AAAAAAA!!!!! I’m literally dying . The doctors have officially declared that only an mpreg Rehman × Aslam × Ulfat fic can save me at this point.
Absolutely ZERO pressure BBG . I was just casually thinking about it today👉🏻👈🏻
Gurl please 🥺😭😂
I have written like half of it but I'm stuck because Rehman refuses to let Ulfat and Aslam know. He is hiding somewhere and try as I might, I can't pull him out.
Little annoying fucker.
But a little peep show for you! (Because your doctor recommended it—)
"Are you still feeling sick?”
Ulfat’s concerned words broke Rehman’s trance and he found himself staring at his still full plate. Just looking at the food was making him feel nauseous. He had barely managed to pick at it like an uninterested bird.
Rehman figured he had the flu when the nausea refused to settle even after a week.
It had been a difficult few days.
Now, Rehman had never really been a particularly short tempered man.
Yes, he had a temper and once it was unleashed it would take a truly monstrous form but he didn’t have a short fuse. It usually took a very long time to make Rehman Baloch truly angry. The kind that would cost you your head at the least and your entire ancestry and descendants at the most.
But the past few days had seen him snapping at every possible chance.
The boys in the gang couldn’t do one thing without their boss screaming bloody murder at them.
Rehman had already fired three business associates, made Donga and Siyahi overhaul their entire east coast smuggling operation on an accounting error, made Hamza almost cry because the man had sneezed too hard, threatened Jamali with dismemberment because the man had called once to ask about a prior engagement and had broken a very expensive vase on Uzair’s head because the latter had been talking on the phone too loudly.
Uzair had been very grateful the vase had been made of porcelain and gold and not brass or copper. His older brother had impeccable aim, even from a hundred meter distance and a heavy metal object coming at such speed would have definitely cracked his skull.
All the heavy and sharp objects had been removed from his office the next day. Only they had forgotten Rehman Dakait could make a weapon out of anything and almost always had a dozen daggers hidden on his person.
He had practised knife throwing for the next four hours, while planning out loud how to murder Jamali and his cohorts, as the boys had ducked around like a pack of terrified but silent chickens, because the boss would definitely throw the next one straight through their throats if they made a single peep.
His appetite was also shot to shit. Not to mention the continuous headaches, the strange heaviness of his exponentially increasing pheromones and his skin having turned so hypersensitive that sometimes even the cotton kurta hurt to wear.
“I don’t know, it is odd”, he muttered and pushed his plate back, “it's not like I am not hungry. But this food is making me want to puke.”
His wife raised a sculpted eyebrow at that and adjusted the pastel green dupatta over her shoulder in a crisp line as the wavy strands of her mahogany hair blew over her face, making him marvel at how, not even time, the violence of his world and the death of a son had managed to mar her irresistible beauty.
Ulfat was so beautiful it hurt Rehman’s eyes sometimes and yet he would stare at her endlessly, even if it ended up scorching his irises to smoke.
“What do you feel like eating?”, she asked then.
The answer came weirdly clear and fast in his mind and he spoke before his brain could even register the words.
“Green apples.”
“Huh?”
“You remember that fruit seller who used to come, stopping by the houses, two streets down and you would send Akhlaq to get fruits from him sometimes? He sold green apples. I want that.”
Ulfat was looking at him bemused. Rehman could understand. He was feeling strange even as his desire to eat those particular apples was only cementing further. He needed them like one would need air to breathe. He could practically taste the tart sweetness of the crunchy fruit on his tongue.
“Alright. I will get someone to get you green apples”, the baran conceded, even if that spark of concern didn’t leave her eyes.
Rehman ate two whole apples till he was satisfied.
He might have added a drizzle of honey and chaat masala to the slices of the second one which he ate more sedately in contrast to the first one which he had just wolfed down.
If the slightly disgusted looks Uzair and Faizal were giving his plate were to be believed, it shouldn’t be considered as much of a delicacy as Rehman felt it to be. But what did those two know about cuisine anyway, they would eat anything kept in front of them— they would eat him out of the house if they could.
Ulfat had looked a little indulgent even if she had still urged him to visit a doctor, if only to rule out food poisoning.
