1. crazy mornings

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The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow on the modest flat shared by Shubman Gill and Prapti Sehra. The kitchen, which could only be described as a mix between a cricket locker room and a fashion showroom, was alive with the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans.

Shubman, completely shirtless and clad only in a pair of faded jeans that hung precariously low on his hips, was engrossed in the art of coffee-making. 

The sound of the espresso machine hissing was punctuated by the occasional clink of ceramic mugs and the hum of a lively playlist blasting from his phone. 

His toned back glistened slightly as he moved, a testament to his early morning workout routine that had left him feeling somewhat invincible.

Meanwhile, Prapti Sehra, having just stepped out of a steamy shower, had wrapped herself in a rather precarious outfit—a white top that barely reached her belly button, exposing a sliver of her midriff, paired with ripped jeans that accentuated her long legs. Her hair, a tangled mess from the shower, was piled on top of her head in a haphazard bun that seemed to defy gravity.

As she emerged from the bathroom, yawning and stretching, Prapti made her way into the kitchen with the grace of a sleep-deprived runway model. She eyed Shubman, who was busy stirring the coffee pot, with a look of playful annoyance.

"Ugh, Shubman, are you seriously making coffee at this ungodly hour?" she grumbled, her voice still thick with sleep.

Shubman, his back to her, didn't hear her immediately. Instead, he concentrated on the coffee with the dedication of a scientist perfecting an experiment.

Prapti rolled her eyes and padded across the kitchen floor in her bare feet, the cool tiles refreshing against her warm skin. As she reached him, she decided to make her presence known in a way that only she could—by wrapping her arms around his waist from behind and resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Morning, hotshot," she murmured, her breath tickling his ear.

Shubman jolted slightly, almost spilling the coffee. "Jesus, Prapti! You scared the hell out of me. Don't you know some personal space rules?"

'𝐓𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 - shubman gillWhere stories live. Discover now