#donga

[chaotickittydreamer]

dhurandhar textpost (no spolier)

THEY DONT PLAY BOUT THEIR MAN 🗣

> ofc khanani would jump first, jameel would try to outbid him, aslam would bet just .45 cents more to piss rehman off

unedited script

ye bhi khud hi karna padega 💔😔

Girl same tbh. My mother laughed like i was joking

Prev-> Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16

[hyade]

what a jolly group of fellows. surely nothing bad will happen to them

[roses-and-iron]

Hungama - Uzair Baloch x reader (1/2)

Requested by @desi-brownie

Okay this was supposed to be a oneshot but i lost motivation halfway through so i made it a two shot. Comment krke motivate kardena😠 (pls krdo🥺) 2.3k words.

Note for the STUPID ASSES OUT THERE: THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION WRITTEN FOR THE CHARACTER PORTRAYED BY OUR CUTIE DANISH NOT THE REAL TERROIST!

Y/n was a carefree girl—lighthearted in the way she moved through life, as if the world’s weight had never learned how to settle on her shoulders. She laughed easily, spoke without overthinking, and carried a kind of softness that made everything around her feel a little less serious. She chose to live in the moment, chasing small joys the way sunlight chases morning mist. She’d been on a girl’s day out with her two best friends Asna, and Zoya who was also her cousin. The three of them were blasting music, singing off key as Y/n drove. Zoya was in the passenger’s seat while Asna was in the back.

“Y/n, dare or dare?” Asna said leaning closer between the two seats. The girl rolled her eyes, before choosing dare. They’d been doing this the whole day, giving each other stupid dares.

“Uhmm oh look at that,” Zoya pointed into the distance, where a jeep was pulled over on the side of the road, its bonnet propped open. A tall man hovered over the engine, shoulders bent as if he were trying to figure out what had gone wrong. It looked like the jeep had broken down.. “Cat call him!”

“What the fuck?” Y/n and Asna exclaimed at the same time but the other girl grinned evilly.

“A dare’s a dare!” She replied nonchalantly and Y/n braced herself to actually do it. She slowed the car and pulled up beside the jeep, the road was deserted which made her feel braver.

“Hum kahin chor dein janeman?” Y/n called out from the window, perfectly imitating the sleazes she’d encountered before. The other two girls snickered but their faces dropped the second the man stood up straighter and turned to them.

It was Uzair Baloch. Right hand man of Rehman Baloch and the sworn enemy of her uncle Arshad pappu. Her breath hitched in her throat and before he could say anything she slammed her foot on the accelerator, leaving him behind in the rear-view mirror. Uzair stood there utterly confused as he tried to comprehend what just happened, even his confused state, he managed to note the number plate.

“Humne kuch nahi kiya! Phuppa ko kuch nahi batana!” She glared at her cousin, who was shaking in her seat.

“Mai kya nahi bataungi abba ko khud pata chal jaega! Offo isko bhi Uzair Baloch nikalna tha!” Zoya said biting her nails anxiously.

“Isi liye mai tum dono ko kehti hu Arshad uncle ke naam py itna mat uchla karo!” Asna commented from the back earning sharp glares from both the girls.

“Tu toh chup kar yaar!”

A week had passed since that incident but Y/n and Zoya were safe of Arshad’s wrath that meant either he didn’t find out or he didn’t care. Meanwhile Uzair had asked Donga to find out the owner of the car. He vividly remembered the girl sitting behind the wheel, for a good second he thought he had died in a car accident and reached heaven because she looked like an angel. He could barely focus on what she was saying as he was too focused on her soft, petal like lips. But he had heard her catcall him. He was baffled but curious at the same time.

“Bhai. y/n naam ki ladki ki gadi hai. Arshad pappu ke sale ki beti hai.” Uzair listened intently and paused when he heard his rivals name but did that deter him from going after her—no, it made him want her even more. The forbidden fruit is always exciting to chase.

The next morning Uzair got dressed in his best pathani, sprayed himself with oud and ruffled his hair messily. Donga had told him y/n doesn’t have a job but she every morning and evening she feeds the street dogs outside the Lyari hospital. When he arrived there she was already surrounded by a bunch of dogs drooling and wagging their tails at her. She giggled loudly, pouring food into their bowls, that she’d placed there months ago.

“Suniye!” Uzair called out and she stood up with a smile but froze when she recognised him.

“Dekhiye uss din mujhse galti hogyi thi aap mujhe maaf karde aur ye kissa yahin khatam karde.” She rambled fiddling with the kibble in her hands. He shook his head and tried moving closer to talk better but she held her hand out. “Paas mat aiyega! Warna main inlogo ko keh dungi aap py hamla karde!” Uzair froze in his tracks, he dealt with blood, guns and pain, he could take it all but being chased by a bunch of feral dogs— nah he’ll pass.

“Dekhiye mujhe sirf baat karni hai.” Uzair raised his hands in surrender. She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously but then relented. She walked closer to him and he sighed in relief. “Main apse koi badla lene nahi aya hoon. Main wo…wo main..” he stuttered, she raised her brow at him. “Mujhe aap bohot acchi lagti hain!”

“KYA?” She exclaimed loudly, the dogs raised their heads from the bowl waiting for an order but she cooed at them, urging them to go back to their food. “Ye kya keh rahe hain aap?

“Sach keh raha hoon. Jabse maine apko dekha hai mere dil, dimag, aankho me aap bas gayin hai! Jaagte me dikhti hai, sotey me khwabon me ajati hain.”

“Aap ko shayad pata nahi main-”

“Pata hai! Arshad pappu apka phuppa hai, lekin agar apka baap bhi hota to mujhe farak nahin padhta. Mujhe aap acchi lagti hain.” Uzair said bravely. He really didn’t care if she was Arshad pappu’s relative, or she was a Pathan and not Baloch. All he knew that he wanted her and he’d do anything to have her.

“Dekhein Uzair b-”

“Nahi!” He exclaimed. “Bhai nahi bolna!” She was amused by his insistence. “Dekhiye apke abbu iss hospital me doctor hain na?” He asked and she nodded her head. “Aur ye hospital Rehman bhai ka hai agar iss chiz py Arshad ko koi masla nahi hai toh humare rishte se bhi nahi hoga.” Uzair had already made up his mind and there was no stopping him.

And that’s how life had become for Y/n for the next few weeks. She found Uzair wherever she went, calling her at random times. He kept sending her flowers, followed her like a lovesick fool and even befriended her four legged friends. He bought tons of kibble to bribe them. Everyday when Y/n arrived there, she would already find him there and the dogs surrounded him as his fans.

“Ab to in logon ne bhi mujhe apna maan liya hai, aap hi berukhi dikha rahi hain!” Uzair commented standing up and she rolled her eyes affectionately. She would not lie and say she didn’t like him or the attention. She loved it, she loved being doted on by Uzair Baloch. She loved receiving random gifts everyday and the way he would call her every night, quoting him “because he wanted to hear her voice after a tiring day.”

“Aap nahi manengy na?” She asked with a soft smile gracing her lip and he shook his head cheekily. “Theek hai!” She gave in and he beamed, feeling the happiest man alive. “Lekin, phuppa ne agar oppose kiya to aap nipatna!”

“Jo hukum meri jaan jaisa aap bole.” She blushed profusely when he called her ‘meri jaan’. “Chalen?” He asked and she looked at him in confusion.

“Kahan?”

“Date py.” He said taking her hand and pulling her towards his jeep.

Months passed, and somehow, they only fell deeper. It wasn’t the kind of love that faded into routine, it grew into it, threading itself through every ordinary day until nothing felt ordinary anymore. They began to belong to each other in quiet, undeniable ways.

In the way his name lit up her screen and her heart answered before her hands did. In the way she could hear his smile through a simple call. In the way every place felt softer once he’d been there with her.

