#Rama (oc) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mahi-wayy · 4 months

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐀 | ᴀ. ʀᴀᴍᴀ ʀᴀᴊᴜ

ᴘᴀɪʀɴɪɴɢ : A. Rama Raju x Fem!Oc

ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ : RRR

ʟᴇɴɢᴛʜ : 2.4k

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴs : ssr levels of angst, strained relationship, arguments, ram being a emotional mess but still trying his best like always.

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 ram tries his best but still fails to keep a promise.

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

_______________

Alluri Sitarama Raju was a busy man, an extremely complicated, dedicated and smart one too.

He was a man of his word, a great son, an extraordinary officer, exceptionally intelligent, a great strategist, a great on field leader etc. etc. but what most people and very sadly he himself forgets often is that he was a husband too.

Married to his childhood friend and the only other person who knew about his past, other than Babai of course, Vadehi.

Their tale was an interesting one; he first met Vadehi, he was barely twelve. He had accompanied Babai, who found him sitting by his mother's corpse motionless, to Delhi to live with him and fulfil his father's mission.

He was weird in people's eyes, a twelve year old who neither laughs nor plays with other boys, never smiles and is always studying, without a break. He attracted some really good amount of attention his way for the first few months.

It was around the fifth month when he first met her, if asked Ram can still recollect the evening like it was yesterday, he was outside the house, waiting for Babai to get off his duty.

Sitting on the steps with his legs pulled up and a book in hand, he really was not feeling interacting with anyone, like usual. That was when a ball hit his book knocking it off from his hands, he gave the young boys playing around a look, who apologised and he kicked the ball back.

Not even ten minutes back to reading, the ball hit his book again, he glares at them this time and kicks the ball back harder than before.

The third time he caught them in his peripheral, purposely setting up to hit the ball at him once again and this time he was going to hit back. He pretended to not notice one of the boys taking aim at him, his head to be specific, but the impact never came.

He looked up to check only to find the most interesting sight, all five of the boys were sitting on their knees and apologising as a girl grilled them with her words. She was young too, maybe a year or two older than him but not more than that.

It was two more minutes before she turned to him and held one of her ear as if apologising on the boy's behalf.

Ram after a long time felt the corner of his lips twitch up in a small, subtle smile and it earned him a pleasantly surprised reaction from the girl who just waved at him and rushed off.

That was the first time he saw Vadehi, the niece of the newly moved neighbour, Balan Krishnamurthi, an Indian constable in the British force.

He was freshly transferred from Karnataka to Delhi and Vadehi didn't have a mother or father, as long as she could remember it was just Balan and her.

Ram found her tolerable, that's what he told himself in the beginning, they used to sit together and study, in silence. Since she was older not many boys or girls preferred playing with her, neither did she seem interested.

She was a little aloof much like himself but she did get into arguments once a week when the boys bother them. It was secretly entertaining for Ram to watch it, all of the boys just sitting and taking a tongue lashing from her.

She wanted to be a doctor, he remembers the sparkle in those beautiful brown orbs as she went on and on about her dreams.

But some dreams were meant to be shattered.

They were twenty and twenty two respectively when it happened, Ram had just come back from his exam for the police force to find an unusual amount of people standing around Vadehi's house.

While he was not fond of people or social interactions in any form or colour the way his stomach churned made him push through the crowd to come face to face with probably the most blood he has ever seen ever since that day in his village.

He could feel the nausea climbing up his throat as he looked at the dead figure Balan Krishnamurthi, the man was bleeding from a head injury and a stab wound in his abdomen.

But what worried him more was the motionless figure sitting beside the body, Vadehi was being subjected to all sorts of comments as she just stared at her now dead uncle and it just made the trauma hit Ram harder than ever.

He could see his mother and him in the scene in front of him and it was making him more and more anxious, his throat closing and stomach churning as he stepped towards the female.

Ram has no idea how situations like these were handled, it was usually Vadehi who took charge of things like this and gave him freedom to focus on one thing, that being his father's mission, at a time.

