An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Relationships: Saotome Ranma/Tendou Akane
Additional Tags: Rankane Week 2025, Kasumi Plays Matchmaker, Rankane Week 2025 Day 01, Mutual Pining, Bisexual Akane (as in canon lol), Feelings Realization, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluff and Humor, he fell in love first
Summary:
“Isn’t it cute how much Ranma likes you?”
Akane almost drops the kettle she’s setting on the stove. She should have seen it coming, of course, as Kasumi often says these kinds of weird things. That’s why she doesn’t help her in the kitchen as much anymore: Kasumi says something about Ranma, it leaves a sour taste in her mouth, and it never makes any sense.
With the side of her eyes, she observes Kasumi cutting onions and humming.
“What,” Akane stammers, “do you mean?”
After recieving advice from Kasumi, Akane pays more attention to the way Ranma treats her.
Premise: Viraj x fem!OC Ramya [Hi! Nanna] -> A comment from Viraj drives a crack through Ramya's fragile soul. Best friends to lovers trope, she fell first he fell harder trope. A bit of melodrama / quick escalation. Angsty(?) Beware, not proofread in my eagerness to finally post this.
A/N: I finally wrote!!! This one for my moots @iworshipsappho who commented on my post about this and motivated me to the moon, and @mahi-wayy and @vijayasena and @mellaga-karagani whose zeal and totally cool (hip, trend, movement whatever you wanna call their greatness) fanfics on South-Indian movie characters. @viswa-sakhi -> akkay look at what I've been upto! and @budugu -> yendi, yevanna matladande, yevaina paata padande!
« • • • »
The thing with her was that she did things for others she didn’t have to.
She didn’t have to give Viraj her first ever photoshoot as a costume designer to propel his career. She didn’t have to watch him propose to another woman. She didn’t have to spend all her time tending to his family after his wife left him.
But she did it all, because she was in love with him.
Ramya first met Viraj when they were interning at a magazine. In those days the jobs blended into each other like the days blended into nights, like sunrise did into sunset. But he made it all something memorable. Soon, chats at the office turned into talks on the sidelines, and then into long deep talks all night long.
The moment she saw him, she knew this was the man who was going to break her heart.
It’s okay, maybe that would mean she had a heart in the first place. Ramya couldn’t feel it except when it ached.
While her career as a costume designer grew, her calls with Viraj became few and far in between. Until she visited Viraj in Coonoor.
She hadn’t known about Yashna then.
Hadn’t known about just how infatuated Viraj was with Yashna, and to no fault of his. Something with them just seemed to click, and for the first time in all eternity, Ramya— someone who hadn’t felt pain in her life— ached at the love blooming before her eyes.
Ramya’s life hadn’t been easy by the least, but she refused to cry. She hadn’t cried when her parents admitted they conceived her just to have an organ bank for her ill older sister. Or when her sister collapsed and died of an aneurysm before she could help. Or when her parents disowned her out of grief.
She wasn’t about to cry now either.
Alone in that decorated hotel room, never having felt lonelier in her life, Ramya let the first sunrays of Coonoor pierce her with the warmth she sought in Viraj’s touch. She had come there in hopes of confessing her love to Viraj but it was too late.
He had given his heart to Yashna and there was no turning back from it.
“Hey…” Viraj’s voice came from the other side of the door after a knock. “It’s Viraj. Are you awake?”
Ramya didn’t answer him, all but praying he’d go away.
“I don’t know if you’re listening, you’re probably still asleep. Maybe it’s good that you’re not gonna hear this…” he sounded excited, the sound of his feet pacing echoing on the wooden panels.
She held her breath.
“Nothing…! I feel— God, I haven’t felt like this ever Ramya!”
She felt his fist lightly thump on the door, and she could feel the smile on his face, the happiness and the lightness in his throat. Ramya slid down to the floor, legs pulled to her chest and arms around herself, her back to the door as Viraj spoke on.
“I love Yashna!” he gasped as soon as the confession left his lips. “I love her so much Ramya, I just feel like I can do anything with her by my side. I’ll protect her, I want to marry her.”
Oh to be loved that way by him, she thought.
This eternity to love.
The next to be loved.
« • • • »
Ramya wasn’t married to Viraj or Yashna, but somehow she was always involved in their lives.
Convincing Yashna’s father, protecting them from her mother, arranging the wedding. Ramya did it all. She really couldn’t bear to see Viraj nor Yashna miserable.
She hadn’t realised this until the shock on Justin’s face sunk in.
“Why are you giving away this money amma! If he wants to buy a house he’ll buy it with his own money.”