All credits of the abo verse terminology goes to the brilliant @hyade
DISCLAIMER: This fanfiction is NOT about the real life Rehman dakait. This fanfiction is about Akshaye Khanna's character in Dhurandar!! This is only for a fiction purpose .
__________________________________________
Few days after the incident with the news anchor, things were still the same for the Baloch gang and their king, Rehman Baloch. As if it had never happened. It was supposed to be a serious thing, and yet none of them felt anything close to concerned.
The Dakait gang's busy environment carried on as always. Deals, uncountable crimes, everything moving without trouble or interruption. Nothing had changed. If anything, the focus had shifted more sharply toward Rehman's upcoming push into politics.
He was making deals, instructing his gang, finding ways to build his roadmap into the political world. He had been busy with all of that. On the other side, Jamali, the PPP politician, was growing more concerned by the day. He never wanted this to happen. But Rehman was very clear about it. He was going in.
On a day like any other, Rehman was in his office room, meeting with dealers and discussing his entry into politics. At this point he wasn't getting a good response from his backing party, the PPP. Jamali had no interest in seeing this through.
Outside, on the other side of the factory, Uzair and Hamza were with the men, finishing the loading of a gun shipment into trucks. Two of them walked back into the factory yard afterward.
Uzair spoke as they walked. "Kya baat hain aaj kal bada shant rehta hain." He rubbed his shoulder against Hamza's, teasing him.
Hamza just looked at him and smiled. "Kuch nahi... bas."
Uzair leaned closer, still walking, turning his face toward him with a grin. "Ha ha sab pata hain mujhe kya chal raha hain...."
They reached the yard where a few men were already sitting around, joking with each other. Donga saw them coming and looked up. "Are aao uzair bhai, betho."
Uzair and Hamza walked into the circle and sat among them, on the same sitting area they always used. Uzair pulled out a cigarette and lit it, took a slow drag, then glanced toward Rehman's office.
"Ye bhai ki baat ab tak khatam nahi hui!"
One of the men cut in. "Bhai ki party forming ka kaam chal raha hain, uzair."
Everyone was listening.
"Lagta hain Bas iske baad toh bhai ka siyasi khel pakka."
Uzair smirked. Hamza was listening quietly. Donga spoke up from the side. "Phir toh bechara Jamali so hi nahi payega."
Everyone laughed.
The TV was already on in the corner, running through news headlines, the daily media noise. Then one headline caught all of their attention.
"Reports ke hawale se kaha ja raha hain ki Pathan gang ke sargana Arshad Pathan ko kayi sanjeeda jurmo aur mamlat ke chalte jald hi police ke hawale se arrest warrant nikala ja sakta hain."
A laugh broke out across the group. A wave of satisfaction spread through the place. Donga spoke up first. "Bhai yeh toh kamal ho gaya aaj toh! Yeh toh bina kuch kiye hi, sab kuch apne aap hi ho gaya."
Uzair smirked, taking a drag from his cigarette. Another man added, "Aaj toh mauka hain humare paas jashn manane ka."
The moment was theirs. Everyone was riding it.
Then the channel changed. And everyone looked up at the screen because it was that same familiar figure. Uzair's expression shifted. The cigarette still hung from his lips. The room went from easy to serious in a heartbeat.
Donga, who was watching Uzair fix his gaze on the screen, turned to the man holding the remote. "Abe oh channel change kar."
Uzair didn't break eye contact with the TV. He made a small sound, a gesture with his hand. "Hmm.... rehne de."
He pulled the cigarette from his mouth slowly, waiting. It was her. That same girl reporter from last time. They all remembered her. They were all watching now, paying attention.
She started with the usual news. Normal headlines. Nothing that would make anyone flinch. The place was quiet, settled. Then she shifted.
"Haal hi mein yeh wakya saamne aaya hain ki Lyari ke ek bade hi imandaar aur azeem dukaandar ki maut bade hi purasrar tarike se hui hain. Hawale ye bhi kaha ja raha hain ki iske peeche zaroor Lyari ke gundo ka haath ho sakta hain. Aur is baat se koi anjaan nahi hain, jo ki ye na jaanta ho ki Lyari ki hukumat kaun chalata hain. Aur aise ek nahi, darjano wakya is baat ka saboot hain ki is tarike ke mamlat Lyari ke liye bade hi aam hain."