So when she flinches when he touches her shoulder, he flinches with her. He took a short breath before kneeling to her level while all she did was stare at him, the empty gaze slowly filling with emotions made it a little easier for him.

He forces a small sympathetic smile while cupping her face and the dam breaks, Vadehi just lunges forward clinging to him, crying like no tomorrow and it catches him off guard before his arms come to wrap around her figure.

That one incident and babai's decision to have her stay with them changed their lives, since everyone witnessed her crying and refusing to let go and then staying with him, alone for most of the day since babai had a duty to report to, people started talking.

The statements being passed around were offending and disgusting, people talk, both of them knew that but questioning a girl who has lost her only family three weeks ago was a new level of low.

With things getting a little out of hand and seeing how both of them struggled with it, Vankteshwarlu came up with the idea of their marriage and with a little convincing they got married exactly a month after.

In the present, it has been four years, four years of their marriage and four years of falling in love. Ram wasn't really sure when it happened but he started liking Vadehi a lot more than just a girl he grew up with and vice-versa.

The first few months were a little mechanical but the transition from friends to husband-wife was smooth after that, they never really realised when the relationship grew and turned into something more.

But the last year and past few months have been rough, Ram has been a little distant lately, he knows but things have been tough, very very tough. For example, last month was his fifth failed attempt at getting that promotion and as much as he expected this behaviour it's frustrating to no end.

He knew the whites won't favour him even for their life but why has his down God turned his back to him is beyond him. Why is he testing him like this again and again? What has he ever done to anyone? What is he doing wrong?

All this inner turmoil was affecting his personal life, it started with him forgetting his own birthday, for which Vadehi prepared a rich family dinner, he entered home twelve in the night and by that time the babai had gone home and he had Vadehi asleep on the dining table with the food waiting for him.

She forgave him for it.

The next miss judgement happened on her birthday, he has promised to be home by seven but didn't make it till ten, leaving Vadehi alone, since babai was out of town too, in her own day.

He was able to earn forgiveness for that too somehow.

The third mistake and the first argument happened exactly a month ago, their fourth anniversary.

She had again and again asked him if he would be able to make it till ten and he had agreed that he will but like the first time he couldn't, he came home at twelve and for the first time he had dinner alone.

The female wasn't ready to hear a word he wanted to say, he still remembers the shouting match that happened in their bedroom.

“Vadehi! Vadehi listen to me- LISTEN TO ME!!” He had yelled, grabbing her arm and turning her to face him; she would have looked beautiful in the red anarkali and jewellery if her kohl lined eyes weren't full of angry tears.

“Listen to what huh? Listen to what Ram!? another duty calls explanation."

“Try to understand Vadehi, this is important to me.”

“I KNOW THAT DAMN IT!!"

That was the first time he has heard her yell like that.

“I know what you do and how and why it's important to you Ram, I am aware of it that's why I asked you didn't I, I asked you again and again if you would be able to make it, didn't I?”

Now truly had no answer, she had asked him and he did say he would. He looks up when his palms slip around his face.

“Listen to me Ram okay? I am not asking you to stop moving towards your goal or to stop this fight against these disgusting white men, no that's not what I am asking. All I want from you is to not forget me, don't leave me behind Ram, please.”

“I won't.”

He still doesn't believe that the cracking, shivering voice was his as he begged for her forgiveness and she just held him for that night.

Things almost went back to normal, he made sure to make an effort to not leave his wife behind, everything seemed to be going alright but like he has said before many times, his life doesn't like him being happy or normal.

She has reminded him, this morning, again and again that it was karva chauth and he has to make it in time or at least let her know if he can't and he once again has told her that he would.

But look at him now, standing in front of his own home, scared out of his mind. No matter what he did, he just couldn't bring himself to open the door and face his wife, who had not eaten or drank anything for his sake.

He, who was coming back at three in the morning.

Extremely nervous and his stomach dropping he opened the door and his legs almost gave out on him. There she was, sitting in one of the chairs with a pooja ki thaal in her lap. The diya had gone out a long time back from the looks of it.

Her face was blank, he has seen her like this once before and it doesn't feel right at all.

