“Tumhe kaise pata?”
“Jab bhi ghar me kheer banti hai, aap ki plate bilkul saaf hoti hai,” you giggled.
He went quiet, before softly saying, “Thank you”.
“Kis liye?”
“For everything. Bina bataye mera itna khayal rakhti ho, aur maine kabhi bhi-”
“Aap mujhe protect kar rahe the,” you said, “Pata hai. Bahut hi ajeeb tareeke ka protection hai, par ab main samajh gayi hun”.
You took another bite, before saying, “Uzair”.
“Hm?”
“Jab- Agar hum wapis apni bodies me aa jayenge… Kya hum tab bhi aise baith ke kheer kha sakte hain?”
You saw his features soften, “Bilkul. Ab se kabhi tumhe dur nahi rakhunga”. You smiled at him, before urging him to take another bite.
—
You woke up to the scent of jasmine.
You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes, before realising your hands were soft again. You quickly opened your eyes, taking in the dainty ring on your finger, your smaller hands, and the chipping nail polish.
“Ya Allah,” you breathed, before turning towards your husband, “Uzair, uthein!”
You took in the way he pressed his eyes shut before opening them. The way they rounded before he sat up and looked at his own hands, and then at you, “Wapis aa gaye?”
You nodded, tearing up, “Wapis aa gaye”.
He hesitated for just a second, before pulling you into a hug, “Wapis aa gaye”.
That morning, you took longer to get dressed, thankful to be back in your own bodies.
You sat in front of the mirror and braided your own hair, and Uzair looked at you in the mirror, “Tumhe kabhi kaha nahi, par tum bahut khoobsurat ho”.
“Chup!” you scolded with no real heat behind it, flushing pink.
He came closer and placed his hands on your shoulders before leaning down and kissing your cheek.
“Uzair, aap kya kar rahein hain?”
“Wahi jo bahut pehle karna chahiye tha”.
You covered your face with your palms and Uzair chuckled, before straightening up, “Chai?”
“Haan, bas do minute, main banati hun”.
“Nahi,” he said, “Aaj main banaunga”.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Tag list (If you'd like to be added/removed please let me know!)
Whatever father you have, it's your choice what you become in the future--be a bitch, a suck-up, a trying one, etc. It's either you follow his footsteps or not.
boyfriend!uzair who is extremely awkward initially and keeps overdoing everything because he doesn’t want you to feel that this is his first real relationship ever. instead of all of those things coming across as overbearing, you are totally endeared by his over-the-top gestures. even after a significant time has passed in your relationship and he has become much more relaxed around you now, his habit of doing extra never really goes away— the constant overcompensation just becomes his permanent love language.
boyfriend!uzair who silently starts observing Rehman’s behavior towards Ulfat with very keen, sharp eyes and then tries to imitate the same when he is around you with utmost sincerity in his imperfectly perfect actions. any and every ounce of his tough guy persona is entirely dismantled whenever he is around you.
boyfriend!uzair who is even more of a yapper than you are and tells you about his day in detail, including the number of goals he scored in the daily football match of their factory and every other inside joke that was pulled during the day, even mimicking everyone’s voice while telling you about those tales.
boyfriend!uzair who is just as much of a listener. he never interrupts you while you are speaking, sitting there like a starstruck, dazed statue, too lost in the glint of your beautiful eyes, which often irritates you because it makes you think that he wasn’t listening to anything you said.
“tum sunn bhi rahe ho mai tab se kya keh rahi hu?”
he would then proceed to smoothly recount everything you had said word by word, erasing away all your doubts.
he also loves to spend hours being on call with you, especially during the night hours, eating your head away in peace, refusing to hang up until both of you are half asleep.
boyfriend!uzair who won’t stop speaking about football and his eternal love for Maradona whenever he gets a chance. his definition of an ideal date is you agreeing to watch a football match with him inside his jeep where he has arranged a warm blanket, your favorite snacks and cold drinks for the two of you as the game plays out on a propped up screen.
boyfriend!uzair who can’t keep his hands off you. they are a permanent fixture on your waist if you are within arm’s reach. his heavy palm resting against you, pulling you flush against his side. he also loves keeping his fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing gently every few minutes, that feeling grounding him more than words ever could.
