Ophelia

Here for the tea and the hehe. 🌺

[whyishekinda]

Welcome to @whyishekinda

ophelia

status: currently imagining fictional scenarios instead of being productive.

likes: ☾ rain ☾ old music ☾ crime podcasts ☾ emotionally unavailable characters

rules: ✦ don't be weird ✦ Follow guidelines ✦ be kind

requests: ✦OPEN✦

NAVIGATION

about me

guidelines

masterlist ↓

Dhurandhar

Pritam and Pedro

[whyishekinda]

Announcement📢

After much consideration (and staring at a blank Google Doc for several business days), I've decided that I'm officially retiring from writing new Dhurandhar fanfics.

Reasons include, but are not limited to:

- 🧠 My writer's block.(Endhan khatam hain mera💔)

- 🎭 My brain has collectively agreed that it no longer wishes to produce Dhurandhar content(Hyperfixation period over☝🏼😔).

- 📄 Every time I open a new document, the cursor just judges me.

- The vibes are just nkt the same.

HOWEVER! Before anyone starts planning my funeral in the dms:

📌 I will be finishing my pending requests because I made promises, and my guilt is stronger than my motivation. And I'll be completing all my own drafts on the fantom and put it out there.

But after those are done? This train reaches its final station. If inspiration decides to kick my door down six months from now, cool. If not... well, it was a fun ride.

Thank you to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, screamed in the dms, and generally enabled this era of my life. Y'all made it incredibly fun. ❤️

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to figuring how to finish off these drafts.

Bye!

Taglist: @laal-pari @warnermeadowsgirl @scentedwolfdragon @miwagonemad @pleasetagmejaaneman @pn28 @desibaddies @harrystyleskiwi9 @withlovemii @avasif @anxiousbeeing @goodnightkatherine @istilldonotslay @gehra-hua @forbiddenfanaa @cloudmast @bobcuts-blog @niyadarealart @mylifesalreadyfucked @gulaabjamun08 @manjari08 @forbiddenfanaa @dollie1111xo5 @iamadelusionalwriter @goldenharrysworld @debsreads21 @theuselessdaydreamingidiot @writrsblu @chai-aur-chaand @miraclejin1204 @mainyahaankyunhoon @precioussophia @rosiasthings @dhurandhar-archives @hamzair-is-my-otp @royaldreamermonsoon @between-smoke-and-roses @lavenderwinkle @sarcastic-ravenpuff @qalamband @rhymeskiii @granddynamonovajbvgjjj @sugarvibez @akshayes @rosesandpeoniesthings @bxtchyrose @alpineforeverr @sunf1over @prettylady2006

[whyishekinda]

Continued taglist: @rehmanhatesdosa @indigo-pdf @oinswiftie @obsessedwidskincare @rabbdaradio @notyesha @dhoodhsoda

[whyishekinda]

Announcement📢

After much consideration (and staring at a blank Google Doc for several business days), I've decided that I'm officially retiring from writing new Dhurandhar fanfics.

Reasons include, but are not limited to:

- 🧠 My writer's block.(Endhan khatam hain mera💔)

- 🎭 My brain has collectively agreed that it no longer wishes to produce Dhurandhar content(Hyperfixation period over☝🏼😔).

- 📄 Every time I open a new document, the cursor just judges me.

- The vibes are just nkt the same.

HOWEVER! Before anyone starts planning my funeral in the dms:

📌 I will be finishing my pending requests because I made promises, and my guilt is stronger than my motivation. And I'll be completing all my own drafts on the fantom and put it out there.

But after those are done? This train reaches its final station. If inspiration decides to kick my door down six months from now, cool. If not... well, it was a fun ride.

Thank you to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, screamed in the dms, and generally enabled this era of my life. Y'all made it incredibly fun. ❤️

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to figuring how to finish off these drafts.

Bye!

Taglist: @laal-pari @warnermeadowsgirl @scentedwolfdragon @miwagonemad @pleasetagmejaaneman @pn28 @desibaddies @harrystyleskiwi9 @withlovemii @avasif @anxiousbeeing @goodnightkatherine @istilldonotslay @gehra-hua @forbiddenfanaa @cloudmast @bobcuts-blog @niyadarealart @mylifesalreadyfucked @gulaabjamun08 @manjari08 @forbiddenfanaa @dollie1111xo5 @iamadelusionalwriter @goldenharrysworld @debsreads21 @theuselessdaydreamingidiot @writrsblu @chai-aur-chaand @miraclejin1204 @mainyahaankyunhoon @precioussophia @rosiasthings @dhurandhar-archives @hamzair-is-my-otp @royaldreamermonsoon @between-smoke-and-roses @lavenderwinkle @sarcastic-ravenpuff @qalamband @rhymeskiii @granddynamonovajbvgjjj @sugarvibez @akshayes @rosesandpeoniesthings @bxtchyrose @alpineforeverr @sunf1over @prettylady2006

[whyishekinda]

Autopsy & Algorithms

Genere: Fluff, Crack-ish if you squint.

Pairing: Pritam Parker x Dr. Y/N L/N

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on Rajkumar Hirani and Avinadh Arun's series Pritam and Pedro. All Original characters belong to them with exception of Y/N. This is made for entertainment purpose only.

Warnings: Bad writing😭

A/N: Been through the Writer's block for a while now so this might be shit. Read at your own risk😭

If there was one thing Pedro Gonsalves hated more than paperwork, it was rich people with smart homes.

The victim's villa overlooked the beautiful stretch of goan sea, all white walls, glass windows and expensive automation. Every light and electronics could be controlled through an app, every door had biometric locks, all the cameras uploaded footage to the cloud every 24 hours.

Which would've been impressive...if only the owner wasn't found dead inside the house and somebody hadn't wiped every second of security footage.

"Sir, the local CCTV DVR is clean. Whoever did this deleted everything." Jayant, approached Pedro with a tablet.

Pedro nodded towards the man sitting cross legged on the floor with three laptops open around him,"Usko dikhao."

The inspector hesitated,"Him?"

"Haan, usi ko."

Pritam Parker looked up from his laptop with an easy smile,"Good morning, Jayant sir."

The inspector looked at Pedro again,"Sir...?"

Pedro rolled his eyes,"Don't just stand here, dikhao Usko.. yeh sab cyber-wyber walo ka kaam hai."

Jayant gave him a look as he handed the DVR to Pritam,"...Sir aap bhi toh cyber waale hi ho-" 

Pedro glared at Jayant so hard that Jayant decided it was best for him to just walk away from the scene.

Meanwhile,Pritam plugged another cable into the DVR.

"Interesting..."

Pedro looked over his shoulder,"Kya?"

"The killer deleted the footage."

"Haan-."

"But sirf delete nahi kiya"He enlarged a log on the screen.

"Dekho. Camera recordings gayi. Door lock logs gaye. Motion sensor history gayi."

Pedro frowned,"So?"

"So agar koi normal hacker hota, poora system uda deta."

"Hmm."

"Yeh banda selective tha."He tapped the screen,"Usse pata tha exactly kya delete karna hai."

The room grew quieter around them.

Even the investigating officer leaned closer, "So according to you...yeh murder tha?" he asked.

Pritam shrugged,"Murder tha ya nahi ...yeh toh aap log bataoge."

He looked toward the staircase,"Main bas itna bol raha hoon... jisne system hack kiya, usse crime scene ki kahani change karni thi."

Pedro had worked with Pritam long enough to know that whenever he started spewing a lot of information....he had noticed something.

"The body?" Pedro asked.

"Study." The investigating officer said.

The three of them walked upstairs.

The victim lay slumped on chair behind a massive teak desk, one hand stretched on the table while the other on the side. Blood stained the polished wooden floor, the edge of the carpet and one side of the wall.

Pritam didn't go near the body.

Instead, he slowly walked around the room.

His eyes moved from the wall...to the desk....to the small blood droplets on the bookshelf....then back to the body.

"Huh."

Pedro folded his arms."Kya hua?"

"I don't know."

"So helpful."

"I'm serious."

Pritam pointed towards the wall,"Mujhe forensic nahi aati, lekin agar body yahan mili hai..."

He pointed to the floor."...toh blood udhar itna zyada kyun hai?"

Pedro looked.

The blood spatter behind the desk looked unusually dense.The body, however, was  metres away.

The inspector spoke first."Victim ne jab gun chalai, tab movement ke wajah se shayad blood waha gir gaya ho-."

"Ho sakta hai," Pedro admitted, nodding to the officer."But..."

"But?"

"I'd like someone who actually understands blood patterns to tell me I'm wrong."

The officer nodded once,"Fair."

Pedro pulled out his phone,"Ek expert ko bulata hoon. Then we will have all the answers."

The investigating officer nodded in approval and went to interrogate the others presnt in the house.

---

Pritam smirked,"Who are you calling, sir? Crime Branch ke Sherlock Holmes ko?"

"Nahi."

"Senior doctor friend of yours then?"

"Nahi."

"Toh?"

Pedro smiled faintly, "meri saali sahiba ko"

The phone rang once,"Haan Pedro bhai?"

"Aa sakti ho?"

"Case?"

"Murder."

"Fresh?"

"Teen ghante."

"Location bhejo."

The line disconnected.

---

Nearly fifteen minutes later, the soft puttering of a scooter drifted through the open front door.

A pastel blue scooter rolled neatly between two police vehicles.

The rider removed her helmet, hooked it over the handlebar and lifted a black forensic case from the footboard before walking towards the house.

Pritam happened to glance outside.

Then froze,"...Nahi."

She climbed the front steps, looked up and stopped walking.

For two whole seconds...neither of them spoke.

Then- "TUM?!"

Her voice echoed through the hallway.

Pritam pointed at her in disbelief, "TUM?!"

Every head in the room turned.

Pedro looked from one to the other.

"...Ek minute."

Y/N recovered first. She looked at Pedro.

"Bhaoji..."

"Haan...?"

"Yeh yahan kya kar raha hai?!"

At exactly the same time-

Pritam threw both hands into the air.

"Nahi, pehle yeh batao, YEH yahan kya kar rahi hai?"

Pedro frowned,"...Tum dono ek dusre ko jaante ho?"

Both answered without missing a beat.

"YEH SCAMMER HAI!" "Itni fussy customer maine zindagi mein nahi dekhi!"

Silence.

A constable quietly lowered the evidence marker in his hand. The crime scene photographer stopped clicking pictures.

Someone in the back whispered,"Sir... lagta hai doosra murder hone wala hai."

Pedro looked utterly confused.

"Scammer?"..."fussy customer..?"

Y/N folded her arms,"Isne mujhe vacuum cleaner becha."

Pedro looked at Pritam,"...Tum vacuum cleaner bechte ho?"

"Haa bola toh tha apko, Part-time karta hoon"

She continued as if he hadn't spoken,"Do saal ki warranty bolke becha."

"Haan toh thi na do saal ki warranty-"

"Teen din mein kharab ho gaya woh khatara!"

"Company ki problem hai!"

"Main ek hafte se customer care ko phone kar rahi hoon!"

"Main bhi kar raha hoon!"

She stared,"...Tum...bhi call kar rahe ho?"

"Haan, and they don't pick my calls either!"

Pedro rubbed his forehead,"Ek minute...Wait-"

Neither of them stopped.

"Tumne bola tha doorstep service!"

"Maine bola tha company degi!"

"Tum company hi toh ho!"

"Main salesman hu!"

"Mujhe farak nahi padta!"

"Mujhe padta hai!"

"Scammer!"

"Impossible customer!"

Pedro suddenly clapped his hands.

The sharp sound cut through the argument.

"Bas!"

Both fell silent.

Pedro pointed towards the house,"Yaad hai hum yahan kyun aaye hain?"

Neither answered.

"Murder. Vacuum cleaner ka consumer court baad mein laga lena."

A few officers coughed suspiciously to hide their laughter.

Pedro sighed,"Tum dono ke jo bhi personal issues hai, woh iss crime scene ke bahar rahenge."

He turned to Y/N,"Tum study mein jaake body dekh lo."

Then to Pritam,"Aur tu... please paanch minute ke liye chup rehna."

Pritam held up both hands,"Theek hai."

Y/N shot him one last glare before walking up to the study.

Pritam and Pedro followed and saw her kneeling beside the victim. In one smooth motion she tied back her hair, slipped on a fresh pair of gloves and opened her forensic kit.

The irritation disappeared from her face and turned into ultra sharp focus.

She examined the blood on the floor first, then the wall, then the victim's hands.

Pritam, who had every intention of looking away, found himself watching instead.

Five minutes ago she'd been calling him a scamner and now she was completely absorbed in a murder scene.

Pedro caught him staring,"Kya?"

"Nothing."

Pritam looked back at Y/N as she quietly measured the angle of the bloodstains,"...Bas soch raha hoon."

"Kya..soch raha hai?"

Pritam didn't answer Pedro, and instead kept looking at her for a second too long.

The anger from the earlier argument with him was still there, faintly visible in the set of her jaw, but it no longer ruled her face. That had happened the moment she opened her forensic kit. It was like someone had turned a key inside her and switched her from annoyed customer into a professional woman with far more important things to do.

Pritam found that a little unfair.

People who could do that should not also have such sharp beautiful eyes....wait...beautiful what? What was he even thinking!?

Pritam shook his head to get rid of those thoughts and continued watching her work.

The investigating officer, on the other hand, was too impatient for silence. He had already decided the shape of the case in his head, and his mind kept trying to force the case to fit that shape. Suicide. Locked room. Gun in hand. No visible intruder. It was neat. Tidy. Almost comforting. Men like him always loved a neat theory; it meant the world could still be explained by the things they already knew.

Y/N asked for a flashlight and a ruler. One of the constables handed them over immediately. Pritam did not miss the fact that she barely looked up when she took the ruler. That should not have bothered him. It was not as though they were friends. It was not as though they’d shared anything beyond one horribly memorable vacuum cleaner transaction and one very public argument over customer care. But still, some part of him had expected her to acknowledge him. Some part of him wanted to see her eyes on him.

She did not even glance in his direction.

And that, somehow, bothered him more than it should have.

She measured the angle of the blood spray against the wall, then the height of the chair, then the distance between the body and the desk. Her lips pressed together in thought.

“This is not a simple self inflicted shot,”she said as she stood up.

The officer frowned. “Ma’am, gun toh uske haath ke paas thi.”

She nodded once, as if that didn’t matter much at all,“Gun haath ke paas rakh dene se suicide nahi ban jaata.”

She walked behind the chair, careful not to disturb the evidence markers. The back spatter was there, as Pedro and Pritam had already noticed, but under her gaze it became something more precise.

“There’s too much blood on the wall behind the desk,” she murmured.

The officer blinked. “Gunshot ki wajah se?”

“Gunshot ki wajah se blood aata hai,” she replied, “par pattern alag hota hai.”

She glanced at the victim’s shoulder next, and then at the position of the chair. Her fingers hovered over the fabric of the backrest without touching it.

“This body was moved,” she said.

That actually pulled Pedro’s attention in more sharply.

“Moved?”

She nodded. “Haan. SIGSW ke cases mein body ki postion iss se different hoti hai. Jis position mein yeh mila, uske hisaab se iss particular angle mein, woh bhi itne pass se goli chalana is almost impossible.”

She pointed once, briefly, toward the floor behind the desk. “From my theory, primary blood loss yahan hua. Phir body ko utha ke is chair mein settle kiya gaya.”

The officer opened his mouth, likely to argue out of habit, but Y/N kept going before he could get there.“Also,look at the wound angle.”

She gestured to the victim’s hand and then to the revolver.

“Self-inflicted shot mein, specially for the side of the temple, the bullet should have a exit wound kyuki bohot pass se goli chalti hai. But I can't see any visible exit wounds here. And even the grip on the gun looks awkward."

Pedro stared at the victim’s hand.

It suddenly looked less like evidence and more like a prop.

Pritam tilted his head. He wasn’t pretending to understand the forensic details, but he understood enough to know when a scene was being dismantled piece by piece.

The officer finally asked, “Toh aap keh rahi hain ye murder hai?”

"Yes. But if you still want, you can wait for the PM report. I'll tell Dr. Tejas to fastrack it.” she said.

The investigating officer nodded and left to question the rest of the staff. Somewhere downstairs, someone was talking too loudly about cold chai, probably Dhattatrey. Pedro stayed where he was for a second, looking at the body, then at Y/N, then at Pritam, who had quietly gone back to his laptop. 

This was gonna be a long one. Hopefully, once the case is done DIG sir would finally look into transferring him back to the crime cell.

---

The next few days slipped into a rhythm none of them had planned.

The murder investigation grew larger with every passing hour. Witnesses changed statements, forensic reports trickled in one after another, and Pritam spent most of his day buried behind glowing laptop screens while Y/N disappeared between the crime branch forensic lab and cyber cell carrying evidence files from one wing  of the station to another.

Which meant they kept running into each other, not intentionally, of course not. Just... constantly.

The first few times, Y/N still looked at him with open suspicion.

She'd hand Pedro or Sherlyn a report, notice Pritam sitting beside them, and narrow her eyes ever so slightly and mutter,"I see the scammer is still here."

Pritam would sigh dramatically without looking up from his laptop,"Good morning to you too, Doctor Sahiba."

Pedro, already halfway through reading the report, would wave a dismissive hand.

"Arre bas bhi karo tum dono. Waise bhi Pritam jo bolta hai, ninety-nine percent sahi hota hai."

Y/N wasn't convinced.

"Haan haan. Mr. Genius hacker. Vacuum cleaner toh phir bhi kharab hi nikla."

Pritam pressed a hand to his chest as if she'd mortally wounded him.

"Theek hai. Main zindagi bhar uss vacuum cleaner ke liye taane sun lunga, just dont look at me like that."

She fought a smile.

Fought.

Unfortunately, she lost.

It lasted barely a second before she looked away, pretending to read her report instead.

Pritam noticed anyway, and it made his heart race. It was definitely because he was sitting infront of the laptop for hours...ofc it was, what else could it be?

---

As the investigation progressed, so did their partnership.

Pritam would recover deleted files and quietly slide his laptop towards her.

Y/N would skim through them, point out which timestamps actually mattered, and save him hours of chasing useless leads.

He stopped seeing her as the woman who had nearly dragged him to consumer court weeks ago.

But now, she has become the person who noticed details everyone else walked past, the way she'd absent-mindedly tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear while thinking, the tiny crease that appeared between her brows whenever something didn't make sense, the excitement in her eyes whenever science proved someone wrong.

He found it unfair.

She was already beautiful. Did she really have to be brilliant too?

Somewhere between reconstructed timelines and post-mortem reports, he caught himself waiting for the sound of a scooter in the cyber cell parking lot every morning.

He never admitted it. Not even to himself.

Y/N, meanwhile, found her opinion of him changing against her own wishes.

He was infuriating, ridiculously dramatic, hopelessly messy.

His temporary desk at the cyber cell looked like a coffee shop had exploded on it.

And yet...he never took credit for anyone else's work.(Unlike some people, *coughcough*Dhaatarey😑*coughcough*)

Whenever someone praised him, he was the first to say, "Forensics se confirm aya tha, Dr.Tejas did most of the work." or, "Maine nahi, Dr. Y/N aur Pedro sir ne yeh information nikala" , he thanked constables by name, he remembered to ask the canteen uncle about his daughter's exams.

One afternoon she watched him spend nearly fifteen minutes helping an elderly woman unlock her phone before returning to the murder case without a hint of irritation.

She blinked,"...Tum sabke saath aise hi ho?"

Pritam looked up."Kaisa?"

"...Achhe."

He smiled, "Maybe you're the good person between the two of us, isliye sabme acchai dikhti hai."

She looked away before he could see the smile threatening to escape,"haan haan woh toh usi din pata chal gaya tha jis din you sold me that useless vaccum cleaner"

"aree yaar...app-", he was about to defend himself again when he noticed the playful smile on her face, and abruptly stopped, looking away as he felt that familiar rush of weird warmth spreading in his chest.

Y/N only giggled, maybe he wasn't a scammer.

Maybe he was just a terrible salesman.

There was a difference.