She paused. Then continued.
"Khoon, murder, aam insano se jabran wasooli, aur unke upar apni marzi chalana. Hamesha se Lyari ke gundo ne yahi rukh apnaya hain. Aur usse bhi zyada hairan karne wali baat toh yeh hain ki inke mashoor sargana Rehman Baloch ka kehna hain ki wo apni awam ki pehchan hain, awaz hain. Kaun hain ye shakhs jo khud apne hi wahm mein rehte hain, ya phir ye apni hi awam ko wahm mein rakhte hain? Aakhir ye aur inki gang kab tak ye sab karte rahenge? Kya inhe masoomon...."
The man with the remote changed the channel quickly before she could finish. Uzair and the others looked at him.
"Jaane do na bhai.... Kya in sab pe dhyan dena.... Apna hi mood kharab hoga."
Siyahi chimed in. "Haan bhai waise bhi bhai ne kaha hain na, ye sab toh ab chalega hi."
But Uzair's expression was telling a different story. The same anger from the first time he'd seen that reporter was crawling back into his face. His jaw was tight. His fingers curled around the cigarette.
He stood up from his place, the cigarette between his fingers, and turned toward his men. Hamza watched him silently.
"Khud ko samajhti kya hain ye ladki haan? Haath mein mike aur camera aa gaya toh kuch bhi bolegi kya yeh?"
He paused. Turned toward the TV.
"Ladki hain, yeh hain wo hain, karke isko taal do lekin. Iski himmat dekh rahe ho tum log, hum par hi faaltu news chala rahi hain ye."
His voice dropped, harder now, almost a snarl. "Kuda kasam agar iski jagah koi ladka hota na toh tukde tukde kar deta ab tak."
He thrashed the cigarette against the floor and crushed it under his shoe.
Siyahi spoke carefully, looking at him. "Bhai aapki baat sahi hain par, kya kar sakte, wo waise bhi bhai ne kaha toh hain ki in sab ko bas undekha karo, aur wo ladki hain na, kuch kar nahi sakte."
Donga added his piece. "Haan bhai, aur aise toh kitne aaye aur kitne gaye, thodi humara kuch bigad paaye. Waise bhi wo hain toh ek mamuli ladki hi, aur Lyari mein waise bhi humara dabdaba hain, sab jante hi hain."
Uzair was still angry. But he was listening. Then one of the men came in from outside.
"Uzair bhai, bhai aapko andar bula rahe hain."
He was still heated, but he nodded and went.
Rehman was alone in his office, looking over some papers. Probably about his political party formation. He glanced up at the door as Uzair entered. From his chair, in a normal tone, he looked at him and spoke.
"Wo peer wali delivery ho gayi?"
Uzair stood there and simply nodded. Rehman noticed something off about him.
"Kya hua, kuch baat hain kya?"
Uzair looked up. "Nahi.... nahi bhai wo bas.... thoda thak gaya tha, sar dard ho raha tha...."
Rehman nodded. "Ja, ja ke thoda aram kar le."
Uzair nodded and left the room. He didn't say anything to his brother about it. Not about the girl, not about the anger burning inside him.
Days passed.
Rehman was deep in his push toward politics, his brother more invested than ever in holding down the work. Both of them, everyone, was occupied.
But they were unaware of the unsettled environment growing across the city. That girl reporter's news, even though they weren't taking it seriously, was already buzzing in people's conversations. Not widespread, not yet, but enough for a beginning. And it was slowly tilting toward the damaging side for them. Not in their opinion, no. But for everyone else, that's exactly what it looked like.
Rehman, consumed by his political standing, was having discussions with party people to make it happen as soon as he could. Uzair was supporting his brother by taking over the operational side, the gun deals and other illegal activities, so Rehman could stay focused. Rehman wanted everything as clean as possible from his end, less to look after, more time for politics.
For days, both brothers and the gang were buried in their work. One in politics and power, the other in the illegal trade that funded all of it. Things were going well on both sides.
