Pehli nazar mai (Major Iqbal x fem!reader)
Reader is jameel Jamali’s daughter . Age gap is quite huge .
Disclaimer: This story is a work of transformative fiction. I do not claim ownership of the original characters or setting. This work is not for profit and is not intended to challenge the copyright of the original owners. This work does not support, promote, or glorify violence, crime, terrorism, or any unlawful activities in any form. It is purely a fictional narrative. The portrayal of characters, events, and settings is fictional and does not represent real-life individuals or situations.
Guys this is just a fanfic of Major Iqbal x reader I don’t intend to portray the real person in what so ever form . Just for entertainment and cause Arjun Rampal is fine asf . I hope the real person behind all the suffering is burning in pits of hell .
This is my first ever post I’m sorry if I don’t know how to manage the app .
Ps: this is the song Sara Arjun urf yalina was listening when she saw hamza for the first time.
I hope I make this fic enjoyable do lmk in the comments <3.
The air in the study was so heavy with tension that it felt like Iqbal was back in a high-stakes interrogation room, except this time, he was the one under the light.
Iqbal sat perfectly upright, his hands resting on his knees, looking every bit the formidable Major. Across from him, Jamali was calmly sipping his tea, the clink of the spoon against the porcelain sounding like a ticking time bomb.
“Toh...” jameel finally broke the silence, peering over his glasses. “Major Iqbal. Aapne humein milne bulaya. Koi mulki salaamati ka masla hai? Ya phir se wahi purani 'Ittefaq' wali meeting?”
Iqbal cleared his throat, his collar suddenly feeling two sizes too small. “Nai Sir... woh... baat asal mein yeh hai ki...”
“Ji? Boliyye? Aap toh dushman ke chikke chhuda dete hain, aaj zubaan kyun ladkhada rahi hai?” Abbu teased, a tiny glint of mischief in his eyes.
Iqbal took a deep breath, deciding that a direct assault was the only way. “Sir, seedhi baat hai. Mai aapki beti ka haath maangne aaya hoon. Mai use pasand karta hoon. Nahi... pasand toh chota lafz hai, mai usse mohabbat karta hoon.”
Abbu set his cup down slowly. “Mohabbat? Iqbal, tum ek fauji ho. Tumhari zindagi ka koi thikana nahi. Aaj yahan, kal border pe. Meri beti doctor hai, usne saari zindagi sukoon dekha hai. Tum usse kya doge? Goliyon ki goonj aur intezaar?”
Iqbal’s expression softened, losing the military hardness. “Sir, mai use woh sukoon toh shayad na de sakoon jo aapne diya hai, par mai waada karta hoon ki jab tak meri saans chal rahi hai, use rone ki wajah nahi milegi. Maana meri zindagi khatron mein guzarti hai, par usne mujhe jeena sikhaya hai. Woh meri 'Vatan' toh nahi, par meri 'Jannat' zaroor hai.”
Suddenly, a loud thud came from behind the heavy velvet curtains. A pair of familiar embroidered khussas peeked out from underneath.
Abbu sighed, looking at the curtains. “Y/n? Beta, agar eavesdropping khatam ho gayi ho toh bahar aa jao.”
Y/n stumbled out, blushing a deep crimson, looking between her father and a very embarrassed Iqbal. “Woh... Abbu... mai bas check kar rahi thi ki chai thandi toh nahi ho gayi.”
“Chai thandi ho gayi hai, par ye Major sahab toh bilkul garam ho rahe hain,” Abbu chuckled, finally breaking into a warm smile. He turned back to Iqbal. “Iqbal, mujhe pata hai tum kaise insaan ho. Maine tumhari aankhon mein uske liye izzat dekhi hai, aur ek baap ke liye wahi kaafi hai.”
Iqbal felt his heart soar, a grin breaking across his face. “Toh... ? Matlab hum taiyyari shuru karein?”
“Rukiye!” Abbu raised a hand. “Ek shart hai.”
Iqbal straightened up instantly. “Ji Sir? Order dijiye.”