boyfriend!uzair who loves to drive you around in his jeep. one hand stays on the steering wheel but the other one always on your thigh. his hand grows increasingly restless with every passing moment, travelling upwards, tracing slow circles over your clothes with a smirk plastered on his face and sometimes even cupping your pussy over the layers of clothes only to tease you.
boyfriend!uzair who secretly wishes to get stuck in a traffic jam every time the two of you go out. just as he has his passenger princess trapped in the seat, he pushes your legs apart, his fingers going under your clothes and curling deep in your velvety walls, fingerfucking you till you gush all over his thick digits. the windows of his jeep are tinted for a reason—a very filthy one at that.
boyfriend!uzair who will help you sneak out of your house at night for a long drive with him. on most such nights, both of you end up eating kulfi while sitting on the cool sand of the clifton beach with your head on his shoulder. many other nights end up with your thighs clamped around his head as he eats you out relentlessly on the bonnet of his jeep in some secluded place and sometimes with you pinned down in his backseat, the windows fogged up as he ruts in you, desperate to have you then and there.
boyfriend!uzair who knows he’s packing and would be comforting you profusely during your first time with him, talking you through every inch in the softest voice possible, kissing your tears away and murmuring praises against your skin until the pain melts into pleasure
boyfriend!uzair who turns into the whiniest, most pathetic boy ever the moment you tell him to put on a condom. he will literally pout, groan, and bury his face in the crook of your neck, kissing you there softly in an attempt to change your mind this time, complaining in his rough, husky voice about how he wants to feel you raw and how better it would feel that way. he has to give in eventually, and this is something that happens every single time, yet the grumbling is a sure thing.
husband!uzair who went feral the first time you let him hit it raw on your wedding night. his thrusts were deep, messy, and desperate that night as if he was trying to carve his place inside your walls forever. he couldn’t stop moaning your name against your neck, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks, completely lost in the feeling of his wife.
husband!uzair who wakes up before you every morning just so he can watch you sleep like a baby. he tucks your hair behind your ear, traces your cheek with his thumb, and presses the softest kiss to your forehead like you are the most precious thing in his world. to him, you actually are.
husband!uzair who is a certified joru ka gulam. he never says it out loud but it is very much visible in his actions— one soft look from you and he is down to do anything you want him to. whatever his wife wants, his wife gets.
husband!uzair who never fails to call you up atleast once during the day, no matter how busy he is in the factory, even if the call lasts for just two minutes. he just needs to hear your voice to go about the rest of his day.
husband!uzair who loves to lay down with his head in your lap after an exhausting day. he is addicted to the way your fingers thread through his hair, his eyes fluttering shut as you scratch his scalp and within minutes he’s half-asleep, completely at peace, mumbling sleepy compliments against your thigh because nothing relaxes him more than this.
husband!uzair who secretly loves getting sick or injured because it means he gets to have you fussing over him. he literally turns into the biggest baby in the smallest of such situations, wanting to soak up all of your undivided love, care and attention.
but if you reverse the condition, he becomes a worried mother hen. he hates seeing you sick. he just hates seeing his wife in any sort of discomfort. when you are sick, he will skip work without a second thought just to stay by your side the whole day, feeding you warm soup and running his fingers through your hair till you fall asleep.
husband!uzair who turns into a dramatic, clingy husband the moment you mention going to your parents’ house, even if it’s just for a few days. he will hover around you while you are packing your bag, sulking and asking you silly questions like “jana zaroori hai?”, “kitne din tak mujhe akela chhod ke jaa rahi ho?”, “mere bina mann lag jayega?”. he keeps pestering you and kissing you at the most random moments before you leave, already counting down the days till you would be back in his arms.
husband!uzair who would definitely fuck you in your childhood bedroom when he visits your parents’ home with you, telling you to tame your screams because the room next to yours was your parents’. “shhh, jaan… you wouldn’t want anyone to hear us, right?”. his heavy palm would remain clamped over your mouth as he plowed into you, eyes glinting with filthy satisfaction each time your cries and moans got muffled against his hand.
husband!uzair who gets hit with the worst baby fever when he saw you cradling your sister’s daughter against your chest. The way you were so soft with the little baby, cooing and talking in that baby language made something primal twist in his gut. that night, he pulled you close, his lips begging against your ear “mujhe bhi ek baccha chahiye, jaan… need to see you round with our baby.”