On a usual Monday, Uzair was chilling in Rehman's office. Rehman was still out, busy with his political rounds these weeks, running later than usual. Uzair sat in the other chair, one leg up on it, one down, a glass in one hand, flipping through TV channels with the other. He stopped on one. He knew he shouldn't have. It was her. That same girl. He stopped anyway because something in him wanted to hear what she'd say this time.
She was speaking the same way she had from day one. The same words, the same angle, the same target.
"Yeh toh har baar ki tarah firse ek aur aam baat hai, jaise yeh sab logon ke liye roz ka hai! Lekin in sab se inke Badshah ko kya fark padta hain, kyonki jab tak inka takht in sab cheezon se hi musibat hi nahi hain."
His gaze was fixed on the screen, anger already building before she'd even gotten to the point, because he knew what was coming.
Rehman came through the door. Uzair looked up from the screen and stood. Rehman walked toward his chair.
"Kya baat hain? Lagta hain aaj aram farmaya ja raha hain."
"Haan bhai bas..... aise hi."
Uzair waited until Rehman settled into his armchair, legs on the ottoman. Then he stood beside him and handed him the drink. Rehman took it slowly.
The TV was still on. Rehman's eyes drifted to the screen in front of him. He saw her. That same girl he'd dismissed before.
"Inhi sab haalaton ke chalte, aaj Lyari is mukam par khada hain jahan sirf aur sirf gareebi aur lachar awam ke alawa aur kuch bhi dekhne ko naseeb nahi hota....."
Rehman watched from his chair. His expression barely shifted, just a slight change, a flicker behind the eyes. She kept going. Uzair was watching too, but his face was worse than before.
"Rehman Baloch ko in sab ka zimmedar thehrana koi galat nahi hoga, kyonki ye sab inhi ki toh badolat hain. Hamesha apni manmani un massomon...."
Before she could finish, Uzair gritted his teeth and turned off the TV. Anger was still carved across his face.
Rehman stayed in his posture, eyes off the screen now, holding the glass near his chest.
Uzair spoke, voice hardened. "Dimag kharab kar rakha hain is ladki ne..... jab dekho tab bakwas karne aa jati.... hain......"
Rehman glanced up from his chair toward him. "Yeh.... kaam sab theek chal raha hain?"
Uzair was angry but he pulled himself back, replying in a tone that was neutral on the surface but still hard underneath. "Haan main sab sambhal raha hoon bhai. Hamza hain, Donga aur hum sab hain."
He paused.
"Aap bas ye siyasi kaam ek baar khatam kar do, phir toh sab..... theek hi hain. Aur uske baad toh sabse pehle is ladki ki akal jo theekane lagani hain."
Rehman looked up at his brother. Said nothing. Exhaled. Kept drinking.
Day by day the news was spreading. On top of that, it was reaching bigger politicians. The party that had always backed Rehman Dakait was now being dragged into it. On the ground level it hadn't exploded yet, but the beginning was already there. And Rehman and his gang were either unaware of it, or they were ignoring it on purpose for the sake of the political future.
But Uzair was aware. Every time he heard about her from somewhere, every time he caught her stupid news with his name attached to it, he hated it. He was silent about it. He ignored it for his brother.
Just like everyone else who was getting familiar with the pattern, he had noticed it growing. He noticed how it was becoming harder to ignore. He knew it. But he ignored it anyway, kept himself driven toward his brother's political entry.
Time passed. On another usual day, Rehman was at Jamali's house for political discussions. They sat in the grand hallway of Jamali's house, Rehman on a sofa chair alone, Jamali on the side of the sofa across from him.
Jamali began to speak. But not about Rehman's interest in forming his own party, the thing he'd been pushing for all this time. Instead he talked.
"Rehman mere bacche, meri baat sun. PPP hain na tere peeche yaar! Tujhe in sab cheezon mein padne ki zarurat nahi hain. Tera Jameel mamu baitha hain na yahan, agar kuch hua toh main hoon na yaar, tu fikar mat kar!"
Rehman looked at him in silence. Serious. The anger was beneath the surface, but he listened. Disappointment was plain on his face.
