sadly i am not april ludgate

HAMZA ALI MAZARI X READER

VIEWER DISCRETION! SPICY 🌶️

AN : hi guys, idk if i luv this or hate this cause this is my first time writing such a detailed smut. idk if ill be able to write one after the INTENSTY of dis one. m sorry if its very generic. 😭😭🙏🙏. once again m sooo embaressed to post this idek why.

i hope yall like da concept.

ALSO, KABUL HAMZA LOOK FAHHHHHH, plus i felt like this song deserved a fanfic cuz why is this random spicy ahh song in the middle of an intense scene (not complaining btw)

The business cabin lights were low in flight AI224, as Hamza Ali Mazari sat still, staring at the glass window.

His broad frame took up most of the seat, thr neat man bun highlighting his sharp jaw, beard sharp from months of his rigorous training under Sanyal Sir.

“Would you like something to drink sir, perhaps a glass of champagne, wine?”

He looked up as a feminine, kind tone reached his ears.

A young air hostess stood there, her uniform crisp, a professional smile plastered on her face, name tag reading Y/N.

Yet, what didn’t go unnoticed by him were the sharp eyes, that seemed too alert for the role.

Hamza passes on the code quietly. “I’ll just have a glass of the Sula.”

Her expression didn’t change, but he saw the flicker of confirmation in her eyes.

She returned a minute later with the cart, as she began pouring in his order. As she leaned in to serve it to him, the unexpected turbulence struck the plane hard.

She stumbled directly forward, as her hand tried to grab on the nearest thing for support, and ending up landing directly on his groin.

“Shit! I’m so so sorry sir!” she whispered, pulling back instantly, stabilising herself, her face flushing.

Hamza remained motionless, as he sucked in a deep breath, glancing away.

“It’s fine, accident tha.”

She straightened up quickly, trying her best to recover as she smoothed down her uniform.

Minutes later, after he finally recieved his pre planned order, that is the wine that he barely touched.

He noticed the man three rows ahead leaning sideways, eyes fixed on her figure.

Hamza’s jaw tightened slightly, but he said nothing, as he kept gazing

Later, as the sky outside darkened, by the time most passengers had fallen asleep, she came back under the pretense of checking on him.

Her voice was low as she whispered.

“It was nice meeting you too! See you soon.”

The emphasis on soon didn’t go unnoticed by Hamza, as his eyes met hers for a brief second.

She was confident, easy going and undeniably attractive, something about the way she carried herself lingered in his mind longer than it should have.

A quiet curiosity stirred, nothing he would ever act on.

Hamza simply gave a single, brief nod as a form of understanding.

She studied him a moment longer, a faint smirk tugging at her lips, as if testing for a reaction.

And he, very humbly, denied her the same as he offered none. His gaze stayed steady, controlled and very, very focused.

As she walked away, Hamza exhaled slowly and looked out the window again, trying to shake her teasing smile out of his mind.

Distractions were dangerous, especially now.

~

Hamza had just freshened up after a particularly intense workout, his usual routine, one established after regular practice with Bansal Sir.

It was when he was drying up his hair, that he heard three, precise, sharp knocks on the rickety wooden door of the motel, which was his stay for his layover at Kabul.

The fourth knock arrived precisely after three seconds, the signal that Sanyal Saab had already informed him of.

The door shut behind her with a soft click, the room suddenly felt smaller, the growing tension between them practically instant, as her shoulder brushed against his.

She walked in like she owned the place, taking off the black dupatta covering half her face, revealing the kurta underneath.

No tight fitted uniform unlike the plane, obviously.

She dropped her bag on the table, and pulled out the file, flipping it open with practiced ease.

“Timeline tight hai,” she began, already in that professional, briefing mode.

“You land, no loitering, no distractions straight exit. Karvaan ke saath chaloge, no talking-“

Hamza nodded once, a casual hum in between, but he wasn’t really listening.

He had already been informed all of this stuff before, it was almost funny, as if they didn’t trust him enough, still thought he was a lawless man, and thought this needed to be repeated.

So instead, after his brain had realised he was hearing the same script twice his eyes landed on her.

The way she leaned slightly over the table, one hand braced against it for support as she pointed at the map with the other.

The contrast of thoughts was ironical, she was controlled and precise, oh so serious.

And here he was, with his gaze dropping down towards her collarbone, wherein the position made a slight sliver of cleavage come into view.

Unintentionally, or maybe not.

And it wasn’t the first time, on the flight

he’d noticed it too.

Not himself, but someone else.

The man a few rows ahead, eyes lingering where they shouldn’t, with the coward kind of stare that pretends to be accidental.

Hamza had seen it and his fingers had tightened around his glass then, not out of desire, but a reflex he had trained himself out of.

Control.

He hadn’t said anything, didn’t interfere at that moment, because he just wasn’t that man anymore.

But now, his own gaze hadn’t moved.

She noticed it instantly, as she slowly straightened her posture and lazily closed the file.