Love became everywhere.

Shared playlists. Shared sunsets. Shared warmth on long drives when the world outside the windows blurred into nothing, because the only thing that mattered was the closeness inside that car.

His hand found hers without thought. Her head found his shoulder like it was home.

Not just romance, but devotion.

The kind of love that made the future feel less frightening, because it finally had someone in it. They were already, completely, hopelessly in love.

“Uzair ab aapko Rehman bhai se baat kar leni chaiye!” She said one day as they both were the sunset point, sitting atop the bonnet of his jeep. Her back pressed against his chest. His arms rested loosely around her waist, warm and familiar, as though they had always belonged there. She leaned into him without thinking, fitting perfectly against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing behind her.

“Han karta hoon.” He said nodding his head but on the inside he was panicking. He remembered how Hamza and Donga had reprimanded him like a child for falling for a Pathan girl, that too Arshad Pappu’s relative.

‘Chutiya hai kya tu?!’ Hamza had said while smacking him on the head,

‘Uzair miyan apko phool konse pasand hai?’ Donga asked in all seriousness.

‘Kyun?’

‘Ab aapki qabar py chadhane aunga to kam se kam phool to apki pasnd ke hon kyuke ladki to apki nahi hone wali.’ He replied making Hamza snort and Uzair curse his entire bloodline.

After dropping Y/n home, Uzair dragged Hamza home with him. They were both standing outside Rehman’s study, bickering.

“Mai marna nahi chahta meri abhi shadi bhi nahi hui hai.” Hamza said trying to walk away but Uzair pulled him back.

“Teri nahi hui toh kya meri bhi nahi hone dega?! Bhai nahi hai mera?” Uzair said trying to emotional blackmail him.

“Haan to tu wo Farzana se shadi karega to mai karwa dunga. Wo Baloch hai!” Hamza retorted without missing a beat. “Tujhe uss pathan me dikhta kya hai?”

Before he could answer Ulfat appeared before them, she was looking for Rehman and the two were blocking the door to the study.

“Kya kar rahe ho tum dono?” She gave them a stern look as she could tell they were up to no good.

“Kuch na-“

“Bhabhi ye ek pathan ladki se pyaar karta hai, usse shadi karna chahta aur chahta hai main bhai se baat karoon.” Hamza blurted out before Uzair could finish. The long haired man’s words left the taller man frozen in place as his jaw fell to the floor, while Hamza smiled as if to say,

‘Mai to acha baccha hu ye apka devar pagal ho gaya hai’

“UZAIR?” Ulfat gasped as she registered Hamza’s word. The said man’s ears turned red as he stuttered to come up with an excuse but Hamza just had to make matters worse.

“Aur wo Arshad Pappu ke sale hi beti hai.”

“UZAIR???” Ulfat.exe had stopped working at this point. “Tum pagal ho gaye ho kya?”

“Naya kya hai bhabhi!” Hamza commented and Uzair had finally managed to come back to his sense.

“Tu goli khakar hi chup hoega kya?” Uzair threatened but Hamza didn’t even flinch. He was having the time of his life. “Bhabhi bhai ko manane me help kardo na please!” He turned to his sister in law, he was ready to get on his knees to beg.

“Nahi nahi!” Ulfat denied immediately, shaking her head. “Ye main nahi karskti.” Uzair gave her his best puppy-dog eyes, the kind that had worked an infinite number of times before. He even faked a sniffle, and that really sealed the deal, Ulfat gave in instantly.

“Zabardast! Chalo ab.” He said gently pulling her towards the study door but she pulled away.

“Nahi! Pehly main milungi usse!”

Y/n awkwardly stood in front of Ulfat while she was assessing her. Uzair stood beside her giving her heart eyes while Donga and Hamza enjoyed the show from the front row seats.

“Mujhe pasand hai!” Ulfat announced making Uzair and Y/n turn to each other excitedly. Ab Rehman ko kaise manaye!” She wondered out loud, Ulfat knew her husband would have no issue with Y/n once he meets her. She’s beautiful, carries herself with elegance and definitely loves Uzair more than anything but at the same time she knew the man would flip once he finds out about her ethnicity.

The five of them sat down and brainstormed ideas how to convince Rehman for this relationship. Convincing Y/n’s family was an issue too but they’d decided to tackle one hurdle at a time. And if they knew if Rehman would be on their side, no one would be able to intervene. While the four of them were busy coming with idea after another, Uzair was busy staring at Y/n like a smitten idiot.

“Hum kya yahan tere naukar hai jo apna dimag ghis rahe hain aur tu bhabhi to taade ja raha hai!” Hamza commented, glaring at his best friend.

“Jaa na.” Uzair brushed him off still admiring Y/n, who turned to face him and had the same idiotic smile on her face, he then brushed her hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear.

“Tum dono ka romance hogaya ho toh mujhe ek idea aya aya!” Ulfat said sharply pulling them out of their romantic haze. So basically the idea was to call Y/n over to meet Rehman, have him like her, then get his word to get the two married. Everyone knows Rehman never goes back on his promises, so once he agrees, he’ll have no choice but to face the consequences afterwards.

Tags:

@shadylovedhurandhar @yalina-rangi @bitchy-bi-trash @ramayantika @maraudersbitchesassemble @suburbanlegendzzzz @jacqueline-17 @mylifesalreadyfucked @i-am-yourmom @trippitoas27 @desi-brownie @ooopssssu @anayaverse @shotsyfeather @diaryofawhoretbh @multifandom-boss-bitch @peonies7002 @sanpiece @geometric-circle @animelover6000 @seasonofthenerd @galexy085 @hosh-udaaye @feministmenlover @skiicoreee @kookxoxo @tarininini-2308 @dc-reign @terijhukinazar @sebbymybaby21 @suvarnarekha @nerdreader @draculauras-stuff @rini4everdreaming @akinrawsx @myboysfavouritetoy @rehmandakaitswife @wan2bey-n @sweatycreatorprincess-blog @depressedgiftedburnout @linisntcool @tojisloft @avatar-of-procrastination @stark1433000 @jaemaxreads @thewintersbloom @warnermeadowsgirl @icypurpleluv @harrystyleskiwi9 @noor-archive @doresthings @akshayekimk0 @erenfox

[hamzair-is-my-otp]

I've been thinking of nicknames for Dhurandhar characters and this is what I came up with...

Ok so here they are. Some images might be of less quality because I took direct screenshot from the movie but some are of good quality. Let me know what you all think!!

Taglist-

@sanamkhanani @miraclejin1204 @aneshb25 @yaririya @copeop @golgappalicious @hamzair @hamzaalimazari @immortalconfluxmuse @mehfil-e-random @laal-pari @saniisinsane @screwyoubatjokesiscanon @tapsite @twinblueflamee @uzairbalochkibiwi @siriuslyitstonystark @uzair-baloch @savagedrama @sunxister21 @yaadonmein @roses-and-iron @adityami @mysticalnightingale @roohafterdark @luvvkk @lakshana-ke-lakshan @afortoru @jassisinghrangi @hyade @harrystyleskiwi9 @lutt-le-gaya @tanipartner @tere-ni-kararan @geometric-circle @shippingtheshippers @cvclee @pavbhajisupremacist @debsreads21 @rehmandakaitswife @tere-naal-nachna @darkdemonriddle666 @yearnerray @sunf1over @dhurandhar-archives @chaotickittydreamer @tojisloft @aan-4-u @whyishekinda @cherryyelixir

[ducksaresuperior]

Indentations (Uzair Baloch x Reader)

A/N: My first fic! Feel free to reblog, comment and give feedback. This was lowk supposed to be a little bit spicier, but ended up being fluffy i think? let me know :) This is not about the actual person, but the portrayal of the character by Danish Pandor in Aditya Dhar's Dhurandhar & Dhurandhar 2. The actual people can go rot.

creds: pinterest, not mine!