---

Pedro noticed none of it.

Not the way Pritam automatically saved the chair beside him whenever Y/N was expected.

Not the way Y/N unconsciously walked over to his desk instead of calling him across the room.

Not the way their arguments had become lighter, softer, ending more often in laughter than frustration.

To Pedro, they were simply doing what good investigators did.

Working well together.

He had no idea that somewhere between murder files, forensic reports and deleted server logs...his apprentice had quietly started falling for his sister in law.

And his saali sahiba, despite every promise she'd made to herself after buying that terrible vacuum cleaner...was beginning to look forward to seeing the salesman every morning.

---

The breakthrough in the case arrived on a Tuesday afternoon.

With three people quietly doing what they did best.

Pritam had spent the better part of two days rebuilding deleted fragments from the villa's smart home network. Most of it was useless, failed login attempts, corrupted backups and incomplete logs but buried beneath thousands of lines of recovered data was one anomaly he couldn't explain.

A phone, one that wasn't registered to anyone living in the house, it had connected to the villa's WiFi dozens of times over the last three months, always in the late afternoon, always after the victim's wife was at work.

He missed it before because it had never appeared in the guest access logs because someone had manually authorised it through the owner's phone.

Pedro frowned at the screen.

"...Affair."

Pritam nodded slowly,"I think so."

Y/N, who had been comparing the victim's call records with the post mortem timeline, quietly placed another file beside them,"It fits."

Both men looked at her

"The victim had traces of a second person's perfume on his shirt collar. I ignored it initially because I thought it belonged to his wife.", She opened the report,"It doesn't."

Pedro's eyes narrowed.

"The wife doesn't use that brand."

Y/N shook her head.

"And before you ask..."She turned another page,"...we recovered a thin auburn hair from his cuff that some idiot didn’t send it for testing thinking its dog fur"

Pedro blinked,"Dhattatrey..."

"Who else" Y/N added sighing.

Silence settled over the table.

Pritam looked at the recovered WiFi logs again, Pedro looked at the witness statements, Y/N looked at the forensic report.

Sherlyn said, " could it be the assistant?"

"No...she has long black hair" Pedro murmured.

"The interior designer?" Pritam guessed.

Y/N slowly looked up," nuh uh, it has to be the event planner lady...she was crying a lottle too much...for a client's..death."

The room went quiet.

Pedro grabbed the witness statements again.

The event planner.

A woman who claimed she had visited the villa only twice.

A woman who had cried convincingly during questioning.

A woman whose phone number...

Pritam's fingers flew over the keyboard.

"...Found her."

Pedro leaned closer.

The recovered WiFi MAC address matched a phone registered under another name.

One that belonged to the victim's "freelance event consultant."

Except...The call records showed nearly three hundred conversations over six months.

She wasn't his consultant. She was his mistress.

And on the afternoon of the murder...

She had been inside the villa.

Not only that, The smart irrigation controller in the garden had unknowingly logged movement near the rear exit nearly twenty minutes after the supposed time of suicide.

Exactly enough time to stage the room.

Pedro slowly smiled,"Chalo."

---

The arrest happened before sunset.

She tried to deny everything.

Then she tried blaming the wife.

Then she claimed the victim had become violent.

But the evidence refused to cooperate with her story.

The digital trail.

The bloodstain reconstruction.

The staged crime scene.

The bruising.

The recovered messages Pritam managed to restore from cloud fragments.

By the time Pedro placed the handcuffs around her wrists, the case had already been solved.

Back at headquarters, the atmosphere felt noticeably lighter.

The DIG himself walked out of his office carrying the completed file.

"I'll admit," he said, looking around the room, "initial report dekh ke mujhe bhi suicide hi laga tha."

Pedro scratched the back of his neck.

"Sir..."

The DIG smiled,"Good work, Gonsalves."

His gaze shifted to Pritam,"Especially you young man, good job."

Then to Y/N,"And Doctor L/N, excellent forensic observations as always."

She nodded politely,"Thank you, sir."

Pedro cleared his throat,"...Sir, ek chhoti si request thi."

The DIG sighed dramatically,"Mujhe pata tha."

"Crime Branch..."

The older man laughed,"Ek case solve karke transfer thodi mil jaata hai, Pedro."

Pedro sighed.

"But..."

Pedro straightened.

"...solve a few more like this."

He closed the case file with a firm clap.

"I'll personally recommend your transfer to the DGP."

Pedro's face lit up like a child on Christmas morning,"Thank you, sir!"

The DIG pointed toward the door,"Ab jao."

"Sir?"

"Celebrate."

---

An hour later, they found themselves at a tiny beach shack overlooking the sea, Pedro called his wife over to join the celebration.

The shack had fresh seafood, soft music drifting lazily through the salty breeze.

Pedro insisted on paying.

Stacey rolled her eyes and quietly paid the bill before he could.

Nobody mentioned it.

Y/N narrated the whole story to her sister animatedly, the case became a funny story halfway through dinner.

"So..." Stacey looked at Pritam,"Vacuum cleaner ka kya hua?"

Pritam raised his hands up in a mock surrender, "Maine manager se baat kar li hai...they will replace it by next week."

Y/N smirked,"See? Consistencey is key." Everyone laughed, Pritam stared at Y/N laughing, carefree and so at ease. God this woman would be the death of him.

Pedro shrugged and went back to arguing with Stacey about who had cheated at cards the previous weekend.

Completely oblivious.

By the time they left, the roads had emptied.

The sea breeze had turned cooler.

Y/N reached for her scooter keys before remembering...

"...Workshop."

She sighed,"I forgot."

Pritam jingled his bike keys,"Lucky for you..."

She looked at him.

"...main available hoon."

She rolled her eyes, but sat down anyway.

The ride home was quieter, comfortable.

The city lights slowly gave way to quieter residential lanes until he finally stopped outside her gate.

Neither moved.

Neither seemed particularly eager to end the evening.

Y/N removed the helmet and handed it back,"Thanks."

He took it carefully,"No problem."

Another silence. Longer this time.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

She watched him with growing amusement.

He looked...Nervous.

The same man who could dismantle encrypted servers without blinking suddenly couldn't seem to look her in the eye.

Finally, he laughed awkwardly."Main..."

"Hmm?"

"...ek baat poochun?"

"Poocho."

He took a deep breath.

"I know tum abhi bhi mujhe kabhi kabhi scammer samajhti ho..."

She smiled "I do."

"...lekin..."

He looked everywhere except at her.

"...would you... umm...maybe... kabhi... mere saath bahar chalogi?"

She didn't answer immediately.

Which, for approximately four of the longest seconds of Pritam Parker's life, felt exactly like rejection.

"Oh."

He smiled sheepishly.

"It's okay. You don't have to say yes-Main bas-"

She stepped closer.

Close enough that he forgot what sentence he had been trying to finish.

There was that familiar little crease between her brows.

Except this time...

She wasn't thinking about blood patterns.

Or forensic reports.

Or murder.

She was looking at him.

"You know," she said softly, "for someone who's supposed to be a genius..."

He blinked.

"...you're surprisingly slow."

Before he could ask what she meant, she reached up, gently took hold of the front of his jacket...

...and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

It lasted barely a heartbeat.

When she stepped back, his expression was somewhere between complete astonishment and total system failure.

She smiled, a small, mysterious smile he'd come to recognize over the course of the investigation.

"I think," he said, as she turned towards her gate, "that's a yes."

She disappeared inside before he could recover enough brain cells to go after her and he remained exactly where he was.

Helmet still in one hand, keys in the other.

Smiling like an absolute idiot beneath the porch light.

Somewhere inside the house, Y/N leaned against the closed door, unable to stop smiling herself.

Perhaps buying that terrible vacuum cleaner hadn't been such a bad investment after all.

Taglist: @gulaabjamun08 @sarcastic-ravenpuff @idonthavechatpateusernamed @riddhi-on-break @royaldreamermonsoon @indigo-pdf @rabbdaradio @y0uneversawmehere @goldenharrysworld @akshayes @oinswiftie @kajuuuukatliiiiii @scentedwolfdragon @rehmanhatesdosa @surelysherly @sheeulie @humsafarhumhihai @yearnaholicfr @darldelight @multifandom-boss-bitch @valiantsculptureveil

[whyishekinda]

PRITAM AND PEDRO MASTERLIST:

Pritam Parker/Kabir Sahani x Reader:

Autopsy and algorithms

[whyishekinda]

Autopsy & Algorithms

Genere: Fluff, Crack-ish if you squint.

Pairing: Pritam Parker x Dr. Y/N L/N

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on Rajkumar Hirani and Avinadh Arun's series Pritam and Pedro. All Original characters belong to them with exception of Y/N. This is made for entertainment purpose only.

Warnings: Bad writing😭

A/N: Been through the Writer's block for a while now so this might be shit. Read at your own risk😭

If there was one thing Pedro Gonsalves hated more than paperwork, it was rich people with smart homes.

The victim's villa overlooked the beautiful stretch of goan sea, all white walls, glass windows and expensive automation. Every light and electronics could be controlled through an app, every door had biometric locks, all the cameras uploaded footage to the cloud every 24 hours.

Which would've been impressive...if only the owner wasn't found dead inside the house and somebody hadn't wiped every second of security footage.

"Sir, the local CCTV DVR is clean. Whoever did this deleted everything." Jayant, approached Pedro with a tablet.

Pedro nodded towards the man sitting cross legged on the floor with three laptops open around him,"Usko dikhao."

The inspector hesitated,"Him?"

"Haan, usi ko."

Pritam Parker looked up from his laptop with an easy smile,"Good morning, Jayant sir."

The inspector looked at Pedro again,"Sir...?"

Pedro rolled his eyes,"Don't just stand here, dikhao Usko.. yeh sab cyber-wyber walo ka kaam hai."

Jayant gave him a look as he handed the DVR to Pritam,"...Sir aap bhi toh cyber waale hi ho-" 

Pedro glared at Jayant so hard that Jayant decided it was best for him to just walk away from the scene.

Meanwhile,Pritam plugged another cable into the DVR.

"Interesting..."

Pedro looked over his shoulder,"Kya?"

"The killer deleted the footage."

"Haan-."

"But sirf delete nahi kiya"He enlarged a log on the screen.

"Dekho. Camera recordings gayi. Door lock logs gaye. Motion sensor history gayi."

Pedro frowned,"So?"

"So agar koi normal hacker hota, poora system uda deta."

"Hmm."

"Yeh banda selective tha."He tapped the screen,"Usse pata tha exactly kya delete karna hai."

The room grew quieter around them.

Even the investigating officer leaned closer, "So according to you...yeh murder tha?" he asked.

Pritam shrugged,"Murder tha ya nahi ...yeh toh aap log bataoge."

He looked toward the staircase,"Main bas itna bol raha hoon... jisne system hack kiya, usse crime scene ki kahani change karni thi."

Pedro had worked with Pritam long enough to know that whenever he started spewing a lot of information....he had noticed something.

"The body?" Pedro asked.

"Study." The investigating officer said.

The three of them walked upstairs.

The victim lay slumped on chair behind a massive teak desk, one hand stretched on the table while the other on the side. Blood stained the polished wooden floor, the edge of the carpet and one side of the wall.

Pritam didn't go near the body.

Instead, he slowly walked around the room.

His eyes moved from the wall...to the desk....to the small blood droplets on the bookshelf....then back to the body.

"Huh."

Pedro folded his arms."Kya hua?"

"I don't know."

"So helpful."

"I'm serious."

Pritam pointed towards the wall,"Mujhe forensic nahi aati, lekin agar body yahan mili hai..."

He pointed to the floor."...toh blood udhar itna zyada kyun hai?"

Pedro looked.

The blood spatter behind the desk looked unusually dense.The body, however, was  metres away.

The inspector spoke first."Victim ne jab gun chalai, tab movement ke wajah se shayad blood waha gir gaya ho-."

"Ho sakta hai," Pedro admitted, nodding to the officer."But..."

"But?"

"I'd like someone who actually understands blood patterns to tell me I'm wrong."

The officer nodded once,"Fair."

Pedro pulled out his phone,"Ek expert ko bulata hoon. Then we will have all the answers."

The investigating officer nodded in approval and went to interrogate the others presnt in the house.

---

Pritam smirked,"Who are you calling, sir? Crime Branch ke Sherlock Holmes ko?"

"Nahi."

"Senior doctor friend of yours then?"

"Nahi."

"Toh?"

Pedro smiled faintly, "meri saali sahiba ko"

The phone rang once,"Haan Pedro bhai?"

"Aa sakti ho?"

"Case?"

"Murder."

"Fresh?"

"Teen ghante."

"Location bhejo."

The line disconnected.

---

Nearly fifteen minutes later, the soft puttering of a scooter drifted through the open front door.

A pastel blue scooter rolled neatly between two police vehicles.

The rider removed her helmet, hooked it over the handlebar and lifted a black forensic case from the footboard before walking towards the house.

Pritam happened to glance outside.

Then froze,"...Nahi."

She climbed the front steps, looked up and stopped walking.

For two whole seconds...neither of them spoke.

Then- "TUM?!"

Her voice echoed through the hallway.

Pritam pointed at her in disbelief, "TUM?!"

Every head in the room turned.

Pedro looked from one to the other.

"...Ek minute."

Y/N recovered first. She looked at Pedro.

"Bhaoji..."

"Haan...?"

"Yeh yahan kya kar raha hai?!"

At exactly the same time-

Pritam threw both hands into the air.

"Nahi, pehle yeh batao, YEH yahan kya kar rahi hai?"

Pedro frowned,"...Tum dono ek dusre ko jaante ho?"

Both answered without missing a beat.

"YEH SCAMMER HAI!" "Itni fussy customer maine zindagi mein nahi dekhi!"

Silence.

A constable quietly lowered the evidence marker in his hand. The crime scene photographer stopped clicking pictures.

Someone in the back whispered,"Sir... lagta hai doosra murder hone wala hai."

Pedro looked utterly confused.

"Scammer?"..."fussy customer..?"

Y/N folded her arms,"Isne mujhe vacuum cleaner becha."

Pedro looked at Pritam,"...Tum vacuum cleaner bechte ho?"

"Haa bola toh tha apko, Part-time karta hoon"

She continued as if he hadn't spoken,"Do saal ki warranty bolke becha."

"Haan toh thi na do saal ki warranty-"

"Teen din mein kharab ho gaya woh khatara!"

"Company ki problem hai!"

"Main ek hafte se customer care ko phone kar rahi hoon!"

"Main bhi kar raha hoon!"

She stared,"...Tum...bhi call kar rahe ho?"

"Haan, and they don't pick my calls either!"

Pedro rubbed his forehead,"Ek minute...Wait-"

Neither of them stopped.

"Tumne bola tha doorstep service!"

"Maine bola tha company degi!"

"Tum company hi toh ho!"

"Main salesman hu!"

"Mujhe farak nahi padta!"

"Mujhe padta hai!"

"Scammer!"

"Impossible customer!"

Pedro suddenly clapped his hands.

The sharp sound cut through the argument.

"Bas!"

Both fell silent.

Pedro pointed towards the house,"Yaad hai hum yahan kyun aaye hain?"

Neither answered.

"Murder. Vacuum cleaner ka consumer court baad mein laga lena."

A few officers coughed suspiciously to hide their laughter.

Pedro sighed,"Tum dono ke jo bhi personal issues hai, woh iss crime scene ke bahar rahenge."

He turned to Y/N,"Tum study mein jaake body dekh lo."

Then to Pritam,"Aur tu... please paanch minute ke liye chup rehna."

Pritam held up both hands,"Theek hai."

Y/N shot him one last glare before walking up to the study.

Pritam and Pedro followed and saw her kneeling beside the victim. In one smooth motion she tied back her hair, slipped on a fresh pair of gloves and opened her forensic kit.

The irritation disappeared from her face and turned into ultra sharp focus.

She examined the blood on the floor first, then the wall, then the victim's hands.

Pritam, who had every intention of looking away, found himself watching instead.

Five minutes ago she'd been calling him a scamner and now she was completely absorbed in a murder scene.

Pedro caught him staring,"Kya?"

"Nothing."

Pritam looked back at Y/N as she quietly measured the angle of the bloodstains,"...Bas soch raha hoon."

"Kya..soch raha hai?"

Pritam didn't answer Pedro, and instead kept looking at her for a second too long.

The anger from the earlier argument with him was still there, faintly visible in the set of her jaw, but it no longer ruled her face. That had happened the moment she opened her forensic kit. It was like someone had turned a key inside her and switched her from annoyed customer into a professional woman with far more important things to do.

Pritam found that a little unfair.

People who could do that should not also have such sharp beautiful eyes....wait...beautiful what? What was he even thinking!?

Pritam shook his head to get rid of those thoughts and continued watching her work.

The investigating officer, on the other hand, was too impatient for silence. He had already decided the shape of the case in his head, and his mind kept trying to force the case to fit that shape. Suicide. Locked room. Gun in hand. No visible intruder. It was neat. Tidy. Almost comforting. Men like him always loved a neat theory; it meant the world could still be explained by the things they already knew.

Y/N asked for a flashlight and a ruler. One of the constables handed them over immediately. Pritam did not miss the fact that she barely looked up when she took the ruler. That should not have bothered him. It was not as though they were friends. It was not as though they’d shared anything beyond one horribly memorable vacuum cleaner transaction and one very public argument over customer care. But still, some part of him had expected her to acknowledge him. Some part of him wanted to see her eyes on him.

She did not even glance in his direction.

And that, somehow, bothered him more than it should have.

She measured the angle of the blood spray against the wall, then the height of the chair, then the distance between the body and the desk. Her lips pressed together in thought.

“This is not a simple self inflicted shot,”she said as she stood up.

The officer frowned. “Ma’am, gun toh uske haath ke paas thi.”

She nodded once, as if that didn’t matter much at all,“Gun haath ke paas rakh dene se suicide nahi ban jaata.”

She walked behind the chair, careful not to disturb the evidence markers. The back spatter was there, as Pedro and Pritam had already noticed, but under her gaze it became something more precise.

“There’s too much blood on the wall behind the desk,” she murmured.

The officer blinked. “Gunshot ki wajah se?”

“Gunshot ki wajah se blood aata hai,” she replied, “par pattern alag hota hai.”

She glanced at the victim’s shoulder next, and then at the position of the chair. Her fingers hovered over the fabric of the backrest without touching it.

“This body was moved,” she said.

That actually pulled Pedro’s attention in more sharply.

“Moved?”

She nodded. “Haan. SIGSW ke cases mein body ki postion iss se different hoti hai. Jis position mein yeh mila, uske hisaab se iss particular angle mein, woh bhi itne pass se goli chalana is almost impossible.”

She pointed once, briefly, toward the floor behind the desk. “From my theory, primary blood loss yahan hua. Phir body ko utha ke is chair mein settle kiya gaya.”

The officer opened his mouth, likely to argue out of habit, but Y/N kept going before he could get there.“Also,look at the wound angle.”

She gestured to the victim’s hand and then to the revolver.

“Self-inflicted shot mein, specially for the side of the temple, the bullet should have a exit wound kyuki bohot pass se goli chalti hai. But I can't see any visible exit wounds here. And even the grip on the gun looks awkward."

Pedro stared at the victim’s hand.

It suddenly looked less like evidence and more like a prop.

Pritam tilted his head. He wasn’t pretending to understand the forensic details, but he understood enough to know when a scene was being dismantled piece by piece.

The officer finally asked, “Toh aap keh rahi hain ye murder hai?”

"Yes. But if you still want, you can wait for the PM report. I'll tell Dr. Tejas to fastrack it.” she said.

The investigating officer nodded and left to question the rest of the staff. Somewhere downstairs, someone was talking too loudly about cold chai, probably Dhattatrey. Pedro stayed where he was for a second, looking at the body, then at Y/N, then at Pritam, who had quietly gone back to his laptop. 

This was gonna be a long one. Hopefully, once the case is done DIG sir would finally look into transferring him back to the crime cell.

---

The next few days slipped into a rhythm none of them had planned.