husband!uzair who comes back home for a short break from the factory, saying he needs to have his lunch at home, but he has come home only to eat you out. he loves ravishing your cunt, swallowing every honeyed drop of your essence like he has been starved of food and water for days. his nose nudges your clit deliciously each time he tries to reach his tongue far too deep in you.
husband!uzair who doesn’t like to be disturbed when he is having his meal. he delivers a firm slap to your drenched core if you are squirming too much, before pulling you flush against his mouth again by a bruising grip on the soft skin of your plush thighs. he feels like he is in heaven between your thighs, getting pussydrunk, stopping only when you forcefully tug him up by his hair, drooling and begging for his cock.
husband!uzair who would tell you to “take it” in time with a particularly hard thrust when you are crying from overstimulation after having orgasmed… three— no four— actually you lost count. his fingers and mouth and cock have all had their turns and he still won’t stop, fucking you through every sob or whimper of “too much”
husband!uzair who would moan “meri jaan”, breathing hot and heavy next to your ear, peppering feverish kisses mindlessly down the column of your throat when he’s spilling thick ropes of his load deep inside you, breeding you nice and well.
husband!uzair who has a habit of pressing a solitary, reverent kiss to your collarbone after he is done with you. it feels almost grateful, like a thank you to the woman who owns him completely.
husband!uzair who loves falling asleep still buried deep inside your cunt. he says it keeps him warm, but in reality, he just loves the intimacy of staying connected to you, cock softening inside your warmth as he drifts off with his face tucked into your neck.
a/n: this has been in my drafts for over a month now... i remember isko road pe likhte likhte aa rahi thi main and i almost got hit by a car that day😭😭
taglist: @scarlet-shine @cloudmast @cherryyelixir @tanipartner @rehmandakaitswife @ninnimouse @budugu @celestecelina @desi-brownie @work-of-procrastination @prahelika-fics @baddiefication101 @obsessedwidskincare @mainyahaankyunhoon @harrystyleskiwi9 @goldenharrysworld @goodnightkatherine @kamalkafool @hereforfanfictionsfr @hairandjhumkhasintheverandah @cherryyelixir @layinglowkey @sanpiece @scentedwolfdragon @seasonofthenerd @psychicpandadefendor @sabii5 @yearnerray @maraudersbitchesassemble @noor-archive @kenkozkmg @gulaabjamun08 @warnermeadowsgirl @patrakilekha @clownoiogy @luvvkk @akshi-the-nirmata @kajuuuukatliiiiii @ninnimouse @sparksfromhell @chocolate-and-trouble @kriti-ki-dulhania @katieverstappen
(using the taglist from one of my prev uzair fics, please dm me if you want to be removed)
when he's medium ugly and short but has no toxic masculinity and is the sweetest and nicest person ever and uhh probably has a big dick and uh is cute and nice like yeah so uh
A/N: this is kind of a chapter that's like more into how the guys are. and also a fantasy bc men irl aren't like this. also yeah I took that picture of the sky. 2 chapters in a day imma try to upload the 3rd one too but i gotta lock in so sorry if I don't. short ass chapter im sorry shoot me please.
Word count: 5458
Over the course of just a few weeks you, Samar and Rishabh had gotten much closer.
You had also noticed Rishabh starting to act weird around you.
"Why the hell were you talking to that Udaybir guy? You know he's not a good guy right?"
"What the hell are you talking about? He's one of my best friends."
"Well I know he isn't too good. I can tell."
On another occasion, he questioned your loyalty to any future relationship of yours.
"I'm just saying. You're always talking to 10 different guys. I don't think any self respecting guy would like that."
"What?"
"Your future husband. No guy wants to be with a girl who talks to 7 different guys each day."
You stared at him in mock horror. Well, not actually. You were definitely horrified.
"I don't get why you think you have the authority to tell me what a man likes and what he doesn't. A man is a man. They like kids and dogs too. I promise you there's hardly any men who have self respect."
And you were looking at one right now.
"See, that's what's wrong with this generation. You women think you can get away with anything just because you're women. That's what's up."
Ohhhhhhhh.
"Sure. Women get away with everything. When men who rape kids aren't given any jail time because they're too young or they have a career in athletics. Let me guess, your favorite football player is Ronaldo?"
"Well yeah. What does that have to do with anything?"
"You don't know he's a rapist do you?"
