Ophelia

A fanfiction blog dedicated to fictional men who make you pause and think,

“why is he kinda—”

This blog exists for unconventional attraction, emotional slow burns, morally questionable favorites, and the very human desire to be wanted.

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(Rehman Dakait x Y/N)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and in no way is intended to glorify the real life people or the events linked with them.

This is a scheduled post. If I do not reply to comments ots because I am offline.

Y/N has only heard of Lyari in hushed whispers and in corners of newspapers where anything mentioned was highly regulated by the government. Nobody truly knew what was going on in the town of Lyari unless they lived there.

So naturally, when the wedding invite of a former classmate came from Lyari, Y/N RSVPed to attend it.

Thats exactly the moment her future was being rewritten.

---

The wedding hall looked less like a place meant for celebration and more like a place expecting war.

YN noticed it the moment she stepped inside.

Men with weapons stationed near exits. Men near the staircase. Men pretending to casually stand around while very obviously scanning every face entering the venue. Even the rooftop of the banquet hall had silhouettes moving across it every few minutes.

It made absolutely no sense to her.

This was supposed to be a wedding.

Not a military operation.

The women around her barely reacted to it, though. They adjusted their dupattas, fixed jewelry, exchanged gossip over plates of biryani as if armed guards every ten feet was a completely normal wedding decoration.

YN sat beside the bride's cousin, staring openly at one particularly intimidating man near the entrance.

“Why does your family wedding need snipers?” she muttered.

The cousin nearly inhaled her drink. “Shh.”

“I’m serious. Are you people expecting an invasion?”

“No,” the bride's cousin said vaguely, refusing to elaborate.

That only made YN more suspicious.

The hall itself was beautiful in a loud, overwhelming sort of way. Gold drapes hanging from the ceiling. Chandeliers throwing warm light over hundreds of guests. Music playing too loudly through giant speakers. Children running around under tables while aunties yelled after them.

And still, underneath all of it there was tension.

Like everybody was waiting for something.

Then the hall shifted, conversations softened, the men near the entrance straightened instantly, Several armed guards moved at once, clearing a path through the center of the hall.

Someone important must have arrived.

YN looked up immediately.

And then she saw him.

Well, not him.

She saw Uzair.

Tall. Broad shouldered. Built like a wall. Dressed in black with the kind of intimidating presence that made entire groups instinctively move aside for him. He walked through the crowd with calm confidence while armed men surrounded him.

Now that made sense.

“That has to be the Dakait guy,” YN whispered to herself, of course people would fear someone who looked like that.

She barely spared a glance at the shorter man walking beside him.

Smaller frame. Lean. Almost unimpressive next to Uzair’s size. Quiet-looking. Hands in his pockets. Black shawl hanging over one shoulder.

He didn’t look dangerous, despite the confidence.

In fact, half the time people moved aside for Uzair, she assumed the smaller man was simply benefiting from walking next to him.

YN’s attention drifted away quickly after that.

The party resumed. Music grew louder again. Glasses clinked. Someone started dancing in the men’s section while elderly relatives pretended to disapprove despite clearly enjoying it.

But after nearly an hour, the noise began clawing at Y/N's nerves.

Too many people. Too much perfume.

Too much heat. Too many guns.

She quietly slipped away from the women’s section before another aunt could stop her to ask “when are you getting married beta?”

The back corridor leading outside was blissfully quieter.

Cool night air hit her face the second she stepped out behind the venue.

She exhaled deeply. Finally.

The sounds from the wedding became muffled outside, just distant music now, distant laughter. Somewhere nearby, motorcycles roared through the streets of Lyari.

YN wandered a little farther toward the side wall of the venue.

And that was when she noticed him.

The smaller man from earlier.

He sat alone near the boundary wall, slightly away from the venue lights, one elbow resting against his knee. A cigarette burned quietly between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the night air.

Without the crowd around him, he looked…strangely ordinary. The weirdly confident aura not entirely gone, but it has dimmed to something much softer.

Like someone escaping the noise for a moment just like her.

He glanced up briefly when he heard footsteps but didn’t seem alarmed by her presence.

Y/N nodded awkwardly before looking away, giving him space.

And then, her instincts sharpened.

Two men were approaching from the darker side of the alley beside the venue.

Too fast to be casual, their movements immediately felt wrong,Y/N frowned.

The seated man still hadn’t noticed them.

Or maybe he had and simply didn’t care.

Either way, the two approaching men definitely did not look friendly.

One of them had his hand inside his shawl.

Her body reacted before her brain did.

She yanked off one slipper, then another.

And before anyone could comprehend what was happening—THWACK.

The first slipper smacked directly into one attacker’s face.

The man staggered backward in complete shock.

“What the—?!”

The seated man startled violently, stands up and freezes at the scene.

But Y/N was already sprinting, full speed.

Second slipper raised like a weapon.

“You think I can’t SEE you?!” she yelled.

The second man barely had time to react or even raised the gun before she slammed the slipper straight across his cheek with enough force to genuinely stun him. The entire scene became absurd chaos instantly.

One attacker cursed loudly while trying to regain balance from the unexpected attack.

Y/N, fueled entirely by instinct and misplaced bravery, attacked again before either man could recover.

“You shady-looking idiots!”

Another hit. Another yell.

The smaller man—Rehman—stood frozen for half a second in utter disbelief, because in all his years; through ambushes, gang wars, blood feuds, assassination attempts—

nobody had ever reacted like this.

Nobody had ever thrown themselves between danger and him.

People hid behind Rehman Dakait.

People begged him for protection.

People feared him.

But this girl,

this random girl at a wedding had just launched herself into a fight armed with sandals.

The commotion alerted his men stationed a little away from the perimeter.

Everything exploded into motion afterward.

Men rushed forward instantly, weapons drawn.

The two attackers were grabbed immediately before they could even think of retaliating properly by the men.