“C’mon Justin. This is Viraj we’re talking about, you know he’s too proud to ask,”
“But you saved this money for your wedding.”
The money she had handed over to him didn’t matter much when compared to their happiness, she just couldn’t explain it.
“Yes, but this is their marriage. That’s more important.”
He had looked at you then, perhaps deeper than he ever had looked at a person. And after a long pause, he smiled and nodded like he knew the secret to a universal illusion.
« • • • »
Though Yashna had mentally left him long before she had physically left, her disappearance from Viraj’s arms was jarring. She had left their little baby behind, who didn’t understand anything but the fact that she had no mother.
Mahi was the first baby Ramya had picked up.
It was also the first time (in a long time) that Viraj’s daughter stopped crying.
And so a new family was formed, glued together by the needs and dreams of Mahi: just her, Ramya, dad, grandpa, Justin and Pluto. Years passed and the good-night stories grew longer. The birthdays were grander and the smiles less heavy.
In every conference call that Viraj and Ramya attended for Mahi’s cystic fibrosis treatment research, everyone assumed she was Mahi’s mother.
It wasn’t long before Viraj stopped correcting them. However, Ramya remained just a friend, his best friend. She lived in the room across from him, had the password to his accounts, his favourite menu was on her speed-dial, Mahi’s school schedule and medicine timings synched to her calendar. She still didn’t have Viraj’s love.
Not that she loved Mahi for Viraj’s love in return, or practically lived in their house and took care of them to get a love confession from her best friend.
But everytime Mahi asked that one weighted question, it left Ramya questioning her own love.
“When will I hear my mother's story?”
That night, she was worn out by the world and its noise, and Viraj wasn’t home yet. Mahi had grown especially restless with her father’s dismissal of any story with mothers. It made her act out a bit no matter who it was at.
“Sorry kanna, enough stories for tonight. It’s getting la—”
“So you’ll tell me tomorrow?”
“We’ll see Mahi, it’s Nanna’s turn for storytime tomorrow.”
Mahi grew pleading, there was an ache in her eyes. An ache that was never palatable to see in a young girl’s face. Mahi was little, she didn’t understand the concept of losing a mother, or being abandoned. To her, there had always been a mother and she was still here somewhere, but just absent from dinner tables and baking competitions and bedtime stories.
Now that she thought of it, Ramya seemed closest to a mother she’d maybe ever have.
“But he never tells me that story!”
“Mahi…” came Viraj’s stern voice from the threshold of the pink room. “Don’t trouble Ramya.”
“But nanna!”
“No buts, enough bedtime stories for tonight Mahi!”
Ramya left the room to leave father and daughter alone, but when Viraj came out at last after a heated argument, he wasn’t just tired or sad. He was angry.
He stomped up to Ramya at the kitchen platform where she was reheating dinner.
“Did you promise her you’d tell her about her mother?”
Ramya, as usual, was quick to deny. Yashna, however beautiful and ruled by her mother as she was, was the last thing Ramya wanted to broach at storytime.
“No, of course not. Did Mahi say that?”
Viraj visibly shrunk into a chair at her question, his hands twitching on the platform as he shook his head in a no. Ramya placed her own above them, making Viraj to look at her.
“You know… You have to tell her about it all one day.”
He rolls his eyes, “Not you too Ramya.” Tired to the bone, now afraid of mentioning Yashna as much as she was afraid of loud noises.
“What ‘not you too’ ? There’s a reason everybody in this house keeps begging you to rip that band-aid off Viraj. It’s one thing to start this facade, but an entirely different task to keep lying everyday about it!”
She hadn’t realised when her voice had gotten so passionate, when she had forgotten the clicking of the oven and started glaring at her best friend.
He wasn't any more pleasant.
“Oh!” he scoffed, “You think I do this for fun? Huh? You think I like not giving my daughter a mother to even imagine? You think I like being this tired overworked single father whose daughter is being raised by a stranger?”
He said the last word with such venom, a hand recklessly flying to gesture to her, that her prediction of all those years ago came true at a heavy expense.
The thunder tearing from the skies flashed across Ramya’s face, and in that moment, Viraj realised he broke her heart.
“Stranger…” she whispered.
He shook his head, shooting out of his seat to do damage control but perhaps he couldn’t ever repair the wound he caused.
“You think I’m a stranger? Stranger to who? You? Mahi?”
“I’m so sorry Ramya. I didn’t mean it like that…”
“Mahi’s first word—”
“I’m so—”
“—No!”
Viraj froze at the shake in her voice. She was inching away from him, away from years of feeling like a part of this sweet family.