Summary: An explicit picture of Uzair, taken by you, is revealed on a normal chai evening with the gang, chaos ensues.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: suggestive, no actual smut, allusions to it, slight cursing.

The crisp Lyari air fluttered through my hair as I pulled out my clutcher from the side of my kurti, to pin it up. It was one of those rare evenings where the Baloch Haveli was allowed peace of its own, for everyone’s laughter to ring through its corridors and high ceilings. 

The closest circle of Sardaar’s gang, sat huddled around the verandah of the Baloch Haveli each nursing a cup of chai and the famed chaand biscuits of Sikander Bakery. 

The kids, along with Ulfat Baaji had gone on a much-awaited visit for a few days to her parents in Karachi. With a mostly empty haveli left to Uzair and I’s devices, it surely allowed us some time to indulge ourselves, undisturbed.

Rehman Bhai’s presence acted like a constant warning in the back of our minds, but it did not stop the extra time we’d steal before Uzair had to leave and I would have to sneak back out of the Haveli.

This train of thought led my eyes to the man in question, who was already looking at me with a soft smile, but something glinting in those soft brown eyes, mischief? Need?

Before I could even raise a brow to ask Uzair, my reverie was broken with Donga’s boisterous laughter, “NO WAY! HOW DID YOU EVEN CAPTURE THAT MONSTROSITY? YOU WILLINGLY GAVE UP YOUR EYESIGHT JUST TO TAKE THAT PICTURE? WAAH YAAR, MAN’NA PADEGA TUJHE TOH SIYAHI!”

As I looked at the phone in Siyahi’s hand, a particularly disgusting picture of his ex, Shagufta and her current boyfriend, locked in a heated embrace, graced my eyesight, earning a look of pure hatred and disdain at the pair. The former, having cheated on Siyahi, had been on the receiving end of all of our collective side-eyes for the last couple of weeks.

Sure, Siyahi might have been busy with the factory work and running from Balochistan to Lyari constantly, but that didn’t give her an excuse to cheat now, did it?

“Bhai, yeh toh sahi ka downgrade hai, sachme yaar! Kya bakchod pictures leta hai par tu bhi, matlab Donge ko bhi competition de raha hai ab kya?” Hamza chuckled, as he touched upon the very topic Donga received the most criticism or love for, depending on who you asked. His love for photography was a much-debated topic in the youth of Lyari and particularly in our group. It wasn’t the scenery or stills of this city, but rather the strange and frankly, disturbing quirks and situations of people that he liked to capture.

His gallery consisted of people drooling literally, in the middle of spitting out blood after a fight, Akhlaaq mid-sneeze, Sajid’s unfiltered yearning for SP Aslam, whispered conversations between the helpers in the Haveli and so on. It was rarely endearing and mostly unsettling. 

“Nahi yaar, Donge ko koi nahi hara sakta, mai bata raha hu, shayad Y/N ya Faizal bhi nahi” Siyahi stated. That drew everyone’s attention into the conversation. “Kya matlab Y/N ya Faizal nahi hara sakte? Tu yeh bol raha hai ki mere bacche bhi yeh Donge ke sangat me aake aisa ajeeb ajeeb tasveere kheechne lagi hai?!” Rehman Bhai exclaimed comically.

This prompted the current situation, the gang, scrolling through their collections, showing each other pictures and videos we’d taken of the others sleeping, mid-screaming or simply embarrassing themselves.

Hamza sat next to me, looking through the folder in my gallery where I had taken photos of the gang mostly, unlike the other weirdos who shot (a/n: hehe) random people as well. As he scrolled past a particularly insane photo of Donga and Siyahi in a heated argument, that looked like they would kiss at any moment, he landed on a photo of Rehman Bhai staring daggers into the ledgers, trying to make sense of the entirely wrong calculations of one of the boys.

“Arre kya din tha Hamza voh, aisa lag raha tha ki ya toh book inhe kha jayegi, ya fir bhai book ko. Voh jo naya banda rakha tha na aapne, mai sahi bata rahi hu, na credit ka c jaanta hai na debit ka d. Isse achha toh aap Uzair ko hi karne dete bhai, mai bata rahi hu. Unse accha koi nhi karta finances.”

As I continued ranting, consciously trying to fluster Uzair while ensuring I don’t give us away too much, Hamza swiped to the last photo in the folder. A loud squeak left him, “Y/N??!! UZAIR??!!” 

I turned to tell him off for cutting my rant, and shit.

There sat, one of my best works, a picture of Uzair frickin Baloch, manspread, hair mussed, eyes glassy, and his kurta torn. His neck and chest- a true masterpiece from my ministrations from one of our shared evenings. Littered with dark and forming hickeys across the expanse of his shoulders, neck, pecs, and his abs, all prettily arranged, highlighted by the glow of the low lit lightbulbs across his room. 

Every single detail, his hazed lust-filled eyes, the tent of his pants with a dark patch on his thigh, his nose highlighted with remnants of the white powder, my bra hanging over the edge of the bed in the background, was so clearly on display to every single person there and all I heard was the sharp inhale Uzair took.

fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK (a/n: literally. I wish.)

“I- I can explain, I promise-” I squeaked out, turning to Rehman Bhai, “EXPLAIN? I THINK THIS PICTURE SPEAKS LOUD ENOUGH FOR BOTH YOU AND MY DEAR BROTHER DON’T YOU THINK??” He burst out. “Since when, Uzair?”

“Bhai, mai bata raha hu na, humein explain toh karne di jiye, plea-”

“KAB SE UZAIR? HUMEIN KAHA NHI GAYA KYA TUM DONO SE? EK BAAR BHI? ULFAT SE? HAMZE SE?”

“BHAI MAI USSE PYAAR KARTA HU, VOH MUJH SE KARTI HAI, HUM NIKKAH KARENGE BUT ABHI HUME THODA TIME CHAHIYE. HUM EK DUSRE KO JAAN RAHE HAI, PLEASE PARESHAN MAT HOIYE AUR ULFATBHABHISEBACHALENAPLSPLSPLS” He stopped to take a breath, when Hamza burst out laughing. “Chal Donga, paise nikal, mai jeet gaya, bola tha na, iss mahine toh kuch na kuch inke kaand nikal hi aayenge”

My head whipped around so fast, I wanted to smack this stupid ass over the head, “KYA?! TUMNE HUMPE SHART LAGAYI THI? HAMZE KE BACCHE RUK TU AB” as I got up to chase him through the verandah. Just as I was about to cross Uzair, his long arms pulled me flush down on his lap and held me in place with a strong grip around my waist. “Ruk jaao, jaana, isko toh hum saath me dekh lenge, pehle bhai se nipat le, fir bhabhi se bhi toh bachana hai inhe humko.” he whispered as he placed a kiss to the side of my head.

“Hmmph! Theek hai, jaan, magar pehla strike uss par mera” I whisper back with a kiss of my own to his forehead.

“Ho gya tumhara yeh chumma-chaati? Aur kitna jaanoge ek dusre ko ab, Uzair? Bhabhi ko aane do, tum dono ki toh khair nahi!” 

DM or comment to be added to the taglist! :)

[oinswiftie]

The Gangster and His Gundi (One-Shot)

Pairing: Uzair Baloch x Female Reader

Tropes: Lyari Gangster / Fearless College Student, Love at First Sight, Instant Smitten, Absolute Devotion/Worshipful Hero, Protective Man

Synopsis: When a loud market trip turns into an absolute battleground of words, you completely unleash your badass fury on a rude street vendor, capped off with a fiery lecture to the two towering onlookers standing nearby. You have no idea you just humiliated a local dealer right in front of Uzair Baloch, the fierce and imposing gangster of Lyari's underworld and then proceeded to scream at him and his partner as well. Totally captivated by your sheer fearlessness and sharp tongue, Uzair instantly falls hopelessly in love.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This fanfiction is based on the character of Uzair Baloch from Aditya Dhar’s Dhurandhar duology, portrayed by Danish Pandor. It is a work of transformative fiction intended purely for entertainment purposes and is not affiliated with, authorized by, or endorsed by the filmmakers, actors, or production companies.