The murder investigation grew larger with every passing hour. Witnesses changed statements, forensic reports trickled in one after another, and Pritam spent most of his day buried behind glowing laptop screens while Y/N disappeared between the crime branch forensic lab and cyber cell carrying evidence files from one wing  of the station to another.

Which meant they kept running into each other, not intentionally, of course not. Just... constantly.

The first few times, Y/N still looked at him with open suspicion.

She'd hand Pedro or Sherlyn a report, notice Pritam sitting beside them, and narrow her eyes ever so slightly and mutter,"I see the scammer is still here."

Pritam would sigh dramatically without looking up from his laptop,"Good morning to you too, Doctor Sahiba."

Pedro, already halfway through reading the report, would wave a dismissive hand.

"Arre bas bhi karo tum dono. Waise bhi Pritam jo bolta hai, ninety-nine percent sahi hota hai."

Y/N wasn't convinced.

"Haan haan. Mr. Genius hacker. Vacuum cleaner toh phir bhi kharab hi nikla."

Pritam pressed a hand to his chest as if she'd mortally wounded him.

"Theek hai. Main zindagi bhar uss vacuum cleaner ke liye taane sun lunga, just dont look at me like that."

She fought a smile.

Fought.

Unfortunately, she lost.

It lasted barely a second before she looked away, pretending to read her report instead.

Pritam noticed anyway, and it made his heart race. It was definitely because he was sitting infront of the laptop for hours...ofc it was, what else could it be?

---

As the investigation progressed, so did their partnership.

Pritam would recover deleted files and quietly slide his laptop towards her.

Y/N would skim through them, point out which timestamps actually mattered, and save him hours of chasing useless leads.

He stopped seeing her as the woman who had nearly dragged him to consumer court weeks ago.

But now, she has become the person who noticed details everyone else walked past, the way she'd absent-mindedly tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear while thinking, the tiny crease that appeared between her brows whenever something didn't make sense, the excitement in her eyes whenever science proved someone wrong.

He found it unfair.

She was already beautiful. Did she really have to be brilliant too?

Somewhere between reconstructed timelines and post-mortem reports, he caught himself waiting for the sound of a scooter in the cyber cell parking lot every morning.

He never admitted it. Not even to himself.

Y/N, meanwhile, found her opinion of him changing against her own wishes.

He was infuriating, ridiculously dramatic, hopelessly messy.

His temporary desk at the cyber cell looked like a coffee shop had exploded on it.

And yet...he never took credit for anyone else's work.(Unlike some people, *coughcough*Dhaatarey😑*coughcough*)

Whenever someone praised him, he was the first to say, "Forensics se confirm aya tha, Dr.Tejas did most of the work." or, "Maine nahi, Dr. Y/N aur Pedro sir ne yeh information nikala" , he thanked constables by name, he remembered to ask the canteen uncle about his daughter's exams.

One afternoon she watched him spend nearly fifteen minutes helping an elderly woman unlock her phone before returning to the murder case without a hint of irritation.

She blinked,"...Tum sabke saath aise hi ho?"

Pritam looked up."Kaisa?"

"...Achhe."

He smiled, "Maybe you're the good person between the two of us, isliye sabme acchai dikhti hai."

She looked away before he could see the smile threatening to escape,"haan haan woh toh usi din pata chal gaya tha jis din you sold me that useless vaccum cleaner"

"aree yaar...app-", he was about to defend himself again when he noticed the playful smile on her face, and abruptly stopped, looking away as he felt that familiar rush of weird warmth spreading in his chest.

Y/N only giggled, maybe he wasn't a scammer.

Maybe he was just a terrible salesman.

There was a difference.

---

Pedro noticed none of it.

Not the way Pritam automatically saved the chair beside him whenever Y/N was expected.

Not the way Y/N unconsciously walked over to his desk instead of calling him across the room.

Not the way their arguments had become lighter, softer, ending more often in laughter than frustration.

To Pedro, they were simply doing what good investigators did.

Working well together.

He had no idea that somewhere between murder files, forensic reports and deleted server logs...his apprentice had quietly started falling for his sister in law.

And his saali sahiba, despite every promise she'd made to herself after buying that terrible vacuum cleaner...was beginning to look forward to seeing the salesman every morning.

---

The breakthrough in the case arrived on a Tuesday afternoon.

With three people quietly doing what they did best.

Pritam had spent the better part of two days rebuilding deleted fragments from the villa's smart home network. Most of it was useless, failed login attempts, corrupted backups and incomplete logs but buried beneath thousands of lines of recovered data was one anomaly he couldn't explain.

A phone, one that wasn't registered to anyone living in the house, it had connected to the villa's WiFi dozens of times over the last three months, always in the late afternoon, always after the victim's wife was at work.

He missed it before because it had never appeared in the guest access logs because someone had manually authorised it through the owner's phone.

Pedro frowned at the screen.

"...Affair."

Pritam nodded slowly,"I think so."

Y/N, who had been comparing the victim's call records with the post mortem timeline, quietly placed another file beside them,"It fits."

Both men looked at her

"The victim had traces of a second person's perfume on his shirt collar. I ignored it initially because I thought it belonged to his wife.", She opened the report,"It doesn't."

Pedro's eyes narrowed.

"The wife doesn't use that brand."

Y/N shook her head.

"And before you ask..."She turned another page,"...we recovered a thin auburn hair from his cuff that some idiot didn’t send it for testing thinking its dog fur"

Pedro blinked,"Dhattatrey..."

"Who else" Y/N added sighing.

Silence settled over the table.

Pritam looked at the recovered WiFi logs again, Pedro looked at the witness statements, Y/N looked at the forensic report.

Sherlyn said, " could it be the assistant?"

"No...she has long black hair" Pedro murmured.

"The interior designer?" Pritam guessed.

Y/N slowly looked up," nuh uh, it has to be the event planner lady...she was crying a lottle too much...for a client's..death."

The room went quiet.

Pedro grabbed the witness statements again.

The event planner.

A woman who claimed she had visited the villa only twice.

A woman who had cried convincingly during questioning.

A woman whose phone number...

Pritam's fingers flew over the keyboard.

"...Found her."

Pedro leaned closer.

The recovered WiFi MAC address matched a phone registered under another name.

One that belonged to the victim's "freelance event consultant."

Except...The call records showed nearly three hundred conversations over six months.

She wasn't his consultant. She was his mistress.

And on the afternoon of the murder...

She had been inside the villa.

Not only that, The smart irrigation controller in the garden had unknowingly logged movement near the rear exit nearly twenty minutes after the supposed time of suicide.

Exactly enough time to stage the room.

Pedro slowly smiled,"Chalo."

---

The arrest happened before sunset.

She tried to deny everything.

Then she tried blaming the wife.

Then she claimed the victim had become violent.

But the evidence refused to cooperate with her story.

The digital trail.

The bloodstain reconstruction.

The staged crime scene.

The bruising.

The recovered messages Pritam managed to restore from cloud fragments.

By the time Pedro placed the handcuffs around her wrists, the case had already been solved.

Back at headquarters, the atmosphere felt noticeably lighter.

The DIG himself walked out of his office carrying the completed file.

"I'll admit," he said, looking around the room, "initial report dekh ke mujhe bhi suicide hi laga tha."

Pedro scratched the back of his neck.

"Sir..."

The DIG smiled,"Good work, Gonsalves."

His gaze shifted to Pritam,"Especially you young man, good job."

Then to Y/N,"And Doctor L/N, excellent forensic observations as always."

She nodded politely,"Thank you, sir."

Pedro cleared his throat,"...Sir, ek chhoti si request thi."

The DIG sighed dramatically,"Mujhe pata tha."

"Crime Branch..."

The older man laughed,"Ek case solve karke transfer thodi mil jaata hai, Pedro."

Pedro sighed.

"But..."

Pedro straightened.

"...solve a few more like this."

He closed the case file with a firm clap.

"I'll personally recommend your transfer to the DGP."

Pedro's face lit up like a child on Christmas morning,"Thank you, sir!"

The DIG pointed toward the door,"Ab jao."

"Sir?"

"Celebrate."

---

An hour later, they found themselves at a tiny beach shack overlooking the sea, Pedro called his wife over to join the celebration.

The shack had fresh seafood, soft music drifting lazily through the salty breeze.

Pedro insisted on paying.

Stacey rolled her eyes and quietly paid the bill before he could.

Nobody mentioned it.

Y/N narrated the whole story to her sister animatedly, the case became a funny story halfway through dinner.

"So..." Stacey looked at Pritam,"Vacuum cleaner ka kya hua?"

Pritam raised his hands up in a mock surrender, "Maine manager se baat kar li hai...they will replace it by next week."

Y/N smirked,"See? Consistencey is key." Everyone laughed, Pritam stared at Y/N laughing, carefree and so at ease. God this woman would be the death of him.

Pedro shrugged and went back to arguing with Stacey about who had cheated at cards the previous weekend.

Completely oblivious.

By the time they left, the roads had emptied.

The sea breeze had turned cooler.

Y/N reached for her scooter keys before remembering...

"...Workshop."

She sighed,"I forgot."

Pritam jingled his bike keys,"Lucky for you..."

She looked at him.

"...main available hoon."

She rolled her eyes, but sat down anyway.

The ride home was quieter, comfortable.

The city lights slowly gave way to quieter residential lanes until he finally stopped outside her gate.

Neither moved.

Neither seemed particularly eager to end the evening.

Y/N removed the helmet and handed it back,"Thanks."

He took it carefully,"No problem."

Another silence. Longer this time.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

She watched him with growing amusement.

He looked...Nervous.

The same man who could dismantle encrypted servers without blinking suddenly couldn't seem to look her in the eye.

Finally, he laughed awkwardly."Main..."

"Hmm?"

"...ek baat poochun?"

"Poocho."

He took a deep breath.

"I know tum abhi bhi mujhe kabhi kabhi scammer samajhti ho..."

She smiled "I do."

"...lekin..."

He looked everywhere except at her.

"...would you... umm...maybe... kabhi... mere saath bahar chalogi?"

She didn't answer immediately.

Which, for approximately four of the longest seconds of Pritam Parker's life, felt exactly like rejection.

"Oh."

He smiled sheepishly.

"It's okay. You don't have to say yes-Main bas-"

She stepped closer.

Close enough that he forgot what sentence he had been trying to finish.

There was that familiar little crease between her brows.

Except this time...

She wasn't thinking about blood patterns.

Or forensic reports.

Or murder.

She was looking at him.

"You know," she said softly, "for someone who's supposed to be a genius..."

He blinked.

"...you're surprisingly slow."

Before he could ask what she meant, she reached up, gently took hold of the front of his jacket...

...and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

It lasted barely a heartbeat.

When she stepped back, his expression was somewhere between complete astonishment and total system failure.

She smiled, a small, mysterious smile he'd come to recognize over the course of the investigation.

"I think," he said, as she turned towards her gate, "that's a yes."

She disappeared inside before he could recover enough brain cells to go after her and he remained exactly where he was.

Helmet still in one hand, keys in the other.

Smiling like an absolute idiot beneath the porch light.

Somewhere inside the house, Y/N leaned against the closed door, unable to stop smiling herself.

Perhaps buying that terrible vacuum cleaner hadn't been such a bad investment after all.

Taglist: @gulaabjamun08 @sarcastic-ravenpuff @idonthavechatpateusernamed @riddhi-on-break @royaldreamermonsoon @indigo-pdf @rabbdaradio @y0uneversawmehere @goldenharrysworld @akshayes @oinswiftie @kajuuuukatliiiiii @scentedwolfdragon @rehmanhatesdosa @surelysherly @sheeulie @humsafarhumhihai @yearnaholicfr @darldelight @multifandom-boss-bitch @valiantsculptureveil @gloriouspurpose01

[whyishekinda]

Okay so @y0uneversawmehere put me to this. But will you guys be interested in reading an one shot on the series pritam and pedro?

It will be fluff-crackish.😭

if yes, drop a comment below so I can tag you.

Yes

No

for me to check votes

Voting ended onJul 11

Using dhurandhar tags for reach😶‍🌫️

[whyishekinda]

JASHN-E-BAHAARA

Genre: Nawab au! headcanons.

Pairing: Naib Nawab!Uzair Baloch x Court Performer!Y/N

Loosely based on this request

Written in collaboration with my darling @sunf1over 🥰(go check out her other works on her profile!!!)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction purely made with the purpose of providing entertainment. I do not intend to glorify, justify or promote any real person or the events linked with them.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who has an infamous reputation around the palace for his temper. He's kind, fair and fiercely loyal, but if someone tries to cheat the kingdom or lie to his face, even seasoned ministers think twice before crossing him.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who's lost count of how many times he's had to begin court with, "Before any of you complain about my brother, ask yourselves whether you deserved it first.”

Naib Nawab!Uzair who has a special inkling towards music, poetry and everything art. He can go from arguing over trade tariffs one moment to passionately debating the meaning of a painting the next. His friends often joke that he was born with one foot in the treasury and the other in a mehfil.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who has a terrible habit of inviting "just a few friends" over for an evening of music almost every other day, only for the gathering to stretch well past midnight because nobody ever wants to be the first to leave.

Court Performer!Y/N who bows gracefully before the many royal courts every evening with her troupe, then spends the carriage ride home mentally calculating whether this week's earnings will be enough for rent, medicine for her ailing mother and groceries.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who asks his mulazim to invite the city's most sought-after dancing troupe for his next mehfil after hearing endless praise about them from Nawab Iqbal from the neighbouring state. "If they're truly as talented as he claims," he mused, "I'd rather judge that for myself."

The Troupe Leader who's over the moon when the palace invitation arrives. Performing in the royal court is one thing, but being personally invited to entertain at one of Naib Nawab sahab's private mehfils is an honour few artists ever receive.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who finds himself far more than impressed by the troupe's performance than he anticipated. Every note of the music seems to sink in perfect harmony with their movements, every step executed with precision. It is actually a performance worthy of all the praises he had heard about them.

Naib Nawab! Uzair Who, despite the splendour performance happening before him, cannot seem to tear his eyes away from this particular dancer. When she moves to the left, his gaze follows without a thought. When she twirls to the right, his gaze follows just as faithfully. There was something different about her. She dances as though the music lives within her, with no hesitation, no desperate need to impress anyone, just the joy of someone utterly lost in the art she performs. And for some reason he was utterly captivated by that.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who silently wished the performance to stretch a little longer. And when it finally ended, he generously rewarded the entire troupe himself with gold, pearls, and money, leaving everyone surprised. But the bigger surprise was that for the very first time, he praised the artists even after the performance had ended long ago, a rare honour from him that left everyone in quiet astonishment.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who without drawing anyone's attention, quietly placed a slightly heavier pouch of gold coins into Y/N's hands. The gesture was so natural, that for a brief moment she wondered if he had made a mistake. But the doubt faded when he looked at her and said in his calm, solemn voice "You are a remarkable artist." Y/N accepted the praise with quiet grace, bowing her head respectfully "Aapka shukriya, Naib Nawab Sahab." (Thank you, Naib Nawab sir)

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who later summoned the troupe leader and, much to her surprise requested that Y/N be assigned to perform exclusively for him. With a simple explanation, that he had been impressed by her skills and graceful sincerity with which she dances.

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who left the troupe leader pleasantly astonished by his request. Still, she agreed without any hesitation as he placed two heavy pouches of gold coins in front of her. Not that she was in any position to question the Naib Nawab's wishes in the first place.

Court Performer!Y/N who soon finds herself becoming a familiar face within the palace corridors. Before long, the guards greet her with respectful nods, the servants no longer needing to ask for her name as they quietly escort her towards Naib Nawab Sahab's private jalsa ghar.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who, despite insisting that her visits remain strictly for artistic performances, somehow always finds himself rearranging his schedule so that no meeting, minister or merchant could interrupt the hour she'd be at the palace.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who never once asks her to perform anything she isn't comfortable with. He simply tells her to sing or dance whichever composition she enjoys most, believing an artist performs best when their heart chooses the piece rather than their patron.

Court Performer!Y/N who addresses him with unwavering respect every single visit. Every conversation begins and ends with a polite bow and "Naib Nawab Sahab," neither of them daring to step beyond the formal boundaries expected between a nobleman and a court performer.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who over the months, starts asking questions before each performance. At first it's about the raag she chose to perform that day or the poet behind the ghazal, but gradually the conversations slowly wandered towards her ustad, her childhood and what first made her fall in love with music.

Court Performer!Y/N who is quietly surprised to find that the Naib Nawab actually listens to her answers. Most nobles only cared to be entertained, but not him. He listened with the same attention whether she was explaining a difficult taan or recalling a fond memory from years ago.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who gradually begins requesting one final ghazal, then one question about the poet, then another about the composition itself. Before either of them realises it, the music has long since ended while their conversation continues well into the evening.

Court Performer!Y/N who eventually notices she spends more time sitting across from the Naib Nawab with a cup of sharbat in her hands than she does actually singing or dancing for him. She isn't quite sure when their meetings stopped feeling less like performances and more like conversations and actual friendship.

Court Performer!Y/N who eventually stops apologising every time she disagrees with the Naib Nawab's interpretation of a poem. "I still think the poet meant longing, not regret," she'd insist, only to earn an amused shake of his head as he replied, "Then perhaps we'll have to agree that the poet has disappointed one of us.”

Naib Nawab! Uzair who gradually began to notice the smallest things about Y/N before she ever mentions them, the slightest strain in her voice after a long performance, the missing anklet she had worn for months, the ragas that brings a bright smile to her face, as if paying attention to her had simply become his second nature. Before he even realizes it, he started to set aside the sweetest mangoes, a newly written ghazal or a poem because "Y/N would like it."

Court Performer! Y/N Who slowly began looking forward to her evenings at the palace. She told herself it was because the Naib Nawab truly appreciated her art, but her heart knew better. Somehow, she always found herself waiting for him, no matter how late he was. And no matter how demanding the affairs of the state became, he always came. And in no time, she started to recognize his footsteps long before he entered the jalsa ghar, an unbidden smile blooming across her face to welcome him.

Court Performer! Y/N Who nearly slips on the rain-soaked marble steps one evening, only for the Naib Nawab to catch her by the wrist and wrap his arm around her waist before she can fall. His hand lingering for longer than instincts allow. And though neither of them said a word, she finds herself unable to forget the way he had looked at her, as though they were simply Uzair and Y/N, not a Naib Nawab and a court performer.

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who finally breaks every rule he had imposed upon himself after she confesses that the palace has started to feel like a peaceful sanctuary because of him. Unable to fight his heart any longer, he cupped her face with slow hands and kissed her beneath the lantern-lit arches of his private Jalsa ghar. His lips hovered gently over hers to seek permission, and the moment she moved her lips closer— confessing everything she never dared to put into words. He deepened the kiss, turning all his restraint into love and pouring it into that one soft, deep kiss, filled with longing.

Bade Nawab! Rehman Who freezes in the doorway upon finding his younger brother standing far too close to a court performer, his hands still cupping her face, softly.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who has faced angry ministers, British officers, and political rivals without flinching.... yet he feels his stomach sink the moment he meets his brother's disappointed eyes.

Court Performer! Y/N who immediately steps away and lowers her gaze, knowing exactly how this must have appeared to bade Nawab Sahab. 

Bade Nawab! Rehman who believes Y/N has carefully earned Uzair's trust, all in the hope of becoming his future Begum to enjoy a life of riches.

Bade Nawab! Rehman Who reminds Uzair that history is filled with nobles ruined by women who knew exactly how to charm powerful men.

Court Performer! Y/N Who overhears enough of the conversation to realize that Bade Nawab genuinely believes she's after wealth, titles, and status. And left the palace before anyone could notice the tears she refused to shed.

Bade Nawab! Rehman Who orders Y/N's troupe to never accept invitations to the Naib Nawab's private mehfils, ever again.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who says nothing while his brother speaks, not because he agrees, but because every word of protest would only make Y/N's life difficult. And continued hosting his private mehfils to look normal. But now the music feels unbearably hollow, every ghazal reminding him of that one voice who no longer sings for him.