Jamali continued. "Aur ek aur baat karni thi tujhse yaar. Waise bhale hi tu meri baat maan ya mat maan magar....."
He leaned in slightly. "Ye jo pichle kuch dino ye jo ho raha hain na, yeh news-wews aur ye media siddia ke masle, in sab ko rafa kar de. Ab ye sab bohot badh gaya hain. Tere saath saath PPP ko bhi ghaseeta ja raha hain. Aur wahan wo MMP wale dalle toh baithe hi hain na apni rotiyan sekne ke liye....."
He let the word sit. "Think hai."
Rehman stood up from his chair and walked toward the door. Jamali walked alongside him.
"Sambhal lena in sab cheezon ko. Ye sab cheezein zyada badhni nahi chahiye. Aur haan, kuch ulta seedha mat kar dena. Agar kuch ho gaya na toh tera hi nuksaan sabse zyada hoga. Tu samajh meri baat ko."
Rehman walked out. Jamali followed. The car was parked outside, far from the main gate. Uzair was standing near it, Hamza beside him. Rehman made his way toward the car.
Jamali went over to Uzair and Hamza. He stood in front of Uzair, tapped his shoulder with one hand.
"Aur mere bacche Uzair, kaise ho? Sab khairiyat se hai na!"
Uzair looked at him with a straight face. "Ji.....!"
Then he asked directly. "Bhai ka kaam kab tak ho jayega?"
Jamali's expression shifted from a smile to straight. He exhaled. "Dekh mere bacche Uzair, ye sab siyasat, in sab mein padna, in sab mein kahan. Tum apne bhai ko badhawa de rahe ho! Accha chal chod, main ya koi aur, agar kahin se bhi agar ye Rehman agar kamiyab ho gaya, phir bhi aage bohot mushkilat hogi use."
A brief pause between them. Uzair was looking at him, something close to impression on his face.
Jamali spoke again. "Tune dekha nahi kaise ye media wale abhi se hi Rehman ke peeche pad gaye hain? Baat itni seedhi nahi hain. Tu samajh mere yaar! Opposition aur ye kuch beiman log waise hi in sab ko, is bohot fayda ho raha hain. Hum bhi kuch nahi kar sakte."
Uzair listened. Rehman was already in the car, waiting. He realized it was taking too long. He knew Jamali was talking to them. He turned his head from the car window.
"Uzair.....!!!"
Uzair, Hamza, and Jamali all looked at him sitting in the car. Uzair nodded. "Ji bhai."
Rehman turned back inside. Uzair was about to leave. He greeted Jamali before going.
"Allah hafiz!"
Jamali grabbed his arm before he could turn away. Uzair looked back.
"Aur sun. Apne bhai ko sambhal lena. Dekhna, kahin ye gusse mein kuch kar na de. Waise hi uske liye sab mushkil hota jaa raha hain. Aur media ka toh tujhe pata hi hain na yaar. Do minute nahi lagenge kuch bhi. Bade mein."
Uzair kept his straight face. Hamza was listening from just behind.
"Dekh lena. Theek hain, jitni jaldi ho sake mamle ko rafa dafa kar de na. Agar ye Rehman ne kuch kar diya na use toh nuksan ho ga hi, aur hume uska jawab dena padega wo aur. Aakhir hain toh wo bhi media hi na yaar. Unko toh mauka chahiye bas."
He finally tapped his shoulder. "Theek hain chal, sambhal lena mera bacche."
Uzair broke contact with Jamali and walked to the passenger seat. Hamza went around to the driver's side. They drove away from Jamali's house toward theirs.
The car was quiet. Uzair was thinking about something, his focus somewhere else entirely. Hamza had noticed all of it throughout the drive, glancing from the corner of his eye, but said nothing. Rehman sat in the back, one hand on his forehead resting against the window, eyes closed. He stayed like that the entire drive.
At night, they reached Rehman's house. The car stopped. Hamza looked at Uzair. Uzair looked back through the rearview mirror. His brother was still in the same position.
"Bhai......"
Rehman looked up, the expression of a man waking from sleep. He shifted his posture and looked toward the front.
Uzair spoke. "Bhai ghar aa gaya....."