You watched with a smirk as he went on an angry rant that Ronaldo would never rape someone and how he's married to a beautiful woman and everything.
Yeah, a woman who waited 9 years for a ring. Who only got a ring when the kids said that he should marry her, to what he responded by saying 'i wasn't too ready, my kids pressurized me'.
Sure. That's a man with high worth and a woman with self respect.
You often noticed how he wouldn't say anything like this stuff around Samar. You weren't sure if he had a crush on him or he knew he would get blasted if he so much as whispered anything about his incel mindset.
You couldn't do much other than keep yourself away from him at all costs because men protect men. There's no way Samar would choose to believe you.
Or, atleast that's what you thought.
Sitting at a round table in the cafeteria, the air seemed to be slightly tense.
Everyone tried to joke around as you sat between your friends, fiddling with your fingers or anything you could pick up.
Samar and Rishabh yapped off about some marketing thing with Karan and Kabir.
Everything was peachy before Rishabh said something along the lines of, "Pata nahi aurato ko kyu rakhte hai marketing mai. Unko toh bas do button kholne hote hai aur lo, bik gaye do gaadi."
Absolute silence ungulfed the table for a moment. You weren't exactly sure what reaction Rishabh was expecting from everyone, but it sure as hell wasn't like 10 pairs of eyes staring at him.
You couldn't believe someone so misogynistic was in finance.
He was just chuckling obnoxiously. Which then faded into a slight cough.
"What does that mean?" Udaybir spoke up right before you could call Rishabh out for what he said.
"Like- you know-"
"No. We don't. What the hell does that mean?" Samar, this time, spoke up. It was almost scary to see him so serious. It was clear he didn't play about his morals.
If anything, it was attractive to see the men not laughing over blatant misogyny. Even if it was the bare minimum.
"Women- like, they can just dress up pretty and-" he flailed his arms around. "They won't know much about ca-"
"Your mother is in one of the biggest investment companies. How do you have the guts to say something like this about women?"
Rishabh was silent this time. You could see Samar absolutely fuming. You could tell he had never heard a statement like this from Rishabh, which was shocking because apparently they were pretty good friends.
_______________
You fiddled with the corner page of the book you kept open for the past hour. The only sounds that echoed in the library were the frustrated sighs and rustling of pages. Or the tapping of keys and the drag of a pen across the paper.
From your periphery, you watched Samar walk up behind you while sulking slightly.
He sat beside you with a quiet sigh and his head in his hands.
"I'm sorry about today. I didn't know he was like that."
"You've never heard him speak like that about women?"
"No. I promise. If I did, I would've stopped being friends with him long time back."
You sighed. It was quite hard to believe that a guy who's been best friends with another man would never heard him talk shit about women. Well, you guessed, maybe he just turned a blind eye to it all.
"I would never turn a blind eye to misogyny. I don't get why he would say something like that. I'm really sorry. I truly am."
"Why are you apologising, Samar?" you said softly. "It wasn't your fault."
"Feels like it is, though. I feel like I've never looked into the jokes he's made."
"Your accountability is appreciated."
You looked at each other for a moment and started laughing.
"God, you scare me. Your children will definitely be disciplined."
You chuckled at his words. You knew if you were ever to have kids, you wouldn't make the mistake of raising them like Rishabh.
"Come. Let's get something to eat." he practically grabbed your arm and dragged you outside.
It was times like this that you were glad there were stores right outside of campus that were open nearly 24 hours.
"I've heard you really like the Döner Club's loaded fries. How good are they?"
"Oh, so good. The day I discovered those fries was the day I realised I'm going to have a loaded fries station at my wedding."
"Wow, that's dramatic." he laughed.
A healthy 15 mins went by to get your food to go. Thank the heavens above for takeaway services.
The walk back to campus was full of chattering about the most random things—favorite cuisines, foods, where you're from, etc.
You were almost thankful you found friends like these near you.
You reached the library to find Udaybir and some of the other guys there too. When you walked in, you saw Udaybir straighten up, and slouch again when he saw Samar walk in behind you.
"Kaha gaye the dono?" he asked.
"Khana lene. Sab ke liye laaye hai." you smiled. He returned back a strained smile while Karan laughed and muttered something under his breath.
Weird.