Court Performer! Y/N who still bows before the royal family during public performances, yet never once lifts her eyes towards the Naib Nawab again. Who couldn't help but adore her from a distance, with eyes filled with longing.

Court Performer!Y/N who has barely stepped out of the palace after another court performance when one of Bade Nawab Sahab's personal mulazims quietly stops her. "His Highness wishes to speak with you... alone." Her heart immediately sinks. Somehow, she knows this has nothing to do with music.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who deliberately waits until Uzair has gone to the treasury for the day's work, before summoning her. He knows his younger brother well enough to understand that Uzair would never allow this conversation to happen if he were present.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who speaks before he hears her side, he quietly mentions her mother's name... then her younger brother's. He never explicitly threatens them, but the meaning behind his words is unmistakable. "Some lives are far more fragile than others Y/N. Don't force me to become the reason yours falls apart."

Court Performer!Y/N who had walked into the room prepared to defend her love for Uzair with everything she had. The moment her family is brought into it, however, every argument dies on her tongue, replaced by a silence so heavy it hurts to breathe.

Court Performer!Y/N who quietly lowers her head and agrees to Bade Nawab Sahab's conditions without attempting to bargain or defend herself. If losing the man she loved meant her mother and little brother would remain safe, then she'd bear that heartbreak a thousand times over.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who is almost taken aback by how quickly she agrees. He had expected tears, arguments... perhaps even defiance, women who aspire for easy money has done that plenty of times before him. But not Y/N. Instead, she simply folds her hands, thanks him for his time, and leaves with a smile so painfully forced that it lingers in his mind long after she's gone.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who had grown used to loving her from afar. He'd sit through every public mehfil pretending to listen to the music while secretly stealing glances at her whenever she danced. So when another performer stepped into her place one evening, he frowned in quiet confusion, assuming she must simply be unwell.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who keeps expecting her to return the following evening... then the one after that... and the one after that. Days quietly turn into weeks, yet her place amongst the troupe remains painfully empty.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who finally pulls the the troupe leader aside after a court performance and asks her where Y/N is? The woman lowers her gaze before quietly admitting,”I'm afraid she won't be returning to perform,Huzoor. She has left the troupe”and for the first time since Rehman's orders, genuine worry begins replacing his quiet longing.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who never questioned his brother's decision to end the private performances, but he cannot accept Y/N vanishing without a word. Every explanation he comes up with feels wrong... because if she'd truly wanted to leave, she would've at least said goodbye.

Naib Nawab! Uzair Who quietly questions everyone who might know where Y/N has gone. But every answer is the same. They either know nothing.... or pretend they don't. And eventually begins asking questions without saying her name. "Has one of the court performers fallen ill?" "Has anyone left the city recently?" hoping for someone to unknowingly reveal the truth. But no one did. So at the end he even sent his guards to fetch her whereabouts, but each of them returned empty handed.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who still attends every council meeting and signs hundreds of documents regarding state matters, but no longer argues over figures or catches mistakes before anyone else. The ministers quietly exchange worried glances, as the man once known for noticing every detail is now staring through reports without truly reading them.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who cancels every private mehfil, saying he has grown too occupied with matters of the state. But in reality he just cannot bring himself to listen to ghazals anymore, because every verse reminds him of conversations he had with that one person who is no longer there to finish them.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who barely sleeps a few hours, skips meals without noticing, and buries himself in work he can no longer concentrate on. And within weeks the quiet grief he was carrying in his heart, started taking a visible toll on him. And then came a point, when even the palace hakim was failing to cure him.... because no medicine can cure a heart that is slowly breaking.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who is the first to notice how loosely Uzair's sherwanis now fit and how often he suppresses a cough during meetings. For the first time since forbidding the relationship, doubt quietly begins settling in his heart.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who finally gave up and collapsed during a council meeting, leaving the entire court in stunned silence.

Court Performer! Y/N who has done everything in her power to keep her promise. She avoids the palace, avoids asking about him, even changes the routes she takes through the city. Then one evening, while buying medicine for her mother, she overhears two palace servants whispering that the Naib Nawab has fallen gravely ill. And then spent the entire night convincing herself she has no right to go to him, only to realise that love has never once listened to reason. And for the first time since leaving the palace, she finally broke down, regretting that she didn't inform Uzair sahab about her decision.

Court Performer!Y/N who finally arrives at the palace gates breathless, having crossed all the streets without once stopping to catch her breath. Forgetting every rule of etiquette she had spent years learning and following, caring only that she reaches him as soon as possible.

Court Performer!Y/N who rushes to the palace gates without a second thought, only for the guards to stop her. They recognized her instantly, but Bade Nawab Sahab's orders are Patthar ki lakeer(written in stone). No matter what, they cannot let her through.

Court Performer! Y/N who pleads that she has no intention of causing trouble, only wishing to see the Naib Nawab for a single moment. Yet the guards remain unmoved.

Court Performer!Y/N who begs the guards to let her pass, her voice trembling and breaking more with every passing moment. Tears stream freely down her face as she struggles against the guards, caring little for the curious eyes gathering around her. As she kept on pleading through broken sobs.

Bade Nawab! Rehman who hears the disturbance from the palace courtyard and walks out, expecting to find an unruly visitor. Instead, he finds Y/N on her knees before the guards, her hands folded as she pleads desperately. He watched in silence before announcing his presence, noticing that she didn't even look at him. Her eyes remain fixed on the palace doors, as though nothing else in the world matters.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who suddenly finds himself, mentally travelling years in the past, remembering the countless doors he had knocked on, the objections he had endured, and the desperation he had once felt just to marry Ulfat. For the first time, he realizes the expression on Y/N's tear-stained face is painfully familiar.... because he had once worn it himself. And understood with quiet shame that no one, who is chasing wealth would ever stand weeping at palace gates, willing to sacrifice every ounce of dignity for the chance to see the man they love.

Bade Nawab! Rehman who finally sees the truth, he had been too blinded by his anger and classist mentality to notice. If Y/N had wanted riches or status, she would've fought his conditions months ago. Instead, she had disappeared without any sign of protest, choosing heartbreak over putting her family or Uzair in danger. And realized that every decision she had made had been an act of love, not ambition. He quietly regrets mistaking her silence for guilt, when in truth, it had been her sacrifice for her love and loved ones.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who finally breaks the heavy silence with a single command "Let her through." The guards step aside without another word, watching Y/N disappear into the palace almost immediately. 

Court Performer!Y/N who did not stop to catch her breath even once as she raced through the palace corridors. Her eyes were blurred with tears, her heart pounding so loudly that she barely heard the servants calling after her. The only thing that matters is reaching him, and the moment she steps into his chamber, she freezes. 

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who had always carried himself with such dignity now lies pale against the bed, his face devoid of its usual warmth. Y/N gently brushed his hair away from his forehead, her fingers shivering slightly "U–Uzair, please wake up, see I'm back. P–pl–lease wake up and s–scold me for leaving you."

Naib Nawab!Uzair who moved almost faintly at the familiar softness of a voice he had spent uncountable days convincing himself, he will never be able to hear again. When he finally opens his eyes, he finds Y/N sitting beside him, her hand wrapped around his, tears slipping silently down her cheeks in two parallel rivers of agony and yearning. For a second he believed he's having some crazy fever dream, until she smiled through those tears and kissed his hand with her quivering lips. His fingers weakly tightened around hers before he whispers, almost afraid the moment might disappear.... she might disappear again "You came."

Court Performer!Y/N Who lets out a watery laugh and nods frantically, unable to stop her tears. "You weren't waking up, sleeping like kumbhkaran, so I had to come."

Bade Nawab!Rehman who watches the reunion from the doorway in complete silence. There were no grand confessions, no dramatic embraces, only two souls finding their way back to each other. Somehow, that quiet devotion affected him more than any dramatic declaration ever could. He quietly closed the chamber doors behind him before walking away, understanding that some moments, sacred like this reunion, deserve no witnesses, especially when he's the one who caused the separation.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who visits Uzair after he has recovered enough to sit up and talk. For a long moment, neither of the brothers broke the silence. Then with the faintest smile, Rehman simply said "Bring her to me and Ulfat, this time as the woman you wish to spend your life with."

Bade Nawab!Rehman who later seeks Y/N himself, not as the ruler of the state, but as an elder brother who owes her an apology. "I mistook your love for ambition" he admits quietly. "Forgive an old man Y/N, who allowed the fear to cloud his judgment." Y/N quickly shook her head and gently assured him that neither she nor Uzair hold any grudges against him. They both understood that everything he had done was out of the fierce, unwavering love he has for his younger brother.

Bade Nawab!Rehman Who announced before the entire gathering that Y/N shall always be respected by everyone with the same respect she has earned through her grace and unwavering heart. He happily declared that she was soon going to become an integral part of the Nawab family, because Uzair and Y/N would be married once Uzair had fully recovered. From that day onwards, no one dares question her place beside the Naib Nawab, and no one ever will.

The Nawab!Family Who celebrated Uzair and Y/N's wedding wholeheartedly. The palace echoed with laughter, music, and blessings, but no one was happier than the eldest Nawabzade, Naieem, who proudly declared to anyone willing to listen that he had been blessed with the most beautiful chachi in the whole world.

The Nawab! Family Who welcomed the younger Nawabzade with tears of happiness, and Rehman urged Y/N to name him. She felt overwhelmed with love and respect and softly whispered the name "Faisal." Making the tiny infant let out the sweetest smile, as though he too approved the name chosen for him. 

The Nawab Family who distributed the finest sweets across the entire city, because the Naib Nawab and his beloved Begum were expecting their first child. Surrounded by so much love and care, Y/N often found herself wondering if it was all a dream. Because she had never once imagined a family that would care for her so much, making her feel cherished every single day. 

The Nawab family who soon welcomed the first Nawabzadi of the family, lovingly named Dua by Ulfat. From the very moment she was born, she had her Bade Abba Rehman wrapped around her tiny little finger, and there wasn't a single wish of hers that he could ever refuse. 

The Nawab family Who stood together as one during every storm, and found the happiness they deserved. Their home remained filled with love, laughter, music, and the quiet comfort of knowing they had found exactly where they belonged, with one another.

Taglist: @laal-pari @warnermeadowsgirl @scentedwolfdragon @miwagonemad @pleasetagmejaaneman @pn28 @desibaddies @harrystyleskiwi9 @withlovemii @avasif @anxiousbeeing @goodnightkatherine @istilldonotslay @gehra-hua @forbiddenfanaa @cloudmast @bobcuts-blog @niyadarealart @mylifesalreadyfucked @gulaabjamun08 @manjari08 @forbiddenfanaa @dollie1111xo5 @iamadelusionalwriter @goldenharrysworld @debsreads21 @theuselessdaydreamingidiot @writrsblu @chai-aur-chaand @miraclejin1204 @mainyahaankyunhoon @precioussophia @rosiasthings @dhurandhar-archives @hamzair-is-my-otp @royaldreamermonsoon @between-smoke-and-roses @lavenderwinkle @sarcastic-ravenpuff @qalamband @rhymeskiii @granddynamonovajbvgjjj @sugarvibez @akshayes @rosesandpeoniesthings @bxtchyrose @alpineforeverr @iatedonuts @prettylady2006

[whyishekinda]

Continued taglist: @rehmanhatesdosa @indigo-pdf @oinswiftie @obsessedwidskincare @rabbdaradio @notyesha @dhoodhsoda

[whyishekinda]

GHAR WAPSI (trans.Homecoming)🔞

Pairing: Military bf!Jaskirat Singh Rangi x Y/N

Genre: Smut w/plot.

DISCLAIMER: This is written purely as a means of entertainment and not to glorify any real person or the events they are associated with. ALSO AS MENTIONED BEFORE THIS IS SMUT. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR ARE UNCOMFORTABLE.

Warnings: ⚠️MDNI⚠️ NSFW CONTENT, Bad writing, not proofread. (I am writing smut after so long that it feels foreign so forgive me for not getting the vibe right😔)

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the narrow lanes of Jaskirat's village, bathing the familiar streets and lush green fields in hues of gold and amber.

Y/N stood by her window, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the wooden panels as she watched the road leading into the neighborhood.

Word had spread through the village like wildfire: Jaskirat Singh Rangi was back.

His training at Ramgarh Cantonment was finally complete, and the boy who had left months ago had returned a man in uniform, coming home to the place that held his roots, his family... and her.

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She'd been waiting all day, her heart beating a restless rhythm against her ribs. The minutes had crawled by like hours, each one stretching her anticipation further, until her nerves hummed with the familiar electricity she'd only ever felt when thinking of him during long, sleepless nights.

She'd heard the commotion from a distance.

Laughter and excited chatter drifted from his house down the lane to hers.

Y/N had fought every instinct urging her to run over, to see him the moment he stepped off the tempo, to throw her arms around him, kiss him senseless, and scold him for not writing back.

But she was too hurt.

If he hadn't found the time to reply to even a single one of her letters over all these months, then why should she be the one to welcome him back with open arms?

But deep down, she waited. Impatiently. Hoping. Imagining.

And then, true to her imagination, she saw him.

He was walking down the lane from his house to hers, that confident, easy stride unmistakable even from a distance.

The olive green uniform hugged his frame like a second skn. Broad shoulders that seemed to have widened tapered down to his narrow waist, the crisp fabric accentuating every hard earned muscle beneath. His boots gleamed even in the soft evening light, catching the setting sun with every deliberate step.

He carried himself differently now, the confident stride, the purposeful walk.

Months of relentless drills, discipline, and exhaustion had reshaped him into someone who made her mouth go dry.

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Y/N felt her breath hitch as Jaskirat stopped beneath her window.

He didn't look up immediately. Instead, he stood there for a long moment, taking a slow, steady breath as though gathering courage. His palms were damp despite the cool breeze. The mere thought of standing this close to the woman whose memory had haunted countless lonely nights in the cantonment was enough to make his heart pound against his ribs.

Finally, he lifted his head.

Their eyes met, for one fleeting second.

Then, with an offended little huff, Y/N stepped back and drew the curtains shut.

Oh... she was furious. Fair enough. He deserved that.

Jaskirat let out a quiet sigh before walking around to the front door.

He knocked twice.

The door swung open almost immediately.

"Areeey, Jassi puttar!" Y/N's mother beamed, her face lighting up the instant she saw him.

Without a second thought, Jaskirat bent down and touched her feet.

"Jeete raho, puttar," she blessed warmly, resting both hands over his head for a moment.

The next instant, all formality disappeared.

She cupped his face affectionately before pulling him into a tight hug.

"My baccha..." she murmured, patting his back. "Look at you. Kitna dubla ho gaya hai! Dhang se khana nahi milta wahan?"

Jaskirat laughed softly.

"Milta hai, aunty... bas training thodi zyada milti hai."

"Haan haan, mujhe mat bata. Aaja, dekhun zara."

She held him at arm's length, eyes glistening with pride as she looked him over.

She had watched him grow from a scrawny little boy who spent more time in their house than his own into the young officer standing before her now.

He wasn't just the neighbour's son, he was family.

Just then, Y/N's father stepped into the hallway.

"Oye, mera fauji puttar aa gaya!" he called with a grin.

Jaskirat immediately straightened before bending to touch his feet as well.

Y/N's father stopped him halfway, chuckling. "Bas bas."

Instead, he wrapped one arm around the young man and gave his back two firm, affectionate pats.

"Proud of you, my son."

A smile spread across Jaskirat's face small but genuine.

"Thank you, Uncle."

"Your father hasn't stopped boasting since morning," he laughed. "Come on, your mother has invited the entire lane for dinner. If we're late, she'll blame me."

Y/N's mother looked toward the staircase for a brief moment before exchanging an amused glance with her husband.

"You two go ahead," Jaskirat said, trying and failing to sound casual, "I'll catch up in a minute."

Both parents shared the kind of smile that only adults who had watched two children grow up together could share.

"Achha..." her mother nodded slowly, deliberately pretending not to notice where Jaskirat's eyes kept drifting.

"We'll leave you two to... catch up."

"Haan, haan," Y/N's father agreed, "tum hi manao uss ziddi ladki ko abb, hum chalte hain"

Jaskirat rubbed the back of his neck, ears turning pink.

"Ji..."

Y/N's mom laughed,"Ja, puttar."

With one final pat on his shoulder, the couple stepped out of the house and made their way towards the Rangi home, where voices, laughter, and the aroma of an elaborate feast already drifted through the neighborhood.

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The front door clicked shut behind them.

Silence settled over the house.

Jaskirat looked toward the staircase.

"...Time to face the firing squad," he muttered under his breath.

Adjusting the collar of his uniform, he took a steadying breath before climbing the familiar wooden stairs toward the room where his very angry, very beautifl girlfriend was waiting.

The wooden staircase creaked beneath Jaskirat's boots as he climbed, every step strangely heavier than the miles he'd marched during training.

He knew this house almost as well as the back of his palm.

Knew which step squeaked.

Knew which corner Y/N used to hide behind during childhood games of hide and seek.

Knew exactly which room she'd lock herself in whenever she was upset.

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Her door was half open.

Jaskirat knocked once before stepping inside. She didn't turn, still sitting by the window with her arms folded, she kept her gaze fixed outside as though he weren't standing a few feet away.

He waited, hoping she'd look at him. She didn't.

"I know you're angry."

"You ignored every letter I sent." The hurt in her voice made him lower his eyes.

"I didn't ignore them." He swallowed. "I read every single one. More times than I can count."

That made her look at him with suspicion,"Then why didn't you write back?"

"The first few weeks, we weren't allowed to. After that..." A quiet, almost embarrassed laugh escaped him. "Every time I sat down to write to you, I'd end up filling pages. Then parade would be called, or lights out, or we'd be sent somewhere else. I'd always tell myself I'd finish them the next day."

His smile faltered,"and I did...but then two mkre letters would wait for me by the time i finished the first one"

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Months of anger had convinced Y/N that he'd simply forgotten her. Looking at him now, she could see the same guilt she'd carried in hurt. It didn't erase the lonely nights or the unanswered letters, but it made the grief feel shared instead of one sided.

"You really are an idiot," she whispered.

A sheepish smile tugged at his lips,"maaf karde mennu.. sohni"

She rolled her eyes, giving his arm a light smack before stepping closer almost without thinking. He hesitated only for a heartbeat before wrapping his arms around her, he still couldn't quite believe she forgave him.

Neither of them spoke.

The room fell quiet except for the distant laughter drifting in from the celebration down the street and the slow, steady rhythm of two hearts finally finding familiar ground again.

After a while, Y/N pulled back just enough to look at him properly. Her fingers absentmindedly smoothed the crease in his olive green uniform before her eyes met his once more.

"So..." she murmured, the corners of her lips lifting ever so slightly, "you've finally come home."

Jaskirat smiled, unable to look away from her, "Yeah."

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

For a moment, neither of them moved.

And then he held her face in his palm, softly kissing her.  The kiss deepened slowly, tentatively at first, like testing water before a dip. Her lips parted against his, and he tasted the salt of tears she'd long since dried. His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, tilting her head back just enough to fit his mouth more fully against hers.

Y/N's fingers curled into the stiff fabric of his uniform, bunching the olive green fabric at his shoulders. The distant celebration outside faded into nothing; the music, the laughter, the firecrackers, all of it swallowed by the wet sound of their mouths meeting, separating, meeting again.

"You have no idea," he breathed against her lips, "how many nights I laid awake thinking about you.. thinking about this..."

"Mhmm? Show me, then soldier" she whispered back, her voice husky with want.

His hands slid down her back, gripping the curve of her waist, pulling her flush against him. She felt the hard press of his belt buckle against her stomach, the warmth of his body through the thick fabric. Her fingers found the buttons of his unifirm, working them open with trembling urgency.

He broke the kiss to help her, shrugging off the uniform jacket and letting it fall to the floor. His undershirt came next, pulled over his head in one swift motion. She drank him in, the broad shoulders, the defined chest, the faint tan line where his collar usually sat. New scars she didn't recognize. A thin white line across his ribs, a darker patch of healed skin near his collarbone.