She looked at him properly now, eyebrows furrowed, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Sun bhi rahe ho… ya bas dekh rahe ho?” she muttered mockingly.

She was met with silence, a clean hit.

He had very clearly been caught.

But, Hamza didn’t look away, he felt this was deliberate, the way she crossed her arms, just enough to make his gaze stick there, but he didn’t even pretend to be affected.

“Dono,” he replied calmly.

Her eyebrow lifted slightly at the unapologetically bold reply.

“Oh?” She whispered, as a faint smirk tugged at her lips.

“Briefing interesting hai… ya main?”

That spicy little statement wasn’t part of protocol, and she knew it. Yet she was having too much fun with this mysterious, brooding and unfairly handsome man.

He leaned back slightly against the wall, like he had all the time in the world.

“Tum distraction ho,” he answered simply, like it was the truth.

She let out a soft, amused breath.

“Wow, funny! joke kaafi karte ho tum.” she murmured, glancing away, she stepped around the table now.

“Mujhe toh bola gaya tha tum distractions handle kar lete ho.”

She stopped in front of him now, and it made her aware of the fact that he was much taller, bigger, and that only amplified the appeal.

She was too close now, too close to be termed as just work, as something just.. formal.

“Handle kar lete ho, ya phir… sirf bolna aata hai?”

The words instantly made his jaw clench, as he narrowed hiseyes at her.

She really was testing his patience.

And there it was.

She saw it, as a smirk graced her lips.

That delicious tension, that teasing push, it was oddly interesting, seeing someone so composed and serious as him slowly crack just by her playful words.

And she pushed further.

“Flight mein bhi…” she added, tilting her head, eyes scanning him up and down, “…kaafi control lose ho raha tha tumhara.”

Her voice dipped lower.

“Especially jab-“

She didn’t finish, because he didn’t let her.

Something dark flickered in his eyes.

“Main akela nahi tha,” he said quietly.

Her brows knit slightly, that faux innocence laced in them on purpose, as she looked up, with a small pout.

“Hmm?”

He held her gaze as he asked gruffly.

“Uss aadmi ko dekha tha tumne?”

She hadn’t expected that.

“Kaunsa?” she said lightly, the deflection evident in her tone.

His voice stayed way too calm as he mumbled.

“Jo tumhe dekh raha tha.”

No hesitation now, no trace of ambiguity.

The silence stretched for a moment too long, neither of them responded, then finally a faint, amused smile returned.

“Hota rehta hai,” she shrugged.

That answer didn’t sit well with him at all. “Tumhe farq nahi padta?” he inquired, eyebrows furrowde, tone dangerously low now.

She tilted her head, as she noticed the sudden change in his demeanour.

She saw past his facade of attraction and ego, something that he hadn’t meant to accidentally show.

“Padna chahiye?” she asked softly.

A challenge, and that was the mistake.

Because something old resurfaced, something buried under two years of discipline, suddenly shifted, just by her taunting words.

Hamza found himself moving decisively, coming off the wall, walking, until she was the one stepping back as the table hit behind her.

Her breath paused for half a second, but she didn’t dare to break eye contact.

“Tum har cheez notice karti ho?” he asked quietly.

“Sirf un cheezon ko jo worth noticing ho,” she shot back, a small smirk still on her lips, as her gaze flicked down, very deliberate this time, down to his lips under that rough masculine beard, then back up.

Like a challenge.

“Mujhe laga tum professional ho,” he said, voice low, cracking restraint slipping through.

She grinned faintly as she whispered.

“I am, i know how to control myself.”

A pause, as she locked eyes with him.

“Par… can you?”

Now there was no space left to pretend this was just a briefing as she leaned in slightly. Matching him, not backing down.

That was it, as the blurry line between restraint and indulgence snapped.

His hands were immediately on her waist as he yanked her closer.

"This is a bad idea," she tried to whisper, but he was too far gone, too teased, and mocked to let her speak anymore, as he shut her up, lips crashing onto hers.

She met him with the same fervour, as her lips moved against his, one hand going to grab his long, curly hair.

Her fingertips began to slowly trail down the hard lines of his chest beneath his kurta, lowering enough to tease at the drawstring of his sweatpants.

Hamza groaned as she tried to take what she wanted, and asset dominance, as tried to undo his pants.

Not so easy, because tonight he was going to give her a lecture on control.

He just pushed her backwards, his thumbs digging into her hips until her thighs hit the edge of the bed, as she fell back into the bed, her back pressed against the thin mattress.

His mouth was on her again after a split second of separation, devouring her like he was starving, which he was.

Their tongues fought, with her eventually tugging at his bottom lip just to make him let out a deep growl.

Eventually, his lips left hers, not before giving her bottom lip a sharp nip, much rougher than her playful tease, that left her whimpering.

His teeth scraped down her collarbone, his tongue tracing a trail of fire down her skin, his rough beard against her soft skin adding in that delicious hint of pain.