Rehman looked out through the window. He slowly reached for the door. Uzair got out of his seat, as did Hamza, and opened his brother's door. Rehman leaned against him slightly, still groggy.
Uzair spoke softly. "Bhai aaram se....."
Uzair went inside to walk his brother toward his room. Outside, Hamza was on the phone with someone. After a while, Uzair came back out. He had to go check a shipment at the factory. It was late.
Hamza spoke up. "Bhai aap rehne do, main dekh lunga."
Uzair waved it off. "Are nahi chal, koi nahi, main..... chalta hoon."
He took the passenger seat. Hamza drove them toward the factory.
They parked outside. Uzair walked in. He passed the men sitting at their usual spot outside the office, talking among themselves. One of the men was walking by and stopped when he saw him.
"Bhai aap yahan is waqt?"
Uzair replied. "Haan wo kal ki delivery ke liye ek baar check karne aa gaya."
The man looked at him. "Lekin bhai wo toh sab load kar diya."
Uzair raised his eyebrows slightly. "Acha?"
He looked toward the men sitting up front. Something about them was different. Their demeanour had shifted. The man noticed Uzair studying them and spoke.
"Bhai aap ghar chale jaao. Waise bhi sab kaam ho gaya hain."
Uzair looked toward the group. "Koi nahi, ab aa gaya hoon toh thoda haal chaal pooch leta hoon."
He walked toward them. Everyone looked up at him as he approached. Hamza came from behind. Uzair stopped in front of all of them and spoke in a straight voice.
"Kya hua? Sab ke muh kyun latke hue hain? Sab khairiyat se hai na?"
Donga spoke up. His voice was low, careful. "Bhai wo..... ladki thi na, wo news wali."
Uzair's expression shifted. The ease was gone. He was serious now.
Donga continued. "Wo....... wo Pappu ke gang ki taraf se waqif hain bhai!"
Another man spoke up. "Haan bhai! Abhi jaise jaise khabar har jagah fail rahi thi! Aur aap aur Rehman bhai bhi apne apne kaam mashroof the toh kisine dhyan nahi diya par..... abhi toh ye bohot badh gaya hain aur sara sach bhi saamne aa hi gaya hain."
Another voice from the group. "Haan bhai aur wo....... uske gang ke upar koi news nahi chalati!"
"Aur opposition se bhi toh kaafi support mil hi raha hain use! Aur wo toh us Arshad ki numaish karte hi hain, sab jaante hain bhai."
Uzair looked at all of them. He listened to every word. His expression had gone somewhere past anger, past silence, into something closer to rage held still behind a locked jaw.
One of the men spoke up.
"Bhai mujhe toh ye sab mile hue hi lagte hain! Taaki Rehman bhai ki siyasi kaman ko kamzor kare! Aur agar hamne media walo kuch kiya toh be wajah Rehman bhai ko hi zimmedar thehrayenge ye opposition aur PPP wale."
Another voice followed. "Lekin hum chup bhi toh nahi baith sakte. Itne kam waqt mein bohot kuch kar diya usne."
Then a quieter voice. "Lekin Rehman bhai ke liye, aur unki siyasat ke liye, hum kar bhi kya sakte hain."
Uzair looked up at everyone. Then back at Hamza. Then to his men. He reached over and took a cigarette from one of the gang members, lit it, and smoked. He spoke between the drag.
"Jiski wajah se ye sab hua hain, usi ko jad se nipta dete hain."
He looked at the TV screen and walked toward it. He took a drag, the smoke curling out slow, and stared at the screen where that reporter girl was still broadcasting. Still going. Still talking. Like nothing could touch her.
You guys ever wonder if Ulfat holds on to that silly button phone from 2009 and never upgrades even after touchscreen phones are the norm because the old phone has Rehman, Uzair and Naieem's call logs
i already love ur yalina x lieutenant fic so much!! such a beautiful idea & ur y/n sounds so fine like the height, muscular build, the scar especially! chefs kiss 🤌🏽
Omgiee thank you so much I’m so glad that you liked the trope and my y/n.
Also there are not enough fics for my girl yalina, I’ll try to update it soon 😋
Also aisi requests bheja karo yaar dil garden garden ho jata hai