“Mahi. Mahi’s first word was ‘Viraj’ because I kept calling your name whenever I was near her. Her favourite colour changes every week though she denies it every time. This week it’s Falu because she didn’t like the name ‘Maroon’. She scored such good marks in her test today. You know the first thing she asked for, after she showed me her report card? You. Her father. She wished she could ask for her mother but she’s known no one. No one!”
Every word from Ramya felt like it was coming from between the cracks of her soul. It broke something in Viraj.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
Ramya sniffled, but didn’t let anything else betray her. The world was a blur, but all she cared about was getting out of the house before she’d say something she would regret. She loved Viraj, but she didn’t want to become him.
“She doesn’t know you fully because a part of you will always be with her. She’ll never know me because I’ve given away all parts of me to you. And you call me a stranger!”
It was not everyday he heard the harsh truth from Ramya. Part of her thought Viraj knew she loved him. At the very least, she thought he respected her.
“Everyone around you is chipping away at themselves protecting a reality you created Viraj! Do you realise just how much you’re suffering because of that reality, how much you’re making us suffer?!”
Somewhere in her moisture-framed vision, Ramya knew she was gathering her keys and bag to get out of the house. But it wasn’t until the rain spatter hit her that she realised she was rushing out. Viraj was just a cry behind her, begging her to forgive him, apologising.
She saw a car pull up in the driveway, Justin’s face illuminated by the overhead lights inside before he jumped out with concern.
A pair of arms enveloped her shoulders. It had been too long since he hugged her, more so like this. Like he was afraid of losing her, afraid of her losing it.
The back of her blouse getting wet with Viraj’s warm tears, and the rain kissing the pair from all around, they slid to the ground.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry”
Justin’s shouts became closer and closer until he stood in front of them. He kept asking what happened but she was out of words to describe the sudden pain in her life. Maybe it had always been there.
If she was a stranger to Viraj, who else did she have? Maybe not even herself.
Her first cry tore out of her throat, and it agonised her more than abate her grief. She caved into herself and Viraj bent with her, on her back with his cheeks muttering the same nothings again and again.
“Justin…!” Ramya cried.
“Amma? Tell me, what happened?!”
“Justin! Please take me away.”
“What?”
Against Viraj’s protests, she stretched a hand out for Justin which he took as fast as lightning.
“Please take me away! I want to go… G-Go—”
He pulled her out of Viraj’s desperate grip into his arms. “Let’s go… Where should we go?” He took her purse, supporting her towards his car. Justin dreaded the day he’d find Ramya on Viraj’s doorstep with her heart broken and her life flashing before her eyes. He hated this.
“It’s ok, it’s going to be ok… Easy there…!”
“I want to turn back Justin!” she cried into his shoulder. His brotherly arms around kept her grounded. “I want to turn back so badly. But before I go back to him, take me away.”
“Ramya I’m so sorry!”
Viraj’s cries turned to his father-in-law at his doorstep while Justin got Ramya safely into the car. They were silhouettes marred by the elusive darkness of the night, wracked with guilt.
“Let’s go…” Justin sighed. “It’s going to be ok amma.”
“I want to go home!” she cried.
“Home?”
“Home…! I want to go home! Home! Please take me home… I want to be home!”
Chapters: 1/3
Fandom: Naruto (Anime & Manga)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Gaara/Uzumaki Naruto
Additional Tags: Minor Nara Shikamaru/Temari, Gaara & Temari & Kankuro - Freeform, Uzumaki Naruto is Trying, and is a little intense lol, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Mutual Pining, Gaara Needs a Hug (Naruto), Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto Friendship, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University
Summary:
“Gaara, look, you saved my life. Not literally. But I’m still grateful. How can I repay you?”
Gaara glanced at his face one last time before stepping off the bus.
“You can leave me alone,” he said simply.
Ouch.
Naruto loses his last bus token. Good thing Gaara is there to save the day.
A/N: Um so hi 🧍🏽♀️Please read this and lemme know how you like it in the comments. This man is my pookie bear, and also this movie plays on the tv whenever I ask for it to ok? This is My Movie. And also @mahi-wayy asks and I deliver again, what can I say🤗 btw, timeline may be skewed ignore that, it fit that way. No trigger warnings except the mention of death. Not proofread.
Word count: 2.2k words
More than grief, grief of a person who they know dying an untimely death, everyone’s face he saw outside his house that day had a glimmer of joy. Joy of his family’s downfall, which would mean they had something to gain from it.