The afternoon heat in Lyari’s central market was thick, heavy with the scent of fried jalebis, crushed marigolds, and the metallic tang of old coins. You and your best friend-Sramana were navigating the cramped lanes, trying to check off a shopping list that felt a mile long.

"Yaar, if we don't get these clothes and lace by five, the tailor is going to lock his shop and leave us stranded. We need those dresses done before Eid warna end moment me kuch pehenne ko nahi milega, " Sramana muttered, wiping her forehead as she dragged you toward a shimmering jewelry cart. "Aur upar se yeh garmi... mera toh dimaag kharab ho raha hai."

The cart was an absolute treasure trove, spilling over with glass bangles and heavy silver earrings. Standing right next to you, examining a pair of delicate jhumkas, was an elegant woman in a pastel shalwar kameez. Standing slightly behind her, guarding her like a pair of towering, silent stone walls, were two broad-shouldered men. You casually glanced at them but didn't pay much attention—you weren't involved in local politics and had no idea you were standing next to Ulfat Bhabhi, Uzair Baloch, and Hamza Ali Mazari.

Sramana reached out to touch a pair of oxidized silver hoops hanging from the top rack. "Oye, dekh na, yeh kitne pyaare hain."

Before her fingers could even brush the metal, the shopkeeper—a stout man with stained teeth—slapped a heavy hand down on the wooden counter with a loud thap.

"Hey! Don't touch if you aren't buying," he snapped, his eyes raking over Sramana with a dismissive, ugly look. "Tum jaisi larkiyan bas yahan time waste karne aur designs chorane aati hain. Chalo, aage barho. Real customers ka rasta mat roko."

Sramana froze, her face flushing a deep crimson. She shrank back, her confidence instantly evaporating under his harsh tone. She instinctively clutched your arm, pulling you away. "Chal na, jaane de... nikalte hain yahan se," she whispered, her voice trembling.

But the moment he treated Sramana like dirt, something in your chest snapped.

"Excuse me?" You stepped squarely in front of Sramana, shielding her. Your voice cut through the market noise like a blade. "Kya bola tumne abhi? Tamiz nahi hai baat karne ki?"

The shopkeeper scoffed, crossing his arms. "Maine kaha, aage barho. Go play somewhere else, larki."

"First of all, you will watch your tone when you speak to us," you said, leaning over the counter, completely unfazed by his size. "Aukaat mein reh kar baat karo, samjhe? Kisne haq diya tumhe badtameezi karne ka?"

The shouting match escalated quickly. The vendor was turning red, furious that a young girl was humiliating him in front of a growing crowd. Finally, losing his mind, he threw his hands up and hurled a classic, insulting sneer:

"Chal chal! Bohot dekhi hain tere jaisi. Tere jaisi 36 aayengi aur 36 jayengi!"

You didn't even blink. You leaned in closer, a lethal, mocking smirk on your face, and fired back at the top of your lungs:

"Haan haan! Tera baap bhi 36 laya hoga, tu kaunsi wali ka hai?!"

The entire market lane went dead, drop-dead silent. The shopkeeper’s jaw practically hit the floor. Next to you, Ulfat Bhabhi choked back a sudden, shocked laugh, hiding her face in her dupatta. Behind her, Hamza raised a brow, thoroughly amused, while Uzair’s chest rose and fell as a slow, dangerous, and completely mesmerized smile crept onto his face.

Sramana looked like she was going to faint. "Abbe pagal, kya bol rahi hai?! Chal yahan se!" she cried, grabbing your arm with both hands and violently dragging you backward.

But you weren't done venting your fury. As Sramana was pulling you away, your eyes angrily swept over the crowd and landed dead on the two towering men—Uzair and Hamza—who had just been standing there like rocks, watching the whole thing play out.

You stopped, broke out of Sramana's grip for a split second, pointed a furious finger straight at Uzair's chest, and shouted at them:

"Aur tum dono! Saale naam ke mard ho tum! Beech bazaar mein ek larki ko ulta-seedha bol raha hai, chhed raha hai, aur tum dono wahan khade-khade tamasha dekh rahe ho?! Sharam nahi aati? Jao, ghar mein ghunghat pehen ke baith jao!"

Sramana practically shrieked in horror, grabbed your hand, and dragged you into the crowd at lightning speed before you could yell at anyone else.

For a few seconds, the space where you stood remained perfectly silent. Then, Hamza let out a low, booming chuckle, shaking his head. "Ghunghat? Bhai... isne toh hume hi sunakar chali gayi."

Uzair didn't say a word. He stood frozen, his dark, intense eyes locked on the spot where you had just been standing. His heart was hammering against his ribs in a way it never had before. The raw fire in your eyes, the absolute fearlessness, the way you had insulted a dangerous local gangster and his partner without even knowing who they were—it completely captivated him.

A slow, breathless laugh escaped Uzair’s lips. He was deeply, utterly, and instantly in love.

Ulfat Bhabhi adjusted her dupatta, a knowing, highly impressed smile on her face. She looked at Uzair’s starstruck expression and patted his shoulder. "Bohot aag hai larki mein, haina? Pata lagao kaun hai yeh, Uzair. Aur suno, agle hafte use humare haveli par khaane ke liye bulana hai. Invitation card tum khud dene jaoge."

Uzair cleared his throat, his gaze still lingering on the empty street. "Aap gaadi mein baithiye, Bhabhi. Naam, pata, sab kuch shaam tak haath mein hoga... aur invitation card main khud hi lekar jaunga."

A week had passed since that chaotic afternoon. You and Sramana were sitting on the porch of your house, enjoying the cool evening breeze. Sramana was endlessly scrolling through her phone, complaining about college assignments, while you were turning the pages of a notebook.

Suddenly, a heavy, purring sound filled the narrow street. A sleek, pitch-black SUV pulled up right in front of your gate.

Sramana gasped, dropping her phone. "Oye... yeh gaadi yahan kyun ruki hai?"

The heavy car door swung open, and Uzair Baloch stepped out. He wore a crisp, tailored black kurta that highlighted his imposing frame, and a thick silver ring caught the dying sunlight. His dark eyes scanned the house before locking directly onto you.

Your defensive instincts flared instantly. You stood up, stepping slightly in front of Sramana. You later learned the name of the towering man from the market, Uzair Baloch-right hand and cousin of Rehman Dakait.

Uzair walked up to your small gate, his boots making a heavy sound against the pavement. He stopped just a few feet away, a slow, deeply amused smirk spreading across his face as he took in your fierce expression.

"Arey, aate hi itna gussa?" Uzair said, his voice a low, smooth gravelly drawl that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. He leaned one hand against the gate post, looking down at you with genuine fascination. "Don't worry, main yahan ghunghat pehen ke nahi aaya hoon. Aur na hi koi lafda karne."

Your eyes widened slightly as the memory of what you said in anger hit you in full force. You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms tightly. "Humare ghar ke bahar kya kaam hai tumhara? Aur hume kaise dhoonda?"

Uzair let out a short, quiet laugh. "Lyari mein mere liye kisi ko dhoondna koi mushkil kaam nahi hai. Waise, mera naam Uzair hai. Uzair Baloch." He leaned in just a fraction closer, his gaze turning intense. "Pichle Tuesday ko jo tumne market mein kiya na... bohot jigra hai tum mein. Meri bhabhi tumse bohot impressed hui thi."

Sramana peeked from behind your shoulder, her face turning pale as paper. "Yaar, tu toh marwayegi hume..." she whispered in sheer panic. Sramana was a textbook people-pleaser, terrified of authority, and now the biggest name in Lyari underworld was standing at your gate.