Dressed in a beautiful red saree, her mangalsutra shining bright under the weakening moonlight, her hair half pulled back where a little messy from her resting her head against the chair, she looked extremely tired and then his eyes fell on the dining table.

It looked like a buffet and his heart dropped further as the guilt weighed on his shoulders.

He could feel a lump in his throat, how bad can he be to keep her waiting like this, how the hell did he lose track of time so easily, especially today of all days.

Ram says nothing, he lets his instincts guide him, dropping to the floor beside her feet, his forehead coming to rest against her knee, his palm holding one of her feet while the other guides her second feet to rest on his leg.

He doesn't know what to say, he never does and in a situation like this he wasn't even sure if he even had a right to say something.

So he just sits, holding her feet like they were his life, like letting them go will take away his ability to breathe from him.

After what seems like eternity but we're only fifteen minutes, Vadehi moves. She brushes a hand through his hair and moves her feet away, standing up and pulling him with her.

She says nothing, just picks up the plate from the table and disappears inside. She comes back in less than ten minutes, the thal set again, a new diya illuminating her blank features.

She stops infront of him, both of them just starring at each other before she takes his hand with one of her own and walks outside to the porch.

The moon is drifting behind the clouds but still shines brightly as she sets the thal down on a stool and covers her head before picking up the sieve, placing the diya in it before looking at the moon through it.

He feels a little sick when he stares at him through the fine net, he can read the disappointing hurt into those blank eyes but can't bring himself to say anything.

“For this karva chauth, along with your long life I wish that every father gets a son like you and every country gets a soldier like you…”

Her tone is disturbingly stable as she speaks, offering the water to the moon before turning to him and bending to touch his feet.

“But may not any woman gets a husband like you.”

That broke his heart, into a million pieces.

He sees tears slowly filling her eyes before letting her veil slip from her head as she rushes inside, his feet takes him after her but all gets is the bedroom door being shut in his face.

It was okay, he made a mistake, he will take the consequences.

“Vadehi, I'm not deserving even for consideration of forgiveness but I am selfish, I am bad, I am weak. I will take anything you want, don't talk to me, don't wait for me, don't cook for me. Don't do anything I will take it all but please please don't leave me. I don't know what I will do without you please don't leave me.”

After years and years, Ram feels tears flowing down his cheeks as he begs for the woman to not leave him, he gets no verbal reponse, slowly sliding down the door as he sobbed.

That night all that could be the audible sobs of a man scared to be left alone and the muffled sobs of a wife who was hurt and angry.

_______________

taglist : @warnermeadowsgirl @mayakimayahai @vijayasena @maraudersbitchesassemble @ramcharantitties [let me know if you wanna be added or removed!!]

#rrr #rrr fanfic #rama raju #rama raju x fem!oc #ramaraju x reader #ram charan fic #ram charan #south indian fanfic

38 notes · View notes

lemony-snickers · 5 months

Note

1 - Naruto / Kakashi Hatake

when the party's over - billie eilish.

Kakashi felt the hard wood of the the auditorium chair digging into his back and adjusted. It was dificult not to roll his eyes as families settled into their seats, turning to talk excitedly with one another about the show.

His eyes flitted to the decorations fixed to the front of the stage, the hand painted banner with "A Time to Remember" scrawled on the front.

Kakashi had never participated in a recital like this. Even in his youth, because of who his father was and what he did for a living, Kakashi's education in movement had been exceptional. Professional from the very start.

He had taken adult workshops instead of classes with children his own age, and he had featured in a few of his father's residency works before his death - had been taken under the wing of Sakumo's friends and contemporaries thereafter.

Kakashi was grateful he had never had to demean himself in such a way, wearing cheap costumes and trying to bend and break some artistic vision into a malformed box that suited A Time to Remember.

What did that even mean? What was it supposed to convey to the audience?

Kakashi huffed, rolled his neck from one side to the other to quell his irritation. An unfamiliar hand tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to look at the person attached, seated behind him, with only the thinnest veil of social politeness pulled over his natural expression of annoyance.

"Hi," a woman said, pointing toward the curtained stage with a hand-folded program printed on too-bright green paper, "who are you here to see?"