Her hands found his hair, clenching in them, as his lips tickled down the skin of her collarbone, his movements downright lewd.

But he caught her wrists, pinning them above her head, holding her still in place.

His eyes finally flicked down, at her eyes, blown wide, lips parted.

His voice come out soft, yet wicked as sin. “Ab kis se control nahin ho raha hm?”

His words were taunting, a mirror to hers, she fought the urge to grind against him, to rock her hips up against the hard line of his arousal, to take what she wanted.

But now, she was trapped, helpless, at his mercy.

“Hamza," she gasped, her voice coaxed with need.

His eyes shifted, not just cloudy with lust anymore, but a sense of satisfaction.

The first time he heard his name fall from her lips.

Frankly speaking, he wasn’t expecting it to be so breathy, so intimate, yet he was not complaining even one bit.

He leaned closer, one hand still holding her wrists, the other coming down to her belly, pushing her down gently, to stop her constant, desperate wiggling.

His mouth came to her ear as he whispered, low and dangerous.

“Khud mujhe provoke karke, ab nadaan ban rahi ho. If you want me to stop Miss YN, then just say it”

He waited a long second for her to say no, his expression firm and serious.

She simply shook her head at the thought of him stopping now, when she was already becoming so restless.

So unlike of her to become so enamoured and desperate, to crave the touch of a stranger, a man she barely knew.

He watched her determined expression as he let out a smile, other hand leaving her belly, as it went down, towards the drawstring of her pajamas.

His fingers lightly fluttered around, teasing the soft skin of her belly just above it, until he could see the goosebumps rise on her smooth skin.

She let out a soft gasp as his hand tugged off her pajamas, only the soft pink fabric of her panty separating him and her.

He looked back up at her, he noticed how she tried to look away.

And he wasn’t having any of that, not after she had reduced him to a thing meant to be ridiculed.

The hand holding her wrists above her hand left them, letting them fall to the side, as it instead came up and held her chin, forcing him to look back at her.

“Eyes on me or I’ll stop”

The implication made her lips wobble in nervousness, eyes almost emabressed, at how this man was so easily pushing her around.

How the roles had reversed in seconds.

His hands pushed her legs up, ankles resting on his shoulders now, his fingers slowly, and carefully pushed her panty towards one side, the cool air immediately hit her sensitive skin.

She gasped, as a single thick finger pushed at the bottom, probing at the base, coating itself in the evidence of her arousal already forming at the base.

He smirked.

Because it genuienly was amusing to him, only minutes ago she had been so bold, and now she was nothing but a whimpering mess in his hands.

“Tut tut tut tut” he clicked his tongue, and she whined at the teasing.

It was infuriating, because now she just wanted him to relieve that pressure that he was purposefully depriving her of.

He watched the swollen little nub, how it begged for his touch, his attention.

He brought his wet finger, coated in her embarrassingly quick evidence, up to his mouth, sucking it off with a lewd pop that fueled her desire even more.

He smirked, finally looking up at her face, and she knew that smirk meant no good, and she understood why, because the very next moment.

His fingers came up, as he pinched that little bundle of nerves between his thumb and index finger.

She squealed, as her back arched off the bed, her cry echoing off the thin wall.

He let out a satisfied huff at her reaction. “Shhh y/n, control yourself, auron ko distract mat karo.”

Her same words, being used against her, so tauntingly.

She couldn’t bear it anymore, as that hand continued its exploration of her most intimate parts.

Fingers spreading open her folds, light touches teasing that puffy nub.

It was when he blew his cold breath over her that she lost it, she cried out as she begged.

“Please hamza- M SORRY- Umph”

His hand that was coated in her juices came up to her mouth, her eyes widened as he pushed at her lips.

She complied, parting her lips, wrapping her mouth around his two thick fingers, placed over her tongue as she sucked, eyes watering at the sheer size of his fingers rubbing on her tongue.

“Good girl, you really are sharp.

Maafi ka hi intezaar kar raha tha.”

He indeed was waiting, for her to beg, for his mercy, for him to shower her with that pleasure.

His other hand came down, spreading open her folds, he looked back up once, warm breath fanning over the already throbbing skin, before his tongue slowly came out and flicked at the nub.

Her whine was instantly stifled by his fingers in her mouth, but she thrashed against the bed, the intensity of his tongue, combined with his sharp beard against her sensitive skin.

It was all too much, too much for her to handle, as his lips practically latched onto her.

Sucking, licking, kissing, then leaving her with a filthy pop.

He was taking his time, enjoying the taste of her.

He kept the rhythm merciless, sucking, licking, flicking that swollen nub until her thighs started trembling violently around his head.

Her muffled cries grew sharper, body arching hard, and just as she was about to tip over, he pulled back again.

She whined desperately around his fingers, hips chasing his mouth.

Instead, he merely smirked against her thigh.

“Not yet.”