You all got to munching silently. No one really had the energy to complain or talk. It was really like a spectrum. Because a college student's body would either be surprised with 9000 calories at once or no food for 5 days straight. None of which were very healthy.
Oh, well. Who cared. Atleast there was food in your stomach.
percocet molly percocet chase a grungus never chase a bitch
A/N: so one night i actually had a dream about the real Samar and he's a really sweet guy irl too but thing is we hardly talk at all. so the dream caught me off guard. and now my brain keeps telling me to hear it out. like stfu damn. again sorry for being so late.
Word count: 7849
chapter 11
It easily took all of your friends and you one whole month to complete all the projects. And not one day had gone by with you not thinking about the independance day event.
These projects somehow helped you make new friends too. That too, people who you hadn't talked to since the beginning.
This one guy called Samar in particular.
He was a sweet and outgoing guy. He had strong opinions on everything that he absolutely had to voice out, without which he would totally explode. The energy that surrounded him screamed 'marketing manager'.
He also appeared to one of the sensible guys of this generation. Standing at a tall, lanky 6ft with a chiseled face and great hair, he spoke with a loud baritone that could easily be heard across the next three classrooms.
You had recently started hanging out with him a lot more. While you could confirm with a hand on your heart that you had no feelings for him whatsoever, some others did not feel the same.
"You know, the tall and lanky ones always have the long-"
"If you continue that sentence, your burger isn't seeing the light of day."
That immediately shut Kanishka up.
You all were sat around the cafeteria table. Udaybir seemed to be fixated at seemingly nothing while the others contemplated being alive at all.
Yeah, exam season hit again.
"No, she's right though. I dated a guy who was tall and lanky and goodness me." Nidhi wiped her forehead dramatically.
"Okay, I don't wanna learn about a guy's dick over lunch. Please."
Across you, Udaybir started choking on whatever the hell he was eating. He coughed incessantly, eyes watering, while you all tried to pass him water to calm him down.
In between all that chaos, Udaybir glanced at your with his reddenned eyes with a sheepish and embarrassed look on his face.
You felt a tap on your shoulder, turning around to see Samar towering over you.
"Hey." he passed a toothy smile. "You wanted me to explain some inferential statistics topics right? You wanna do that right now?"
"Oh, sure! That's a good idea. Have you eaten anything yet?"
"No, but I'm not hungry at all. Come with me, I'll explain the topics and we can get something to eat maybe?"
"Yeah, of course!"
In the corner of your eyes, you noticed various looks towards the interaction.
One that stood out the most, was a deathly glare.
_______________
You were back at the dorms after all of the commotion about math.
You also discovered that drinking redbull mixed with coke might be a horrid combination, but it helped keep you awake. For way too long.
It didn't help that literally everyone tried this combination. And now everyone was sitting around the room, losing their shit, hands shaking and everything.
Udaybir whisper from beside you, "So, how does Samar teach?"
"Pretty good actually. He's definitely cut out for marketing." you chuckled. That man talked faster than his brain processed anything.
You barely noticed his jaw clenching tightly.
"Okay, I need you to be honest here. Am I a bad teacher?"
"No, what? What the hell made you think that?"
"Well, you know. You usually ask doubts to be. Makes me feel nice and all mighty."
"Oh, that's what this is about? I promise I love your teaching. He's just better at math, as we both know, than us. He saw me being confused about some topics and he offered to help. He was really sweet about it and I didn't want to be rude."
Udaybir hummed absentmindedly.
"Plus, he explained very well. I swear it worked wonders. I solved like 5 problems right after he explained it." you sighed dreamily.
He muttered under his breath something along the lines of 'I could teach you too, he isn't special' which you couldn't quite catch.
He hummed again. He didn't sound super interested in what you were saying, so you decided to shut up.
You noticed Disha and Kabir had managed to fall asleep. And you were at a point of time where you were happy for them, considering the terrific combo you had just hours back.
Nidhi and Abhimanyu were pretty much dozing off. There wasn't anything much going on in there brains. It seemed that the redbull only effected you and Udaybir too much, much to your disappointment.
Karan and Kanishka were completely engrossed in some bullshit game Kanishka downloaded on his phone. She refused to download anything on hers and for some reason, Karan didn't care.
You and Udaybir shared a knowing glance at that.
Soon, the room fell into a silence. It wasn't awkward or anything. It was a tired sort of silence. You just basked in each other's company.