That was the questions, wasn't it? Becasue the person he was here for was not even performing, likely had done almost as few of these types of recitals as he had himself.

But Saya Tsunematsu was a peculiar thing, a person he still did not have a good read on, despite his proclivity for undrestanding people at a glance, in most cases.

The woman behind him, for example, leaning too close and hoping desperately he too was a single parent - something they could bond over before she inevitably asked him to help with some ridiculously small home repair project in a bid to finally seduce him.

"No one," he said flatly, turning to face the stage again. He heard the woman's half-shocked sound of confusion, felt the warmth of her hand as it crept toward his shoulder again before retreating. Kakashi closed his eyes, breathed through his nose. An hour and a half, one twenty minute intermission, and he could lay to rest whatever questions he had come here to answer.

Or, at least, if he didn't, he would forcibly bury them and move on. He had spent too much time already on trying to understand Saya; her determination to challenge him at every turn.

He had originally dismissed her when she auditioned for him with a piece of his father's choreography and she had snidely retorted that he was an egotistical fraud who could never live up to his father's legacy.

The remark had stung, the fear of inadequacy which Kakashi so easily pushed down most days writhing its way up his esophagus, curdling in his mouth.

Perhaps it had been a good thing - he'd never admit it - because it had forced Kakashi to truly think about the path he had set himself upon, the goals he wanted to achieve by reviving the White Fang Dance Company. To rewrite his childhood, to bring closure to a part of his past which had remained until recently an open, festering wound.

Saya had helped with that, had challenged him repeatedly as they reworked his father's choreography. He'd never met anyone who knew the movement as well as he did until Saya. It was strange, to find someone so devoted to Sakumo's work who had never known him.

The lights of the auditorium dimmed and Kakashi settled into the familiar darkness, the hush before the curtains pulled apart to reveal another hand-made (and similarly nonsensical) set piece - a backdrop painted with a mountain range in the distance, a field of flowers in the foreground; neither of which seemed to evoke a time to remember.

The first half of the recital was devoted mostly to the youngest children, few of whom knew their places or their steps, several of whom froze mid-stage, terrified of the lights and the sea of shadowed faces. One who cried, and three who tried to climb off the stage shouting, "Mama!" or "Papa!" with delight.

Kakashi had to forcibly unclench his jaw several times.

Intermission brought headache-inducing fluorescent lights and the opportunity to buy cookies and brownies and boxes of sugar water masquerading as juice in the hallway to support the dance studio's competitive endeavors. Kakashi purchased a single red carnation, unsure why except that it gave him something to do with his hands.

When he returned to his seat, the one behind him remained vacant and Kakashi wondered despite himself whether the woman had moved on his account or if her child was one of the young ones permitted to leave early so as not to miss their bedtime.

The second half of the recital was at least slightly more interesting. The children were older, more dedicated to their burgeoning craft. And while none of them danced to a professional level, several of them showed promise, and Kakashi found himself clapping a little louder, hoping it would encourage them to keep going.

And then, finally, the last piece of the night was all that remained. Kakashi straightened in his seat as a familiar person took the stage, standing in the center wearing a simple black dress and sensible heels.

"Good evening," Saya said, smiling, the long earring she wore catching the spotlight and reflecting it back in sharp refraction. "My name is Saya Tsunematsu and I'm a performer with the White Fang Dance Company."

Kakashi felt his pulse quicken a little at the mention, the acknowledgement that she was tied to him in some way. Professionally, of course.

"I am honored to have been invited to collaborate with some of the senior students on a piece for tonight's recital. When considering the theme A Time to Remember," Kakashi almost laughed but quickly converted it to a cough before anyone noticed, "I thought back to my own childhood, to the joy that dance brought every day, even when it hurt or when I didn't get the part I wanted and my parents listened to me cry the whole way home."

Several knowing chuckles erupted from the audience and Kakashi found himself, not for the first time, slightly jealous that Saya seemed so capable of connecting with the people around her, even if they could never attain her level of talent.

