#cherrywrites

[ch3rryjampi3]

The Sun peeked through the windows, it's light illuminating a warm glow shining throughout the room as your soft breathing can be heard, sleeping soundly still while Katsuki watched your figure, your chest slowly rising up and down and your face in a relaxed manner.

Katsuki smiled whilst he places a kiss on your forehead, his smile grew more as he watched you flutter your eyes open, groaning at the light blinding you while Katsuki peppers your face making you giggle. "Goodmorning baby." He says placing one last peck on your lips "Goodmorning to you too Kats..." You smiled tiredly at him.

Katsuki would always love to wake up in the morning with you by his side.

»»————> end <————««

A/N: This sucks actually,but I really hope y'all like it!! I wrote this at like 3am in the morning so ignore the grammar lolss

[casiavium]

In the center of the room was a lone sword, left upright like it had been placed as a mirror to the Blade of Evil's Bane. The room had changed since he had last been there; sunlight still filtered in from the sky, the once darkness expelled, but now it glinted off crimson ropes and silver chains bound to the blade in the center.  

They stretched out like a jungle of vines, deliberate patterns that mimicked the tiles below them. Link had never noticed the spiraling swirls on the floor (as he had been preoccupied the last time he had been here), but the ropes hovered over them as they etched their way towards the center of the room.

He reached out to brush one aside, not deterred by this maze. Instead, his hand burned where it met the ribbon, whisps of smoke dissipating into the air as he snatched his hand away. The intricate coil was seared into his skin, blistering red to match the rope.

Ghirahim had never seemed so far away.

I'm writing the Orpheus/Eurydice AU

[cherryxxmoon]

– 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲

Rating: E   Fandom: Naruto Relationship: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke Characters: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke It was now almost eight in the evening. The Uchiha house was completely deserted, just as Sakura had planned. Sarada was away at her best friend Chocho and Sasuke— he had spent the last two weeks on a mission and, according to his last message, would be returning that very night. He had not specified any time, but usually the dark-haired would never pass through the gates of Konoha if not in the evening, heading to the Hokage's residence to report and only then finally returning home, ready to indulge in some well-deserved rest.

And for this evening, Sakura had decided to welcome her husband with a special surprise, one she knew he would appreciate.

Wearing her kitchen apron and nothing else, the pink-haired allowed herself one last glance at the clock. Eight; she still had time.

On the surface, the Uchiha couple might have seemed definitively chaste in their displays of affection. It rarely happened that they showed themselves in overly intimate attitudes in the eyes of others, even more so if they were strangers. Still, no one was really aware of what was going on within the walls of their home, the passion they shared, the eagerness with which they sought and loved each other, and the funny ways they entertained each other. Not to give in to boredom, Sakura sometimes repeated to herself, aware that this was just an excuse. She knew that, even after years of marriage, their desire for each other had never waned even by an ounce.

At least one more hour and then Sakura would be found at the stove in the kitchen, intent on preparing a delicious meal for her beloved husband, knowing, however, that the main course would be something else entirely.

She smiled to herself, Sakura, extremely pleased with her idea, her body already quivering with anticipation for the night they would finally spend together after weeks apart.

She shivered as she reached the living room, assuming the breath of fresh air was due to her fully exposed body. She would warm herself with a cup of tea, waiting for Sasuke to then infuse her with the warmth she needed.

"Sakura, I'm ho—" She jolted, losing her grip on her cup and turning her head toward the entrance of the room, there where stationed motionless and incredulous was the frame of her husband, whose only visible eye had already slipped from the usual black to the deep red of the sharingan. "—me."

They both stood for a few instants contemplating the moment. Sasuke unable to look away from her exposed back, Sakura mentally cursing herself for her now ruined surprise.

It was he who moved first, advancing toward her as if his muscles were moving on their own. And he was behind her in an instant, his lips pressed against her exposed neck and his one arm snaked around her waist.

"You're early, Sasuke-kun—" She couldn't regret it, not with his body pressed against her own, his lips tickling her skin.

Sasuke nibbled the base of her neck as his gloved hand continued upward until it closed on one breast. A gasp left her lips, impossible to hold after days apart. She wished she could have shown more annoyance at that sudden change of plans.