One of Rehman’s men immediately pulled Y/N backward protectively.

“Baji, side pe ho jaiye!”

“Leave me—!” she snapped, still trying to swing her remaining slipper threateningly.

Rehman finally moved then.

Still staring at her. Still looking almost stunned.

“Don’t push her away,” he said quietly.

The men immediately loosened their hold.

The night suddenly became very still.

The attackers were dragged elsewhere. The men spread out again rapidly, checking the perimeter.

But Rehman’s attention remained entirely on her.

Up close, he looked younger than she expected. Sharper somehow. Calm in a way that didn’t match the violence surrounding him.

He glanced at the slipper still clutched in her hand, then back at her face.

And for the first time in years—

Rehman Dakait looked genuinely speechless.

YN awkwardly lowered the slipper.

“…Sorry. I thought they were about to jump you.”

A slow smile appeared on his face.

Small at first, then warmer.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

His voice surprised her too. She had expected something rougher.

“You’re welcome?”

For some reason, that made his smile widen.

“What’s your name?”

She told him.

He repeated it quietly like he was committing it to memory.

Then she frowned slightly. “What even was that?”

“What?”

“Those men.”

He looked away briefly toward where his men took the two assailants.

“Some people don’t like me very much.”

Y/N blinked at that.

Which was ridiculous, honestly.

Because he seemed perfectly nice.

Polite. Calm. Soft spoken even.

She tilted her head. “Why?”

That actually made him laugh under his breath. A real laugh.

“Lyari is complicated.”

“Well, I think you seem nice,” she said matter of factly. “So they’re probably just weird.”

Something in his expression shifted at that. Rehman looked at her like she had unknowingly handed him the moon.

“You shouldn’t attack armed men with slippers,” he murmured.

“You shouldn’t sit alone in dark alleys if people are trying to kill you.”

That made him stare at her for another long second.

Then he smiled again.

They spoke for a little while longer after that.

Nothing extraordinary.

Just simple conversation.

She told him she was from northern Pakistan and was only here for her friend's wedding. He listened carefully to everything she said like every word mattered.

Meanwhile, Y/N remained deeply confused about why someone so gentle-looking required this much security.

She simply concluded Lyari was apparently insane.

Eventually one of Rehman’s men approached hurriedly with a phone.

“Bhai.”

The atmosphere shifted instantly again.

Rehman took the phone, expression cooling slightly as he answered.

Business.

Whatever world he truly belonged to returning again.

YN awkwardly stepped back. “I should probably go inside.”

He looked at her immediately despite being mid conversation.

For one brief second, annoyance flickered across his face at being interrupted.

Then he nodded.

“I’ll see you again.”

She smiled casually, not realizing how serious he meant it.

“Sure.”

And then she walked back inside.

The second Y/N returned to the women’s section, her friend grabbed her arm.

“WHERE WERE YOU?!”

“Outside.”

“Outside WHERE?”

“Outside outside?”

Her friend looked seconds away from cardiac arrest.

And then she noticed several armed men subtly watching Y/N from different corners of the hall now.

Her face drained of color instantly.

“…What did you do?”

Y/N frowned. “Nothing?”

“You did something.”

“I literally just talked to some guy named Rehman because two weird men tried attacking him and—”

Her friend went completely silent.

Slowly—

very slowly—

she said, “You talked to who?”

“The smaller guy outside? Nice guy. Kind of mysterious. Apparently people try killing him sometimes which feels dramatic but—”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“That was Rehman Dakait.”

Silence.

YN stared blankly.

“No it wasn’t.”

“Yes it was.”

“No, Rehman Dakait was the tall one.”

“That was Uzair.”

“…What?”

“The smaller one was Rehman.”

Y/N blinked slowly.

Then again.

Her cousin leaned closer, looking half horrified and half impressed.

“And judging by the way his men are keep an eye on you right now,” she whispered, “you’re probably going to be staying in Lyari for a while.”

And hence I'll not be posting anything until then. I have a few stories sitting in my drafts, I'll schedule them and go offline tonight.

And yes, I will be working on Asrar-e-Ishq and the Act part 2 in the meantime.

Thank you for the patience and love.

For those who missed my previous post, there is a stray cat(golu) in my locality who was severely injured and needed immediate medical assistance. I took him to the vets as soon as I could and they successfully performed the surgery on him. The whole cost of the treatment came around to be 16k, unfortunately I did not have the means to provide the financial aid he needed so I posted about it here. And the kind people of this community helped so much! They engaged with my post, reblogged for reach, and donated money. And the massive support I got from the people here is unbelievable. Within 2 days I have reached the goal amount needed for golu's medical care.

I am so so grateful to each and everyone of you, I have no idea how I'll ever be able to repay the kindness everyone has shown golu and me here. I love you guys. I hope all the goodness you spread goes back to you 10 fold!

This is him after the surgery. He is doing good now, stable and healing.

He is eating dry food and sleeping well, still throwing tantrums when I try to give him his oral meds tho. But that's not unusual behaviour from his end.

Anyway. This will be my last post about him. If anyone wants further update they can dm me.

Once again thank you so so much for all the help you guys. 🫂💕

A stray cat in my area is severely injured and is in urgent need of medical care. I have hospitalised him as soon as I could but the post surgery cost is really high for me to afford. I am unemployed, and only have 2k inr that I have already used for him. Nobody is willing to help out and everyone keeps saying to just let him succumb to the injuries. I am thinking of taking a loan from a shopkeep here...but I would need to return the money. I don't know what I'll do. I am really anxious and scared rn. If you guys could help out or even share the donation link, it would mean the world to me.

Picture of the injured cat is attached below. See at your own discretion.

Part 1

Based on this idea

Shout out to @royaldreamermonsoon for helping me witht the edits🥰(she did most of the work)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, none of the incidents and events described in the fiction is real. Also this contains teensy bit of Dhurandhar spoilers, so read at your own risk.