The next day, you woke up to your head leaning on Udaybir's shoulder, and his leaning on your head. You scrambled to untangle yourself from him as you looked around the room to see no one was up yet.
Maybe a little more sleep wouldn't hurt.
You went right back to the position you were in, without any remorse whatsoever.
_______________
Your class had a variety of people. There was the wannabe rich people, who were middle class at best but wanted to show off whatever money they had. But the real colors showed when they were asked to read aloud in class.
Oh, what you would give for them to realise that their reading level was at 3rd grade at best.
Then there were the nerds. They were pretty normal, actually. Sweet, helpful, caring even. You weren't cutout for anything colleges if you weren't nerds for sure. But school nerds were much different than college ones.
These people actually knew how to have fun. Which was very comforting to see.
Then there were the snobby people with daddy's money.
Yes, believe it or not, colleges had them too.
Designer clothes all over the body, expensive perfume, expensive makeup—the entire package.
You were still nice to everyone though. Regardless of the fact that they could have a reality tv show made out of them.
They were nice only to people who had daddy's money as well.
It didn't irk you too much to see how often they would have drama surrounding them. Everytime something happened, there were a few familiar names called out.
Right now, however, you realised you might catch yourself in the middle of some drama.
You watched in conviction as Udaybir leaned over one of these girls from that group.
She was everything you were practically not—tall, gorgeous, curly hair, elite fashion sense, jewellery surrounding her entire body, perfume that could be smelt kilometres away, what not.
You pursed your lips to keep the self deprecating thoughts out of you. Which proved to be really hard, considering how cozy they looked.
She was constantly hitting his biceps and laughing loudly at something he was saying. Come on, there's no way what he said was that funny.
You scratched the back of your neck as you looked away for a moment and then looked back. You saw how Raina leaned a little closer to him, basking in all his glory.
You didn't blame her at all. He was a very distracting man. Just, you wanted him to be your distracting man.
It didn't help to know that he leaned closer too. Maybe you were analyzing this too much. Maybe it isn't really that deep.
You looked away before you dug holes in her back with the looks you were giving them.
You turned your attention back to whatever the hell Samar was talking about in front of the entire class.
This man had the confidence of someone trying rejection therapy. And you were absolutely here for it. You wished you adorned that kind of confidence too. Maybe it would be easier to attract people you liked, then.
You snapped out of it when Samar came back to his seat and whispered, "Kaisa tha?"
You smiled back and leaned closer to whisper back, "Amazing. I would totally buy it."
He responded with a sweet smile, a swish to his hair and a small nod.
What you hadn't noticed about this entire interaction was that Udaybir was glaring daggers at the two of you.
_______________
Another one of the group study days, Udaybir explained something in economics to you.
You tried to not pay attention to the sudden proximity that he made between you.
You were practically on his lap. You could smell his cologne pretty well, and you absolutely could see his eyes better from this angle.
"Waise, doesn't Samar have a girlfriend?"
"He does? I don't know."
"I think he does. He was sweet talking this other girl that day." Udaybir said, putting his book back in his bag.
"Maybe. He's a sweet guy, maybe they were just talking."
Unfortunately, this statement sounded a lot like denial to Udaybir.
"I mean, isn't that a red flag? It's not a good thing when a guy is nice to every girl, right?" he said, in a hopeful tone which you thankfully missed.
"Well, yes. Which means I hope he lets go of that practice when he does find a girlfriend."
Udaybir stared at you for a moment, conflicted. He then nodded.
"What about Raina? I saw her feeling you up and everything the other day." you tried to smirk, which probably looked absolutely horrid.
"Oh, that's nothing. I don't know why she was doing all that but I guess she's sweet."
You could've heard that crack from Paris.
You simply nodded.
_________________
The next day, while talking to Samar, one other guy walked up to him.
They did their bro handshake thing, as Samar stood up to introduce you.
"Rishabh, this is Y/N. Y/N, Rishabh. He's with me in marketing management. Also, a great orator."
Yoy waved at him with a small smile on your face. He waved back.
You wondered where the hell SRCC found absolutely models from. Because you had never found any when you were actively looking to date.
Rishabh sat down on your other side, and you guys started talking about everything all at once.
CALIFORNIA GRUNGUS' ARE UNFORGETTABLE IDKTHELYRICS BIKINIS ON TOP