But you kept your ground, unblinking. "So? Toh tum yahan sirf apni beizzati ka badla lene aaye ho?"

"Badla?" Uzair murmured softly, his eyes dropping for a split second to your lips before snapping back to yours. "Nahi, main toh ek kaam se aaya hoon."

He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a heavy, beautifully textured envelope made of cream-colored silk paper with a gold seal. He held it out to you, his large hand brushing against yours for a brief, electric moment as you took it.

"What is this?" you asked.

"Yeh invitation hai," Uzair explained, his tone shifting into something remarkably respectful yet incredibly smooth. "Ulfat Bhabhi ne bheja hai. She wants to host you and your friend at the Baloch Haveli for a proper dinner this weekend. Aur haan..." Uzair leaned in, a dangerous, intensely charming spark in his eyes. "Us dukandaar ki dukaan maine agle hi din hamesha ke liye band karwa di thi. Mere ilaqe mein koi larki ko ulta-seedha bole, yeh mujhe pasand nahi."

You looked down at the royal envelope, then back up at his towering figure. He was dangerous, powerful, and you were completely captivated.

"Haveli par zaroor aana," Uzair whispered, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a challenging, lingering gaze. "Wahan koi tumse unchi awaaz mein baat karne ki jurrat bhi nahi karega. Main khud dhyan rakhunga. I'll be waiting for you."

Saturday evening arrived, and Sramana was practically hyperventilating. She had changed her outfit five times, muttering, "Yaar, hum gunde ke ghar ja rahe hain, thoda simple kapde pehente hain na!" But you? You wore a gorgeous, striking traditional outfit, put on your favorite silver jhumkas, and walked out with your head held high.

The Baloch Haveli was spectacular—imposing, heavily guarded, and radiating old-money power. Armed guards in crisp linen kurtas stood at the gates. Sramana immediately glued herself to your side, clutching your sleeve like a lifeline. "Please, chal wapas chalte hain," she whimpered.

"Stop it, Sramana. Breathe," you whispered back, completely unfazed.

The grand wooden doors opened, and Ulfat Bhabhi walked out with a warm, maternal smile. "Aao, aao, masha'Allah, kitni pyaari lag rahi ho dono!" She pulled both of you into a warm hug. Sramana stiffened up like a board, bowing her head instantly. "A-Assalamualaikum, Bhabhi. Thank you so much for inviting us," she stammered and cringed inwardly.

Ulfat chuckled, patting Sramana’s cheek. "Walaikum Assalam, beta. Darna nahi hai, yeh tumhara apna hi ghar hai." Then she turned to you, a spark of deep admiration in her eyes. "Aur tum... bilkul waisi hi lag rahi ho jaisi us din market mein thi. Confident aur fearless."

Inside, the dinner turned into an absolute blast. Despite Sramana’s initial terror, the warmth of the household melted the ice completely. Rehman Dakait was laughing at the head of the table, and Hamza Ali Mazari was cracking jokes left and right, casually teasing Uzair about the "ghunghat" comment from the market. You fit right into their chaotic, high-energy dynamic, giving witty comebacks to Hamza’s teasing, while Sramana quietly relaxed, giggling into her dupatta.

Uzair sat directly across from you, his dark, intense eyes tracking your every move, every laugh, and every sharp retort. He looked completely smitten, utterly captivated by how effortlessly you commanded the room.

When night fell and it was time to leave, the atmosphere was thick with warmth. Because it was late, Ulfat Bhabhi commanded, "Hamza, gaadi nikalo. In dono ko safe ghar chhor kar aao."

Hamza jingled the car keys with a grin. "Ji, Bhabhi. Hukum sir aankhon par."

Just as they were walking to the SUV, Uzair casually stepped out of the shadows, throwing a black shawl over his shoulders. "Main bhi chal raha hoon," he announced, his voice a low drawl.

Hamza smirked, seeing right through him. "Kyun bhai? Abhi toh poori dopahar poore Lyari ka chakkar kaat kar aaye ho. Thake nahi?"

Uzair shot Hamza a sharp, warning glare. "Gaadi chala tu, zyada dimaag mat chala."

The drive back was filled with light banter, but you could feel Uzair’s gaze on you through the rearview mirror the entire time. When the SUV finally pulled up to your gate, Sramana practically scrambled out, whispering a quick, polite, "Thank you so much, Allah Hafiz!" before running inside to give you guys space.

You stepped out of the car, smoothing down your outfit, and turned to look at Uzair, who had stepped out with you. The cool night breeze blew a strand of hair across your face.

Uzair walked up close, his massive frame blocking out the streetlights, casting a protective shadow over you. "Toh..." he murmured, a slow, devastatingly charming smile breaking across his face. "Haveli mein darr toh nahi laga?"

"I told you before, Uzair Sahab," you replied, tilting your chin up with a playful smirk. "I don't scare easily. The food was amazing, and your family is lovely."

"Aur main?" Uzair stepped a fraction closer, his voice dropping into a deeper, dangerously intimate register that made your heart skip a heavy beat. His eyes locked onto yours, full of unadulterated interest. "Main accha nahi laga?"

You felt a blush creeping up your neck, but you refused to back down. "You? You were surprisingly well-behaved. No ghunghat required."

Uzair let out a low, rough chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your silver earring for a fleeting, electric second. "Chalo, dil mein jaan aayi. Warna mujhe laga aaj fir se daant padegi." He leaned in slightly, his dark eyes softening completely. "Kal college se free kab ho rahi ho?"

"Around three. Why?"

"Main lene aaunga. Ek date planned hai. Mana mat karna," he said, his tone a mix of a command and a gentle plea. Before you could answer, he gave you a lingering, deep look that made your stomach flip, murmured a soft "Khuda Hafiz," and slid back into the car.

As the SUV drove away, you stood at the gate, a genuine, fluttering smile on your lips. You had to admit it to yourself—you were starting to like him. A lot.

The next day at exactly 2:55 PM, the sleek black SUV was already idling outside your college gates. The students whispering and staring gave away his presence long before you even reached the road.

Uzair was leaning against the car, looking incredibly handsome in a crisp white pathani suit. The moment his eyes found you in the crowd of exiting students, his entire face lit up. He didn't care who was watching; to him, the entire world had faded into background noise.

He opened the passenger door for you with the utmost respect. "Assalamualaikum," he murmured gently as you slid in.

"Walaikum Assalam. Where are we going?" you asked, curious.

"Ek aisi jagah jahan koi hume disturb na kare," he said, driving away from the bustling city lanes.

The drive away from the college gates felt entirely different from your usual chaotic commute. Uzair drove with a relaxed confidence, his dark eyes occasionally darting away from the road to steal a glance at you.

He had taken you to a quiet, upscale rooftop restaurant overlooking a calmer side of the city—a spot he had completely cleared out so you wouldn't be bothered by the typical market crowds or whispering onlookers. The table was piled high with your favorite street foods, elegantly served alongside traditional sweets.

Throughout the afternoon, the dynamic between you two was effortless. You didn't hold back your sharp wit, and Uzair absolutely thrived on it. Every time you delivered a quick-witted comeback, he would let out a low, rough laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine delight. He listened to your stories about college, your rants about difficult assignments, and your banter about Sramana's dramatic panic attacks with an intensity that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. The date ended on an incredibly good note, filled with shared laughter and a lingering, unspoken tension as he dropped you home before sunset.

But after that day? Uzair Baloch turned into a certified lost puppy.

The fierce, imposing gangster who ruled the streets of Lyari suddenly found himself completely at the mercy of your schedule. Everywhere you went, a certain sleek black SUV wasn't too far behind. If you went to the local library, Uzair would be parked across the street. If you and Sramana went to grab gola ganda after class, you’d spot him leaning against a wall nearby, casually chatting with his boys but keeping his eyes locked entirely on you.