She had lost count, all she could feel was the sore ache between her unvmoing legs,because of his iron grip on her.

She was so close, her body writhing with need, desperate for release.

In what could be defied as an action of protest, defiance, her teeth bit down on his fingers in her mouth, as a sharp hiss left him.

He looked up at her, eyes dark and hungry, a twisted smile on his face as he rasped.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And the way he dove back in, was nothing like before.

Both hands came to her thighs, gripping them apart. Her, throbbing and wet, on full display for him.

She wanted release, but this felt even more dangerous. Her already sensitive nerves, were being toyed with by him, as he slurped her up like he was hungry for it.

Her breaths coming out in sharp gasps, until they became shorter, and when she reached her high, she squealed.

Her orgasm finally hit, as it crashed through her like lightning, legs snapping shut, as she shook uncontrollably.

And as the pleasure subsided, the sudden realisation hit her.

Fuck.

She came.

Without his permission.

Because she had been so caught up in craving that release, that she completely forgot of the man in dominance right now-

And before she could think further.

“Kholo,"he ordered against her thigh, gripping them tight enough to leave marks as he yanked them back open.

SMACK.

He groaned, as his palm cracked against her already played-with nub, stinging and sharp, the already pink turning into a light red.

She obeyed with a broken sob, legs trembling as he pushed them apart again despite her best efforts.

He let out a gruff groans as he flipped her over with ease, her face pressed into the sheets, ass raised high for him.

The position left her completely exposed, as he ran a hand down her spine, voice low and rough. “Condom?”

Her breath hitched, voice muffled against the mattress. “Bag… table pe…”

Hamza reached over, as he grabbed her purse and rummaged inside, he ignored the lipstick and the phone.

Instead, he pulled out the condom packet, holding it up with a dark, amused smirk.

“Already ready, huh?” He tore it open slowly.

“Handler ban ne aayi thi ya kuch aur?”

Hamza whispered, voice low and rough.

She whimpered in embarrassment, face burning as she hid it deeper in the sheets.

Hamza gave her ass a light, sharp spank, the sound echoing in the room.

“Bad girl,” he murmured, rolling the condom onto his thick girth.

He held her hips as he positioned himself behind her, his thick cock pressing against her soaked entrance.

He pushed in slowly, and Y/B immediately whined high and desperate, at the sudden burn as she tried adjusting to his length.

“Hamza… too big… nahi fit ho raha…”

Her words came out slurred, like she had gone dumb by that point.

Hamza didn’t stop yet, he knew she would inform him if she was actually hurting, and judging by the little whines escaping her, he was reassured she was enjoying it way more than she’d like too admit.

Inch by thick inch he sank deeper, stretching her tight walls, as one hand grabbed her smaller one, pinning it firmly against the sheets beside her head, their fingers interlaced.

“Fit ho jayega,” he growled against her ear, voice strained with control. “Relax.”

He finally bottomed out with a deep groan, hips pressed up flush against her ass.

He stayed buried inside her, letting her adjust to the overwhelming fullness.

Hamza started moving, deep, powerful thrusts, even the angle was such that it let him hit even deeper, every stroke dragging against that perfect spot.

The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room as he fucked her hard, one hand still pinning hers to the sheets, the other gripping her hip to keep her exactly where he wanted.

“Fuck… you’re so tight,” Hamza growled against her ear, voice rough and low.

She let out a broken moan, trying to push her ass back to meet him, attempting anything to get that little bit of friction.

He snapped his hips harder, burying himself to the hilt with every thrust now as he whispered.

“Meine bola na… no cumming until I say so. Waise bohot ‘control’ keh rahi thi na … ab kahan gaya woh control?”

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

“Fuck… look how well you’re taking me,” he rasped, gripping her hip tighter, pulling her back onto his cock with every deep stroke.

She moaned loudly into the sheets, because she was right on the edge now, as her walls fluttered desperately around his thick cock.

“Please… Hamza… please-… m so dlose…”

He kept pounding into her, deep and relentless, but just as her thighs started shaking harder he slowed down just enough to keep her teetering on the edge.

“No,” he rasped against her ear, voice dark. “Hold it.”

“Control it.”

Oh he was so mean.

Hamza fucked her a few more brutal strokes, then suddenly pulled out completely.

She whined pathetically, tears of frustration pricking her eyes, at the empty feeling, hips twitching uselessly.

He stroked his cock fast, hand moving over his length, eyes locked on her wrecked body, and with a low groan, he came hard.

Thick ropes of cum landing methodically across her stomach.

She whimpered at the sight, her breathing was now irregular, eyes burning with frustration.

Hamza was still breathing hard, his chest rising and falling as the aftershocks of his orgasm pulsed through him.

But he didn’t let her recover or her breathe, as he just smirked at her borderline adorable, needy expression.

In one swift motion, he rolled onto his back, his bicep muscles flexing, as he grabbed her thighs with strong hands.