She reached out, her fingertups tracing the scar near his collarbone before sliding down his chest. Her hand flattened over his heart, feeling it race beneath her palm. Then she pushed him gently backward until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he fell down letting out an oomf.

Y/N climbed onto his lap, straddling him, her thighs pressed against the coarse fabric of his trousers. She could feel him already hard beneath the layers, pressing insistently against her. She pulled her salwar down and settled on his lap, and he groaned when her bare thighs made contact with his hips.

"Fuck, I missed you," he muttered, his hands finding her waist, sliding up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts through her kameez.

She rolled her hips against him deliberately, watching his jaw tighten. His hands moved to remove her kameez, fumbling momentarily before she covered his fingers with hers.

"Let me," she said softly.

She undid the dori, and swung the kameez over her head in a swift motion, and unclipped her bra before throwing it on the floor. His breath caught at the sight of her bare chest, her nipples already stiff in the cool room air.

His hands came up immediately, cupping her breasts, thumbs stroking over her nipples in featherlight circles. She arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. He leaned forward, taking one nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking across the sensitive peak before sucking gently.

"Jassi..." she gasped, her fingers threading through his hair, holding him there.

He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his hand never stopping its movement on the first. When he pulled back, her skin was flushed, her lips parted, her eyes lidded with desire.

He guided her hips against his, the friction building through the layers of fabric separating them. She reached down between them, her fingers finding the buckle of his belt, working it open with practiced ease. The zipper came next, and she could feel the heat of him through his boxers as she freed him.

She didn't want to rush, she wanted to slide off of his lap and kneel before him, and take his throbbing cock in her mouth and have a taste, but time was short and they needed to leave for his place soon.

Jaskirat knew that too, so without wasting any time, he grabbed her waist and pulled her onto the bed with him, rolling so she was beneath him. His body covered hers, the weight of him familiar and grounding. He kissed her deeply, she wrapped her legs around his waist, arching up against him.

His cock pressed against her wetness, sliding through her slick folds without entering. He teased her, dragging the tip along her entrance, circling her clit, making her gasp and writhe beneath him.

"Please," she begged, nails digging into his shoulders. "Jaskirat, please."

He lined himself up and pushed inside her slowly, watching her face as he filled her inch by inch. Her mouth fell open, her eyes fluttering closed, a long, shuddering moan escaping her throat as he seated himself fully inside her.

She was so tight around him, so warm. He stayed still for a long moment, letting her adjust...afterall it has been a year, his forehead pressed against hers, their breaths mingling.

"You feel like home," he whispered.

She laughed, breathless, and tightened her legs around him. "Then show me you mean it."

He pulled out almost entirely, then thrust back in with almost a choking force, moving erratically with each thrust. Her hands roamed his back, nails leaving crescent marks on his skin. Her hips rose to meet his, matching his pace, the wet sound of their bodies joining filling the room.

"Harder," she begged, her voice breaking.

He complied, his thrusts growing harder, deeper, the bed creaking beneath them. Her moans grew louder, less restrained, bouncing off the walls. His hand found her mouth and clammped on it, eyes dark with lust and longing.

"The neighbors," he reminded her gruffly.

She bit his palm, her eyes challenging him, and he almost came undone right then.

He slid his hand between them, finding her clit, rubbing tight circles as he pounded even more erratically into her. Her body tensed, her breath catching, her walls clenching around him, she was close.

Jaskirat could feel it, he rammed into her ever faster,"Let go sohni...cum for me" and following his order mixed with the plea, she came with a muffled scream against his hand. The sensation pushed him over the edge, and he groaned her name as he spilled inside her, his hips stuttering through the final waves of pleasure.

He collapsed on top of her, his face buried in her neck, both of them breathing hard and slick with sweat. Her arms wrapped around him, her fingers combing through his damp hair.

For a minute, neither of them spoke.

Finally, she pressed a kiss to his temple. "Welcome home, soldier."

He lifted his head, meeting her eyes. Against the backdrop of celebration sounds drifting in from the street, he smiled a true, unburdened smile.

"Best homecoming ever."

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

Bonus: Nearly 30 more minutes later, the duo showed up at the Rangi house, looking too proper for what happend even a few minutes back. They immediately separated and went on their way. Y/N beeline to her mother and other women while Jaskirat walked straight past his friends.

Y/N's mother noticed that she was wearing a different suit, she frowned but said nothing, going back to her conversation with another neighbour.

Meanwhile, Pinda gave Jassi a smirk that made him flustered. And in the chaos of it all only Harleen noticed the missing button on her brother's new uniform and the very suspicious bruise peeking from Y/N's kameez.

Taglist: @laal-pari @warnermeadowsgirl @scentedwolfdragon @miwagonemad @pleasetagmejaaneman @pn28 @desibaddies @harrystyleskiwi9 @withlovemii @avasif @anxiousbeeing @goodnightkatherine @istilldonotslay @gehra-hua @forbiddenfanaa @cloudmast @bobcuts-blog @niyadarealart @mylifesalreadyfucked @gulaabjamun08 @manjari08 @forbiddenfanaa @dollie1111xo5 @iamadelusionalwriter @goldenharrysworld @debsreads21 @theuselessdaydreamingidiot @writrsblu @chai-aur-chaand @miraclejin1204 @mainyahaankyunhoon @precioussophia @rosiasthings @dhurandhar-archives @hamzair-is-my-otp @royaldreamermonsoon @between-smoke-and-roses @lavenderwinkle @sarcastic-ravenpuff @qalamband @rhymeskiii @granddynamonovajbvgjjj @sugarvibez @akshayes @rosesandpeoniesthings @bxtchyrose @alpineforeverr @iatedonuts @prettylady2006 @obsessedwidskincare

[whyishekinda]

Continued taglist: @rehmanhatesdosa @indigo-pdf @oinswiftie @sunf1over @cloudmast @rabbdaradio @notyesha @dhoodhsoda

[whyishekinda]

JASHN-E-BAHAARA

Genre: Nawab au! headcanons.

Pairing: Naib Nawab!Uzair Baloch x Court Performer!Y/N

Loosely based on this request

Written in collaboration with my darling @sunf1over 🥰(go check out her other works on her profile!!!)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction purely made with the purpose of providing entertainment. I do not intend to glorify, justify or promote any real person or the events linked with them.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who has an infamous reputation around the palace for his temper. He's kind, fair and fiercely loyal, but if someone tries to cheat the kingdom or lie to his face, even seasoned ministers think twice before crossing him.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who's lost count of how many times he's had to begin court with, "Before any of you complain about my brother, ask yourselves whether you deserved it first.”

Naib Nawab!Uzair who has a special inkling towards music, poetry and everything art. He can go from arguing over trade tariffs one moment to passionately debating the meaning of a painting the next. His friends often joke that he was born with one foot in the treasury and the other in a mehfil.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who has a terrible habit of inviting "just a few friends" over for an evening of music almost every other day, only for the gathering to stretch well past midnight because nobody ever wants to be the first to leave.

Court Performer!Y/N who bows gracefully before the many royal courts every evening with her troupe, then spends the carriage ride home mentally calculating whether this week's earnings will be enough for rent, medicine for her ailing mother and groceries.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who asks his mulazim to invite the city's most sought-after dancing troupe for his next mehfil after hearing endless praise about them from Nawab Iqbal from the neighbouring state. "If they're truly as talented as he claims," he mused, "I'd rather judge that for myself."

The Troupe Leader who's over the moon when the palace invitation arrives. Performing in the royal court is one thing, but being personally invited to entertain at one of Naib Nawab sahab's private mehfils is an honour few artists ever receive.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who finds himself far more than impressed by the troupe's performance than he anticipated. Every note of the music seems to sink in perfect harmony with their movements, every step executed with precision. It is actually a performance worthy of all the praises he had heard about them.

Naib Nawab! Uzair Who, despite the splendour performance happening before him, cannot seem to tear his eyes away from this particular dancer. When she moves to the left, his gaze follows without a thought. When she twirls to the right, his gaze follows just as faithfully. There was something different about her. She dances as though the music lives within her, with no hesitation, no desperate need to impress anyone, just the joy of someone utterly lost in the art she performs. And for some reason he was utterly captivated by that.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who silently wished the performance to stretch a little longer. And when it finally ended, he generously rewarded the entire troupe himself with gold, pearls, and money, leaving everyone surprised. But the bigger surprise was that for the very first time, he praised the artists even after the performance had ended long ago, a rare honour from him that left everyone in quiet astonishment.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who without drawing anyone's attention, quietly placed a slightly heavier pouch of gold coins into Y/N's hands. The gesture was so natural, that for a brief moment she wondered if he had made a mistake. But the doubt faded when he looked at her and said in his calm, solemn voice "You are a remarkable artist." Y/N accepted the praise with quiet grace, bowing her head respectfully "Aapka shukriya, Naib Nawab Sahab." (Thank you, Naib Nawab sir)

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who later summoned the troupe leader and, much to her surprise requested that Y/N be assigned to perform exclusively for him. With a simple explanation, that he had been impressed by her skills and graceful sincerity with which she dances.

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who left the troupe leader pleasantly astonished by his request. Still, she agreed without any hesitation as he placed two heavy pouches of gold coins in front of her. Not that she was in any position to question the Naib Nawab's wishes in the first place.

Court Performer!Y/N who soon finds herself becoming a familiar face within the palace corridors. Before long, the guards greet her with respectful nods, the servants no longer needing to ask for her name as they quietly escort her towards Naib Nawab Sahab's private jalsa ghar.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who, despite insisting that her visits remain strictly for artistic performances, somehow always finds himself rearranging his schedule so that no meeting, minister or merchant could interrupt the hour she'd be at the palace.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who never once asks her to perform anything she isn't comfortable with. He simply tells her to sing or dance whichever composition she enjoys most, believing an artist performs best when their heart chooses the piece rather than their patron.

Court Performer!Y/N who addresses him with unwavering respect every single visit. Every conversation begins and ends with a polite bow and "Naib Nawab Sahab," neither of them daring to step beyond the formal boundaries expected between a nobleman and a court performer.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who over the months, starts asking questions before each performance. At first it's about the raag she chose to perform that day or the poet behind the ghazal, but gradually the conversations slowly wandered towards her ustad, her childhood and what first made her fall in love with music.

Court Performer!Y/N who is quietly surprised to find that the Naib Nawab actually listens to her answers. Most nobles only cared to be entertained, but not him. He listened with the same attention whether she was explaining a difficult taan or recalling a fond memory from years ago.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who gradually begins requesting one final ghazal, then one question about the poet, then another about the composition itself. Before either of them realises it, the music has long since ended while their conversation continues well into the evening.

Court Performer!Y/N who eventually notices she spends more time sitting across from the Naib Nawab with a cup of sharbat in her hands than she does actually singing or dancing for him. She isn't quite sure when their meetings stopped feeling less like performances and more like conversations and actual friendship.

Court Performer!Y/N who eventually stops apologising every time she disagrees with the Naib Nawab's interpretation of a poem. "I still think the poet meant longing, not regret," she'd insist, only to earn an amused shake of his head as he replied, "Then perhaps we'll have to agree that the poet has disappointed one of us.”

Naib Nawab! Uzair who gradually began to notice the smallest things about Y/N before she ever mentions them, the slightest strain in her voice after a long performance, the missing anklet she had worn for months, the ragas that brings a bright smile to her face, as if paying attention to her had simply become his second nature. Before he even realizes it, he started to set aside the sweetest mangoes, a newly written ghazal or a poem because "Y/N would like it."

Court Performer! Y/N Who slowly began looking forward to her evenings at the palace. She told herself it was because the Naib Nawab truly appreciated her art, but her heart knew better. Somehow, she always found herself waiting for him, no matter how late he was. And no matter how demanding the affairs of the state became, he always came. And in no time, she started to recognize his footsteps long before he entered the jalsa ghar, an unbidden smile blooming across her face to welcome him.

Court Performer! Y/N Who nearly slips on the rain-soaked marble steps one evening, only for the Naib Nawab to catch her by the wrist and wrap his arm around her waist before she can fall. His hand lingering for longer than instincts allow. And though neither of them said a word, she finds herself unable to forget the way he had looked at her, as though they were simply Uzair and Y/N, not a Naib Nawab and a court performer.

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who finally breaks every rule he had imposed upon himself after she confesses that the palace has started to feel like a peaceful sanctuary because of him. Unable to fight his heart any longer, he cupped her face with slow hands and kissed her beneath the lantern-lit arches of his private Jalsa ghar. His lips hovered gently over hers to seek permission, and the moment she moved her lips closer— confessing everything she never dared to put into words. He deepened the kiss, turning all his restraint into love and pouring it into that one soft, deep kiss, filled with longing.

Bade Nawab! Rehman Who freezes in the doorway upon finding his younger brother standing far too close to a court performer, his hands still cupping her face, softly.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who has faced angry ministers, British officers, and political rivals without flinching.... yet he feels his stomach sink the moment he meets his brother's disappointed eyes.

Court Performer! Y/N who immediately steps away and lowers her gaze, knowing exactly how this must have appeared to bade Nawab Sahab. 

Bade Nawab! Rehman who believes Y/N has carefully earned Uzair's trust, all in the hope of becoming his future Begum to enjoy a life of riches.

Bade Nawab! Rehman Who reminds Uzair that history is filled with nobles ruined by women who knew exactly how to charm powerful men.

Court Performer! Y/N Who overhears enough of the conversation to realize that Bade Nawab genuinely believes she's after wealth, titles, and status. And left the palace before anyone could notice the tears she refused to shed.

Bade Nawab! Rehman Who orders Y/N's troupe to never accept invitations to the Naib Nawab's private mehfils, ever again.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who says nothing while his brother speaks, not because he agrees, but because every word of protest would only make Y/N's life difficult. And continued hosting his private mehfils to look normal. But now the music feels unbearably hollow, every ghazal reminding him of that one voice who no longer sings for him.

Court Performer! Y/N who still bows before the royal family during public performances, yet never once lifts her eyes towards the Naib Nawab again. Who couldn't help but adore her from a distance, with eyes filled with longing.

Court Performer!Y/N who has barely stepped out of the palace after another court performance when one of Bade Nawab Sahab's personal mulazims quietly stops her. "His Highness wishes to speak with you... alone." Her heart immediately sinks. Somehow, she knows this has nothing to do with music.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who deliberately waits until Uzair has gone to the treasury for the day's work, before summoning her. He knows his younger brother well enough to understand that Uzair would never allow this conversation to happen if he were present.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who speaks before he hears her side, he quietly mentions her mother's name... then her younger brother's. He never explicitly threatens them, but the meaning behind his words is unmistakable. "Some lives are far more fragile than others Y/N. Don't force me to become the reason yours falls apart."

Court Performer!Y/N who had walked into the room prepared to defend her love for Uzair with everything she had. The moment her family is brought into it, however, every argument dies on her tongue, replaced by a silence so heavy it hurts to breathe.

Court Performer!Y/N who quietly lowers her head and agrees to Bade Nawab Sahab's conditions without attempting to bargain or defend herself. If losing the man she loved meant her mother and little brother would remain safe, then she'd bear that heartbreak a thousand times over.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who is almost taken aback by how quickly she agrees. He had expected tears, arguments... perhaps even defiance, women who aspire for easy money has done that plenty of times before him. But not Y/N. Instead, she simply folds her hands, thanks him for his time, and leaves with a smile so painfully forced that it lingers in his mind long after she's gone.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who had grown used to loving her from afar. He'd sit through every public mehfil pretending to listen to the music while secretly stealing glances at her whenever she danced. So when another performer stepped into her place one evening, he frowned in quiet confusion, assuming she must simply be unwell.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who keeps expecting her to return the following evening... then the one after that... and the one after that. Days quietly turn into weeks, yet her place amongst the troupe remains painfully empty.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who finally pulls the the troupe leader aside after a court performance and asks her where Y/N is? The woman lowers her gaze before quietly admitting,”I'm afraid she won't be returning to perform,Huzoor. She has left the troupe”and for the first time since Rehman's orders, genuine worry begins replacing his quiet longing.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who never questioned his brother's decision to end the private performances, but he cannot accept Y/N vanishing without a word. Every explanation he comes up with feels wrong... because if she'd truly wanted to leave, she would've at least said goodbye.

Naib Nawab! Uzair Who quietly questions everyone who might know where Y/N has gone. But every answer is the same. They either know nothing.... or pretend they don't. And eventually begins asking questions without saying her name. "Has one of the court performers fallen ill?" "Has anyone left the city recently?" hoping for someone to unknowingly reveal the truth. But no one did. So at the end he even sent his guards to fetch her whereabouts, but each of them returned empty handed.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who still attends every council meeting and signs hundreds of documents regarding state matters, but no longer argues over figures or catches mistakes before anyone else. The ministers quietly exchange worried glances, as the man once known for noticing every detail is now staring through reports without truly reading them.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who cancels every private mehfil, saying he has grown too occupied with matters of the state. But in reality he just cannot bring himself to listen to ghazals anymore, because every verse reminds him of conversations he had with that one person who is no longer there to finish them.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who barely sleeps a few hours, skips meals without noticing, and buries himself in work he can no longer concentrate on. And within weeks the quiet grief he was carrying in his heart, started taking a visible toll on him. And then came a point, when even the palace hakim was failing to cure him.... because no medicine can cure a heart that is slowly breaking.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who is the first to notice how loosely Uzair's sherwanis now fit and how often he suppresses a cough during meetings. For the first time since forbidding the relationship, doubt quietly begins settling in his heart.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who finally gave up and collapsed during a council meeting, leaving the entire court in stunned silence.

Court Performer! Y/N who has done everything in her power to keep her promise. She avoids the palace, avoids asking about him, even changes the routes she takes through the city. Then one evening, while buying medicine for her mother, she overhears two palace servants whispering that the Naib Nawab has fallen gravely ill. And then spent the entire night convincing herself she has no right to go to him, only to realise that love has never once listened to reason. And for the first time since leaving the palace, she finally broke down, regretting that she didn't inform Uzair sahab about her decision.

Court Performer!Y/N who finally arrives at the palace gates breathless, having crossed all the streets without once stopping to catch her breath. Forgetting every rule of etiquette she had spent years learning and following, caring only that she reaches him as soon as possible.

Court Performer!Y/N who rushes to the palace gates without a second thought, only for the guards to stop her. They recognized her instantly, but Bade Nawab Sahab's orders are Patthar ki lakeer(written in stone). No matter what, they cannot let her through.

Court Performer! Y/N who pleads that she has no intention of causing trouble, only wishing to see the Naib Nawab for a single moment. Yet the guards remain unmoved.

Court Performer!Y/N who begs the guards to let her pass, her voice trembling and breaking more with every passing moment. Tears stream freely down her face as she struggles against the guards, caring little for the curious eyes gathering around her. As she kept on pleading through broken sobs.

Bade Nawab! Rehman who hears the disturbance from the palace courtyard and walks out, expecting to find an unruly visitor. Instead, he finds Y/N on her knees before the guards, her hands folded as she pleads desperately. He watched in silence before announcing his presence, noticing that she didn't even look at him. Her eyes remain fixed on the palace doors, as though nothing else in the world matters.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who suddenly finds himself, mentally travelling years in the past, remembering the countless doors he had knocked on, the objections he had endured, and the desperation he had once felt just to marry Ulfat. For the first time, he realizes the expression on Y/N's tear-stained face is painfully familiar.... because he had once worn it himself. And understood with quiet shame that no one, who is chasing wealth would ever stand weeping at palace gates, willing to sacrifice every ounce of dignity for the chance to see the man they love.

Bade Nawab! Rehman who finally sees the truth, he had been too blinded by his anger and classist mentality to notice. If Y/N had wanted riches or status, she would've fought his conditions months ago. Instead, she had disappeared without any sign of protest, choosing heartbreak over putting her family or Uzair in danger. And realized that every decision she had made had been an act of love, not ambition. He quietly regrets mistaking her silence for guilt, when in truth, it had been her sacrifice for her love and loved ones.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who finally breaks the heavy silence with a single command "Let her through." The guards step aside without another word, watching Y/N disappear into the palace almost immediately. 