“Nikah ke baad, tum meri beti ko ye nahi kahoge ki 'humein sab pata hota hai.' Thoda suspense rehne dena zindagi mein,” Abbu winked.
Iqbal laughed, the loudest he had in weeks, and looked at Y/n, who was beaming with tears in her eyes. “Ji Sir. Yeh mission bhi manzoor hai.”
He stood up and shook Abbu’s hand firmly, before casting a side-long glance at Y/n. “Ab toh khush? Ya ab bhi koi 'ittefaq' baaki hai?”
“Bilkul nahi, Major sahab,” she whispered, her heart finally at peace. “Ab toh sab likha hua hai.”
The emerald ring on Y/n’s finger was catching the light of the bedroom lamp, throwing tiny green sparks against the walls. She was trying to read a medical journal, but her gaze kept drifting to her hand.
"Bas bhi kar do, baji! Itna chamkaogi toh bechara pighal hi jayega," Yalina chirped, barging into the room with a plate of samosas and a predatory grin.
Y/n quickly hid her hand under her pillow, blushing. "Yalina! Bataya karo jab andar aati ho. Aur ye kya badtameezi hai?"
"Badtameezi? Main toh sirf check karne aayi thi ki hamari Doctor Sahiba kahin 'Major Fever' se toh nahi guzarr rahi," Yalina teased, flopping onto the bed and nudging her sister's shoulder. "Wese baji, seriously... Major Iqbal? Woh aadmi jo dushman ko dekh kar muskurata tak nahi, aapke liye 'kabutar aur chitthiyan' bhej raha tha?"
"Chup kar! Woh toh bas mazaak kar rahe thay," Y/n huffed, unable to keep the smile off her face.
Yalina snatched a samosa and pointed it at her sister like a weapon. "Mazaak nahi, baji, woh shikar ho chuke hain. Maine dekha hai unhein. Jab aap kamre mein aati hain, woh aise khade ho jaate hain jaise unka Chief of Staff andar aaya ho. Bilkul 'Attention!' wali position mein."
"Aisa kuch nahi hai," Y/n defended, though she remembered the way his pupils dilated whenever they met.
"Accha? Toh phir woh beach pe ghutno ke bal bethna kya tha? Tactical drill?" Yalina cackled, ducking as Y/n threw a cushion at her. "Socho toh! The Great Major Iqbal, head of ISI, mitti mein beth kar ring pehna rahe hain. Agar unke sipahiyon ne dekh liya hota, toh unka toh dabdaba hi khatam ho jata!"
"Woh unka bholapan hai, Yalina. Woh bahar se sakht hain, par dil se..."
"...bilkul 'Old Uncle' hain! Chai aur purane gaane!" Yalina finished for her, laughing. "Wese, baji, maanna padega. Aapne ek khunkhaar sher ko bilkul paaltu billi bana diya hai. Ab toh bas nikaah ki deri hai, phir woh Major sahab nahi, 'Iqbal miyan' ban jayenge."
"Yalina, bas kar! Ammi sun lengi," Y/n whispered, though she was giggling now.
"Sunne dein! Ammi toh khud itni khush hain, unhone toh abhi se aapke liye laal joda nikal liya hai," Yalina said, her tone softening for a second. She reached out and squeezed Y/n’s hand. "Lekin sach bolun? Maine aapko itna khush pehle kabhi nahi dekha. Woh sakht zaroor hain, par aapki aankhon mein unke liye jo sukoon hai... woh kisi dawaai se nahi mil sakta."
Y/n looked at her younger sister, her heart full. "Shukriya, pagli."
"Chalo ab emotional mat ho," Yalina jumped up, grabbing the last samosa. "Main ja rahi hoon Iqbal bhai ko call karne. Poochna hai ki nikaah mein mujhe kitni 'Salami' denge. Major hain, toh pocket bhi 'major' honi chahiye!"
"Yalina! Mat karna!" Y/n screamed as her sister ran out of the room, her laughter echoing down the hallway.
Y/n sank back into her pillows, looking at the ring again. Major Iqbal... She couldn't wait to see what mission he had planned for their forever.