"Isn't it me you've been waiting for?" the dark-haired teased her, exhaling each word against her ear in a successful attempt to totally shut her mind off.

"Dinner— not ready." Not that she really had any idea of consuming it, not after welcoming Sasuke like that, ready and bare for him, eager for his touch, his lips, his—

"No?" he asked, tormenting her lobe with his teeth, her nipple with his fingers, in a perfect harmony of movements which could make her legs tremble. "It seems to me that the main course is ready."

Sasuke guided her to the wall not far away, to which the pink-haired propped with her open palms. His, on the other hand, caressed her exposed ass before crashing against her cheek with enough force to cause the bruise that Sasuke so adored to glimpse on her skin and that would infuse him with enormous satisfaction the next morning.

"Look at you—" He turned her to meet his gaze, and Sakura could read in his the same burning lust which ignited her, from her lower belly down to every fiber of her body. "My perfect wife in her apron, ready for me." Sasuke whispered the last words, which broke against her lips an instant before his replaced them, finally kissing her.

As they savored each other with greedy eagerness, they explored each other's bodies with their hands, the memory of every muscle, every curve etched in their quivering fingertips.

Sakura inhaled deeply to catch her breath, abandoning her head against the wall behind her. As if truly she was the most exquisite dish which had ever touched his lips, her husband continued to taste her skin, scattering with hot, wet kisses down her neck, descending to her chest. He leaned down on his knees to tickle her belly with his tongue, granting from her what she knew was the first in a long series of moans.

His fingers found the slit between her thighs, running it and collecting her arousal there. He smiled smugly to himself, but even before Sakura could protest or whine, his fingertips were replaced by his lips and with them his tongue, sinking between her folds, licking wolfishly at her sensitive nub.

No night had passed in which the pink-haired had not thought of her husband, and in the moments when absence was at its peak, she had ventured to seek that irreplaceable pleasure for herself. Her fingers could never compare to Sasuke, to whatever part of him he decided to offer her. It was a different kind of heat, a complete and filling ecstasy. It was additive.

Sasuke sucked her clit and she could not stop herself from violently arching her back, already close to the release her body so desperately demanded. Sakura moved her hips spontaneously, chasing that immense pleasure by fucking herself against his face, and she was so close— she should have anticipated that her husband would not be so benevolent as to grant her an orgasm so easily, without first allowing him to be able to catch a glimpse of her completely out of it and exhausted, begging him to rail her.

"Do you want to cum already?" the dark-haired taunted her again, looking at her from below for a few moments, before standing up to overwhelm her again with his most imposing figure, trapping her between his body and the wall.

His gestures were quick but not quick enough, so with ruthless urgency Sakura helped him slip off the heavy black cloak, which fell back to the floor with a dull thud.

He kissed her again, invading her mouth with his tongue, soaked with her taste and his, which mingled and complemented each other to perfection, like an exquisite blend.

Sakura's hands found the waistband of his pants and began to palm the blatant bulge. Now it was her turn to enjoy his groans, to have him in her hands and do with his body what she most desired.

Sasuke groaned against her lips, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against hers, lowering his gaze to her hands, already intent on unfastening his pants. When her seemingly delicate fingers, but capable of great feats, in surgery as much as in their most intimate moments, closed around the dark-haired's throbbing cock, he closed his eyes, mimicking the gestures in which Sakura herself had performed just now, moving his hips to fuck her hand and imbue himself in every drop of pleasure he could muster.

"Do you want to cum already?" the pink-haired teased him, then emitting a mocking giggle. Sasuke grunted, trying to express a nonexistent dissent, impossible to voice as he was overwhelmed by ecstasy, by arousal. He brought his one hand to hers, guiding her strokes with it when they threatened to slow. "No, darling— you have to fuck me first."

He did not let her repeat it, barely allowing her to finish her sentence. They shed the last of the clothing which stood in their way together, which prevented them from finding themselves skin-to-skin, then Sasuke pounced on her like a feline on its prey, grabbing her leg to lift it up.

They had always been adept at teamwork, able to read each other's intentions under all circumstances. It wasn't just happening on the battlefield or on missions. They could take advantage of that intimate privilege in sex as well.