Coming out of that room, having written off all the assets to save his father’s honour, it was the first time Anand had felt truly alone. There was a family depending on his every step now. His mother who saw her husband die ; his brother wasn’t himself after the death and his sister-in-law who was truly herself at the moment - strong and stern ; his little niece, the innocent girl who still couldn’t understand why her grandpa hadn’t come home for dinner.
“Amma…” he sat his mother down. She didn’t have any interest nor want of grandeur, but what he did was going to all but drag them onto the streets. “I had to sign away all the properties. They asked me to claim bankruptcy but I couldn’t drag his name through mud.”
She nodded, suddenly older than he’d remembered leaving her, and held his shaking hands.
“Nandu, your father was Satyamurthy.” (dignified man who tells the truth)
He didn’t have it in him to smile, but years later, he’d look back to that moment and find some courage to smile. “Was. And always will be.”
He planned to sit there until someone called him, until someone needed more from him than his signature. But from the bustle in the house, one voice suddenly stood out.
“How dare you manipulate my client into this trap?! Don’t you realise we can move the court for untimely misrepresentation of information? Just because you’re benefiting from—”
“Listen here, Mrs. Lawyer. If you think I’m standing here in this house by my own free will, think again. I stood no benefit from the shitshow that just took place in that room. I simply gave him his options and—”
“And who are you to give him options? Don’t you think I’m unaware of your motives here Mr. Sambasiva Rao. Henceforth, whatever communication you’re to have with my client, will be through me. I’d suggest you leave these premises unless you want me to drag you and your friends here for their claims of bankruptcy in the past.”
It was a confusing day for Anand, but for a moment he could think of something other than death, debt and his future.
“And it’s Miss Lawyer to you sir! Get out of my sight!”
The owner of the angry voice rounded the corner of the living room, and walked straight into Anand.
“Swapna?”
What was she doing here, fighting battles in the hallways?
She’d changed, from when he last saw her. Her brows were furrowed, nostrils flared from the argument, and her eyes outlined generously by kajal that gave her a divine resemblance. Hair almost falling out from her unkempt bun and files and papers held close to her chest, Swapna re-entered Anand’s life in his favourite dark teal sari.
“Nandu.” she froze.
Maybe she was unnerved by the stoicism on his face or the cluelessness when he asked “What are you doing here?”, that she beckoned him to sit immediately.
“Hey… How are you?”
“I could be better.”
“But you didn’t choose to be better, did you?”
Her accusation, he realised quite quickly, was gentle. He sighed, “What are you doing here, Swapna? Really…”
“I’m the family lawyer, I need to execute the will before anything can be surrendered as debt paid off.”
Anand looked up, imagining his father’s all-knowing smile.
What have you planned, Nanna?
-
Swapna was the first and last friend he remembered making. Every other friend in his life just came and went, but Swapna… he couldn’t forget her if he tried. Her father, despite being too young to be a father and as much of a successful businessman as he was— shared a faint friendship and acquaintance with Anand’s father. With both her young parents working during school years, Swapna stayed back at Anand’s house more often than not. She was more of a favourite in his house than he himself was. She always had the depth of oceans in her heart when she spoke, the world on her shoulders. Always a serious and loyal daughter, law student, friend and as time went on, his girlfriend.
They didn’t specifically share it with anyone, and no one suspected anything intimate going on with them, nothing different from the normal familiarity. They were each other’s warm embraces and without realising the gravity of his plans, a young Anand already had a diamond ring hidden deep in his cupboard meant for the love of his life.
She had been fidgety and moody after graduating, but Anand chalked it up to fear of the future, and anxiety about revealing their relationship to their parents.
Until the week after her graduation from law school, she was invited to Anand’s home along with her parents for something important.
His parents wanted Swapna to be married to his brother.
Anand hadn’t known about the proposal until it was staring him in the face as a wedding invitation card in the middle of his living room.
Instead of a yes, the entire house sunk in silence, Swapna standing at the centre of it with a guarded ashen face.
“Forgive us if we were too forward amma,” his father smiled sheepishly. “We’ve always thought of you as a part of our family, and became eager at the thought of you being the daughter of this house.”
It was true. Anand saw the emotion behind his father’s statement. But he also saw his brother’s refusal of this proposal. He loved someone. Anand knew this because he had met that sweet, stoic someone just a day ago when she had proposed marriage to his brother.
Swapna had tears in her eyes, shaking hands wiping it away fervently before she shook her head.
“I’m sorry uncle, but I don’t belong in this house.”
She’d looked right at Anand after she’d said it, and she walked away from years of friendship. Years of being with each other, from this house she felt like she didn’t belong in.
Behind her, her parents apologised and left him to pick the pieces of his mother’s and father’s broken hearts.