Without warning, he picked her up yanked her forward until she was hovering over him, as he then looked up with those dark eyes.

“You want it so bad? Then ride my face,” he ordered, voice still rough from his orgasm.

She hesitated for a moment, embarrassed, teased and oversensitive, as she hovered over him.

But Hamza didn’t wait, as he pulled her hips down until her soaked kitty was pressed right against his mouth.

“Use my tongue,” he growled against her folds, nipping at them as he mumbled.

The moment his tongue dragged hot and flat through her dripping folds, she moaned loudly, hands flying to the headboard.

Hamza groaned into her, the vibration shooting straight through her, as his hands gripped her hips hard, pulling her down firmer.

His tongue worked relentlessly, licking broad and flat, then flicking sharply over her swollen nub, sucking it between his lips.

Everything, yet nothing like before.

“Fuck hmzaaaa” she gasped, voice embarrassingly high on pitch, as her hips rolled faster, chasing the built up release he had denied her earlier.

He sucked harder, beard scraping deliciously against her sensitive skin.

Every time she got close, he STILL slowed down just enough to keep her on the edge, teasing her mercilessly.

“Please… plis… m SORRY hamza… I can’t take it anymore…” she whined, grinding down harder, voice breaking.

Right when the whiney sorry reached his ears, he finally gave in.

His tongue sucked her harder while he pushed two thick fingers inside her, curling then perfectly.

He fucked her with them in, and with his tongue both, groaning against her like he couldn’t get enough of her taste.

Her thighs started shaking violently as she squealed his name.

“HAMZA!-”

He didn’t stop, as he continued his ministrations, pushing her right over the edge.

Her orgasm hit like a wave, because she had lost count of how many times she had been denied.

For lowkey being a brat.

She cried out his name loudly, hips jerking uncontrollably as she came hard on his face, as pleasure crashed through her again and again.

Hamza kept licking her through it, slow and steady, drawing out every last pulse until she was trembling and oversensitive, whimpering weakly.

Begging for him to stop, contrary to the recurring theme that night.

Only then did he finally ease her off him, laying her down beside him.

His beard and lips were still shiny with her release.

Hamza pulled her close, as he wrapped one arm around her, gently stroking her back as she caught her breath, her thighs sore beyond words.

It was when her breathing stabilised that her brain registered.

The wrapper on the bed, the abandoned map on the table, who she was beside, and what the fuck had just happened.

Damn, how did i get here?

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Aalam bhai sidelined

Uzair and Pinda hitting on Sushant Bansal-??

Yaad hai kuch bhi humari, Kanhaiyya?

Kanhaiyya was the epitome of a thief. 

The loose trousers, now ripped at his knees? Begged. The flashy T-shirt which had lost its colours? Borrowed. The Motorola MicroTAC phone in his pocket? Stolen. 

Over the years, theft had become more of a habit than a skill. The city of Bareilly provided a buzzing site for it, filled with locals and tourists who came in search of the jhumka of Bareilly. Some of them would go home and realize that they had lost one of their belongings.

But, Kanhaiyya was a soft-hearted boy.

The elders of the village had accepted him as their collective son. They had often condemned his unethical ways. They had tried to reform him, but all in vain. He used to joke around with them whenever they scolded him for his thievery. Especially in front of Vikas Baba who was a priest in a nearby Krishna temple.

“Tumhara Kanha kare toh natkhat, aur ye Kanhaiyya kare toh jurm!”

He used to flex whatever he had stolen- sometimes a gold luxury watch,other times a wallet filled with cash, rarely a phone, and used to argue fervently, without meaning any of it. 

“Ab jaisa naam, waisa kaam!”

Vikas Baba then used to run behind him with a stick despite his weak knees.

“Bhagwan maakhanchor the! Paaketmaar nahi!”

Kanhaiyya’s laughter echoed loud in the temple’s courtyard. 

One summer morning, as Dadi sat under the shadow of the banyan tree enjoying the kulfi that Kanhaiyya had bought for them, her eyes narrowed at him. She clicked her tongue in disapproval of what he had become.

“Ye chori-chakari karke tujhe kya milta hai?”

Kanhaiyya threw a disinterested glance at her and muttered.

“Do time ka khana, kapde aur ek makan.”

He had had this conversation many times.

“Woh toh mai bhi tujhe de doon!”

“Aur jab aapka beta aapko Banaras bula lega? Tab kya? Bheek maangne pe utar jau?”

Dadi knew she would never get invited to her son’s house now that her daughter-in-law did not like her interference. All she wanted now was that Kanhaiyya, her son not in blood but bond, would make a good life for himself. 

“Ye chori ki cheezein kabhi tikti nahi hai! Achaa kaam nahi hai, Kanhaiyya!”

There was a long pause. If not her scoldings, if not her lectures, then at least the faith of his dead parents could budge him. That was what Dadi thought.

 She bent down to caress the back of his head, and asked.