The night was unnervingly quiet, the kind of silence Iqbal usually associated with an ambush. He had told Y/n to meet him at the old pier, the one far away from the city lights and the prying eyes of her father’s drivers.
When Y/n arrived, she found his black jeep parked near the edge of the water, but the man was nowhere to be seen. "Iqbal?" she called out, her voice fluttering in the salty breeze. "Ye koi naya game hai kya? Mai ghar ja rahi hoon!"
Suddenly, a warm hand slid around her waist, and she was pulled back against a solid, familiar chest. The scent of his expensive, earthy cologne—the one she loved to inhale—surrounded her instantly.
"Itni jaldi haar maan leti hain aap? Humne toh abhi mission shuru bhi nahi kiya," he whispered against her ear, his gravelly voice sending a shiver down her spine.
"Aap humesha aise darate kyun hain?" she huffed, though she leaned back into him, her head resting perfectly on his shoulder.
"Chaliye, aankhein band kijiye," he commanded softly.
"Iqbal, please, no more 'kabootar' jokes..."
He guided her carefully, his large hands resting on her shoulders as they walked a few paces. When he finally told her to open her eyes, she gasped.
The back of his rugged military jeep had been transformed. He had laid out a thick, plush Persian rug and scattered dozens of small, fairy lights that twinkled like fallen stars. In the center sat a vintage copper samovar,steam curling from the spout and two mismatched porcelain cups. There was a small plate of her favorite jalebis and, surprisingly, a single, perfectly bloomed jasmine flower resting on a silk cushion.
"Ye... ye sab aapne kiya?" she asked, her voice trembling with affection.
Iqbal looked uncharacteristically shy, rubbing the back of his neck. "Humne socha... coffee dates aur bhari mahfilon mein toh sab milte hain. Par humein thoda purana sukoon chahiye tha. Sirf aap, hum, aur ye khamoshi."
He climbed into the back and reached out a hand to pull her up. As she sat beside him, the moonlight caught the scars on his hands ,the hands that had held weapons but were now trembling slightly as he poured her tea.
"Ismein thoda sa nutmeg hai... jaise aapko pasand hai," he said, handing her the cup.
Y/n didn't take the cup. Instead, she took his face in her hands, her thumbs tracing the lines of experience near his eyes. "Major saab... aap itne sakht kaise ho sakte hain jab aapka dil itna narm hai?"
Iqbal’s pupils dilated, the distance between them vanishing. "Ye narm dili sirf aapke liye reserved hai, mohotarma. Baaki dunya ke liye toh hum wahi purane jallad hain."
He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. "Log kehte hain jung jeetna bada kaam hai. Par sach toh ye hai ki aapko muskurate hue dekhna meri sabse badi fatah hai."
"Iqbal..." she whispered, her breath hitching as he tucked the jasmine flower behind her ear.
"Chai thandi ho rahi hai."
He let out a low, rumbling chuckle that vibrated through her chest. "Hone dein. Aaj raat waqt hamara ghulaam hai."
He pulled her closer, wrapping his heavy wool shawl around both of them. Under the vast, silent canopy of the stars, the fierce soldier and his doctor sat in a world of their own, where the only orders given were by the heart.
The steam from the tea blended with the salty mist of the sea, creating a private cocoon for them in the back of the jeep. Iqbal pulled her closer, his large, solid frame acting as a windbreak against the nighttime chill. He wrapped the heavy wool shawl around her shoulders, then tucked her firmly against his chest so her back was flush against his heartbeat.
"Bohat khamoshi hai yahan," she whispered, her fingers tracing the rough camouflage pattern of his jacket sleeve. "Aapko dar nahi lagta itni shanti se? Mujhe laga faujiyon ko shor ki aadat hoti hai."
Iqbal rested his chin on the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair—a mix of jasmine and that clinical hospital soap he had come to find strangely comforting. "Shor toh dunya bhar ka hai, Y/n . Is khamoshi mein toh pehli baar mujhe apni dhadkan sunayi de rahi hai. Aur wo bhi aapka naam le rahi hai."