P.S. at this point, this has turned more into a fic than a smau😭😭😭 honestly I can't help it. Aur flow flow mein zyada hi likh diya hai. So yeah. 😭😭😭 Deal with it I guess.

The morning sun is barely through the curtains when Y/N Raina pours herself a cup of chai and settles onto her couch. She's in her pajamas and hair a mess, She opens Instagram like she does every morning before hitting the gym.

Scroll, double tap a few posts from her mutuals, roll her eyes at reels and move on. But today was different because a sudden notification made her stop. Aditya Dhar's post is right there on her feed, uploaded 2secs ago and right on cue a mention from the said man pinged across her screen.

The official posters of the movie releasing on 5th December, she smiled at her poster, but then she made the mistake of scrolling and saw the second poster. Akshaye Khanna as Rehman Dakait. AKSHAYE BLOODY KHANNA. And the vague caption: 😏, like what is that even supposed to mean?!?

Her chai getting cold in her hand as she stared at the screen in shock. She zoomed in on the poster once. Twice. Three times. The comments were already on fire — "OMG AK AND YN???" and "I'M CALLING MY MOTHER" and "THE ARE GOING TO PLAY HUSBAND AND WIFRE AFTER 17 YEARS I'M NOT OKAY." Y/N puts down her chai. She's not going to be able to drink it now.

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

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to represent or glorify any real person.

Genre: Crack/Fluff

This is a little rushed and the sentencing us a little awkward, pardon me guys. And this was supposed to be a 100 followers special, but oh well. Anyway, Thank you everyone for reading and supporting my little hobby. Love ya'll loads🥰💕

The fight had started over something so stupid neither of them even remembered the original point anymore.

Something about Hamza forgetting to call.

Or Y/N hanging up first.

Or him saying “fine” in that annoying tone.

Now they were at a mutual friend’s party standing barely six feet apart, acting like divorced parents forced into the same room.

“Juice?” someone offered.

Hamza grunted.

Y/N grunted louder.

The tension was so ridiculous that even the music seemed awkward around them.

Hamza leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight. Every few seconds his eyes flicked toward Y/N, who was pretending very hard not to notice him.

She noticed him. She noticed everything.

Especially when a girl walked up beside him, Shorter than her. Very pretty. Curly hair. Sharp eyeliner.

Yalina Jamali.

And unfortunately for everyone involved, Hamza suddenly remembered he was charmer.

“Oh wow,” he said immediately, standing straighter. “Hi.”

Yalina blinked. “Hi?”

Hamza smiled far too smoothly for a man who was internally screaming for his girlfriend’s attention.

“You know,” he started casually, “you have a really cool vibe.”

Across the room, Y/N visibly rolled her eyes.

Yalina noticed and then she noticed something else.

Every single time Hamza spoke, he checked Y/N’s reaction.

Every. Single. Time.

'Oh.

This was one of those, a 'make-my-girlfriend-jealous' operation.'

Yalina almost laughed.

Still, she played along because honestly? It was entertaining, and birthdays were not her thing. She needed the entertainment.

“Thanks,” she said, amused.

Hamza smiled like he was in a toothpaste commercial, “You seem chill. I appreciate chill people.”

Y/N snorted loudly from across the room.

Hamza ignored her with the dignity of a soldier marching into battle.

“So what do you do?” he asked.

Yalina answered, but honestly she was barely listening to herself because Hamza was SO painfully obvious.

The overly casual posture, the fake deep voice, the way he kept trying to sound mysterious while very clearly monitoring his girlfriend from the corner of his eye.

Yalina's eyes drifted to Y/N everytime Hamza’s did as well.

Because good lord, she was beautiful.

Then, Y/N walked toward them with slow confidence, hips swaying slightly, expression calm and unimpressed in the most attractive way humanly possible and suddenly Yalina forgot Hamza was even speaking.

Hamza was still mid sentence.

“—and honestly I just value mature communication—”

Yalina looked directly past him.

Straight at Y/N and smiled.

Hamza stopped talking.

Why was she smiling at Y/N like that.

Y/N stopped beside them, sipping her drink calmly.

“Hi,” she said.

Yalina smiled immediately. “Hi.”

Hamza looked between them.

Something felt incorrect already.

Y/N glanced at Hamza briefly before looking back at Yalina. “He bothering you?”

Yalina bit back a laugh. “A little.”

Hamza gasped. “Traitor.”

Y/N hummed smugly. “Thought so.”

And then, Yalina tilted her head slightly and said,

“You’re even prettier up close, by the way.”

Hamza froze.

Y/N blinked once and then smiled, a slow devastating smile.

“Careful,” she said lightly. “I might start thinking you’re flirting with me.”

“I might be.”

Hamza’s soul left his body.

“Okay,” he said immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Neither girl looked at him.

Yalina leaned against the counter a little closer to Y/N. “Can you blame me?”

Y/N laughed softly at Yalina's flirtatious nature.

And Hamza,

Hamza was witnessing his own plan collapse in real time.

“No because hold on,” he interrupted, pointing between them. “Why is this becoming a THING?”

Yalina ignored him completely.

“I love your outfit,” she told Y/N instead. “You look insane.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Insane good?”

“Dangerously good.”

Hamza stared, mouth agape, eyes blown. Because what the hell was this.

HE was supposed to be flirting with Yalina.

HE was supposed to make Y/N annoyed.

Instead the girl he recruited had immediately folded for his girlfriend the second she walked over.

And the worst part?

Y/N was flirting back. Comfortably. Naturally, like she did this every Tuesday.

Hamza looked horrified.

“You can’t flirt with my girlfriend in front of me.” He accused Yalina.

Y/N finally looked at him. “You literally started this.”

“Not like THIS!”

Yalina laughed. “To be fair, she walked over looking like that. What was I supposed to do?” she said, still shamelessly checking Y/N out.