“Tere maa- baap tujhe swarg se dekhenge, toh kya sochenge tere baare mein? Kaisi zindagi banayi hain tune apne liye?”

Kanhaiyya knew nothing of his parents. Except for the tale that Dadi had told him once. It sounded like a poorly made-up sad story to his teenage self. His mother had died while giving birth to him. His father, a patient of terminal illness, had wept and wept in the hospital. He had lamented that there would be no one to take care of his newborn son.

Dadi was there at that time. She had assured his father that if he ever needed someone to look after his son, she would be there. Only eight years later, his dying father had found Dadi’s address in Bareilly. He left his young son at the station and headed straight to the hospital. When Kanhaiyya turned up at the doorstep of the scribbled address, he had found the door locked. As it turned out, Dadi had gone to Banaras to stay with her son. 

Poor Kanhaiyya was left to fend for himself all alone in this unknown city. He slept outside Dadi’s house at night and wandered around during the daytime. It was then, that he had taken to stealing. It started with food. Rotis, sweets and prasad. Soon he was stealing money when he realized that it brought greater returns than anything else.

Dadi returned a whole year later. The old woman who lived alone in her shabby house had recognized this boy in an instant. She took him in her arms, and apologized for her absence. It was her who had given him the name- Kanhaiyya. She used to say that he was in Gokul now, and that she was his Yashoda Maiya. 

Like any other person, he should have felt grief at the thought of his long gone parents. But he felt nothing. No matter how much he tried. He gave a slight shrug, and answered.

“Jo sochna hai woh soch lenge. Mujhe toh ye bhi nahi maloom woh kaun the. Yaad bhi nahi kaise dikhte the.”

Dadi sighed heavily, her heart had always ached for this boy orphaned too early.

“Woh chhod! Kal ko tu shaadi karega! Tere biwi bachhe honge! Tu kya chahta hai? Tere bachhe tujhe aise yaad rakhe?”

Kanhaiyya was getting irritated. He didn’t want to get married. Or have kids. It would be considered a success if he was able to die with a respectable profession to his name. He threw aside the stick of the kulfi and stood up abruptly. His voice came louder than he intended it to.

“Koi mujhe yaad rakhe ya na rakhe, mujhe koi farak nahi padhta!”

“Koi aur yaad rakhe na rakhe, bas tu mujhe yaad rakh! Mujhe achaa lagega!”

Aalam remembered the words he had spoken before sending Hamza back outside. Now as Omar grabbed him by the throat and demanded who else was with him in this espionage, he waited eagerly for death. Although he knew, it would not come to him so kindly. Maybe now was the time that he might have to pay back for his sins, for all his thefts. 

When Hamza walked in a moment later, Aalam looked at him. Even as the blood from the cuts he had made himself seeped into his eyes, it could not hide the pride that flickered in Aalam’s gaze for Hamza. Jaskirat.

The day Hamza Ali Mazari had successfully killed Rehman Dakait and had made everyone believe that he had tried to be the saviour once again, Aalam knew this boy would go places. And by places, he meant Lyari, Karachi and the rotten terrorism inside Pakistan. 

His job would be done then. It might have been considered done that day as well.All he had to do was bring Hamza till here, lead his way up to Lyari’s throne. Teach him patience and give him tactics until he could handle everything on his own. He was Hamza’s charioteer. Saarthi.

Hamza had it in him to become Arjuna. Hamza would be the Mahanayak. Aalam had done his job as his Krishna. 

He wasn’t expecting Hamza to raise his gun at him.The first bullet hit him and a sharp pain shot through his abdomen, blood splattering on his kameez. He barely registered the second and third bullets, until all he could feel was warm blood seeping out and the strength in his body giving out. 

As his body fell limp in Omar’s hold, he thought of the favour Hamza had done for him. A favour he hadn’t even asked for, a favour he wouldn’t be able to repay in this lifetime. The favour of death. A peaceful one at that. He knew it must not have been easy for him to press the trigger, but he had done so.

It was as if this Kanhaiyya had whispered in his Arjun’s ear. 

“Yudh karna tumhara kartavya hai, Parth! Shastra uthao!”

As his breaths shallowed in his burning chest and darkness enveloped around him, he heard Hamza’s low voice. Jala do inki laashe. Burn their bodies.

Not only had his Hamza given him a peaceful death, but also a ceremonious funeral. In his last breath, Kanhaiyya felt grateful that his immoral life tainted with thefts and lowly crimes had attained a legitimate end with a sacrifice for his motherland. 

Months later, when Hamza travelled to Dubai for his meeting with Sanyal Sir, he carried the cremated ashes of Aalam Bhai and Pinda with him. He requested Sushant Bansal to scatter Aalam Bhai’s ashes in the Ganga river.