The day after that, Swapna had flown to Australia for her post-graduation and left Anand behind. With the ring still back somewhere in his cupboard, buried beneath years of friendship and excuses for her.
-
“Hello!”
“Hello?” his sister-in-law’s stoic voice clicked him out of his anger. All that rage that had been boiling within him melted his bones and his legs felt like jelly.
Anand crumpled into the nearest chair. “Ah, hello. Vadina…”
“How are you, all okay? You sound like you’re stressed,”
He snapped his fingers at Param, gesturing him back out from all the earlier plans of leaving. Life had a way of reminding his purpose lately, and it always seemed to squash him more than humble him.
“Nothing like that vadina! How are amma and sweetie?”
“We’re doing okay—”
“The wedding will be done in a few days. We’ll pay the school fee the minute I come back.”
“I didn’t call for that mister.”
She didn’t sound wounded. Three lakhs was not a small amount to have not stressed about. Instead, in her serious reply, a tinge of concern touched him. Seemed like a part of his father lived on in her. She wasn’t infinitely kind like him, or perennially smiling, but till this day he felt like he left his mother at home with his father. Nothing would happen to anybody because vadina had his back.
“But that’s what I came here for.”
After a few instructions on keeping his health from deteriorating any further, his sister-in-law bid goodbye. He was left to accept green flowers and a lot of stupid nonsense from the old man parading around the mandap. But Anand would do it. For his family.
-
After the party with the groom and Pallavi’s social friends, he sat there at the half-built mandap in the dark after hours, ID card twisted around his wrist like a tourniquet, a reminder of why he was doing this job.
Anand didn’t need a reminder of what whirlwind life had been lately, but bringing Sambasiva Rao to the same wedding he was incharge of was fate’s cruel game.
“Nandu…”
For the past few days, ever since he had called Swapna to look over his contract with Bhadra after realising it was Pallavi’s wedding, she hadn’t left the venue. He behaved like he didn’t see it, but Param and Sameera were somehow always near her to chauffeur her or check on her necessities. If she noticed the special treatment, she didn’t say anything. They began to get closer, bridging the silence of all the years she was away with a conversation here and there while she helped him with stuff way above her paygrade. She didn’t mind, she said, not if it gave her an excuse to talk to Anand.
So that evening, when she approached him like he was a panicked deer, he couldn’t help but give a small smile.
“Hi.”
In seconds, there was a cup of warm coffee in his hands.
“For the hangover. I got it when it was hot actually. But I couldn’t find you that easily.”
“Really? Where did you look?”
“The edge of a cliff for starters.”
A laugh bubbled out of him, which made her crack a smile too. She never could bear it if Anand was moody. She took the change in his demeanour as encouragement and continued with a dramatic sigh.
“And then the bar, and then under some classless businessman’s classless booted foot.”
“So that’s where you found me.”
“Nope, no luck there either,” Swapna’s skirt swirled as she turned about and sat down beside him, “Because you got out from under it.”
It took Anand but a second to remember that for a long time, they had depleted their woes just being there for each other.
No one had been there for him in a while.
“Sameera told me what happened, she feels bad.”
“If I had a buck for everytime someone felt bad that something embarrassing happened to me, I’d have enough money to pay my bills.”
“She’s not someone though,” Swapna offered, “She’s Sambasiva Rao’s daughter.”
“Oh great, now the one friend I’ve made over here is cruel by blood.”
There was no rebuttal from Swapna. It was almost 3 in the morning and the nearest light was a blinking lightbulb somewhere far near the welcome carpet. It was just them, shoulder to shoulder, but Anand felt Swapna slip away like he hated to see all those years ago.
“What? Did I say something wrong?”
She shook her head, “No, no you didn’t… I’ve just been wanting to tell you something about Sambasiva Rao.”
“Okay?”
“And everytime I try to pluck up the courage and tell you, it just ends up feeling like the wrong time and then I don’t end up telling you which brings us back to the same—”
“Swapna…” his fingers shushed her lips, rough and calloused just like they were back then. He was closer now, and he whispered like he was okay with her panic. “The time is right now, it’s ok, tell me.”
“Nannu maa parents dattata theeskunnaru,” (“I was adopted by my parents.”)
His brows furrowed.
Swapna rolled her eyes, “Oh my god, speeches you can make, but where’s your mind when it comes to connecting information? Nandu!” she whisper-yelled to continue their conversation. “I was adopted as a kid!” she looked at him like he had to make a comment about it, he assumed.
“Oh my God I’m so sorry,” he hit his temples like he was begging his mind to work, “Sorry! When did you know?”