Hamza turned to Y/N accusingly. “Why were you walking like that.”

Y/N looked offended. “What walk?!”

“The… the dramatic walk!”

“It’s called having legs, i have always walked like that-.”

Yalina physically laughed into her drink.

Hamza looked at her next. “And YOU.”

“What about me?”

“You were supposed to help me make her jealous!”

Yalina shrugged unapologetically. “Sure...but then she came over...and goddamn...”

As if that explained everything, which apparently it did.

Hamza dragged a hand down his face slowly.

“This is actually unbelievable.”

Meanwhile Y/N was fully enjoying herself now.

“You know,” she mused to Yalina, “you’re cute.”

Hamza’s head snapped toward her so fast it was concerning.

“EXCUSE me?”

Yalina grinned. “Oh my God, she thinks I’m cute.”

Hamza looked genuinely stressed now.

“No. Nope. End of conversation.”

He immediately stepped between them like a security guard responding to an emergency.

Y/N burst out laughing, Yalina looked delighted.

Hamza pointed at both of them accusingly. “I tried to execute a simple jealousy plan.”

“And failed,” Y/N supplied.

“Horrifically,” Yalina added.

Hamza ignored them. “Instead somehow my girlfriend stole the girl I was flirting with.”

Yalina raised a hand slightly. “In my defense, your girlfriend has better game.”

Hamza looked deeply wounded.

“My game is excellent.”

Both girls stared at him silently.

Hamza frowned. “…okay maybe it’s average.”

“Painfully average,” Y/N corrected.

“You flirt like a man who learned romance from motivational podcasts,” Yalina added.

Y/N nearly collapsed laughing.

Hamza looked at the ceiling for strength.

“This is sick,” he muttered. “I’m being bullied in real time.”

Father!Rehman Dakait x daughter!OC

Genre: Crack fic

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to glorify any real life pos terrorists and the activities linked with them.

P.S. this was a little hard for me to write since I am not sure how to portray child-parent/other adult figure relationships that well. Also, some charecters are a little ooc, deal with it😭

When Miss Sara Ahmed accepted the transfer from Islamabad to the Lyari branch of Burger kids International Academy, she had prepared herself mentally for rich, spoilt and difficult students.

The school was one of those elite private chains spread across Pakistan,with polished campuses, imported smart boards, absurd annual fees, and parents who thought donating suspicious amount of money to the school board gave them control over the syllabus.

Her colleagues in Islamabad had warned her before hand.

“Karachi rich kids are another breed.”

“Half of them think rules are optional.”

“Good luck surviving parent teacher meetings.”

So naturally, Miss Sara arrived in Lyari expecting spoiled children with superiority complexes and attitude problems.

Instead, she got… surprisingly lovely students.

Sure, there were a few dramatic children.

One boy cried because the cafeteria ran out of Nutella sandwiches.

Another genuinely asked if “community service” could be outsourced.

But overall?

The students were disciplined and polite.

They stood when teachers entered class, submitted homework on time, said “thank you" and "please" instinctively.

Some were mischievous, obviously, but not malicious.

The staff was decent too.

Though Miss Sara had noticed one strange thing, sometimes certain surnames made people pause very briefly.

Like they knew something she didn’t.

One of those surnames was:

Baloch.

Particularly attached to:

Naiem Baloch

Faisal Baloch

Meher Baloch

Naiem no longer attended, but the staff still talked about him like a he was the next Sheldon Cooper.

Graduated high school at fifteen, national distinctions, mathematics prodigy and painfully shy.

Apparently the principal still used his answer sheets as examples for other students.

Then there was Faisal, Miss Sara hadn’t met him yet, but she’d heard enough.

Failed eighth grade twice, charming menace.

Once convinced an invigilator he deserved “extra marks for being cute."

According to the Urdu teacher:

“That boy could sell sand to the desert and water to the sea.”

And finally, Meher Baloch.

Grade 4, nine years old and an absolute angel. Quiet and attentive and always completed her work neatly, shared stationery without being asked, raised her hand before speaking, always wanting to take part in class activities, basically the type of student teachers secretly prayed for.

So naturally Miss Sara adored her almost immediately.

Which is why what happened the following week nearly gave her a nervous breakdown.

---

“Alright class,” Miss Sara announced cheerfully one Monday morning. “Fir today's homework we are going to write a short essay about our families.”

Immediate excitement.

Children loved talking about themselves and their rich parents.

“You can write about your parents, siblings, pets, traditions, anything you want. Just write honestly.”

That, unfortunately, was the problem.

The essays came in by Wednesday, most were painfully generic.

“My father is a businessman.”

“My mother cooks very well.”

“My sister annoys me but I love her.”

A few essays were suspiciously sophisticated for a 4th grader.

Miss Sara read one sentence about “the socio economic contribution of paternal labor” and immediately knew someone’s overeducated and unemployed uncle had written the entire thing.

Then she reached Meher's notebook, the handwriting was neat but imperfect, a few spelling mistakes and some awkward sentence structures,very obviously written by an actual fourth grader.

Miss Sara smiled approvingly like finally an authentic essay.(Yes anon, Meher doesn't use ai)

Then she started reading and slowly her jaw fell to the floor.

---

My Family

By Meher Baloch

Grade 4-B

My family is very loving and little bit busy. There are many people in my house all the time. Sometimes when I wake up there are random uncles sleeping on sofas downstairs and nobody explains who they are.

Maybe guests, maybe abbu's friends from the factory. In my house it is hard to tell.

My Abbu’s name is Rehman and he works in a factory because Ammi always says things like “Eat your breakfast before going to the factory" and sometimes Abbu also says things like “Uzair get the car, we are late for the factory.”

So definitely factory.

But I think factory work is very stressful because many people come to our house crying, mostly men, very sweaty men.

Some hold Abbu’s hand and say sorry many many times. One uncle even kissed Abbu’s shoes once which I think was too much because they were dusty.