And because Uzair went everywhere you went, his inner circle had no choice but to tag along.

It became a hilariously common sight in the neighborhood: you walking down the street, followed by a small, incredibly dangerous entourage trying their best to look casual. Hamza Ali Mazari would be leaning against a lamppost, cracking up at how whipped his partner was. Donga and Siyahi, usually terrifying figures in the underworld, would be standing around awkwardly, holding shopping bags or waiting for orders while Uzair just stared at you with a goofy, lovestruck smile.

"Bhai, sach mein... pure Lyari mein humara khauf hai, aur yahan hum dhoop mein khade hoke larki ka wait kar rahe hain," Siyahi would mutter under his breath, adjusting his jacket.

Donga would chuckle, patting his shoulder. "Chup kar, Siyahi. Agar Uzair Bhai ne sun liya na, toh tere se hi pura market ka chakkar katwayenge. Dekh toh sahi kaise piche piche ghoom rahe hain."

Hamza would just shake his head with a grin, calling out, "Oye Uzair! Chal na yaar, bhabhi toh chali gayi andar. Ab kya gate ko dekhta rahega?"

Little by little, despite your best efforts to remain guarded and independent, the heavy walls around your heart began to melt. You started looking forward to seeing that black SUV. You found yourself smiling whenever you caught him watching you, and you’d even tell the street vendors to give him and his exhausted boys free cups of tea and you would secretly pay for them. He was powerful, dangerous, and fiercely protective, but around you, he was completely defenseless.

Then came a rainy Tuesday afternoon.

You were walking out of your college gate, expecting the usual sight of Uzair leaning against the car door, waiting to flash his devastating smile. But when he stepped out of the vehicle, something was different. His movements were slightly stiff. As he reached out to open the door for you, the sleeve of his kurta shifted, revealing a thick, stark white bandage tightly wrapped around his forearm.

Your heart instantly dropped into your stomach. A cold wave of panic washed over you.

"Uzair," you said, your voice sharp as you stopped dead in your tracks, ignoring his outstretched hand. "What is that?"

Uzair quickly tried to pull his sleeve down, offering a casual, dismissive shrug. "Kuch nahi hai, rani. Bas ek chhota sa scratch hai. Chalo, baitho gaadi mein—"

"Don't 'kuch nahi hai' me!" you snapped, your voice cracking slightly as the reality hit you. You stepped closer, grabbing his uninjured wrist and forcing him to look at you. You knew his world was violent, but seeing physical proof of it shook you to your core. "Yeh bandage kis liye hai? Tum kisi lafde mein the? Koi gang war scuffle tha?!"

Behind him, Hamza, Donga, and Siyahi exchange quiet, serious looks, stepping back to give you two space.

"Answer me, Uzair!" you demanded, your eyes burning with sudden tears. The anger was masking a deep, overwhelming fear of losing him. "Tumhe samajh nahi aata? Agar tumhe kuch ho gaya toh?! Tum har waqt dushmanon ke beech ghoomte ho, aur yahan mujhe darr lagta hai! Shauk hai kya tumhe yeh sab karne ka?"

As a hot tear finally escaped and rolled down your cheek, Uzair’s entire tough-guy demeanor crumbled. The sight of your tears completely shattered him. He didn't care about the scuffle, his wound, or the fact that his top lieutenants were watching.

He stepped into your space, his large, uninjured hand gently coming up to cup your face, his thumb softly wiping away the tear. His dark eyes were wide, swirling with a mixture of pain, yearning, and an absolute, deep-rooted devotion.

"Tum darti ho mere liye?" Uzair whispered, his voice incredibly low, thick with raw emotion. He leaned his forehead down close to yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Mat ro, jaan. Tumhari aankhon mein aansu dekh kar mera kaleja phat jaata hai. Yeh zakhm kuch nahi hai... tumhare in aansuon se zyada dard mujhe kisi goli se nahi hoga."

You let out a shaky sob, your hands clutching the fabric of his kurta. "Toh mat kiya karo na yeh sab... mujhe sach mein bohot darr lagta hai, Uzair."

Uzair’s grip on your cheek tightened gently, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that felt entirely holy. He couldn't hold it back anymore. The lost puppy, the pining, the endless following—it all culminated in this exact, quiet moment under the grey sky.

"Main nahi karunga... tum jo kahogi main wahi karunga," Uzair confessed, his voice trembling with the sheer weight of his love. "Puri duniya ek taraf, aur tum ek taraf. Main tumse bohot mohabbat karta hoon. Dil, jaan, sab kuch tumhare naam kar chuka hoon pichle ek mahine se. Main tumhare bina nahi jee paunga."

Your heart hammered wildly against your ribs. Looking into his vulnerable, worshipful eyes, the last of your doubts vanished into thin air.

"Main bhi," you whispered back, a fresh tear falling as a genuine, beautiful smile broke through your panic. "Main bhi tumse bohot mohabbat karti hoon, Uzair. Isiliye itna gussa aata hai."

Uzair let out a breathless, triumphant laugh, pulling you into a tight, fierce embrace that completely shielded you from the rest of the world. Behind him, Hamza smiled, shaking his head, while Donga and Siyahi finally let out sighs of relief.

The boss was finally happy, and Lyari’s fiercest leader had officially found his queen.

Uzair stood there under the pouring grey sky, holding you so tightly it felt as though he were trying to fuse your soul with his. The rain hammered against the roof of the SUV and splashed around your feet, but inside the circle of his arms, there was only a warm, consuming quiet.

Behind his back, Hamza casually slung an arm over Siyahi’s shoulder, a massive grin splitting his face. "Dekha? I told you, bhai was a goner the moment she told him to wear a ghunghat," Hamza whispered loudly over the sound of the rain.

Donga let out a low chuckle, nudging them both. "Chalo chalo, let’s give them some space before Uzair Bhai remembers we are standing here and assigns us to guard duty in the middle of a storm."

As the boys quietly piled back into the backup vehicle, Uzair slowly pulled away just enough to look down at your face. His thumbs gently stroked your wet cheeks, his dark eyes absolutely brimming with an emotion so intense it bordered on reverence.

"Suno," he murmured, his deep gravelly voice dropping to a rare, fragile register. "Aaj ke baad, Lyari mein kya, poori duniya mein koi aisa lafda nahi hoga jisme main apni jaan halke mein loon. Ab meri jaan meri nahi rahi, rani. Yeh tumhari amanat hai."

You let out a watery, breathless laugh, burying your face against his crisp white kurta one last time before letting him guide you into the warmth of the passenger seat. The drive back to your house was quiet, but it wasn't the heavy, tense silence of before. Your fingers were tightly intertwined with his uninjured hand over the gear shift, and every time the car stopped at a signal, Uzair would lift your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles with an unhurried, deeply protective devotion.

The weeks that followed their confession transformed the dynamic of Lyari entirely. Uzair didn't just love you; he worshipped the very ground you walked on. The black SUV was no longer a shadow following you in secret; it was your personal escort.

If you wanted to study late at the library, Uzair would have the entire street cleared of loud vendors so you could focus. If Sramana mentioned she was craving a specific street food from the other side of Karachi, Donga would arrive at your doorstep within thirty minutes, holding steaming packages with a polite, "Bhabhi, bhai ne bheja hai."

Your house became a fortress of respect. Neighbors who used to whisper about the young unmarried girls at your home now lowered their heads in deep reverence whenever you passed. But through it all, you remained exactly who you were—sharp-tongued, fiercely independent, and completely unafraid to put Uzair in his place whenever his gangster ego flared up. And Uzair absolutely loved it. He would sit in meetings with heavy political leaders, look completely terrifying, and then instantly soften the moment your name popped up on his phone screen.