In fact, her body acted spontaneously, her muscles moving according to their own memory, guiding his hard dick to her entrance, and Sasuke buried himself in her without delay. The couple moaned in unison, finally fulfilled in their most visceral desire; to be together, to merge and unite until they became one, making up for all the lacking due to distance.

They remained for a few moments like this, motionless, basking in the pleasure, in each other's warmth, in the feeling of wholeness which entangling instilled in them.

Sasuke then began to thrust, slowly at first, tightening his fingers in her skin, in the buttock against which his hand was pressed.

"Fuck—" exhaled the dark-haired, hastening his pace, slamming into her cunt with greedy eagerness, hard enough to slap her pelvis with his own, causing pops as indecent as they were arousing.

Trying to stifle his groans, Sasuke leaned down to her chest, closing his lips around her nipple, sucking her mound and reddening her skin wherever he could reach. He continued to thrust inside her, fucking her relentlessly

Sakura, on the other hand, was almost totally abandoned against the wall behind her, supported only by his arm, as her whole body succumbed under the weight of ecstasy, nearing its climax.

She sank a hand into his hair, grasping his raven locks as he reached the peak, imposing him with that single grip not to stop, to continue until she had enjoyed every ounce of pleasure.

Their joint moans soaked the walls, and after only a few moments, Sasuke joined her, releasing his load into her pussy, painting her walls white with warm, dense spurts, familiar and intimate, reserved only for her, just as every essence of Sakura belonged only to him.

Tired and out of breath, the couple remained entwined, indulging in a new kiss, lazier and less urgent, but no less heartfelt, less passionate.

"I've missed you," Sasuke admitted, in a whisper so inaudible it sounded more like a thought mistakenly spoken aloud. He kissed her neck, before pressing his face to it to inebriate himself with her scent. "Home at last."

"Welcome back, Sasuke-kun."

This work is a collab with Riakurou! You can find here her amazing works.

[cherrydreamer]

Just imagine Steve rocking up to the Hawkins Community Pool on those first days of summer break, and he just so happens to see Billy looking like this, all bleary eyed and stumbly and squinting in the sunlight.

And- because he's neither blind nor an idiot- Steve notices that something is wrong with him. Very wrong. So he stands there, right by Billy's chair, with his hands on his hips and an incredulous look on his face and he tuts and shakes his head and he says, "Rough night, huh, Hargrove? Cause you look like shit. What's up, you hungover or something?"

And when Billy looks at him, eyes not even fully open, and lets out a confused, pained little mumble about how he doesn't know what's happening, Steve gets even more exasperated and snaps, "Jesus Christ, you're a mess. What the hell were you thinking, man? You can't do your fucking job like this. You're a lifeguard, there are kids here! Dumb little kids who need real, actual, proper supervision, not some guy who's gonna be falling asleep or running off to puke every five minutes."

And he's still mid-rant when Billy whimpers in pain, sounding so utterly pathetic that Steve can't help but feel a little sorry for him. And even though he's still pissed off, Steve softens his voice and says, "C'mon, dude, come on down and get Heather or Alex or whoever to cover you. I'll drive you home."

And Steve doesn't even give Billy time to protest- not that he's even trying to, which really should be red flag number one- before he's summoning up his full Country Club Brat attitude and snapping his fingers until another lifeguard does appear to take Billy's place, and then it's just a matter of bundling Billy into the passenger seat of the BMW, encouraging him to take small sips from a can of ice cold Coke and hoping he doesn't puke until Steve's managed to shove him out to sleep it off on the driveway of Cherry Lane.

Or at least, that's all it should be.

And Steve's dealt with enough hungover guys that he's not really surprised when Billy pitches forward, grabbing at his head with a sudden gasp of pain, twisting his hair between his hands like he's trying to tug it out. Hell, if anything, Steve's a lot less worried about Billy than he is about the upcoming fate of his freshly-valeted interior. So he glances over, about to ask if Billy wants him to pull over. And that's when he sees it.

The blackness crawling its way up Billy's arm. The veins, dark and pulsing, spreading across his skin. The way Billy's holding himself so tightly that he's vibrating with it, lips curling into a snarl and his nails drawing blood where his hands are clamped down on his thighs.

It's not good. Definitely not good.