Court Performer!Y/N who did not stop to catch her breath even once as she raced through the palace corridors. Her eyes were blurred with tears, her heart pounding so loudly that she barely heard the servants calling after her. The only thing that matters is reaching him, and the moment she steps into his chamber, she freezes. 

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who had always carried himself with such dignity now lies pale against the bed, his face devoid of its usual warmth. Y/N gently brushed his hair away from his forehead, her fingers shivering slightly "U–Uzair, please wake up, see I'm back. P–pl–lease wake up and s–scold me for leaving you."

Naib Nawab!Uzair who moved almost faintly at the familiar softness of a voice he had spent uncountable days convincing himself, he will never be able to hear again. When he finally opens his eyes, he finds Y/N sitting beside him, her hand wrapped around his, tears slipping silently down her cheeks in two parallel rivers of agony and yearning. For a second he believed he's having some crazy fever dream, until she smiled through those tears and kissed his hand with her quivering lips. His fingers weakly tightened around hers before he whispers, almost afraid the moment might disappear.... she might disappear again "You came."

Court Performer!Y/N Who lets out a watery laugh and nods frantically, unable to stop her tears. "You weren't waking up, sleeping like kumbhkaran, so I had to come."

Bade Nawab!Rehman who watches the reunion from the doorway in complete silence. There were no grand confessions, no dramatic embraces, only two souls finding their way back to each other. Somehow, that quiet devotion affected him more than any dramatic declaration ever could. He quietly closed the chamber doors behind him before walking away, understanding that some moments, sacred like this reunion, deserve no witnesses, especially when he's the one who caused the separation.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who visits Uzair after he has recovered enough to sit up and talk. For a long moment, neither of the brothers broke the silence. Then with the faintest smile, Rehman simply said "Bring her to me and Ulfat, this time as the woman you wish to spend your life with."

Bade Nawab!Rehman who later seeks Y/N himself, not as the ruler of the state, but as an elder brother who owes her an apology. "I mistook your love for ambition" he admits quietly. "Forgive an old man Y/N, who allowed the fear to cloud his judgment." Y/N quickly shook her head and gently assured him that neither she nor Uzair hold any grudges against him. They both understood that everything he had done was out of the fierce, unwavering love he has for his younger brother.

Bade Nawab!Rehman Who announced before the entire gathering that Y/N shall always be respected by everyone with the same respect she has earned through her grace and unwavering heart. He happily declared that she was soon going to become an integral part of the Nawab family, because Uzair and Y/N would be married once Uzair had fully recovered. From that day onwards, no one dares question her place beside the Naib Nawab, and no one ever will.

The Nawab!Family Who celebrated Uzair and Y/N's wedding wholeheartedly. The palace echoed with laughter, music, and blessings, but no one was happier than the eldest Nawabzade, Naieem, who proudly declared to anyone willing to listen that he had been blessed with the most beautiful chachi in the whole world.

The Nawab! Family Who welcomed the younger Nawabzade with tears of happiness, and Rehman urged Y/N to name him. She felt overwhelmed with love and respect and softly whispered the name "Faisal." Making the tiny infant let out the sweetest smile, as though he too approved the name chosen for him. 

The Nawab Family who distributed the finest sweets across the entire city, because the Naib Nawab and his beloved Begum were expecting their first child. Surrounded by so much love and care, Y/N often found herself wondering if it was all a dream. Because she had never once imagined a family that would care for her so much, making her feel cherished every single day. 

The Nawab family who soon welcomed the first Nawabzadi of the family, lovingly named Dua by Ulfat. From the very moment she was born, she had her Bade Abba Rehman wrapped around her tiny little finger, and there wasn't a single wish of hers that he could ever refuse. 

The Nawab family Who stood together as one during every storm, and found the happiness they deserved. Their home remained filled with love, laughter, music, and the quiet comfort of knowing they had found exactly where they belonged, with one another.

Taglist: @laal-pari @warnermeadowsgirl @scentedwolfdragon @miwagonemad @pleasetagmejaaneman @pn28 @desibaddies @harrystyleskiwi9 @withlovemii @avasif @anxiousbeeing @goodnightkatherine @istilldonotslay @gehra-hua @forbiddenfanaa @cloudmast @bobcuts-blog @niyadarealart @mylifesalreadyfucked @gulaabjamun08 @manjari08 @forbiddenfanaa @dollie1111xo5 @iamadelusionalwriter @goldenharrysworld @debsreads21 @theuselessdaydreamingidiot @writrsblu @chai-aur-chaand @miraclejin1204 @mainyahaankyunhoon @precioussophia @rosiasthings @dhurandhar-archives @hamzair-is-my-otp @royaldreamermonsoon @between-smoke-and-roses @lavenderwinkle @sarcastic-ravenpuff @qalamband @rhymeskiii @granddynamonovajbvgjjj @sugarvibez @akshayes @rosesandpeoniesthings @bxtchyrose @alpineforeverr @iatedonuts @prettylady2006

[whyishekinda]

Continued taglist: @rehmanhatesdosa @indigo-pdf @oinswiftie @obsessedwidskincare @rabbdaradio @notyesha @dhoodhsoda

[whyishekinda]

JASHN-E-BAHAARA

Genre: Nawab au! headcanons.

Pairing: Naib Nawab!Uzair Baloch x Court Performer!Y/N

Loosely based on this request

Written in collaboration with my darling @sunf1over 🥰(go check out her other works on her profile!!!)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction purely made with the purpose of providing entertainment. I do not intend to glorify, justify or promote any real person or the events linked with them.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who has an infamous reputation around the palace for his temper. He's kind, fair and fiercely loyal, but if someone tries to cheat the kingdom or lie to his face, even seasoned ministers think twice before crossing him.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who's lost count of how many times he's had to begin court with, "Before any of you complain about my brother, ask yourselves whether you deserved it first.”

Naib Nawab!Uzair who has a special inkling towards music, poetry and everything art. He can go from arguing over trade tariffs one moment to passionately debating the meaning of a painting the next. His friends often joke that he was born with one foot in the treasury and the other in a mehfil.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who has a terrible habit of inviting "just a few friends" over for an evening of music almost every other day, only for the gathering to stretch well past midnight because nobody ever wants to be the first to leave.

Court Performer!Y/N who bows gracefully before the many royal courts every evening with her troupe, then spends the carriage ride home mentally calculating whether this week's earnings will be enough for rent, medicine for her ailing mother and groceries.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who asks his mulazim to invite the city's most sought-after dancing troupe for his next mehfil after hearing endless praise about them from Nawab Iqbal from the neighbouring state. "If they're truly as talented as he claims," he mused, "I'd rather judge that for myself."

The Troupe Leader who's over the moon when the palace invitation arrives. Performing in the royal court is one thing, but being personally invited to entertain at one of Naib Nawab sahab's private mehfils is an honour few artists ever receive.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who finds himself far more than impressed by the troupe's performance than he anticipated. Every note of the music seems to sink in perfect harmony with their movements, every step executed with precision. It is actually a performance worthy of all the praises he had heard about them.

Naib Nawab! Uzair Who, despite the splendour performance happening before him, cannot seem to tear his eyes away from this particular dancer. When she moves to the left, his gaze follows without a thought. When she twirls to the right, his gaze follows just as faithfully. There was something different about her. She dances as though the music lives within her, with no hesitation, no desperate need to impress anyone, just the joy of someone utterly lost in the art she performs. And for some reason he was utterly captivated by that.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who silently wished the performance to stretch a little longer. And when it finally ended, he generously rewarded the entire troupe himself with gold, pearls, and money, leaving everyone surprised. But the bigger surprise was that for the very first time, he praised the artists even after the performance had ended long ago, a rare honour from him that left everyone in quiet astonishment.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who without drawing anyone's attention, quietly placed a slightly heavier pouch of gold coins into Y/N's hands. The gesture was so natural, that for a brief moment she wondered if he had made a mistake. But the doubt faded when he looked at her and said in his calm, solemn voice "You are a remarkable artist." Y/N accepted the praise with quiet grace, bowing her head respectfully "Aapka shukriya, Naib Nawab Sahab." (Thank you, Naib Nawab sir)

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who later summoned the troupe leader and, much to her surprise requested that Y/N be assigned to perform exclusively for him. With a simple explanation, that he had been impressed by her skills and graceful sincerity with which she dances.

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who left the troupe leader pleasantly astonished by his request. Still, she agreed without any hesitation as he placed two heavy pouches of gold coins in front of her. Not that she was in any position to question the Naib Nawab's wishes in the first place.

Court Performer!Y/N who soon finds herself becoming a familiar face within the palace corridors. Before long, the guards greet her with respectful nods, the servants no longer needing to ask for her name as they quietly escort her towards Naib Nawab Sahab's private jalsa ghar.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who, despite insisting that her visits remain strictly for artistic performances, somehow always finds himself rearranging his schedule so that no meeting, minister or merchant could interrupt the hour she'd be at the palace.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who never once asks her to perform anything she isn't comfortable with. He simply tells her to sing or dance whichever composition she enjoys most, believing an artist performs best when their heart chooses the piece rather than their patron.

Court Performer!Y/N who addresses him with unwavering respect every single visit. Every conversation begins and ends with a polite bow and "Naib Nawab Sahab," neither of them daring to step beyond the formal boundaries expected between a nobleman and a court performer.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who over the months, starts asking questions before each performance. At first it's about the raag she chose to perform that day or the poet behind the ghazal, but gradually the conversations slowly wandered towards her ustad, her childhood and what first made her fall in love with music.

Court Performer!Y/N who is quietly surprised to find that the Naib Nawab actually listens to her answers. Most nobles only cared to be entertained, but not him. He listened with the same attention whether she was explaining a difficult taan or recalling a fond memory from years ago.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who gradually begins requesting one final ghazal, then one question about the poet, then another about the composition itself. Before either of them realises it, the music has long since ended while their conversation continues well into the evening.

Court Performer!Y/N who eventually notices she spends more time sitting across from the Naib Nawab with a cup of sharbat in her hands than she does actually singing or dancing for him. She isn't quite sure when their meetings stopped feeling less like performances and more like conversations and actual friendship.

Court Performer!Y/N who eventually stops apologising every time she disagrees with the Naib Nawab's interpretation of a poem. "I still think the poet meant longing, not regret," she'd insist, only to earn an amused shake of his head as he replied, "Then perhaps we'll have to agree that the poet has disappointed one of us.”

Naib Nawab! Uzair who gradually began to notice the smallest things about Y/N before she ever mentions them, the slightest strain in her voice after a long performance, the missing anklet she had worn for months, the ragas that brings a bright smile to her face, as if paying attention to her had simply become his second nature. Before he even realizes it, he started to set aside the sweetest mangoes, a newly written ghazal or a poem because "Y/N would like it."

Court Performer! Y/N Who slowly began looking forward to her evenings at the palace. She told herself it was because the Naib Nawab truly appreciated her art, but her heart knew better. Somehow, she always found herself waiting for him, no matter how late he was. And no matter how demanding the affairs of the state became, he always came. And in no time, she started to recognize his footsteps long before he entered the jalsa ghar, an unbidden smile blooming across her face to welcome him.

Court Performer! Y/N Who nearly slips on the rain-soaked marble steps one evening, only for the Naib Nawab to catch her by the wrist and wrap his arm around her waist before she can fall. His hand lingering for longer than instincts allow. And though neither of them said a word, she finds herself unable to forget the way he had looked at her, as though they were simply Uzair and Y/N, not a Naib Nawab and a court performer.

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who finally breaks every rule he had imposed upon himself after she confesses that the palace has started to feel like a peaceful sanctuary because of him. Unable to fight his heart any longer, he cupped her face with slow hands and kissed her beneath the lantern-lit arches of his private Jalsa ghar. His lips hovered gently over hers to seek permission, and the moment she moved her lips closer— confessing everything she never dared to put into words. He deepened the kiss, turning all his restraint into love and pouring it into that one soft, deep kiss, filled with longing.

Bade Nawab! Rehman Who freezes in the doorway upon finding his younger brother standing far too close to a court performer, his hands still cupping her face, softly.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who has faced angry ministers, British officers, and political rivals without flinching.... yet he feels his stomach sink the moment he meets his brother's disappointed eyes.

Court Performer! Y/N who immediately steps away and lowers her gaze, knowing exactly how this must have appeared to bade Nawab Sahab. 

Bade Nawab! Rehman who believes Y/N has carefully earned Uzair's trust, all in the hope of becoming his future Begum to enjoy a life of riches.

Bade Nawab! Rehman Who reminds Uzair that history is filled with nobles ruined by women who knew exactly how to charm powerful men.

Court Performer! Y/N Who overhears enough of the conversation to realize that Bade Nawab genuinely believes she's after wealth, titles, and status. And left the palace before anyone could notice the tears she refused to shed.

Bade Nawab! Rehman Who orders Y/N's troupe to never accept invitations to the Naib Nawab's private mehfils, ever again.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who says nothing while his brother speaks, not because he agrees, but because every word of protest would only make Y/N's life difficult. And continued hosting his private mehfils to look normal. But now the music feels unbearably hollow, every ghazal reminding him of that one voice who no longer sings for him.

Court Performer! Y/N who still bows before the royal family during public performances, yet never once lifts her eyes towards the Naib Nawab again. Who couldn't help but adore her from a distance, with eyes filled with longing.

Court Performer!Y/N who has barely stepped out of the palace after another court performance when one of Bade Nawab Sahab's personal mulazims quietly stops her. "His Highness wishes to speak with you... alone." Her heart immediately sinks. Somehow, she knows this has nothing to do with music.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who deliberately waits until Uzair has gone to the treasury for the day's work, before summoning her. He knows his younger brother well enough to understand that Uzair would never allow this conversation to happen if he were present.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who speaks before he hears her side, he quietly mentions her mother's name... then her younger brother's. He never explicitly threatens them, but the meaning behind his words is unmistakable. "Some lives are far more fragile than others Y/N. Don't force me to become the reason yours falls apart."

Court Performer!Y/N who had walked into the room prepared to defend her love for Uzair with everything she had. The moment her family is brought into it, however, every argument dies on her tongue, replaced by a silence so heavy it hurts to breathe.

Court Performer!Y/N who quietly lowers her head and agrees to Bade Nawab Sahab's conditions without attempting to bargain or defend herself. If losing the man she loved meant her mother and little brother would remain safe, then she'd bear that heartbreak a thousand times over.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who is almost taken aback by how quickly she agrees. He had expected tears, arguments... perhaps even defiance, women who aspire for easy money has done that plenty of times before him. But not Y/N. Instead, she simply folds her hands, thanks him for his time, and leaves with a smile so painfully forced that it lingers in his mind long after she's gone.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who had grown used to loving her from afar. He'd sit through every public mehfil pretending to listen to the music while secretly stealing glances at her whenever she danced. So when another performer stepped into her place one evening, he frowned in quiet confusion, assuming she must simply be unwell.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who keeps expecting her to return the following evening... then the one after that... and the one after that. Days quietly turn into weeks, yet her place amongst the troupe remains painfully empty.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who finally pulls the the troupe leader aside after a court performance and asks her where Y/N is? The woman lowers her gaze before quietly admitting,”I'm afraid she won't be returning to perform,Huzoor. She has left the troupe”and for the first time since Rehman's orders, genuine worry begins replacing his quiet longing.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who never questioned his brother's decision to end the private performances, but he cannot accept Y/N vanishing without a word. Every explanation he comes up with feels wrong... because if she'd truly wanted to leave, she would've at least said goodbye.

Naib Nawab! Uzair Who quietly questions everyone who might know where Y/N has gone. But every answer is the same. They either know nothing.... or pretend they don't. And eventually begins asking questions without saying her name. "Has one of the court performers fallen ill?" "Has anyone left the city recently?" hoping for someone to unknowingly reveal the truth. But no one did. So at the end he even sent his guards to fetch her whereabouts, but each of them returned empty handed.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who still attends every council meeting and signs hundreds of documents regarding state matters, but no longer argues over figures or catches mistakes before anyone else. The ministers quietly exchange worried glances, as the man once known for noticing every detail is now staring through reports without truly reading them.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who cancels every private mehfil, saying he has grown too occupied with matters of the state. But in reality he just cannot bring himself to listen to ghazals anymore, because every verse reminds him of conversations he had with that one person who is no longer there to finish them.

Naib Nawab!Uzair who barely sleeps a few hours, skips meals without noticing, and buries himself in work he can no longer concentrate on. And within weeks the quiet grief he was carrying in his heart, started taking a visible toll on him. And then came a point, when even the palace hakim was failing to cure him.... because no medicine can cure a heart that is slowly breaking.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who is the first to notice how loosely Uzair's sherwanis now fit and how often he suppresses a cough during meetings. For the first time since forbidding the relationship, doubt quietly begins settling in his heart.

Naib Nawab! Uzair who finally gave up and collapsed during a council meeting, leaving the entire court in stunned silence.

Court Performer! Y/N who has done everything in her power to keep her promise. She avoids the palace, avoids asking about him, even changes the routes she takes through the city. Then one evening, while buying medicine for her mother, she overhears two palace servants whispering that the Naib Nawab has fallen gravely ill. And then spent the entire night convincing herself she has no right to go to him, only to realise that love has never once listened to reason. And for the first time since leaving the palace, she finally broke down, regretting that she didn't inform Uzair sahab about her decision.

Court Performer!Y/N who finally arrives at the palace gates breathless, having crossed all the streets without once stopping to catch her breath. Forgetting every rule of etiquette she had spent years learning and following, caring only that she reaches him as soon as possible.

Court Performer!Y/N who rushes to the palace gates without a second thought, only for the guards to stop her. They recognized her instantly, but Bade Nawab Sahab's orders are Patthar ki lakeer(written in stone). No matter what, they cannot let her through.

Court Performer! Y/N who pleads that she has no intention of causing trouble, only wishing to see the Naib Nawab for a single moment. Yet the guards remain unmoved.

Court Performer!Y/N who begs the guards to let her pass, her voice trembling and breaking more with every passing moment. Tears stream freely down her face as she struggles against the guards, caring little for the curious eyes gathering around her. As she kept on pleading through broken sobs.

Bade Nawab! Rehman who hears the disturbance from the palace courtyard and walks out, expecting to find an unruly visitor. Instead, he finds Y/N on her knees before the guards, her hands folded as she pleads desperately. He watched in silence before announcing his presence, noticing that she didn't even look at him. Her eyes remain fixed on the palace doors, as though nothing else in the world matters.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who suddenly finds himself, mentally travelling years in the past, remembering the countless doors he had knocked on, the objections he had endured, and the desperation he had once felt just to marry Ulfat. For the first time, he realizes the expression on Y/N's tear-stained face is painfully familiar.... because he had once worn it himself. And understood with quiet shame that no one, who is chasing wealth would ever stand weeping at palace gates, willing to sacrifice every ounce of dignity for the chance to see the man they love.

Bade Nawab! Rehman who finally sees the truth, he had been too blinded by his anger and classist mentality to notice. If Y/N had wanted riches or status, she would've fought his conditions months ago. Instead, she had disappeared without any sign of protest, choosing heartbreak over putting her family or Uzair in danger. And realized that every decision she had made had been an act of love, not ambition. He quietly regrets mistaking her silence for guilt, when in truth, it had been her sacrifice for her love and loved ones.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who finally breaks the heavy silence with a single command "Let her through." The guards step aside without another word, watching Y/N disappear into the palace almost immediately. 

Court Performer!Y/N who did not stop to catch her breath even once as she raced through the palace corridors. Her eyes were blurred with tears, her heart pounding so loudly that she barely heard the servants calling after her. The only thing that matters is reaching him, and the moment she steps into his chamber, she freezes. 

Naib Nawab!Uzair Who had always carried himself with such dignity now lies pale against the bed, his face devoid of its usual warmth. Y/N gently brushed his hair away from his forehead, her fingers shivering slightly "U–Uzair, please wake up, see I'm back. P–pl–lease wake up and s–scold me for leaving you."