"I wanted this to be a truly collaborative effort and I'm so proud of the work these students have put forth to create this piece. I will admit, their choice of music was outside my usual realm, but that only made the challenge more fun for me, and - I hope - for them. Thank you and enjoy."

Applause followed Saya into the wings and the curtain pulled open again. A single performer stood on the darkened stage, wearing a loose sleeveless top and tightly fitted shorts, all a dull grey.

When the music began, it was a soft harmonic humming until a cracking voice joined.

Don't you know I'm no good for you?

The lights slowly came up, soft blue washing over the stage as the dancer at the center began a measured adaggio - as close to a hallmark of Saya's work as Kakashi had ever been able to pinpoint.

The girl's foot trailed from her ankle to her knee, and then higher - her thigh pulling tight to the side of her body as her foot extended overhead. Even Kakashi had to admire the control and flexibility the movement required. Her leg trembled only a little as she stared blankly forward, mouth parted slightly, hands soft at her sides.

I've learned to lose you can't afford to.

Her foot flexed but she remained otherwise still as two other dancers joined her, falling from the wings with a soft flourish, pulling at their shirts as if trying to escape their confines.

Tore my shirt to stop you bleeding.

More dancers, suddenly, running swiftly onto the stage as the dancer at the center released her leg extension and joined them in a cluster, disappearing as she melted back into the sea of grey; no longer alone, but no longer special, either.

The lights flashed from blue to red, the whole ensemble moving together as one entity - expanding and contracting, lifting up onto the toes of one foot, leaning preacriously to one side until they nearly toppled over.

But nothing ever stops you leaving.

They all tugged the shoulder of each other's shirts, appearing to try and stabalize one another before it became apparent they were trying to pull each other off balance.

Kakashi did not notice he was leaning forward, perched on the edge of the uncomfortable auditorium chair as he watched.

The cluster dispersed, dancers flying in every direction, some cascading to the floor while others leapt through the air, each face painted with an expression of anguish, remorse, fear.

They all stopped suddenly, swaying on their feet; turned away from each other, staring at the floor, solemn.

The lights cut out.

Quiet when I'm coming home and I'm on my own.

Bright yellow lights burst across the stage like the flashes of cameras, the music swelled.

One dancer fell to the floor, clambered forward from one knee to the other, rolling over each pointed foot, clutching their chest. Another fell on top, resting his head on their shoulder, wrapping his arms around them as if to cradle and reassure.

But the first dancer struggled against it, tried to pull themself free.

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that.

Kakashi watched as the piece evolved, as moments of sadness and anger were punctuated by joy, by love. The lights wavered back to blue, ripened to orange and then rotten purple.

Slowly, those better moments overwhelmed the others, quelled the upset and the regret and replaced them with exultation. The dancers saw one another struggle, helped one another overcome. Rather than separate and isolated, they moved together again, one dancer propping another up as they fell.

The music crescendoed.

Let's just let it go, let me let you go.

The first dancer took her place at center stage again, but this time, instead of alone, the others joined her, all sweeping their leg up, up, up. Some weren't as steady, some not as flexible.

They all smiled.

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that.

They flexed their feet as one as the music ended with a soft tinkling of piano keys.

The lights faded to nothing, darkness swallowed their beaming faces.

The audience erupted in applause, parents and friends and family all celebrating as the lights came back and the performers took their bows. Some in the crowd stood, many shouted. The dancers all laughed, giddy and pleased with themselves, as they beckoned Saya on stage to take one final bow with them.

Kakashi was the first to leave, the excitement of the crowd trailing behind him, falling quiet as the heavy door swung closed in his wake.

He smiled the entire way home, the carnation still clutched carefully between his fingers, and he finally understood why Saya did not find recitals or their preparation to be a waste of her time or talent.

#kakaoc #kakaoc fanfiction #oc: saya #modern au #dance au #lemony scribbles #music prompt #oh shit lem wrote something???????????????????????????????#spotify wrapped fic-o-rama #took me forever to figure out what tag i designated for this BACK IN DECEMBER and when i saw it all i could think was REALLY as;dfjasd;f

17 notes · View notes