The grand courtyard of the Baloch Haveli was bathed in the warm, golden glow of fairy lights and floating candles. The occasion was a massive celebration—a formal family gathering to mark a year of peace in the district, and more importantly, your official place beside Uzair.

The air was thick with the rich aroma of mutton biryani, roasting kebabs, and sweet zafrani kheer. Music played softly in the background, competing with the loud, booming laughter of Rehman Dakait, who was sitting on a plush charpai, deeply engaged in a conversation with the elders.

You stood near the marble fountain in the center of the courtyard, wearing an exquisite, heavy white traditional suit that Uzair had personally selected for you. Your silver jhumkas caught the light as you laughed, holding a small plate of sweets.

Right beside you was Sramana.

But this wasn't the trembling, terrified Sramana from a year ago. The girl who used to hide behind your shoulder at the mere mention of a weapon was currently dressed in a stunning royal blue lehenga, her posture straight, her chin held high. Frequent visits to the Haveli and being under the direct protection of the Baloch family had completely shattered her shell. She had grown out of her people-pleasing anxieties, walking through the heavily guarded corridors with an easy, confident grace.

"I’m just saying," Sramana said, casually popping a kaju katli into her mouth and pointing her spoon toward the entrance. "If the caterers don't bring out the hot naans in the next five minutes, I am going to go full karate on them. I learned from the best, after all."

You laughed, nudging her shoulder. "Look at you. Kahan woh ladki jo darr ke maare kapkapati thi, aur kahan ab. I’ve created a monster."

"You created a confident woman," Sramana corrected with a brilliant, bright smile, her eyes sparkling.

Before you could reply, a deep, heavy pair of footsteps approached from behind. A large, solid arm slid smoothly around your waist, pulling you back against a broad chest clad in a matching white sherwani. The familiar scent of expensive cologne and tobacco enveloped you instantly.

"Meri jaan..." Uzair murmured against your hair, his voice low and possessive as he kissed the side of your head. He looked down at you, his eyes completely dark with that familiar, intense devotion that had never faded for a single day. "Puri mehfil mein bas tum hi chamak rahi ho. Mera toh dimaag ghoom raha hai tumhe dekh kar."

You tilted your head back, looking up at his sharp jawline and the heavy silver ring on his finger resting against your waist. "Uzair, control yourself. Sab dekh rahe hain."

"Dekhne do," Uzair scoffed softly, a proud, dangerous smirk on his lips as his grip tightened around you. "Puri duniya ko pata hona chahiye ki Uzair Baloch kiske saamne jukhta hai."

Right then, Hamza Ali Mazari strolled over, a crisp maroon linen kurta hanging perfectly on his broad shoulders. He had a glass of sherbet in his hand, his eyes instantly tracking over to Sramana. The usual playful, mocking smirk he kept for Uzair completely vanished the moment his eyes landed on her.

Hamza stepped into the circle, his gaze lingering on Sramana’s confident stance. "Assalamualaikum, Sramana ji," Hamza said, his voice dropping into a remarkably smooth, charming register. "Aaj toh aap bilkul... kya kehte hain English mein... stunning lag rahi hain."

A year ago, Sramana would have choked on her breath and hidden behind you. But today? She turned to face Hamza fully, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow, a beautiful, teasing smile playing on her lips.

"Walaikum Assalam, Hamza ji," Sramana replied smoothly, looking him straight in the eye without a shred of hesitation. "Tareef ke liye shukriya. Lekin aapka yeh dialougewbaazi har ladki par chalta hoga, mere saamne thoda asli tareef seekh kar aaiye."

Hamza blinked, completely caught off guard by her sharp, confident retort. He let out a sudden, loud chuckle, his eyes widening with absolute fascination as he looked at her. He rubbed the back of his neck, thoroughly smitten. "Oho... lagta hai bhabhi ki sangat ka asar bohot gehra hua hai. Pura firecracker ban gayi ho."

"Fierce logon ke sath rehkar thoda toh seekhna hi padta hai," Sramana said, giving him a playful wink before turning back to the sweet counter.

Uzair watched the exchange and let out a low, rough chuckle, leaning his chin heavily against your shoulder as you both watched Hamza stand there, completely dazed and staring at Sramana like a lost puppy—the exact same way Uzair had a year ago.

"Dekha?" Uzair whispered in your ear, his breath warm and loving. "Humare khandaan ki yahi khubi hai... hum Baloch mard jab kisi se mohabbat karte hain na, toh bas unke ghulam ban jaate hain."

You turned slightly in his arms, wrapping your hands around his neck, looking into the eyes of the man who ruled Lyari with an iron fist but handled your heart like glass.

"Aur main is ghulam ko kabhi azaad nahi karne wali," you whispered back with a soft smile.

Uzair’s eyes softened into pure, unadulterated adoration, pulling you into a deep, warm embrace under the starlit Lyari sky, completely content in the kingdom he had built entirely for you.

HEYYYYYY-WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THIS??? DO LEAVE A LIKE AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE IT ;)

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PLS DON'T KILL ME IDK WHO TO TAG SO I'M JUST TAGGING THE PEOPLE WHO READ AND WRITE DHURANDHAR FANFIC AND HAVE LIKED MY PREVIOUS POSTS LOL ALSO IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED IN MY FUTURE FANFICS DO TELL ME XOXO

[slutforkaz]

Pehli nazar mai (Major Iqbal x fem!reader)

CHAPTER -1

Reader is jameel Jamali’s daughter . Age gap is quite huge .

Part 2 Part3 part4 part5

Disclaimer: This story is a work of transformative fiction. I do not claim ownership of the original characters or setting. This work is not for profit and is not intended to challenge the copyright of the original owners. This work does not support, promote, or glorify violence, crime, terrorism, or any unlawful activities in any form. It is purely a fictional narrative. The portrayal of characters, events, and settings is fictional and does not represent real-life individuals or situations.

Guys this is just a fanfic of Major Iqbal x reader I don’t intend to portray the real person in what so ever form . Just for entertainment and cause Arjun Rampal is fine asf . I hope the real person behind all the suffering is burning in pits of hell .

Dedicated to @trishnayaaah ‘s request .

This is my first ever post I’m sorry if I don’t know how to manage the app .

Ps: this is the song Sarah Arjun urf yalina was listening when she saw hamza for the first time.

I hope I make this fic enjoyable do lmk in the comments <3.

Let’s begin finally after all the yapping .

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂 𝓈𝓂𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓋𝓎 𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒸𝒾𝑔𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓈.

Powerful men sat at the round dining table with sliding glass which usually rotated to have easier access to each dish served but today was different only thing served on the table was liquor along with a side of heavy decision making .

Major Iqbal, Rehman dakait, his cousin uzair & hamza standing with the presence of a oak tree sat across from Jameel Jamali, posture straight, expression unreadable, as strategy unfolded in low voices.

Majors voice boomed across the room “ji aap ka ye kehna ye hai-

Then the door opened without permission.

It did not only open it banged with such force that the frames aligned on the wall rattled . It was none other than y/n she was burning with fury face red and cheeks wet with tear stains . Rehman was shocked to see the picture she always considered him and uzair as an older brother , seeing their little sister in such a state they both stood up straight and she ran to Rehmans comforting aura .

He immediately took his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her sensing something grave must have happened to make his little sister cry . She immediately took it and started weeping in it .

Jameel Jamali’s pudgy little face was a sight to behold . He was red in the face clearly angry that his daughter had no manners barging into such an important meeting with the head of ISI and embarrassing him to such an extent.

Meanwhile the man in question Major Iqbal the head of ISI was just staring at the scene with a blank face . No emotions visible behind his stotic face .

Y/n started speaking “bhai aapko pata hai unhone kya kiya ?” She questioned Rehman .