Then after some days some of those uncles disappear.

I asked Ammi where they go and she always says “Behesth.”(trans. Jannat, heavean)

I do not know where Behesth is but MANY people go there from our house. It must be very nice there because the uncles do not come back.

One time I asked if Behesth is near Lahore and Naiem bhai started laughing into his juice.

My Abbu is very nice though. He brings me chocolates and lets me sit with him during meetings. Sometimes the meetings look scary because everybody has angry faces and there are guns on table but nobody points them at me so probably safe.

Once I colored on Abbu’s knife with pink marker and pit hello kitty stickers on it because it looked boring, Everybody became very quiet, but then Abbu said “beautiful” and put the knife back in pocket. So, I think he liked it.

Sometimes Abbu comes home late with blood on him but Ammi never gets worried. She just says things like “go clean up” or “don’t touch the sofa.” So maybe factory workers get injured a lot. My Abbu works really hard for us.

One time there was a lot of blood on the floor and on abbu and I got scared but Siyahi chacha said it wasnt Abbu’s blood and then he cleaned it while eating biscuits so maybe it was not emergency.

My Ammi’s name is Ulfat and she is the real boss of house because she is the only person who yells at Abbu and abbu doesnt yell back. Everybody else talks to Abbu very carefully like school children talking to principal ma'am. But Ammi says things like “Rehman if you don't stop drinking rn I will kill YOU myself.” and Abbu stops drinking his stinky medicine.

Once one uncle was shouting very loudly in drawing room and then Ammi entered and said “awaaz neeche.”

That uncle almost whispered after that.

Ammi also has superpower aim with slippers. She can hit anybody from very far away without looking. Once Faisal bhai annoyed her from upstairs and she threw slipper from kitchen and it was direct headshot. Even Donga chacha said “wah.”

My oldest brother is Naiem bhai and honestly he is terrifying. He reads books with no pictures happily. Sometimes he sits alone in room doing maths for fun. FOR FUN.

Once I woke up at night and saw him in kitchen holding knife and staring at wall. I got scared but then he said he was thinking about equations and eating mango. I don't think he is okay.

But Naiem bhai loves me very much. He lets me have princess tea parties with him even when he is studying. One time I put makeup on him and he just sat there looking tired and beautiful. He also checks under my bed for monsters every night even though he says monsters are “statistically unlikely.”

My other brother is Faisal bhai and he is evil. He steals my chocolates and then helps me search for them. Once he put lizard in my school bag and I screamed so loudly one guard uncle came running inside with gun.

Then ammi shouted at him for ten minutes. It was nice.

Faisal bhai also fights me for TV remote even though he is old and should not watch so much tv. One time he told me I was adopted and they found me in a trash can outside the house, I cried so much that Ammi threw another slipper at him. Then he cried too which was embarrassing because he is old.

But he is nice sometimes, once I had fever and woke up at night and saw him sleeping on floor near my bed holding knife because he heard “suspicious sound outside.” it was the neighbour's cat.

Then in my family, I Have my Uzair chachu.

My Uzair chachu is unemployed because he just drives around in black cars wearing sunglasses and acting cool. Sometimes he leaves house at 3 am and comes back with bruises which feels unnecessary for unemployed person. Like what is he even doing? I think he was playing football with kids again.

He is very nice tho. He buys me dresses and teaches me football. He also taught me how to punch Faisal bhai properly.

He said “always stomach first.”

Sometimes Uzair chachu cleans guns while watching cartoons with me and and he also braids my hair. Uzair chachu is my favourite chachu.

Siyahi chacha and Donga chacha are also very nice. They play snakes and ladders with me and carry me to bed if I fall asleep downstairs. One time Siyahi chacha taught me how to remove blood stains using cold water and salt. Ammi shouted at him for “teaching weird things to child.”

But what if school uniform gets blood? Then what?

There are many guards outside my house always. When I was younger I thought everybody had guards with guns but then I went to Sana’s house and they only had one sleepy gate uncle with stick. I felt little unsafe for them honestly.

Sometimes loud noises happen outside at night and everybody suddenly wakes up and starts making phone calls. Then Ammi gives me ice cream and headphones and tells me not to come outside room. One time I peeked outside and saw Naieem bhai holding cricket bat while wearing SpongeBob pajamas and Uzair chachu holding actual gun ahead of him.

Very strong family bonding moment.

My family is little strange maybe, but they love me very much and I love them too.

---

Miss Sara read the essay twice.

Then a third time, and by the fourth read she had developed a stress headache and briefly considered emailing the school counsellor, child protection services, the principal and possibly the police.

Because surely, no well adjusted nine year old casually wrote things like:

“Sometimes meetings look scary because there are guns on table but nobody points them at me so probably safe.”

Or:

“One time Siyahi chacha taught me how to remove blood stains using cold water and salt.”

And yet the author of this essay was Meher Baloch. Tiny braid, My little pony sippy bottle, polite voice and constantly sharing stationery with classmates.

It made no sense.

Miss Sara looked at Meher again and as usual Meher smiled back sweetly.

Either something deeply concerning was happening in that household or Meher was a very creative liar.

So, at the end of class she handed the notebooks back one by one.

“Good.”

“Nice effort.”

“Please improve spelling.”

Then when she reached Meher's desk,

“Meher beta, stay one minute.”

Meher nodded obediently. “Yes Miss?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Miss Sara assured quickly, “I just reallyyyyy liked your essay and wanted to meet your parents.”

Meher brightened instantly. “Really?”

“Yes. Short meeting tomorrow before class.”

“Okay Miss.”

Then after a pause lottle Meher asked,

“Should guards also come?”

Miss Sara blinked.

“…Guards?”

“Yes.”

After a beat Miss Sara said, “…That won’t be necessary.”

---

The next morning Miss Sara walked into her little corner office in the staff room, and nearly dropped her coffee.

There were four armed men outside her office.