Naib Nawab!Uzair who moved almost faintly at the familiar softness of a voice he had spent uncountable days convincing himself, he will never be able to hear again. When he finally opens his eyes, he finds Y/N sitting beside him, her hand wrapped around his, tears slipping silently down her cheeks in two parallel rivers of agony and yearning. For a second he believed he's having some crazy fever dream, until she smiled through those tears and kissed his hand with her quivering lips. His fingers weakly tightened around hers before he whispers, almost afraid the moment might disappear.... she might disappear again "You came."

Court Performer!Y/N Who lets out a watery laugh and nods frantically, unable to stop her tears. "You weren't waking up, sleeping like kumbhkaran, so I had to come."

Bade Nawab!Rehman who watches the reunion from the doorway in complete silence. There were no grand confessions, no dramatic embraces, only two souls finding their way back to each other. Somehow, that quiet devotion affected him more than any dramatic declaration ever could. He quietly closed the chamber doors behind him before walking away, understanding that some moments, sacred like this reunion, deserve no witnesses, especially when he's the one who caused the separation.

Bade Nawab!Rehman who visits Uzair after he has recovered enough to sit up and talk. For a long moment, neither of the brothers broke the silence. Then with the faintest smile, Rehman simply said "Bring her to me and Ulfat, this time as the woman you wish to spend your life with."

Bade Nawab!Rehman who later seeks Y/N himself, not as the ruler of the state, but as an elder brother who owes her an apology. "I mistook your love for ambition" he admits quietly. "Forgive an old man Y/N, who allowed the fear to cloud his judgment." Y/N quickly shook her head and gently assured him that neither she nor Uzair hold any grudges against him. They both understood that everything he had done was out of the fierce, unwavering love he has for his younger brother.

Bade Nawab!Rehman Who announced before the entire gathering that Y/N shall always be respected by everyone with the same respect she has earned through her grace and unwavering heart. He happily declared that she was soon going to become an integral part of the Nawab family, because Uzair and Y/N would be married once Uzair had fully recovered. From that day onwards, no one dares question her place beside the Naib Nawab, and no one ever will.

The Nawab!Family Who celebrated Uzair and Y/N's wedding wholeheartedly. The palace echoed with laughter, music, and blessings, but no one was happier than the eldest Nawabzade, Naieem, who proudly declared to anyone willing to listen that he had been blessed with the most beautiful chachi in the whole world.

The Nawab! Family Who welcomed the younger Nawabzade with tears of happiness, and Rehman urged Y/N to name him. She felt overwhelmed with love and respect and softly whispered the name "Faisal." Making the tiny infant let out the sweetest smile, as though he too approved the name chosen for him. 

The Nawab Family who distributed the finest sweets across the entire city, because the Naib Nawab and his beloved Begum were expecting their first child. Surrounded by so much love and care, Y/N often found herself wondering if it was all a dream. Because she had never once imagined a family that would care for her so much, making her feel cherished every single day. 

The Nawab family who soon welcomed the first Nawabzadi of the family, lovingly named Dua by Ulfat. From the very moment she was born, she had her Bade Abba Rehman wrapped around her tiny little finger, and there wasn't a single wish of hers that he could ever refuse. 

The Nawab family Who stood together as one during every storm, and found the happiness they deserved. Their home remained filled with love, laughter, music, and the quiet comfort of knowing they had found exactly where they belonged, with one another.

Taglist: @laal-pari @warnermeadowsgirl @scentedwolfdragon @miwagonemad @pleasetagmejaaneman @pn28 @desibaddies @harrystyleskiwi9 @withlovemii @avasif @anxiousbeeing @goodnightkatherine @istilldonotslay @gehra-hua @forbiddenfanaa @cloudmast @bobcuts-blog @niyadarealart @mylifesalreadyfucked @gulaabjamun08 @manjari08 @forbiddenfanaa @dollie1111xo5 @iamadelusionalwriter @goldenharrysworld @debsreads21 @theuselessdaydreamingidiot @writrsblu @chai-aur-chaand @miraclejin1204 @mainyahaankyunhoon @precioussophia @rosiasthings @dhurandhar-archives @hamzair-is-my-otp @royaldreamermonsoon @between-smoke-and-roses @lavenderwinkle @sarcastic-ravenpuff @qalamband @rhymeskiii @granddynamonovajbvgjjj @sugarvibez @akshayes @rosesandpeoniesthings @bxtchyrose @alpineforeverr @iatedonuts @prettylady2006

[whyishekinda]

GHAR WAPSI (trans.Homecoming)🔞

Pairing: Military bf!Jaskirat Singh Rangi x Y/N

Genre: Smut w/plot.

DISCLAIMER: This is written purely as a means of entertainment and not to glorify any real person or the events they are associated with. ALSO AS MENTIONED BEFORE THIS IS SMUT. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR ARE UNCOMFORTABLE.

Warnings: ⚠️MDNI⚠️ NSFW CONTENT, Bad writing, not proofread. (I am writing smut after so long that it feels foreign so forgive me for not getting the vibe right😔)

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the narrow lanes of Jaskirat's village, bathing the familiar streets and lush green fields in hues of gold and amber.

Y/N stood by her window, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the wooden panels as she watched the road leading into the neighborhood.

Word had spread through the village like wildfire: Jaskirat Singh Rangi was back.

His training at Ramgarh Cantonment was finally complete, and the boy who had left months ago had returned a man in uniform, coming home to the place that held his roots, his family... and her.

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She'd been waiting all day, her heart beating a restless rhythm against her ribs. The minutes had crawled by like hours, each one stretching her anticipation further, until her nerves hummed with the familiar electricity she'd only ever felt when thinking of him during long, sleepless nights.

She'd heard the commotion from a distance.

Laughter and excited chatter drifted from his house down the lane to hers.

Y/N had fought every instinct urging her to run over, to see him the moment he stepped off the tempo, to throw her arms around him, kiss him senseless, and scold him for not writing back.

But she was too hurt.

If he hadn't found the time to reply to even a single one of her letters over all these months, then why should she be the one to welcome him back with open arms?

But deep down, she waited. Impatiently. Hoping. Imagining.

And then, true to her imagination, she saw him.

He was walking down the lane from his house to hers, that confident, easy stride unmistakable even from a distance.

The olive green uniform hugged his frame like a second skn. Broad shoulders that seemed to have widened tapered down to his narrow waist, the crisp fabric accentuating every hard earned muscle beneath. His boots gleamed even in the soft evening light, catching the setting sun with every deliberate step.

He carried himself differently now, the confident stride, the purposeful walk.

Months of relentless drills, discipline, and exhaustion had reshaped him into someone who made her mouth go dry.

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Y/N felt her breath hitch as Jaskirat stopped beneath her window.

He didn't look up immediately. Instead, he stood there for a long moment, taking a slow, steady breath as though gathering courage. His palms were damp despite the cool breeze. The mere thought of standing this close to the woman whose memory had haunted countless lonely nights in the cantonment was enough to make his heart pound against his ribs.

Finally, he lifted his head.

Their eyes met, for one fleeting second.

Then, with an offended little huff, Y/N stepped back and drew the curtains shut.

Oh... she was furious. Fair enough. He deserved that.

Jaskirat let out a quiet sigh before walking around to the front door.

He knocked twice.

The door swung open almost immediately.

"Areeey, Jassi puttar!" Y/N's mother beamed, her face lighting up the instant she saw him.

Without a second thought, Jaskirat bent down and touched her feet.

"Jeete raho, puttar," she blessed warmly, resting both hands over his head for a moment.

The next instant, all formality disappeared.

She cupped his face affectionately before pulling him into a tight hug.

"My baccha..." she murmured, patting his back. "Look at you. Kitna dubla ho gaya hai! Dhang se khana nahi milta wahan?"

Jaskirat laughed softly.

"Milta hai, aunty... bas training thodi zyada milti hai."

"Haan haan, mujhe mat bata. Aaja, dekhun zara."

She held him at arm's length, eyes glistening with pride as she looked him over.

She had watched him grow from a scrawny little boy who spent more time in their house than his own into the young officer standing before her now.

He wasn't just the neighbour's son, he was family.

Just then, Y/N's father stepped into the hallway.

"Oye, mera fauji puttar aa gaya!" he called with a grin.

Jaskirat immediately straightened before bending to touch his feet as well.

Y/N's father stopped him halfway, chuckling. "Bas bas."

Instead, he wrapped one arm around the young man and gave his back two firm, affectionate pats.

"Proud of you, my son."

A smile spread across Jaskirat's face small but genuine.

"Thank you, Uncle."

"Your father hasn't stopped boasting since morning," he laughed. "Come on, your mother has invited the entire lane for dinner. If we're late, she'll blame me."

Y/N's mother looked toward the staircase for a brief moment before exchanging an amused glance with her husband.

"You two go ahead," Jaskirat said, trying and failing to sound casual, "I'll catch up in a minute."

Both parents shared the kind of smile that only adults who had watched two children grow up together could share.

"Achha..." her mother nodded slowly, deliberately pretending not to notice where Jaskirat's eyes kept drifting.

"We'll leave you two to... catch up."

"Haan, haan," Y/N's father agreed, "tum hi manao uss ziddi ladki ko abb, hum chalte hain"

Jaskirat rubbed the back of his neck, ears turning pink.

"Ji..."

Y/N's mom laughed,"Ja, puttar."

With one final pat on his shoulder, the couple stepped out of the house and made their way towards the Rangi home, where voices, laughter, and the aroma of an elaborate feast already drifted through the neighborhood.

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The front door clicked shut behind them.

Silence settled over the house.

Jaskirat looked toward the staircase.

"...Time to face the firing squad," he muttered under his breath.

Adjusting the collar of his uniform, he took a steadying breath before climbing the familiar wooden stairs toward the room where his very angry, very beautifl girlfriend was waiting.

The wooden staircase creaked beneath Jaskirat's boots as he climbed, every step strangely heavier than the miles he'd marched during training.

He knew this house almost as well as the back of his palm.

Knew which step squeaked.

Knew which corner Y/N used to hide behind during childhood games of hide and seek.

Knew exactly which room she'd lock herself in whenever she was upset.

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Her door was half open.

Jaskirat knocked once before stepping inside. She didn't turn, still sitting by the window with her arms folded, she kept her gaze fixed outside as though he weren't standing a few feet away.

He waited, hoping she'd look at him. She didn't.

"I know you're angry."

"You ignored every letter I sent." The hurt in her voice made him lower his eyes.

"I didn't ignore them." He swallowed. "I read every single one. More times than I can count."

That made her look at him with suspicion,"Then why didn't you write back?"

"The first few weeks, we weren't allowed to. After that..." A quiet, almost embarrassed laugh escaped him. "Every time I sat down to write to you, I'd end up filling pages. Then parade would be called, or lights out, or we'd be sent somewhere else. I'd always tell myself I'd finish them the next day."

His smile faltered,"and I did...but then two mkre letters would wait for me by the time i finished the first one"

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Months of anger had convinced Y/N that he'd simply forgotten her. Looking at him now, she could see the same guilt she'd carried in hurt. It didn't erase the lonely nights or the unanswered letters, but it made the grief feel shared instead of one sided.

"You really are an idiot," she whispered.

A sheepish smile tugged at his lips,"maaf karde mennu.. sohni"

She rolled her eyes, giving his arm a light smack before stepping closer almost without thinking. He hesitated only for a heartbeat before wrapping his arms around her, he still couldn't quite believe she forgave him.

Neither of them spoke.

The room fell quiet except for the distant laughter drifting in from the celebration down the street and the slow, steady rhythm of two hearts finally finding familiar ground again.

After a while, Y/N pulled back just enough to look at him properly. Her fingers absentmindedly smoothed the crease in his olive green uniform before her eyes met his once more.

"So..." she murmured, the corners of her lips lifting ever so slightly, "you've finally come home."

Jaskirat smiled, unable to look away from her, "Yeah."

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

For a moment, neither of them moved.

And then he held her face in his palm, softly kissing her.  The kiss deepened slowly, tentatively at first, like testing water before a dip. Her lips parted against his, and he tasted the salt of tears she'd long since dried. His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, tilting her head back just enough to fit his mouth more fully against hers.

Y/N's fingers curled into the stiff fabric of his uniform, bunching the olive green fabric at his shoulders. The distant celebration outside faded into nothing; the music, the laughter, the firecrackers, all of it swallowed by the wet sound of their mouths meeting, separating, meeting again.

"You have no idea," he breathed against her lips, "how many nights I laid awake thinking about you.. thinking about this..."

"Mhmm? Show me, then soldier" she whispered back, her voice husky with want.

His hands slid down her back, gripping the curve of her waist, pulling her flush against him. She felt the hard press of his belt buckle against her stomach, the warmth of his body through the thick fabric. Her fingers found the buttons of his unifirm, working them open with trembling urgency.

He broke the kiss to help her, shrugging off the uniform jacket and letting it fall to the floor. His undershirt came next, pulled over his head in one swift motion. She drank him in, the broad shoulders, the defined chest, the faint tan line where his collar usually sat. New scars she didn't recognize. A thin white line across his ribs, a darker patch of healed skin near his collarbone.

She reached out, her fingertups tracing the scar near his collarbone before sliding down his chest. Her hand flattened over his heart, feeling it race beneath her palm. Then she pushed him gently backward until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he fell down letting out an oomf.

Y/N climbed onto his lap, straddling him, her thighs pressed against the coarse fabric of his trousers. She could feel him already hard beneath the layers, pressing insistently against her. She pulled her salwar down and settled on his lap, and he groaned when her bare thighs made contact with his hips.

"Fuck, I missed you," he muttered, his hands finding her waist, sliding up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts through her kameez.

She rolled her hips against him deliberately, watching his jaw tighten. His hands moved to remove her kameez, fumbling momentarily before she covered his fingers with hers.

"Let me," she said softly.

She undid the dori, and swung the kameez over her head in a swift motion, and unclipped her bra before throwing it on the floor. His breath caught at the sight of her bare chest, her nipples already stiff in the cool room air.

His hands came up immediately, cupping her breasts, thumbs stroking over her nipples in featherlight circles. She arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. He leaned forward, taking one nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking across the sensitive peak before sucking gently.

"Jassi..." she gasped, her fingers threading through his hair, holding him there.

He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his hand never stopping its movement on the first. When he pulled back, her skin was flushed, her lips parted, her eyes lidded with desire.

He guided her hips against his, the friction building through the layers of fabric separating them. She reached down between them, her fingers finding the buckle of his belt, working it open with practiced ease. The zipper came next, and she could feel the heat of him through his boxers as she freed him.

She didn't want to rush, she wanted to slide off of his lap and kneel before him, and take his throbbing cock in her mouth and have a taste, but time was short and they needed to leave for his place soon.

Jaskirat knew that too, so without wasting any time, he grabbed her waist and pulled her onto the bed with him, rolling so she was beneath him. His body covered hers, the weight of him familiar and grounding. He kissed her deeply, she wrapped her legs around his waist, arching up against him.

His cock pressed against her wetness, sliding through her slick folds without entering. He teased her, dragging the tip along her entrance, circling her clit, making her gasp and writhe beneath him.

"Please," she begged, nails digging into his shoulders. "Jaskirat, please."

He lined himself up and pushed inside her slowly, watching her face as he filled her inch by inch. Her mouth fell open, her eyes fluttering closed, a long, shuddering moan escaping her throat as he seated himself fully inside her.

She was so tight around him, so warm. He stayed still for a long moment, letting her adjust...afterall it has been a year, his forehead pressed against hers, their breaths mingling.

"You feel like home," he whispered.

She laughed, breathless, and tightened her legs around him. "Then show me you mean it."

He pulled out almost entirely, then thrust back in with almost a choking force, moving erratically with each thrust. Her hands roamed his back, nails leaving crescent marks on his skin. Her hips rose to meet his, matching his pace, the wet sound of their bodies joining filling the room.

"Harder," she begged, her voice breaking.

He complied, his thrusts growing harder, deeper, the bed creaking beneath them. Her moans grew louder, less restrained, bouncing off the walls. His hand found her mouth and clammped on it, eyes dark with lust and longing.

"The neighbors," he reminded her gruffly.

She bit his palm, her eyes challenging him, and he almost came undone right then.

He slid his hand between them, finding her clit, rubbing tight circles as he pounded even more erratically into her. Her body tensed, her breath catching, her walls clenching around him, she was close.

Jaskirat could feel it, he rammed into her ever faster,"Let go sohni...cum for me" and following his order mixed with the plea, she came with a muffled scream against his hand. The sensation pushed him over the edge, and he groaned her name as he spilled inside her, his hips stuttering through the final waves of pleasure.

He collapsed on top of her, his face buried in her neck, both of them breathing hard and slick with sweat. Her arms wrapped around him, her fingers combing through his damp hair.

For a minute, neither of them spoke.

Finally, she pressed a kiss to his temple. "Welcome home, soldier."

He lifted his head, meeting her eyes. Against the backdrop of celebration sounds drifting in from the street, he smiled a true, unburdened smile.

"Best homecoming ever."

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

Bonus: Nearly 30 more minutes later, the duo showed up at the Rangi house, looking too proper for what happend even a few minutes back. They immediately separated and went on their way. Y/N beeline to her mother and other women while Jaskirat walked straight past his friends.

Y/N's mother noticed that she was wearing a different suit, she frowned but said nothing, going back to her conversation with another neighbour.

Meanwhile, Pinda gave Jassi a smirk that made him flustered. And in the chaos of it all only Harleen noticed the missing button on her brother's new uniform and the very suspicious bruise peeking from Y/N's kameez.

Taglist: @laal-pari @warnermeadowsgirl @scentedwolfdragon @miwagonemad @pleasetagmejaaneman @pn28 @desibaddies @harrystyleskiwi9 @withlovemii @avasif @anxiousbeeing @goodnightkatherine @istilldonotslay @gehra-hua @forbiddenfanaa @cloudmast @bobcuts-blog @niyadarealart @mylifesalreadyfucked @gulaabjamun08 @manjari08 @forbiddenfanaa @dollie1111xo5 @iamadelusionalwriter @goldenharrysworld @debsreads21 @theuselessdaydreamingidiot @writrsblu @chai-aur-chaand @miraclejin1204 @mainyahaankyunhoon @precioussophia @rosiasthings @dhurandhar-archives @hamzair-is-my-otp @royaldreamermonsoon @between-smoke-and-roses @lavenderwinkle @sarcastic-ravenpuff @qalamband @rhymeskiii @granddynamonovajbvgjjj @sugarvibez @akshayes @rosesandpeoniesthings @bxtchyrose @alpineforeverr @iatedonuts @prettylady2006 @obsessedwidskincare

[whyishekinda]

I am working on a smutty one shot and aaaaaa😭😭😭 I feel like I have lost my ability to write smuts😭😭😭 kuch likha hi nahi jaa raha merese🥲

[majorjaskiratsinghrangi]

@whyishekinda 🥰

[whyishekinda]

Mere saath sone se konsi neend aane waali hai🤭 We will stay up anyway😋

[whyishekinda]

Mehfil(Uzair x Reader)

Genre: Cafe!au headcanons

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction purely made with the purpose of providing entertainment. I do not intend to glorify, justify or promote any real person or the events linked with them.

Warnings: Crazy stupid idea i had a while back, bad writing.

(This is not ai. I made it using canva and picsart)

The Head Baker: Ulfat Baloch🌸

Arrives before sunrise every day.

Responsible for breads, croissants, cheesecakes, cookies, and all signature bakes.

Takes baking very seriously.(ofc)

Will silently judge anyone who squeezes a croissant.

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

The Sous chef: Donga🍓

Ulfat's apprentice.

Decorates cakes and desserts and makes the best lasagna.

Usually covered in flour and frosting.(Definitely not because he was stealing sampling the pastries again)

Refuses to wear a head cap while baking. Because in his defence he has like zero hair-😭

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

The Brew master: Hamza Ali Mazari☕️

The café's coffee and chai expert.

Certified barista (thanks to his masters in brewing science from Aalam doodh soda University😳).

Constantly experiments with new drinks.

If someone compliments a latte, he pretends to be cool about it but is secretly thrilled.