“The day I graduated…”
He paused. Wait, that meant—
“That was why I rejected the proposal that day… Anand, all those years ago, when I said I didn’t belong with your family, that was because I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere.”
Anand wrapped his arm around her, and like it was muscle memory, her head rested in the nook of his arm.
“So you didn’t hate my family?”
“No! When you weren’t picking up my calls, I called your parents and told them about everything in detail. Aunty said she’d tried to make you talk to me many times, but you hadn’t agreed.”
That was right, and Anand felt his muscles clench at how close he had been to getting her back. If he had just thought about his mother’s requests, then he would have talked to Swapna and gotten the love of his life back. He wouldn’t have been away on his bachelor trip when his father died.
He hesitated, taking in the information when something clicked.
“Wait, what does that have to do with Paida?”
“Because he’s my birth father.”
The world all but gave way under his feet, and Anand wished he could blame it on the alcohol. Swapna didn’t make a big note of him being still quiet, assuming he was just processing what to say.
“So, you singular friend - Sameera is my sister, and by that connection… We’re both cruel by blood if you look at it that way.”
Anand looked up at the stars.
What is this Nanna?
A/N: So.... tada? There can be a part two of this if y'all don't shoo me out of this site after reading this. Also, notice how only his mother and Swapna call him Nandu.
A/N: @mahi-wayy asks me to write a Jai fic and I write a Jai fic, it's as simple as that. After that Rajasaab snippet that thrust me back into the immaculate Mirchi first half Darling feelz, I was held at gunpoint to relive my Mirchi days (I was the one holding the gun btw). Angsty ending beware. Some violence. idk I suck at feelers for fic segments. Can't reveal the ending sorry. Tell if there's anything I must add. Btw, not proofread!
“I’ve never seen an Anthropology major so against peace.”
That’s what Jai said to her after the rest of the house had finally left her alone. A few hours ago, Madhu had showed up at the doorstep with bloody knuckles and a few bruises. He had kept mum when the rest of his relatives, now almost like her family too, fretted over her and her slight bruises. To their credit, though they were happy that Madhu was getting involved in matters of the town’s welfare, they were very worried that she might have gotten seriously hurt.
“I’m not against peace Jai. I just think that sometimes it might necessitate slight aggression.”
Jai’s face scrunched up in inexplicable worry, and for a moment she felt crippling guilt. Madhu winced as she angled herself towards him in bed, feeling quite less energetic by the minute. He avoided her gaze but she had felt the tension and anger simmering in his eyes. His jaw was taut, his gaze avoidant from where he sat at the foot of the bed.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For defending the farmers by beating those goons or for getting hurt in the process?”
“For getting caught.”
Jai rolled his eyes and his hands grabbed hers so sharply, desperately. He slid down from the bed, crawling onto his knees to be beside her. He kissed her bruised knuckles, running his fingers over them as gently as he could.
Most of the people who knew her, saw Madhumati, the jovial city girl. But he was the first one to see the fire in her heart, the way she cared so much about protecting the defenceless. Figures, that he’d fall for the one girl who cared for social service as keenly as his father whom he’d never known until a few days ago. Maybe that was why his mother was reluctant about her in the beginning, but it was impossible not to see the pure goodness behind whatever Madhu said or did.
“Things seem different here. I’m not asking for you to change yourself, but please,”
“Please what?”
Even after all the years of being together and one year of married life, Madhu had a tiny spec of fear crawling somewhere in her. That Jai would leave her. He wouldn’t love her anymore because she was too brash, because she was away from home a lot, away from him a lot, for social causes. Because he had to defend her to everyone in his life and she wouldn’t blame him if at some point, he ran out of reasons to ever stand up for her. Madhu wouldn’t blame him if he ever stopped wanting her near. She’s been trying to run from herself since she could remember.
“I can’t lose you bujji.”
He’d always called her bujji, and she always wanted to call him that in return but she could never bring herself to do it. The world swayed on its axis for a blink of an eye and when her eyes accustomed themselves to the shock, Madhu realised that all of this was real.
She was loved.
Loved, like you had someone on your side all the time. Loved, like you could spend the rest of your life loving them back. You had someone that kissed your knuckles and put his head on your chest. You had someone’s hair to run your hands through after a tough day.
She was so loved.
Tears sprang to her eyes, rolling down her temples to the pillow that smelled just like him.
And to think she was so ready to put it all at risk.
Of course, the heart is stupid and its grip on the tongue is more envious of the title; so the first thing that comes out of her mouth sounds like a hoarse tantrum.
“And you think I can lose you?”