So apparently it had been necessary.

And sitting calmly at Meher’s desk was a man dressed in black pathani kurta, broad shouldered, composed, frighteningly relaxed. Beside him sat an elegant woman fixing Meher’s uniform while scolding her softly for not finishing breakfast.

Meher waved excitedly.

“Miss Sara! This is my Abbu and Ammi.”

Miss Sara’s stomach dropped.

Because now she recognized him properly.

Rehman Dakait.

Oh. Oh this was bad. Very bad.

For one horrifying second Miss Sara remembered all the authorities she’d considered contacting the previous night, right now she realised that these people were the authorities in Lyari.

“Assalamualaikum,” she said faintly.

“Walikumassalam,” Rehman replied politely. Which somehow made him look even more scarier.

Miss Sara sat slowly and opened the notebook.

“There were just… a few things I wanted clarification on.”

“Of course,” he said calmly.

She opened the notebook and pointed at the first paragraph.

“Random uncles sleeping on sofas downstairs.”

“What exactly does she mean by this?”

“People stay after meetings sometimes.”

“What kind of meetings?”

A pause.

“Work.”

That single word was doing unbelievable heavy lifting, Miss Sara nodded awkwardly and turned the page.

“Sweaty men crying and apologizing.”

“Business disagreements.”

Beside him, Ulfat sighed. “She notices too much.”

Next line.

“There are guns on table…”

“She’s not wrong,” Rehman admitted calmly.

Miss Sara stared at him.

He stared back, completely relaxed.

Like discussing firearms in front of a fourth grade teacher was a normal.

She flipped another page quickly.

“One time there was blood on floor—”

“Goat meat,” Ulfat interrupted immediately.

Rehman glanced at her briefly.

Then nodded once. “Yes,Goat meat.”

Miss Sara did not believe either of them for a second.

Then:

“I put Hello Kitty stickers on Abbu’s knife.”

To her horror, Rehman smiled slightly.

“She was very proud of those stickers.”

“You kept them for three weeks,” Ulfat said flatly.

“She would’ve been upset otherwise.”

“It was a weapon, Rehman.”

“It was decorative.”

Meher giggled proudly.

Miss Sara sat there frozen while one of Karachi’s most feared men defended Hello Kitty stickers on a weapon with complete sincerity.

And somehow, the terrifying part was that they genuinely seemed to adore their daughter.

Every few minutes Ulfat adjusted Meher’s hair absentmindedly. Rehman answered every question patiently, never once dismissing her. Meher leaned against them comfortably, completely secure.

There was no fear in that child, only affection.

Chaotic, heavily armed affection, but affection nonetheless.

Eventually the meeting ended.

Rehman stood first.“Thank you for teaching our daughter.”

Then Meher hugged Miss Sara around the waist before skipping out happily between her parents towards her class.

The armed guards followed behind them.

And Miss Sara remained seated at her desk long after they’d left, staring blankly at the essay in her hands.

Then she slowly closed the notebook, leaned back in her chair and whispered to herself:

“…Okay so apparently the mafia can produce emotionally stable children.”

i think i’m going to take a break from tumblr for about a week or so.

Since this morning, the anonymous hate messages have been nonstop, and honestly, it’s all gotten a little too overwhelming for me mentally and emotionally now. i tried to brush it off at first, tried being funny and rage baiting the anons, and honestly it was fine when they were criticising my writings but then they started sending disgusting casteist, racist and religion specific slurs. And after hours of such hate and negativity in my inbox, constantly after the replies, i just don’t have the energy to be online right now.

i do want to say thank you guys though, genuinely. the amount of love, support, kind messages, and people defending me today means more than i can explain. you all made a really awful day feel a little lighter, and i appreciate every single one of you for that 🫶

but for now, i think i need to step away for a bit and clear my head. this doesn’t mean i’m leaving forever or abandoning my stories i just need a small break from tumblr and from interacting online for a while.

there probably won’t be any updates for the next week, and i most likely won’t be replying to comments or messages either because i’ll be staying offline during that time.

hopefully i’ll come back feeling better and ready to continue writing again <3

take care of yourselves for me. love you all 🤍

IKR, people just have too mchh time these days. I'm just gonna delete the stupid messages if I get some in the future, and thank you so much for all the love! It means the world to me! You guys are the sweetest!😭🫂💖

First of all, I haven't been able to appreciate your work. I loveeee Asrar-E-Ishq soooo much 😭 that bodyguard typa romance needs to find me (except I'm not a burger bacchi so I can't have a bodyguard) and the recent chapter ending??? I'm so curious to know how to ends 😬 I really hope Rehman accepts them (or listens to his pretty ulfat)

Second of all, FUCK THOSE ANONS 🖕

They're just jealous you're writing absolute MASTERPIECES that they can NEVER write. I love your work and like the diva you are, ignore these assholes that have nothing to do other than drop hate in people's inboxes.

Love youu 🫶🫶🫶

STOPPP this is literally the sweetest message ever 😭🫶

You have no idea how much this made my day. Thank you for loving Asrar-E-Ishq and the characters this much — it genuinely means the world to me 🥹

And omg the “not a burger bacchi so I can’t have a bodyguard” line took me OUT 💀

I’m so happy you're so invested in the story, and don’t worry…ulfat may or may not have surprises waiting 👀

Also thank you for defending me so fiercely 😭 people like you make writing worth it. Sending you the BIGGEST hug and all my love 🫂💖💖💖

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

⚠️NO SPY AU!!!⚠️

Disclaimer: This fiction is written purely as a means of entertainment and not to glorify any real life people or the events linked with them.

P.S. certain scenes and charecters are not canon accurate since it is a no spy au and hence I have taken the creative liberty to change it to fit the story better.

For the next few weeks, the arrangement becomes the new normal in the Baloch haveli.

