Story cover for Not in the Script: An Ahaan & Aneet Collection by i_mannbecharaa_i
Not in the Script: An Ahaan & Aneet Collection
  • WpView
    Reads 8,020
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    Votes 382
  • WpPart
    Parts 9
  • WpHistory
    Time 2h 14m
  • WpView
    Reads 8,020
  • WpVote
    Votes 382
  • WpPart
    Parts 9
  • WpHistory
    Time 2h 14m
Ongoing, First published Sep 06
They were acting... right? Right??

Ever wondered what really went down when the cameras stopped rolling? This playful collection of one-shots imagining the moments we never got to see-on set, off set, in stolen glances across crowded rooms, late-night texts, shared secrets, and everything that might have bloomed quietly behind the scenes.

It's soft (& fluffy), it's a little messy (very), it's wildly speculative (maybe). But sometimes, the best scenes are the ones no one was supposed to see.

Completely fictional, totally delusional, and 100% fueled by my need for behind-the-scenes romance.
All Rights Reserved
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Saiyaara by AmuWrites
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Saiyaara Fan-Fiction. Its an AU movie story based on the same charecters as depicted in trailers and songs. Ahaan Pandey as Sahil Agnihotri. A college super star heartthrob. He is passionate about music and bikes. Extremely privileged, handsome and broody. Aneet Padda as Siya Joshi. She is the college topper, a huge nerd, soft and kind. She is hardworking and from a poor household trying to make it out. *************************** There she stood at the archway, wearing my powder blue shirt-half buttoned, barely hanging on her shoulder, sleeves swallowing her hands. My sunglasses, too big for her face, slipping slightly down her nose. And my guitar, slung across her like she was about to perform an arena show. I blinked. "What..." She strutted in like she owned the place. She pulled off her sunglasses in slow motion, her voice husky and dramatic. "You see, I woke up... and I was him. Sahil freakin' Agnihotri. Guitar-wielding prodigy. Man of mystery. Hair gel connoisseur." I choked on a grape. "Siya." She was swaying like a drunken rockstar, fake-belting notes that didn't exist in any scale, throwing her head back so hard my sunglasses flew off her face and clattered to the ground. I had tears in my eyes from holding in the laughter. I just couldn't take it anymore. She was still hopping around the furniture like an unhinged squirrel, doing a full-blown mockery of my performance from last gig-microphone hand gestures, dramatic hair flips, even the fake broody guitar solo that had the crowd roaring. I chased her across the room, dodging a throw pillow she hurled at me, until I finally caught her mid-bounce and tackled her onto the armchair in a heap of limbs and laughter. She was breathless, still fully in character. "Hey," she panted, her voice deepening into a mock baritone. "Do you want to ride on my big bike? I'll teach you cricket... maybe show you my tattoo..."
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Saiyaara

71 parts Ongoing

Saiyaara Fan-Fiction. Its an AU movie story based on the same charecters as depicted in trailers and songs. Ahaan Pandey as Sahil Agnihotri. A college super star heartthrob. He is passionate about music and bikes. Extremely privileged, handsome and broody. Aneet Padda as Siya Joshi. She is the college topper, a huge nerd, soft and kind. She is hardworking and from a poor household trying to make it out. *************************** There she stood at the archway, wearing my powder blue shirt-half buttoned, barely hanging on her shoulder, sleeves swallowing her hands. My sunglasses, too big for her face, slipping slightly down her nose. And my guitar, slung across her like she was about to perform an arena show. I blinked. "What..." She strutted in like she owned the place. She pulled off her sunglasses in slow motion, her voice husky and dramatic. "You see, I woke up... and I was him. Sahil freakin' Agnihotri. Guitar-wielding prodigy. Man of mystery. Hair gel connoisseur." I choked on a grape. "Siya." She was swaying like a drunken rockstar, fake-belting notes that didn't exist in any scale, throwing her head back so hard my sunglasses flew off her face and clattered to the ground. I had tears in my eyes from holding in the laughter. I just couldn't take it anymore. She was still hopping around the furniture like an unhinged squirrel, doing a full-blown mockery of my performance from last gig-microphone hand gestures, dramatic hair flips, even the fake broody guitar solo that had the crowd roaring. I chased her across the room, dodging a throw pillow she hurled at me, until I finally caught her mid-bounce and tackled her onto the armchair in a heap of limbs and laughter. She was breathless, still fully in character. "Hey," she panted, her voice deepening into a mock baritone. "Do you want to ride on my big bike? I'll teach you cricket... maybe show you my tattoo..."