She chuckled, a soft, musical sound. "Arey waah, Major saab toh shayar ban gaye. Accha batayein, hamare ghar mein bhi itni hi khamoshi hogi?"
Iqbal tightened his grip slightly, his thumb absentmindedly stroking her arm. "Nahi. Hamara ghar... wahan shor hona chahiye. Baccho ki cheekhein, bhagne ki awaaz, aur aapki thokar khane pe mujhe daantne wali baatein."
Y/n turned her head slightly to look up at him, her eyes shining. "Bacche? Aapne socha hai kabhi? Kitne honge? Kaise honge?"
Iqbal’s gaze softened, his tough exterior melting away in the moonlight. "Do honge toh kaafi hain. Ek bilkul aap jaisi ziddi, thodi si pagal, aur itni pyaari ki main use kabhi daant na sakoon. Aur ek... shayad mujh jaisa. Par main nahi chahta wo sipahi bane."
"Kyun? Aapko toh apni wardi pe itna garur hai," she teased, poking his chest.
"Garur hai," he admitted, his voice dropping to a gravelly low. "Lekin main nahi chahta wo un raaston pe chale jahan dushman ka darr ho. Main chahta hoon wo doctor bane, ya engineer, ya shayad sirf ek accha insaan. Use wo sukoon mile jo mujhe sirf aapke paas aake milta hai."
Y/n smiled, reaching up to catch a stray tear she hadn't realized was forming. "Aur hamara ghar? Sheher se door ya abbu ke ghar ke paas?"
"Sheher se thoda door," Iqbal decided, looking out at the horizon. "Ek chota sa ghar, jahan garden ho ,bilkul waisa hi jahan hum pehli baar mile thay. Wahan hum wahi purane paper cups wala phone laga kar baat karenge, aur aap mujhe nutmeg wali chai pilayengi."
"Aur aap?" she asked softly.
"Main? Main bas aapko dekhunga. Saari umar ki thakaan utar jayegi sirf aapko muskurate dekh kar."
She shifted, turning around in his arms to face him fully, her nose brushing against his. In the dim glow of the fairy lights, the Major looked vulnerable, his guard completely down.
"Iqbal, waada kijiye... aap humesha wapas aayenge. Har mission se, har border se."
He leaned in, pressing a lingering, reverent kiss to her forehead. "Jahan itna intezaar karne wali ho, wahan se maut bhi rasta badal leti hai. Main kahin nahi ja raha, meri jaan. Humari toh abhi puri dunya basni baaki hai."
They sat there for a long time, the tea forgotten and cold, wrapped in each other's warmth. They talked about the names they liked, the color of the curtains in their future bedroom, and how he would eventually have to learn to use a smartphone properly. Between the soft snores of the sleeping trees and the rhythmic crashing of the waves, the soldier and the doctor built a whole lifetime in a single night.
The courtyard of Y/n’s family home was a chaotic mess of marigold garlands, half-empty tea cups, and the loud, rhythmic thumping of a dhol somewhere in the distance. The "core committee" of the wedding the self-appointed protectors of Y/n ,were gathered around a low wooden takht, and the atmosphere was thick with mischief.
Rehman, the most stoic of the lot, was trying to look serious while flipping through a guest list, but Ulfat, was busy feeding him pieces of a samosa, effectively ruining his "tough guy" persona. Uzair, was sitting on the edge of the table, tossing a tennis ball up and down.
“Baji, ek baat batayein,” Uzair started, his eyes twinkling with trouble as Y/n walked into the courtyard, looking exhausted from a dress fitting. “Jab Major Sahab ne aapko propose kiya, toh kya unhone pehle military salute diya tha? Ya phir ‘By the order of the ISI, you are now my fiancé’?”
“Uzair! Chup kar!” Y/n hissed, blushing as she sat down next to Ulfat.