Hamza Ali Mazari stationed outside Y/N’s room every night like a dedicated guard dog. Siyahi and Donga downstairs under the balcony with weapons in hand. The neem tree gone entirely, only the ugly stump left behind in the courtyard.

And somehow, despite all of it, Hamza still finds ways to look at her like they’re sharing a joke nobody else understands.(I need a hamza in my life so bad😭)

Sometimes, late into the night, Uzair walks past her room while checking the corridors before sleeping, sees Hamza sitting there exactly where he should be, and visibly relaxes.

“Hamze, saw anyone yet?”

Hamza would lift his head lazily from the wall and shake his head. “No.”

Uzair would nod, satisfied, and walk away.

Behind the door, Y/N would bury her face into her pillow to stop herself from laughing loud enough to expose both of them.

The brothers think they solved the problem by putting Hamza outside her room.

Instead, they have literally placed the very man they are supposed to catch at her doorstep.

Life was veey cruel.

Especially because now he’s so close all the time and still untouchable.

No more climbing through balconies.

No more long nights tangled together talking till dawn.

Now their relationship survives on scraps.

Five minute conversations when she opens the door under the excuse of giving him water.

Secret smiles nobody else catches,

The occasional brush of fingers when she hands him something, sometimes she sits against the door from inside while he sits against it from outside and they whisper to each other softly through the wood like idiots in a teenage romance film.

It drives both of them insane.

Mostly Hamza.

Because every night he sits outside her room knowing she’s only a few feet away and still cannot see or touch her.

The brothers were very satisfied with the arrangement tho.

The mysterious man who dared sneak into their baby sister’s room had disappeared ever since the neem tree was chopped down, ever since guards began rotating downstairs, ever since Hamza himself was assigned outside her door like a watchdog.

If anything, they trusted Hamza even more now.

---

Then one night, both Rehman and Uzair leave Lyari again for work.

Before leaving, Rehman gives the usual instructions.

'Nobody enters her room'

Uzair repeats it twice like a stressed father.

Siyahi and Donga nod seriously, Hamza nods hardest of all.

“Don’t leave your post,” Rehman warns.

Hamza looks genuinely offended. “Bhai, have I ever been careless?”

The irony nearly kills Y/N on the spot.

A few minutes later, the jeeps disappear outside the haveli gates.

And the house slowly quiets afterward,

lights turning off for the night, Hallways become empty and silent except for the quiet sounds of guards patrolling in the distance.

And exactly 30 mins later-tap tap!

She opens the door softly and Hamza immediately slips inside before pulling her straight into his arms.

“I missed you,” he mutters against her hair.

Y/N snorts softly. “You saw me at dinner two hours ago.”

“Longest two hours of my life.”

“Drama king.”

“your drama king.”

And honestly?

She missed him too.

The past few weeks of forced distance had been torture. Barely any quality time, barely any privacy, always someone nearby.

Now, finally alone together, the distance of the three agonizing weeks disappears frighteningly fast.

The room glows softly under the warm bedside lamp while the rest of the haveli sleeps around them.

Hamza sprawls across her bed like he belongs there. Y/N curls beside him while they talk in hushed whispers about absolutely nothing important.

---

Sometime past 1AM, Ulfat wakes up thirsty.

The haveli is mostly asleep by then.

Quiet in that eerie, heavy way large houses become at night, the corridor lights dimmed low, the grandfather clock downstairs ticking loud enough to hear through the silence.

Ulfat wraps her shawl tighter around herself as she walks down the hallway toward the kitchen.

And as she passes Y/N’s room, she pauses because the chair outside the door is empty.

No Hamza Ali Mazari.

Strange.

Ulfat’s brows pull together slightly, he was specifically told not to leave this hallway.

Then, very faintly, a giggle slips through the door. Soft and quick.

Followed immediately by a hushed voice and then something quieter, a low murmur.

The unmistakable sound of kissing.

Ulfat goes completely still.

For a second she simply stares at the door.

Then very slowly, realization begins creeping in.

Oh.

OH.

Inside the room, meanwhile, Hamza is bent over Y/N, laughing quietly against her neck after whispering something ridiculous.

His hands are warm at her waist. Hers tangled lazily in his hair.

Neither of them hears the footsteps outside.

Not until-knock! knock! knock!

Everything stops, both of them freeze instantly.

Y/N jerks back so fast she almost falls off the bed, Hamza’s eyes widen.

Another knock.

“Y/N?” Ulfat’s voice calls calmly from outside.

Pure panic explodes through the room.

“Oh my God.”

Hamza immediately gets off the bed while Y/N scrambles to fix her hair with shaking hands.

“Bathroom,” she whisper hisses urgently.

“What?”

“GO!”

Hamza barely has time to get up before she physically shoves him toward the attached washroom.

She pushes him inside and slams the door shut before frantically straightening the bedsheet—

only to realize halfway through that it is absolutely hopeless.

The bed looks disastrously occupied.

Two pillows thrown around. Blanket twisted. One of Hamza’s rings sitting openly near the bedside table.

Ya Allah.

Another knock sounds,

Y/N quickly fixes her expression, or at least attempts to and opens the door a crack.

“Bhabhi?” she says, painfully breathless. “Did you need something?”

Ulfat looks at her once, then calmly pushes the door open wider and walks inside.

Y/N’s stomach drops.

Ulfat’s eyes move around the room slowly.

The messy bed, a very familiar ring on  bedside table, a shawl that definitely doesnt belong to Y/N carelessly tossed over the chair.

Then finally back to Y/N herself, whose face currently resembles someone moments away from cardiac arrest.

“Where’s Hamza?” Ulfat asks quietly.

Y/N’s brain immediately abandons her.

“He uh…”

Silence.

“He needed to use the washroom,” Y/N blurts out.

“And bhai told him not to leave the sight of my room for even a second,” she continues rapidly, words tripping over each other now, “so technically if he’s using the washroom here he’s still guarding the room because he didn’t actually leave and—”

Inside the bathroom, Hamza physically closed his eyes.