And then Billy turns to look at him, the blue of his eyes almost lost to that same, spreading blackness. And his voice is just a whisper. Rasping. Choked and utterly, utterly desperate.

"Get out. Oh god, please, Harrington, run. Please. Just run."

And that's when Steve really starts to panic.

[bnhafantasybigbang]

Preview # 6: Never Gonna Run Around (And Dessert You)

Pairings: Toogata Mirio/Amajiki Tamaki, Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku (minor), Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou (minor)

Warnings: Referenced Social Anxiety, Slight Panic Attacks

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Comments from the writer, Cherry: Yatta! I’ve made my food fic dreams come true! I’m really excited to see Tamaki shine in the upcoming season, and I hope I do his character and relationship with Mirio justice in this hilarious, lighthearted story. Working with Ninjaspoi and Misa have really inspired me! Their artworks and belief in me has kept me going, so please give them love!

Comments from the first artist, Ninjaspoi:  Finally I had a reason to draw Tamaki and Mirio! I love them so much and this AU give me so much love ♥ hopefully there will be more fanart soon!

Comments from the second artist, Indidere: This bang was such a blast!! Working with my friend on something like this was a great stress relief. I hope y'all enjoy our work!!

POSTING WILL BEGIN ON OCTOBER 20!

[cherrrylimade]

Cherry’s Rules

--- general rules

please don’t request anything involving graphic sexual assault/rape

do not request anything involving pedophilia or grooming

i do write dark content so please request! but know if i deem the content to much, i won’t write it

because this blog writes dark content, any underage or ageless blogs dni

[rueren]

🙈💌

hi love!!! u remind me of a festival, and all the pretty colours. red and blue together, like slushies or shaved ice cones or freezies. i picture homemade ice coffee and fruit flavoured lipgloss and baked goods

[rinphoria]

CONGRATS ON 2.5K FOLLOWERS!! ❤️

It is so well deserved and I am so so happy for you!!!!

AHHH THANK YOU!! oh my gosh, you’re so sweet, i really appreciate it <3

[cherrydreamer]

Ahh so close! I once wrote a fic where Billy finds a lil baby raccoon and Steve learns to deal with his boyfriend's new obsession...

Little King Trashmouth (And His Racoon Friends)

(it was based on some absolutely incredible art from @monochromegee which I've linked in the fic! Their racoon baby is the absolute sweetest 🥰🥰)

(and yes Billy is pretty much just Linda Belcher in it...)

All I want is for Steve to adopt a baby racoon. And for billy to slowly grow attached. Please I beg of you

[cherry-moonlight]

Life Could Be A Dream - Chapter Two

{NOS4A2 - Charlie Manx x Reader}

{A/N} This story is pouring from my veins and it’s already the longest I've ever taken to introduce a main character but, I’m a sucker for suspense and a super slow burn these days! Thank you for all the love :3

Warnings: None this time!

Chapter Two - What's That Playin’ on the Radio?

I huddled into myself, the cold definitely getting to me, unlike the way the weather affected — or didn’t affect — me in my dream. The fresh snow crunched beneath my feet as I kept on, and I began to feel stupid for acting so rashly. At the same time, I knew it was for the better. There was no better time than the present they said, and if I stayed at that godforsaken place after that, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to take myself seriously ever again. It was a fine line of empowered and guilty that I walked, but I knew I’d have to walk it nonetheless with the decision I made.

A of couple hours or so went by of wandering aimlessly up the road. I hadn’t realized how far apart things were in my little town without a car to take you there. It wasn’t snowing, but the sky looked as though it might open up with a flurry at any second. I was close to grabbing my phone and breaking down, apologizing to the woman who should’ve been apologizing to me instead when I caught sight of a large sign just beyond me.

“Carmody’s Car Carma,” I said to myself, cocking my head to one side.

I hadn’t noticed Carmody’s before, but as I came across it, I hoped they had a vending machine. My stomach growled; I hadn’t eaten all day, and with my nerves calming from the argument I had with my mother coupled with all the walking I’d done, I needed a snack and something to drink.

When I approached the sign, I turned down the tire-worn pathway right behind it, hoping that whoever owned the place would be kind enough to let me make use of whatever they had to offer.