“Nahi nahi, Uzair sahi keh raha hai,” Hamza chimed in, leaning against the pillar next to his wife, Yalina. Hamza was usually the sensible one, but when it came to teasing Y/n, he was a silent assassin. “Maine suna hai Major saab ne ring pehnane se pehle Y/n ka background check karwaya tha. Kahin ye dushman ki jasoos toh nahi?”
“Humein toh darr lag raha hai nikaah wale din ka,” Yalina added, dramatically fanning herself with her dupatta. “Qazi sahab kahenge ‘Ijab-o-Qabul’, aur Iqbal bhai kahenge ‘Mission Accomplished, Base secure!’”
The group burst into laughter. Even Rehman couldn’t hide his smirk anymore. He looked at Y/n and shook his head. “Wese Y/n, himmat hai tumhari. Humne Iqbal ko bade bade mujrimon ke chikke chudaate dekha hai, par tumhare samne toh wo bilkul ‘bheegi billi’ ban jaate hain. Us din keh rahe thay, ‘Rehman bhai, zara puchiye toh Y/n ko konsa rang pasand hai, kahin main galat phool na le aaoon.’”
“Arey waah!” Ulfat clapped her hands, nudging Y/n. “Hamare khadoos Major sahab itne romantic ho gaye? Yeh toh miracle hai!”
“Aap sab mil kar mera mazaak uda rahe hain?” Y/n pouted, looking at her ‘brothers’. “Rehman bhai, aap toh unke saath kaam karte hain, aapne unhein samjhaya nahi ki meri behn aur bhai bilkul pagal hain?”
“Maine samjhaya tha,” Rehman deadpanned. “Maine kaha tha, ‘Iqbal, abhi waqt hai, bhaag jao. Ye khandaan tumhe pagal kar dega.’ Par unhone kaha, ‘Rehman, pagal toh main pehle hi ho chuka hoon, ab bas nikaah baki hai.’”
“Ohooooo!” Uzair howled, jumping off the table. “Major saab toh full filmy ho gaye hain! Baji, aapne kya jadoo kiya hai unpe? Kya hospital ka koi special injection lagaya hai?”
“Injection nahi, Uzair,” Hamza laughed, putting an arm around Yalina. “Ye ‘Ishq-e-Major’ hai. Iska koi ilaaj nahi hota.”
“Wese ek baat hai,” Ulfat said softly, her teasing tone turning warm and heartfelt. She took Y/n’s hand in hers. “Mazaak apni jagah, par maine Iqbal ki aankhon mein jo tumhare liye dekha hai na... wo naseeb walon ko milta hai. Itna sakht insaan, jo puri dunya ka bojh uthaye phirta hai, jab tumhein dekhta hai toh lagta hai jaise usse apni manzil mil gayi ho.”
The laughter died down into a comfortable, sweet silence. Rehman nodded, his expression softening as he looked at Y/n like a true older brother. “Sahi kaha Ulfat ne. Iqbal mera dost hai, mera bhai hai. Maine use kabhi itna sukoon mein nahi dekha jitna wo tumhare saath hota hai. Tumne use jeena sikhaya hai, Y/n.”
Y/n felt a lump in her throat. She looked around at the people who were her world, the brothers who protected her, the sister who kept her sane, and the friends who had become family.
“Accha ab zyada emotional mat ho!” Yalina broke the moment, snapping her fingers. “Varna kal jab Major saab aayenge aur dekhenge ki unki ‘Jannat’ ki aankhein laal hain, toh hum sab ko line-up kar ke drill karwayenge!”
“Sahi baat hai!” Uzair grinned, picking up the dhol stick. “Chaliye, dance ki practice shuru karein? Mujhse toh intezaar nahi ho raha Major saab ko nachane ka!
“Iqbal ko nachaoge?” Rehman raised an eyebrow. “Beta, wo tumhe border pe bhej denge.”
“Bhej dein! Wahan bhi dance karenge!” Uzair shouted, and the courtyard echoed with laughter once more, the warmth of the family union promising a wedding that would be remembered for a lifetime.
Guys 4th chapter . Thank you so much for showing so much love 🥰 never expected people to like this . Seriously thanking you from the bottom of my heart .
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