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

The café manager (and server): Uzair Baloch📋

Runs the café with the owner(Rehman)

Handles inventory, staff schedules, customer complaints, finances, and ordering supplies.

Still serves customers because he genuinely enjoys it.

Knows almost every regular by name and remembers their usual order.(specially a certain pretty lady who sits in the corner always ordering two pastries for herself)

pic credits: @miraclejin1204

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

Resident Cat: Suki DaKat 😼

Official title: Customer Relations Manager.

Unofficial title: The actual owner of the Café

Chooses one customer every day to bless with his presence.

Rehman insists he doesn't spoil the cat.

The staff have photographic evidence proving otherwise.

(Bro's got the kasainuma smile as well😭)

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

Regular Customer!Y/N who has been coming to Mehfil for so long that nobody actually remembers when she became a regular. Some mornings it's before university, grabbing a quick cup of coffee before class. Other evenings it's after lectures with her books still peeking out of her tote bag. And on weekends she's there simply because nowhere else quite matches the comfort and vibes of Mehfil.

Regular Customer!Y/N who has an unreserved permanent table. It's the little corner by the window overlooking the streets and the docks beyond it, tucked just in the cozy corner away from the evening crowd where she can study in peace while still listening to the local band perform every night.

Store Manager!Uzair who, after her 3rd day at the cafe, starts noticing the moment she walks through the door without ever making it obvious. He'll be halfway through counting inventory or helping another customer, yet somehow he's always be the first one to greet her with a quiet smile and a soft, "The usual?"

Store Manager!Uzair who memorized her order months ago. One Kashmiri noon chai and whichever pastry she'd convinced herself she'd "only have a bite" of before inevitably finishing the entire thing , and ordering a second.

Store Manager!Uzair who always manages to sneak something complimentary onto her tray. Sometimes it's a pistachio croissant, sometimes a slice of kunafa cheesecake, sometimes a freshly baked cookie that "would've gone to waste anyway," even though everybody in the café knows that's a complete lie.

Regular Customer!Y/N who genuinely believes Mehfil just treats all their regulars like this. She tells her classmates all the time that it's the nicest café in Lyari, never realizing the complimentary pastries have absolutely nothing to do with customer loyalty.

Store Manager!Uzair who keeps telling himself it's simply good business. Regular customers recommend cafés to their friends, happy customers come back... and none of those reasons explain why he's never once slipped a complimentary pastry onto anyone else's tray.

Head Baker!Ulfat who starts noticing the pastry count never matches her inventory sheets anymore. One pistachio croissant disappears almost every afternoon without fail, followed by the occasional cheesecake slice or chocolate chip or coconut cookies.

Head Baker!Ulfat who immediately assumes Donga is the culprit. The poor man can't even decorate a cheesecake in peace before she's asking whether he's been "sampling" the display again.

Sous Chef!Donga who sputters abd spends an entire hour defending his innocence. He swears on every croissant in the bakery that he hasn't touched a single cheesecake or cookie, but absolutely nobody believes him.

Head Baker!Ulfat who corners Donga in the kitchen one afternoon with the inventory sheet still clutched in her hand. She asks where the missing pastries are going, and Donga, without a single thought in his brain, points through the serving window towards Uzair.

Sous Chef!Donga who accidentally exposes Uzair in under five seconds. "Uzair bhai gives them to that pretty girl by the window." Then immediately goes back to piping cream onto éclairs, blissfully ignoring the silence caused by the bomb he dropped.

Store Manager!Uzair who realizes he's been caught the second Ulfat walks out into the register, eyes narrowed at him. He's suddenly very interested in reorganizing the coffee beans that definitely did not need reorganizing.

Head Baker!Ulfat who drags Uzair into the kitchen by his ear. She doesn't care that customers might see, she wants to know why weeks' worth of perfectly made croissants have mysteriously vanished into one very specific customer's tray.

Store Manager!Uzair who completely blanks the second Ulfat asks him to explain himself. He starts rambling and stuttering about customer retention, loyalty, regulars, positive experiences and free marketing until even he realizes he isn't making any sense.

Head Baker!Ulfat who simply folds her arms and asks, "and...?."(there's always an and)

Store Manager!Uzair who sighs in defeat after thirty seconds of him rambling pathetic excuses and knows that he's been caught, "andshescuteandimighthaveacrushonher."

Head Baker!Ulfat who pinches the bridge of her nose. "Then ask the poor girl out. Stop bribing her with my pastries. Do you even knkw how expensive coconuts are in Karachi?!."

Brewmaster!Hamza who overhears the entire conversation while steaming milk. Doesn't even bother looking up before muttering, "Bhabi, I've literally been telling him that for months."

Brewmaster!Hamza who somehow becomes Uzair's biggest supporter and biggest bully at exactly the same time. Every time Y/N walks through the door, he quietly elbows Uzair in the ribs before disappearing into the back with the smuggest smirk known to mankind. And everytime Uzair would mutter profanities under his breath. He should have never told his stupid best friend about the crush. Ugh.

Store Manager!Uzair who somehow becomes twice as awkward after everyone finds out about his crush. He starts dropping spoons, forgetting table numbers and nearly burning himself on freshly brewed coffee whenever she smiles at him.

Regular Customer!Y/N who mistakes every ounce of his awkwardness for simple shyness. She just assumes he's naturally quiet since he hasn't really tried to intimate any conversation with her ever, she never realizes the poor man has forgotten how to function every time she even looks at him now.

Resident Cat!Suki who has more charm and game than Uzair, has found a permamnwt way to get pets and cuddles everytime Y/N was at the café. He waits at the café's window sill until she arrives and trots over the second she enters, and spends the next three hours curled up in her lap while she studies.

Regular Customer!Y/N who starts carrying cat treats in her bag specifically for Suki. She tells herself they're "just in case," even though everybody in Mehfil has watched her buy a fresh packet every single week for the furry menace.

Resident Cat!Suki who absolutely adores Y/N and absolutely cannot stand Uzair when Y/N is with him. Every time the poor man walks over with her order, Suki lifts his head just long enough to hiss before curling back up in her lap like nothing happened.

Brewmaster!Hamza who becomes convinced Suki can smell a man with a crush from across the room. Uzair insists cats don't work like that. Hamza insists Suki Dakat is living proof that they do.

Owner!Rehman who drops by the flagship one afternoon to check on business. He notices the steady crowd, the familiar university student by the window... and yet another complimentary pastry sitting on her tray.

Owner!Rehman who doesn't need anybody to explain what's happening. One look from his wife a cross the kitchen counter, and he knows what's going on. Telepathy comes naturally after a certain point in marriage,

Owner!Rehman who says absolutely nothing. He simply gives Uzair one long, knowing look before walking into his office at the back of he café, somehow making his younger brother feel more embarrassed than an entire lecture ever could.

The entire Mehfil staff who slowly turn Uzair's love life into a team project without letting either of them realise it. Ulfat "accidentally" bakes a heart shaped pistachio pastry, Hamza keeps making the wrong drink for Uzair to go over to her table atkeast twice before he makes it right, Donga offers encouraging thumbs ups from behind the pastry display.

Resident Cat!Suki who chooses the exact day Uzair finally gathers the courage to confess... to not hiss at him for once. Hamza later swears even the cat had finally decided to help.

Store Manager!Uzair who spends nearly ten minutes rehearsing what he's going to say before walking over to her table. The speech disappears from his brain the second she looks up and smiles.

Store Manager!Uzair who somehow manages to ask if she'd like to have dinner with him despite sounding like every word physically pains him to say. He's already preparing himself for rejection before she's even had a chance to answer.

Regular Customer!Y/N who blinks at him in complete confusion before laughing softly. She'd honestly been daydreaming about the sweet café manager who kept giving her free pastries finally asking her out.

Regular Customer!Y/N who admits she's partly kept coming back for him. somewhere between complimentary croissants and remembering her order, she'd developed a hopeless crush on the tall, sweet and handsome store manager too.

Store Manager!Uzair who spends months trying to win her over with free pastries... only to discover she'd already fallen for him long before he'd found the courage to ask.

Head Baker!Ulfat who let's all the staff have a piece of their favourite pastry in honour of Uzair finally growing a pair and asking his crush out.

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

Taglist: @laal-pari @warnermeadowsgirl @scentedwolfdragon @miwagonemad @pleasetagmejaaneman @pn28 @desibaddies @harrystyleskiwi9 @withlovemii @avasif @anxiousbeeing @goodnightkatherine @istilldonotslay @forbiddenfanaa @cloudmast @bobcuts-blog @niyadarealart @mylifesalreadyfucked @gulaabjamun08 @manjari08 @forbiddenfanaa @dollie1111xo5 @iamadelusionalwriter @goldenharrysworld @debsreads21 @theuselessdaydreamingidiot @writrsblu @chai-aur-chaand @mainyahaankyunhoon @precioussophia @rosiasthings @dhurandhar-archives @hamzair-is-my-otp @royaldreamermonsoon @between-smoke-and-roses @lavenderwinkle @sarcastic-ravenpuff @qalamband @rhymeskiii @granddynamonovajbvgjjj @sugarvibez @akshayes @gehra-hua @rosesandpeoniesthings @bxtchyrose @alpineforeverr @iatedonuts @prettylady2006 @indigo-pdf

[whyishekinda]

Continued taglist: @rehmanhatesdosa @oinswiftie @sunf1over @notyesha @rabbdaradio

[whyishekinda]

Mehfil(Uzair x Reader)

Genre: Cafe!au headcanons

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction purely made with the purpose of providing entertainment. I do not intend to glorify, justify or promote any real person or the events linked with them.

Warnings: Crazy stupid idea i had a while back, bad writing.

(This is not ai. I made it using canva and picsart)

The Head Baker: Ulfat Baloch🌸

Arrives before sunrise every day.

Responsible for breads, croissants, cheesecakes, cookies, and all signature bakes.

Takes baking very seriously.(ofc)

Will silently judge anyone who squeezes a croissant.

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

The Sous chef: Donga🍓

Ulfat's apprentice.

Decorates cakes and desserts and makes the best lasagna.

Usually covered in flour and frosting.(Definitely not because he was stealing sampling the pastries again)

Refuses to wear a head cap while baking. Because in his defence he has like zero hair-😭

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

The Brew master: Hamza Ali Mazari☕️

The café's coffee and chai expert.

Certified barista (thanks to his masters in brewing science from Aalam doodh soda University😳).

Constantly experiments with new drinks.

If someone compliments a latte, he pretends to be cool about it but is secretly thrilled.

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

The café manager (and server): Uzair Baloch📋

Runs the café with the owner(Rehman)

Handles inventory, staff schedules, customer complaints, finances, and ordering supplies.

Still serves customers because he genuinely enjoys it.

Knows almost every regular by name and remembers their usual order.(specially a certain pretty lady who sits in the corner always ordering two pastries for herself)

pic credits: @miraclejin1204

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

Resident Cat: Suki DaKat 😼

Official title: Customer Relations Manager.

Unofficial title: The actual owner of the Café

Chooses one customer every day to bless with his presence.

Rehman insists he doesn't spoil the cat.

The staff have photographic evidence proving otherwise.

(Bro's got the kasainuma smile as well😭)

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

Regular Customer!Y/N who has been coming to Mehfil for so long that nobody actually remembers when she became a regular. Some mornings it's before university, grabbing a quick cup of coffee before class. Other evenings it's after lectures with her books still peeking out of her tote bag. And on weekends she's there simply because nowhere else quite matches the comfort and vibes of Mehfil.

Regular Customer!Y/N who has an unreserved permanent table. It's the little corner by the window overlooking the streets and the docks beyond it, tucked just in the cozy corner away from the evening crowd where she can study in peace while still listening to the local band perform every night.

Store Manager!Uzair who, after her 3rd day at the cafe, starts noticing the moment she walks through the door without ever making it obvious. He'll be halfway through counting inventory or helping another customer, yet somehow he's always be the first one to greet her with a quiet smile and a soft, "The usual?"

Store Manager!Uzair who memorized her order months ago. One Kashmiri noon chai and whichever pastry she'd convinced herself she'd "only have a bite" of before inevitably finishing the entire thing , and ordering a second.

Store Manager!Uzair who always manages to sneak something complimentary onto her tray. Sometimes it's a pistachio croissant, sometimes a slice of kunafa cheesecake, sometimes a freshly baked cookie that "would've gone to waste anyway," even though everybody in the café knows that's a complete lie.

Regular Customer!Y/N who genuinely believes Mehfil just treats all their regulars like this. She tells her classmates all the time that it's the nicest café in Lyari, never realizing the complimentary pastries have absolutely nothing to do with customer loyalty.

Store Manager!Uzair who keeps telling himself it's simply good business. Regular customers recommend cafés to their friends, happy customers come back... and none of those reasons explain why he's never once slipped a complimentary pastry onto anyone else's tray.

Head Baker!Ulfat who starts noticing the pastry count never matches her inventory sheets anymore. One pistachio croissant disappears almost every afternoon without fail, followed by the occasional cheesecake slice or chocolate chip or coconut cookies.

Head Baker!Ulfat who immediately assumes Donga is the culprit. The poor man can't even decorate a cheesecake in peace before she's asking whether he's been "sampling" the display again.

Sous Chef!Donga who sputters abd spends an entire hour defending his innocence. He swears on every croissant in the bakery that he hasn't touched a single cheesecake or cookie, but absolutely nobody believes him.

Head Baker!Ulfat who corners Donga in the kitchen one afternoon with the inventory sheet still clutched in her hand. She asks where the missing pastries are going, and Donga, without a single thought in his brain, points through the serving window towards Uzair.

Sous Chef!Donga who accidentally exposes Uzair in under five seconds. "Uzair bhai gives them to that pretty girl by the window." Then immediately goes back to piping cream onto éclairs, blissfully ignoring the silence caused by the bomb he dropped.

Store Manager!Uzair who realizes he's been caught the second Ulfat walks out into the register, eyes narrowed at him. He's suddenly very interested in reorganizing the coffee beans that definitely did not need reorganizing.

Head Baker!Ulfat who drags Uzair into the kitchen by his ear. She doesn't care that customers might see, she wants to know why weeks' worth of perfectly made croissants have mysteriously vanished into one very specific customer's tray.

Store Manager!Uzair who completely blanks the second Ulfat asks him to explain himself. He starts rambling and stuttering about customer retention, loyalty, regulars, positive experiences and free marketing until even he realizes he isn't making any sense.

Head Baker!Ulfat who simply folds her arms and asks, "and...?."(there's always an and)

Store Manager!Uzair who sighs in defeat after thirty seconds of him rambling pathetic excuses and knows that he's been caught, "andshescuteandimighthaveacrushonher."

Head Baker!Ulfat who pinches the bridge of her nose. "Then ask the poor girl out. Stop bribing her with my pastries. Do you even knkw how expensive coconuts are in Karachi?!."

Brewmaster!Hamza who overhears the entire conversation while steaming milk. Doesn't even bother looking up before muttering, "Bhabi, I've literally been telling him that for months."

Brewmaster!Hamza who somehow becomes Uzair's biggest supporter and biggest bully at exactly the same time. Every time Y/N walks through the door, he quietly elbows Uzair in the ribs before disappearing into the back with the smuggest smirk known to mankind. And everytime Uzair would mutter profanities under his breath. He should have never told his stupid best friend about the crush. Ugh.

Store Manager!Uzair who somehow becomes twice as awkward after everyone finds out about his crush. He starts dropping spoons, forgetting table numbers and nearly burning himself on freshly brewed coffee whenever she smiles at him.

Regular Customer!Y/N who mistakes every ounce of his awkwardness for simple shyness. She just assumes he's naturally quiet since he hasn't really tried to intimate any conversation with her ever, she never realizes the poor man has forgotten how to function every time she even looks at him now.

Resident Cat!Suki who has more charm and game than Uzair, has found a permamnwt way to get pets and cuddles everytime Y/N was at the café. He waits at the café's window sill until she arrives and trots over the second she enters, and spends the next three hours curled up in her lap while she studies.

Regular Customer!Y/N who starts carrying cat treats in her bag specifically for Suki. She tells herself they're "just in case," even though everybody in Mehfil has watched her buy a fresh packet every single week for the furry menace.

Resident Cat!Suki who absolutely adores Y/N and absolutely cannot stand Uzair when Y/N is with him. Every time the poor man walks over with her order, Suki lifts his head just long enough to hiss before curling back up in her lap like nothing happened.

Brewmaster!Hamza who becomes convinced Suki can smell a man with a crush from across the room. Uzair insists cats don't work like that. Hamza insists Suki Dakat is living proof that they do.

Owner!Rehman who drops by the flagship one afternoon to check on business. He notices the steady crowd, the familiar university student by the window... and yet another complimentary pastry sitting on her tray.

Owner!Rehman who doesn't need anybody to explain what's happening. One look from his wife a cross the kitchen counter, and he knows what's going on. Telepathy comes naturally after a certain point in marriage,

Owner!Rehman who says absolutely nothing. He simply gives Uzair one long, knowing look before walking into his office at the back of he café, somehow making his younger brother feel more embarrassed than an entire lecture ever could.

The entire Mehfil staff who slowly turn Uzair's love life into a team project without letting either of them realise it. Ulfat "accidentally" bakes a heart shaped pistachio pastry, Hamza keeps making the wrong drink for Uzair to go over to her table atkeast twice before he makes it right, Donga offers encouraging thumbs ups from behind the pastry display.

Resident Cat!Suki who chooses the exact day Uzair finally gathers the courage to confess... to not hiss at him for once. Hamza later swears even the cat had finally decided to help.

Store Manager!Uzair who spends nearly ten minutes rehearsing what he's going to say before walking over to her table. The speech disappears from his brain the second she looks up and smiles.

Store Manager!Uzair who somehow manages to ask if she'd like to have dinner with him despite sounding like every word physically pains him to say. He's already preparing himself for rejection before she's even had a chance to answer.

Regular Customer!Y/N who blinks at him in complete confusion before laughing softly. She'd honestly been daydreaming about the sweet café manager who kept giving her free pastries finally asking her out.

Regular Customer!Y/N who admits she's partly kept coming back for him. somewhere between complimentary croissants and remembering her order, she'd developed a hopeless crush on the tall, sweet and handsome store manager too.

Store Manager!Uzair who spends months trying to win her over with free pastries... only to discover she'd already fallen for him long before he'd found the courage to ask.

Head Baker!Ulfat who let's all the staff have a piece of their favourite pastry in honour of Uzair finally growing a pair and asking his crush out.

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

Taglist: @laal-pari @warnermeadowsgirl @scentedwolfdragon @miwagonemad @pleasetagmejaaneman @pn28 @desibaddies @harrystyleskiwi9 @withlovemii @avasif @anxiousbeeing @goodnightkatherine @istilldonotslay @forbiddenfanaa @cloudmast @bobcuts-blog @niyadarealart @mylifesalreadyfucked @gulaabjamun08 @manjari08 @forbiddenfanaa @dollie1111xo5 @iamadelusionalwriter @goldenharrysworld @debsreads21 @theuselessdaydreamingidiot @writrsblu @chai-aur-chaand @mainyahaankyunhoon @precioussophia @rosiasthings @dhurandhar-archives @hamzair-is-my-otp @twinblueflamee @between-smoke-and-roses @lavenderwinkle @sarcastic-ravenpuff @qalamband @rhymeskiii @granddynamonovajbvgjjj @sugarvibez @akshayes @gehra-hua @rosesandpeoniesthings @bxtchyrose @alpineforeverr @iatedonuts @prettylady2006 @indigo-pdf

[whyishekinda]

British period drama au for Uzair/Rehman x yn plsssss??? Like them being all members of the royal family or Like in Bridgerton where they are not royals, but are nobles. And YN could be working for them? Plss plss plsss. Head Canon would be nice, pls 🥺🥺🥺 I know you'll slay it💅🏻

This one has been sitting in my ask for over a month😭(sorry anon ji) and it's so interesting, but i am out of ideas for this one. If anybody wants to collab/wants to take up this idea. please dm😭🙏🏼