Aalam Bhai never got the chance to tell the story of his life. But Hamza remembered that he was from Bareilly. Flowing through the Ramganga river, he hoped that his ashes would reach the banks at Bareilly and Aalam Bhai would reunite with his motherland once again.

yaar comment vagera kar diya karo mein motivate ho jati hu

I am sorry anon if its too short

Pairing: Sushant Bansal x Anvika Mittal

Note: this is a work of fiction. It has no connection with real life. It does not promote any violence or support the real life actions of the people mentioned. All characters rightly belong to Aditya Dhar except my oc. Plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

Sushant Bansal and Anvika Mittal had known each other for their whole lives now.

Sushant's father Harish Bansal and Anvika's father Sanjay Mittal had been school friends who soon became neighbours.

Even though they are no longer neighbours now, they are still best of friends and that has led to Anvika meeting Sushant at every occassion, festival and birthdays.

It was safe to say that she had developed an infatuation for him which soon became a crush and now at 25 Anvika was sure that Sushant was the love of her life.

However, she could never gather the courage to confess her feelings to him, the main reason being her insecurity towards her weight and appearance.

So she choose to admire him from afar. Hoping that one day he might see her.

So Anvika would be present everywhere Sushant was, stealing glances at him across crowded rooms, treasuring every casual smile he gave her as though it meant something more.

And perhaps that was her biggest weakness — she kept hoping that one day, Sushant would look at her the same way she had always looked at him.

Anvika who was a doctor knew all about her PCOS and how it affects her weight gain. She also knew that even if she takes precautionary measures it is not something she can cure overnight.

Her weight always fluctuates, sometimes decreasing suddenly but mostly it would shoot up.

She had grown insecure of this over time, because at every gathering she would recieve backhanded compliments from the people.

“Such a sweet face, bas thoda weight kam kar le.”

“Pretty toh hai…”

These were some constant in her life.

That evening when she returned home, it had been pretty normal. Anvika had greated her mother, changed her clothes and finally sit down to eat dinner with her family.

"Aaj sushant ka rishta pakka ho gaya" her father informs them, his tone very random.

Her mother replied with something but Anvika did not hear a word. Her father's words kept ringing in her head.

She felt her heartbeat quicken with anxiety and Anvika could swear that she literally felt her heart being broken.

She gulped the bile that was threatening her to cry and blinked away the tears that had gathered in the corner of her eyes. She put on a fake smile for her parents as to not break their hearts.

---

The next week passed in blur for Anvika, she avoided Sushant like a plague. Any other day she would have excitedly taken the opportunity to go to his house, sometimes to deliever some dish her mother made or other times just to give his mother company.

But in the last week, she did not take any initiative to go to his house. She spent her free hours at her house, imagining every thing she ever dreamt being broken into pieces. It was pathetic really, but that was her comfort mechanism.

On the Saturday night, her friends randomly dragged her to a bar. It was not anything fancy rather a simple bar in delhi that offered drinks and karoke.

And no, Anvika had not planned on drinking at all. She was an occasional drinker. But that night the idea of drinking her sorrows away sounded good to her.

The bar was loud, filled with noise and Anvika felt her head throb with pain. Perhaps that was the alcohol.

Her friends were too busy screaming the lyrics of old Bollywood songs near the karaoke stage to notice how unusually quiet she had become.

Anvika was not a reckless drinker. In fact, she hated losing control over herself.

But tonight everything hurt too much.

The thought of Sushant Bansal marrying someone else felt like someone was slowly crushing her chest.

It was stupid. Pathetic even. Because Sushant had never promised her anything. He didn’t even know how deeply she loved him. Still, the pain remained.

“Anvi,” one of her friends nudged her, “you okay?”

She laughed weakly. “Fantastic.”

“You look like you’re about to murder someone.”

“Maybe myself.”

“ANVIKA!”

“I’m joking,” she giggled before taking another sip.

And perhaps that was the problem. She had crossed the line between tipsy and emotional.

Very emotional. Very stupidly emotional.

Her phone buzzed against the table, his name displaying on the contact.

Anvika's breath hitched in her throat. Why was he calling her? For a moment she stared at it before picking up with shaky hands.

"He-Hello?" 'Why the fuck am I stuttering?' Anvika thinks bitterly.

"Tum kaha ho?" Sushant's deep voice asked from the other side. He sounded firm maybe even frustrated because he had to deal with her mess.

"bahar hu" she replies and then after a pause asks "tumhe kaise pata mein ghar par nahi hu?"

"Bahar kaha?" Sushant demands ignoring her later question.

Anvika laughed bitterly "Tumhe kya? Jao apni fiance ke paas"

Sushant sighed on the other side and Anvika had thought that he finally gave up "Dubara nahi puchunga. Chup chap location bhejo"

Anvika was just about to refuse but he added "Tumhari mummy pareshan hai"

She frowned to herself and thought of her mother. She could not worry her more than she already was. So she sent her location to Sushant.

"Wahi rehna"

He disconnected the call and Anvika scoffed to herself.

Twenty minutes later, Sushant walked into the bar looking wildly out of place.