Jai is quiet for a long time. Madhu wondered whether he went through the same epiphany as her. She wished her love to be his epiphany just this once despite having nurtured it for years for it to be a click of the moment.
“Jai, I see you in your anger. I see you when you threaten Mavayya’s enemies. I see it when you hide their beaten bodies behind their own cars. I see it when you’re angry and you don’t want me to look at you. But I do, and I’m not scared, because I understand. And I can get angry too.”
He nodded, his face burrowed into the soft fabric of the bed. There seemed to be a conversation in his own head, the angel battling the devil for control. He wouldn’t ever lose Madhu but he too understood the gravity of the situation as she had. Neither of them could afford to let their anger take root. Mavayya insisted there was always a peaceful way of winning a war.
“Ok…” he shook his head, like he was trying to tumble the idea of something out of his head. “Ok ok.”
Her hands were still buried in his hair, smoothening it out just like his mother said she used to.
“I promise,” he looked up at her finally. “I promise. I promise I’ll let go of my anger. Whatever it takes, I’ll never choose the violent way ever again. I’ll protect you.”
Jai looked expectantly at her and she knew he wanted her to say the same thing. But she smiled, shaking her head.
“Please don’t ever promise that. I can’t promise to never choose violence. But I promise I will always look for peace before I choose violence.”
He didn’t look convinced, like they were close to being back to square one.
“Not all of the world bends to peace Jai. There are people out there who will kill the people we love no matter how softly we could handle issues. So I promise I’ll always protect us, our family, this village. I promise. And I promise I won’t put myself in danger voluntarily again Jai. Trust me.”
They exchanged more such promises, almost like they were creating their own vows in the sanctity of their realisations behind the locked doors of the room. Her body didn’t want to hurt that much anymore. And so Madhu and Jai found themselves chest-to-chest, his toes pulling the hem of her sari higher and higher as his buttons slowly became undone and his hair messier under her hands.
Suddenly, it occurred to her that she hadn’t mentioned one crucial thing.
She kissed his temple, “I love you.”
—--------------
Quite some time had passed and the family— surprisingly including Mavayya and Atthayya, had planned a small reception for Madhu and Jai as a couple. Everybody in the kind cosy town knew that she was married to their favourite heir. But since he was that - an heir, their own regional royalty, it was decided that a feast and celebration was called for.
The farmers whom Madhu had helped before were grateful and insisted on gifting her half of their gorintaku (henna) crop. Everyone’s hands were pulsing, cooling red that auspicious day— most of the men refused to hide their loving hands that applied mehendi to their spouse’s or betrothed’s hands. Everyone was happy seeing their serious authoritative prince oh so tenderly hold his wife’s palms while he rolled the mehendi into balls and imprinted designs all over her hands.
All of this reminded Jai of their first wedding reception. It had been a court wedding since neither of them ever thought of making it a spectacle after Madhu’s parents passed away during a workers’ agitation gone wrong. But now everything was bright and shining, and Jai had a father who loved her as much as he loved his own son. His mother looked younger when she laughed with his father. Vennela’s eyes shone like stars as she admired them: like seeing her life’s hero get back his heroine.
The shehnai signalled Madhu’s presence as she stepped out of the house.
She thought she saw Jai catch his breath.
She had the most beautiful yellow sari draped around the curves of her tall body, the golden and ruby all over it shimmering in the rough sunlight. A dark bindi, kohl in her eyes, your nuptial thread hanging down your neck, hair adorned with the flowers of all the gardens in the entire village, hands adorned with glass bangles that the wives of the town gifted her after she had helped them start their businesses, silver anklets tinkling melodiously with every step - his first gift to her. Madhumati was the most divine bride he had seen and for her, he was no less.
A silk shirt that matched streaks of gold with her sari, a matching lungi, garlands of fragrant flowers and kundans hanging from his hands, his gold watch - her first gift to him.
Everyone cheered as Jai passed the garland back to Vennela to help Madhu up some small steps. She took his hand despite needing no help, and it became evident that he knew that too. He smiled, almost looking like he bowed,
“Inta bagunte ela bujji? Nenemaipovali cheppu?” (How can you be so beautiful, bujji? What would happen to me?)
Her smile widened, and for a moment she allowed herself to swim deep within his admiring gaze.
Flower petals already came showering on them and everyone said they might have been born just to witness a couple like them.
Jai and Madhu ended up in the centre of the crowd with all their family members, Vennela managing the situation to appease the people that flourished across town.
She felt happy on seeing the house regain its former happiness, the kind that she had only dreamt of when she was little. Vennela was always so sweet and innocent, she was Madhu’s best friend despite having spent so little time with her. Completing her chance to say a few words, Vennela winked at her, all but pushing Madhu forward to say something.