That was genuinely the worst lie he had ever heard in his life.

Ulfat looked at Y/N for a long moment.

Not angry or shocked, just deeply unconvinced.

Because Y/N had never been able to lie properly. Ever. Her face gave away everything before her mouth even caught up.

And now, standing there flushed and nervous with swollen lips and completely wrecked hair?

Please.

Ulfat had been married long enough to know exactly what she was looking at.

Still, she said nothing.

Instead, she simply stood there quietly until the bathroom door finally opened.

Hamza stepped out looking significantly calmer than Y/N, though there was still the faintest trace of sheepishness in his expression. Tiny. Barely noticeable.

But Ulfat noticed, and suddenly every odd little thing from the past year began rearranging itself neatly inside her head.

Hamza always volunteering whenever Y/N needed to go somewhere, the ridiculous protectiveness after the attack, the constant hovering, Y/N suddenly softening toward him after months of pretending she couldn’t stand him, the secret smiles, the way he looked at her when he thought nobody noticed.

Oh.

These two had been in love for a while.

Honestly?

Ulfat almost admired the courage.

Or stupidity.

Possibly both.

Ulfat understands immediately, why they'd want to hide it tho.

Because if Rehman or Uzair found out one of their most trusted men had been secretly seeing their sister behind their backs, Lyari will be a blood bath.

---

For a moment, nobody says anything.

Y/N looks seconds away from fainting.

Hamza looks like he’s preparing his funeral arrangements internally.

But Ulfat only exhales softly.

The silence stretches painfully inside the room.

Hamza clears his throat softly.

“Bhabhi—”

Ulfat lifts one hand.

Then, very calmly, she looks at Hamza and says,

“Go back outside.”

Both Hamza and Y/N blink.

That’s it? No screaming? No threats?

Nothing?

Ulfat’s face remains perfectly neutral.

Hamza nods immediately.

For once in his life, he is fine with leaving Y/N alone.

He walks past her quietly and slips out of the room.

Ulfat follows him toward the doorway before pausing briefly at the door,

"Don't stay up any longer."

The hallway falls silent again.

And the second the footsteps disappear,

Y/N collapses against the door with a horrified groan while outside Hamza drags a hand down his face and exhales the breath he’d been holding for the past five minutes.

“That was terrifying,” Y/N whisper yells through the door.

Hamza leans his forehead against the wood from outside.

“Thought I was about to die.”

Neither of them notice how badly their hands are shaking.

Neither of them realize yet that this?

This was nothing.

Because in exactly one week, they were finally going to learn what real fear looked like.

(Student!Yalina Jamali x Proffesor!fem!Reader)

Disclaimer: This is written purely as a means of entertainment and not to glorify or promote any real life incident. If anyone is pushing your boundaries and making you uncomfortable, please inform someone you trust and take necessary precautions.

Warnings: Contains mature themes(no smut), wlw, minor age gap, obsessed behaviour(from Yalina), that's it I guess? Lmk if I missed something

Word count: 2.3k (This is my first Yalina one shot. So lmk what you guys like/don't like bout this)

Fourth year started the way it always did for med students, with exhaustion, incomplete notes, caffeine addiction, and an alarming amount of academic panic.

Only this year came with a new assistant forensics professor, Dr. YN L/N.

And unfortunately for Yalina Jamali, that woman had ruined her life within approximately two lectures. Not intentionally, obviously.

Dr. YN barely even looked at people long enough to ruin them consciously. She was quiet in a way that made everyone else seem even louder around her, she was reserved and sharp. The kind of professor who walked into class with her sleeves folded neatly, hair slightly messy from rushing through classes all day, and still somehow looked terrifyingly composed.

Meanwhile Yalina existed like a personified firecracker. Too loud, too expressive and too dramatic for her own good. She laughed with her entire body, talked during lectures, whispered commentary during rounds, and made friends with literally everyone at the uni from janitors to interns.

Which made her crush painfully obvious to the three people(Sana, Mariam and Ibrahim her closest buddies)unfortunate enough to know about it.

“You are staring again.”

“Main notes le rahi hoon.”

“Unke chehre se?”

Yalina kicked Sana under the bench without looking away from the front.

Dr. YN was explaining Algor mortis, writing across the whiteboard, sleeves folded neatly to her elbows, dark hair tied back carelessly enough to make Yalina lose focus every seven minutes.

At the front of the classroom, Dr. YN continued explaining completely unaware of the stare.

Or pretending to be unaware.

That possibility haunted Yalina daily.

Hi anon! I am absolutely not shelfing it. Not after putting that many hours over a fanfic💀 and thank you so much for the support🥰💕

And here are the other posters:

(I used ai to render them and also replacing faces 😭, and make it look more retro. Also the editing of these took hours. 🥲 my head hurts.)

1. LAGI AAJ SAWAN KI

(This is inspired by the song of the same title, from the movie Chandni)

2. Yeh Deewani Hai Jawani (yes this is so original. Now shut up.😤)

Used Dia Mirza as a reference here coz her face card🤌🏻❤️‍🔥

3. Bungalow no.3

Anabelle who?💀

4. Dhramvir ki Dharampatni

Lowkey...Akshaye khanna was peak male beauty as Dhramvir Singh Bhan🤤

Also can you guys tell I used Tabu as a ref?(She is so pretty and looks really well with AK imo)

5. Dil nahi chahta

AK whenever somebody asks him why isn't he in a relationship:^^💀

And this massacre 😭 6. Alibaug mein dil

Sab Akshaye fangirlies ka dil abhi Alibaug mein hi hai💀 also idk why I made YN sniff his clothes like that😭

And I used young Vinod Khanna ji as a ref here, its uncanny how much he looks like his dad.

Not sending a request, if they're closed. Ignore this please, in that case. And just assume I'm only sending you a lot of giggling love for this main fic hahahah!