White shirt. Slightly messy hair. Worried expression. And somehow still the most handsome man in the room.

Anvika’s heart hurt at the sight of him. His eyes found her instantly. The irritation on his face melted into disbelief as he approached the booth.

Anvika gulped as he stood in front of her towering her "You're drunk" sushant stated.

"Aur tumhe kya?" She sasses back at him grabbing another bottle from the bar.

Sushant took the bottle from her hand and placed it back on the counter.

"yeh kya nashediyo jessi harkate laga rakhi hai" (help I laughed at this)

"Tumhe kya hai? Jao apni fiance ke paas" she says

Sushant sighed (probably for the 50th time that night) and rubbed his hand over his face.

"To tabhi tum ek hafte se gayab ho?"

Anvika's heart fluttered at the thought that he perhaps noticed her disappearance.

"Tumhe kya? Tumhe iss baat ka bhi nahi pata ki I love you! Jab se we have been 12!"

Sushant grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer to him. He pinned her wrist behind her back. The bar was now lost in the background as they started at each other, their breaths mingling.

"Yeh 'tumhe kya, tumhe kya' kyu laga rakha hai?" Sushant whispers his other hand tucking a stray hairstrand behind her ear.

"Apni fiance se nahi puchunga to kisse puchunga tum batao?" He asks with a hum.

Anvika's eyes bluged out of their sockets as she stared at him "Tum pagal ho gaye ho?"

"Chalo kuch to naya bola tumne"

Ignoring his not so subtle dab at her she pushed him away lightly, though her heart begged her to pull him closer.

"Kya matlab hai tumhara?"

"Mera matlab yeh hai meri jaan ki jo meri shaadi fix hui thi na ussi ladki ke saath hui thi jo abhi meri bahon mein hai" Sushant explains

"Matlab.........tum..........mein?" she asks

"Haan meri jaan. Hum dono" this time he placed a small kiss on her cheek.

"Why me? I am not pretty. Mera weight-"

“Anvika,” he murmured, “look at me.”

Reluctantly, she did.

And the sheer tenderness in his eyes nearly broke her.

“I don’t care about these stupid stereotypes and you shouldn't too.”

She laughed bitterly. “Easy for you to say.”

“No,” he said firmly. “Easy for me to love you.”

The words hit her so suddenly that she forgot how to breathe.

“I love your smile. I love how passionate you get about your patients. I love how you remember everyone’s coffee orders. I love how soft your cheeks get when you’re sleepy.”

A tear slipped down her face.

“And I especially love,” he continued gently, “that despite the world making you insecure for years, you still remained kind.”

Anvika looked down immediately, overwhelmed. “Sushant…”

He reached forward carefully, tilting her chin back up.

“You are the prettiest girl I know.”

Her lips trembled helplessly.

“Really?”

He smiled softly. “Dear pretty girl,” he whispered, “I have been in love with you for a very long time.”

And before she could cry again, he leaned forward and kissed her gently. Sweet. Patient.

Like something he had wanted to do for years.

Bonus-

Anvika stood in the living room with her arms crossed above her chest and started at their families. Sushant leaned against the door watching the scene with an amused glint in his eyes.

"To yeh matlab aap sab ka plan tha?" She asks tilting her head back.

"Beta meine to bas plan kara tha. Execute karne ka idea iska tha" Sanjay immediately placed the blame on Harish. Harish sent a stink eye his way.

"Oh acha" Anvika says mockingly.

"Aree beta. Meine to bas execute karne ko bola tha. Sushant ko manaya to uski maa ne" Harish placed the blame on his wife Sarita who glared at him

"Aaj aap Sushant ke saath sona" she mutters to him before placing her attention back at Anvika.

"Are beta tum to janti hi ho sushant mujhse zyada Parul ki baat sunta hai. Usne manaya usse"

Parul, Anvika's mother glared at her bestfriend "Matlab hum dono ne mil kar manaya" Sarita adds

Anvika raises an eyebrow at the innocent faces and turns to Sushant. He immediately straightens under her gaze

"Aur tum. Tumhe kis par ilzam lagana hai?" She asks

"Tum par. Tum agar aake apni feelings confess kar deti to yeh plan hi na banana padta" Sushant explains.

Anvika's jaw dropped in shock and she stared at him.

"Tum mujh par blame daal rahe ho?" She questions pointing a finger towards herself. Sushant immediately nodded his head.

"Vesse beta baat to sahi hi hai." Her mother says.

Anvika groans and stomps on her feet.

"Sab pareshan karte hai mujhe!" She whines and sushant immediately hugs her while their parents laugh.

peak detailing this, peak detailing that.

yes, but what about this scene where just like arjun who had to kill his family members to preserve dharma, jaskirat has just killed both his brother like friend from his homeland who is his sister's husband AND his brother like friend from a foreign land, while the background song asks this?

BALIDAN-PARMO-DHARMA (बलिदान परम धर्म)