Madhu looked back at the rest of the family. Jai stood between Mavayya and Atthayya and everyone else while the town police officers in attendance stood to the side. They all smiled, asking her to go ahead. They never opposed Madhu’s relation with the pulse of this land, these people. She smiled, pulling Jai along to address the people.
“We are so happy for all the love you have shown us. They say it’s not a celebration until all the guests feel like family. You are our family now, and—”
They spoke in turns to the excited crowd, letting them butt in between to shout out their blessings.
But among the happy faces, she noticed a masked man weave his way through the crowd.
It all happened so suddenly. One second she was smiling at Gangamma insisting that you have a child soon, and the next— everything was chaos. People she didn’t recognise jumped at them from all sides, and it was her and Jai against them. The crowd gave an uproar of panic, people stampeding haphazardly as men charged with weapons.
Jai pushed her back, giving a way cry that tore through dry and humid bloodthirsty air. He fought the goons off till the veranda was soaked in streaks of red mixing with the holy water they had sprinkled not that long ago.
Everything was back to normal, she had realised belatedly as spots of black enveloped the corners of her vision— everyone’s lives were threatened once again, and Jai had no choice but to choose violence.
The earth gave away under her feet and she was caught by a pair of arms. Blood ran down her neck, and something loud echoed in her ears. Her eyes couldn’t help but flutter close in pain.
Jai’s father had caught Madhu, writhing in pain at an injury, while Vennela harboured Atthayya and the rest of the family inside the house into safety.
“Jai! Jai!”
Mavayya shouted and shouted till the name rang through her body. Madhu gasped for air, gasped for that name.
“Jai! She’s hurt!”
Every fibre in her body hurt when Jai came running, crashing onto the rough wet ground to take her from his father’s grip.
Jai had held Madhu like this many times - her head in the crook of his elbow, his eyes finding the universe in hers. But this time her head hung limp and heavy in his hold.
He slapped her cheeks as she fought to keep her eyes open.
“Bujji? Bujji look at me, bujji!”
That’s what he always called Madhu. ANd she hadn’t even managed to say it back to him.
Madhu whimpered as he shook her like a rag doll, crying out for him again and again. It hurt, it felt like hot and cold daggers running through her heart. Jai kept his grip firm on a wound on her neck, which seemed to pour out blood the more he gripped it.
The yellow of her sari was drenched in her blood now, and she forced her eyes open to look at Jai, one last time. Her husband.
Her hands found his face, wiping away his tears with blood as she stuttered.
“B-Buj-jji?”
The first time she reciprocated his special little form of affection, was also the last time she ever would.
“Hey… Hey! Hey! Bujji? Look at me, come on look at me! Bujji, open your eyes……… Open your eyes! Please, please. Bujji! No!”
Her cries cease, leaving Jai’s sobs for her lonely and orphaned, ringing through the air with more pain than his rage ever allowed him.
Madhu had once told him that when she’d die, she would be at peace if it was in his arms while she looked into his eyes, knowing that there was nothing she would have done differently.
That day, the town mourned the death of their chieftain. It would be years until the family manages to smile again but not that long until Jai avenges Madhu’s death with kindness and the violence of her memory and absence. He failed in his promise to protect her but would not make promises he couldn’t keep anymore.
Jai had only one wife, and the day she died…
A part of him never came back.
THE END
(ps: mahi, I hope you liked reading this🫂 and I hope it satisfied your Jai fic appetite that we spoke of. maybe I'll write more who knows)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Relationship: Hua Cheng/Xie Lian (Tian Guan Ci Fu)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, Partying, Xie Lian is Drunk-ish, Fluff and Humor, Misunderstandings
Summary:
Thankfully, the club is too dark for anyone to notice. He looks at the person he accidentally pushed and—he swallows. Hard.
Maybe he should just go home. As Xie Lian doesn’t have the ability of teleportation, he says instead, “Oh, sorry! I didn’t see you!”
The stranger he just slammed is a tall man, with long dark hair, even darker clothes and an eyepatch. It shouldn’t look as good as it does. He’s looking at him and—oh, crap. The stranger’s also saying something.
Or, maybe Xie Lian shouldn't smile and nod to things he doesn't understand.
I'll stay in the room and you'll come in
I'm wearing a tiara made of flowers
You're wearing your heart on your sleeve
I write your name for a bottle I'll set out to sea.
That much like the sailors,
wins the storms for their lovers more than love.
My love will win the battle against life and fate,
Our love is dangerous.
and if it cuts deep,
My hand is ready to bear
your gashes too