Before Rehman could ask she spoke again “ inhone Mera nikah set kardiya hai vo bhi Aise Aadmi se jiske 2 baccha hai Dubai mai rehte hai ….na jaan na pehchan bas burger baccha mila toh shadi karane nikal gaye abbu aap hi batao bhai kuch sense hai is baat ka? “ she continued er rant “khud se batane ki Himmat bhi nai thi Inme accha hua yalina ne sun liya inko plan banate hue varna pata nai nikah ke din aate aur bolte beta ready ho jao Dubai Jana hai!” She spoke all of this in one breath breaking the tension in the room .

“Y/n bas karo chup chap kamre mai jao kuch Akal hai tumhare? Itni important meeting chal rahi hai ghusi aa rahi ho Bina vajeh !” Jameel spoke almost shouting.

She had the urge to poke out her tounge at him just to infuriate him more but before she could do it her gaze finally fell on an unfamiliar man

At first, it was accidental—just a glance, the kind you don’t think twice about. But something held. Something refused to let go.

There was no smile. No immediate softness. Just a stillness… deep and unfamiliar.

The uniform. The silence. The way he was watching; not intruding, not reacting just observing.

She felt an unfamiliar warmth in her stomach and a shiver went up her spine . His gaze was focused on her only not on anyone else .

He was observing her with such an intense gaze which made her involuntary hide behind Rehman but she resisted the urge to do so . Refusing to give into his powers .

“Beta ye kya haal banaye rakha hai tumne Chalo chin up ….jameel sahab kya Masla hai batao toh sahi ? Sidha nikah kar vane nikal gaye aap bachi ka itna Paraya samajh liya aapne humse pucha tak nai ? Hum koi accha sa Rishta dhundte . “ Rehman spoke with authority claiming y/n as his own child much to Jameela distaste .

“Arey mere bache ye baat nai hai bas abhi dekhna chalu kiya hai yalina ne pata nai kya sun liya sab aadhe cheze sunke pura ghar utha liya isne toh . Yah allah kya kiya tha Maine Asia Jo itni dramebaz beti di hai ?” He spoke making an action to above heavens .

“Aap pe hi gayi hai lagta hai “ uzair spoke in a hushed tones to hamza which made both of them giggle like teenagers making y/n bite back a grin .

Rehmans gaze snapped to them and they both hushed down .

“Meeting kabhi aur ke liye postpone kar denge hum chalet hai Humara lamba rasta hai aage” spoke his commanding voice as he rose up and buttoned his coat .

His gaze didn’t linger in a way that was obvious or bold.

It stayed in that quiet, controlled way….but this… this required more attention than he expected.

His gaze again was stuck to the pretty face in front of him . He was mesmerised by her frankly speaking , he wanted to get out of here and do complete research on her from A to Z.

“Arey major sahab maaf kardijiyega bachi ke vajeh se ye hogaya jo bhi hai aapko yalina ke walima mai zarur aana hai kuch bhi ho jae . Nikah Mai nai aapae koi masla nai par walime mai and hi hai aapko .” Jameel spoke again and uzair like a teen boy nudged hamza on the mention on his and yalinas walima which was going to take place this Saturday. Hamza blushed and looked at his shoes .

“Ji zarur aane ki koshish karunga khuda hafiz “

He spoke and turned to leave Mir following him like a shadow .

As soon as his car left the driveway Jameel’s face was like a bright tomato he was throughly embarrassed much to y/n’s pleasure seeing her scheming father in such a tight spot.

“Abbu aisa lag raha hai raite mai bawarji aapka chehra kaat le tamatar ke jageh “ She ran away before he could shout and went up her room laughing .

Jameel sighed and held his head in his hands asking rehman “kya Kare is ladki ka ek pal ka chain Mujhe jeene nai deti jab dekhi kuch na kuch masle karti hai . “

Rehman smiled a bit and consoled him “Aap kahe toh hum accha ladka Dekh le kya ? Dubai vagere nai apne area ka hi accha ladka dekhi mai ? Fikar na Kare Aap y/n acchi bacchi hai thode mazak mai kya hi hogaya .”

Uzair chimed in saying “dekhiye laughter is the best medicine ye yalina ne hi sikhaya hai na aapko hasa ke fit kardegi jo apki diet se toh nai hoaraha “

Oh how badly hamza wanted to laugh but did not want to get smacked by his father in law so he kept looking at his shoes suppressing a grin .

“Chalo hum bhi chalet hai kafi late hogaya Ulfat intazar karrhi hogi “ Rehman spoke referr to his wife .

“Shab bakhair” jameel said and they parted their ways.

Meanwhile

Y/n was in her own world reminiscing the moment the major looked at her as if she’s the only thing in the room to be seen . She smiled and started imagining how would he look standing next to her 5’3 frame . She would look like a small princess next to her very strong and tall body guard.

Imagining this she started laughing and wished yalina was still here so that she could share her absurd thoughts with her .

Feeling dejected she ran her hands over her face and waited for the storm coming as in her father’s discussion of marriage .

‘Ya allah bacha Dena please shadi se qaid nai hona Mujhe ‘ she thought internally .

She had seen her mother give up on her dreams to become a doctor when she married her father .

Honestly she was terrified of being home all day doing nothing depending on her husband (whoever he would be ) for money and freedom .

A shudder went through her imagining such a life .

She wanted a grand love story like her little sister who had immediately fallen for hamza and vice versa .

She hoped love would find her way and it would be in the form of major Iqbal .

Part 2 Part3

Guys how was the first chapter …I planned on it to be a onee shot but i can’t write anything short since school days 😭 part 2 coming soon pls lmk if anything needs to be added or changed . Also comment to be added in tag list .also pls help how to make a tag list 😭😭

@misteriadare @leftmakerpaperpie @trishnayaaah @mariaaysbusjs @faerica0 @golgappalicious @between-smoke-and-roses @angelllk1ssed @ooopssssu @prettyprettypleaseplease @wannabefucko @mainyahaankyunhoon @peonies7002 @moonysscar @thewintersbloom @desigal-26 @marlena-marlena @tere-naal-nachna

...pls msg if you want to be removed it's my first time writing 😊

Love ya 🥰

[desigurlie]

Another headcanon (don't come for me it's kinda sweet).

So in an interview with those background gang members, one of the actors said that Aditya told them to act like they have lost a father when the news of Rehman's death is confirmed in that hospital scene. That has kind of spawned all my Rehman is basically running a daycare for mobsters in all my fics.

So I imagine every gang member newly initiated goes through the rite of passage where he is either classified as the younger son or the older son. If Rehman Bhai ruffles your hair, you are in the younger kids group. If Rehman Bhai pats your back or throws an arm around your shoulders, then you are in the older kids group.

If you are a younger kid, you are allowed to have the occasional tantrum or might get your demands indulged or will be forgiven small mistakes. If you are an older kid, you are in the inner circle, you get to protect the family, get bigger responsibilities and maybe a bigger paycheck at times but ALSO might get an approving look from Ulfat bhabi. But you will never be forgiven any mistake trivial or not. Will definitely be expected to always be serious about everything. Might get a smaller Eidi.

Uzair bhai is above all of this. He is the perpetual monkey child Rehman bhai has unfortunately adopted and does whatever he wishes. Rehman bhai yells at him the most, sometimes he gets very hard head whacks but somehow still hasn't gotten brain damage (Donga is a little sceptical about this one).

So Hamza gets the lecture when he is initiated too. But people are super confused about what category he falls in. Because one day Rehman actually asks the new kid about his opinion on something serious and the next day he is seen getting a head ruffle. Donga is very concerned about where to place him. The brat got an apartment and a bike and the fattest Eidi he has ever seen. But he also gets to move around the inner circle and has Rehman leaning into him imperceptibly.

Siyahi is a little jealous. Because it took him a long time to get promoted from the younger kid to the older one and still Rehman looks at him sometimes like he is younger than Faizal (He doesn't mind the head ruffles though).