The closer I got to what looked like a mechanics haven, a plethora of noises erupted from the building. The sound of a shrill kind of drill spinning relentlessly into a hunk of metal and a motorcycle being almost revved up and then cut over and over meshed together over a song on a static-filled radio I hadn’t heard before. I slowly made my way to the open garage door, finding it slightly amusing that they’d leave it open despite the freezing temperature. I guessed it was safer that way with the scents that wafted through the air.

A girl caught sight of me first, immediately setting down a spray can of red paint she had in her hand and picking up a towel, wiping both hands on it with a friendly grin as she walked up to me. She looked a little rough around the edges, her short brunette locks styled with bangs curled haphazardly around her face as though she’d been at work for a while, lost in the task at hand.

“Hey! You need some work done?” she asked.

“Oh.. No, I’m— I just need a vending machine or something. I’ve been.. on a walk, and I’m starved.”  The girl raised a brow, eyeing me for a moment. I’m sure I looked suspicious to some degree, but not enough for the way she carried herself then. She backed up, her stance becoming slightly defensive.

“Who sent you?”

Her voice was low and quiet, as though she was expecting my reasoning to be something grave.

Gee, I must really look insane.

“Nobody..” I began, confused about what she was thinking. “I can go, if you want,” I said then, turning to leave.

“Vic, who’s there?” I heard a male voice inquire next.

Almost immediately the girl's demeanor changed, as though she came to some kind of realization.

“Wait up,” she said to me, her voice softening. “We have a vending machine.. It doesn’t take money anymore, but I can just open it for you.”

She turned to the voice then as the man revealed himself in the garage’s entryway, holding a drill in one hand and wiping his forehead with a towel with the other. He also looked as though he’d been caught up in his work, his shirt slightly dirtied with oil and sweat on his brow.

“She just needs a vending machine,” Vic said, waving her hand for me to follow her into the shop.

He nodded his head and looked over at me with a warm grin.

“Welcome to Carmody’s Car Carma! We do the best work and have some of the best snacks in town. I’m Sir Lou Carmody, and the lady is Miss Victoria McQueen.”

He’d put on a British accent for the greeting before getting back to his work and I smiled— probably the first genuine smile I’d given in weeks.

“I’ll believe that when I taste it!” I called out jokingly as he headed back to his project. “But I’m {Y/N}, it’s nice to meet you both.”

“Call me Vic,” the girl responded then.

My hand was almost numb with the cold as I reached into my bag and grabbed my wallet. When I stepped behind Vic, she moved aside, slapping the side of the vending machine as though she were a salesman trying to push a car. The door popped right open, and she lifted her hand to stop me from offering her money.

“Your money’s no good here. No one’s used this thing in years, just don’t come complaining if you get sick,” she smiled.

Reluctantly, I slipped my wallet back into my purse and reached out for a bag of chips. Stale or not, chips never seemed to go completely bad, I thought.

“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be okay. My mother’s made worse.”

“Bad cook?”

“Bad everything,” I rolled my eyes.

“I get that. Coffee?” She asked then, turning around to a small counter and holding up a pot of what smelled like fresh coffee. The scent was hardly detectable through the scent of oil and fresh paint, but it was enough to get me to say yes. Besides, I’d need the pick-me-up if I was going to keep walking.

When she poured me a cup, I held it in my hands for a moment, letting it warm my skin. I looked around the space. It seemed they were doing well, cars and their parts scattered about everywhere. A red dirt bike in the corner looked like what she must’ve been painting before I arrived. It was then that my eyes landed on a small handwritten “help wanted” sign on a pole just above a telephone that looked like its wires had been cut.

I stayed quiet for a moment, wondering why they had a phone that wasn’t working; or better yet— was stopped from working. It was off-putting, but I supposed I had no room to judge, and beggars certainly couldn’t be choosy, no matter how eerie something seemed.

“You’re looking for help?” I asked curiously, quickly ignoring the phone altogether.

The place was too close for comfort to my mother's house, but now that I was on my own, I was going to need some kind of income. They seemed like nice people, and I knew my way around a car thanks to a short lived boyfriend who helped his dad with his at-home projects a couple years back.

“Oh, that. Yeah, it’s been just the two of us here for a while. My son’s starting to miss me,” she breathed a laugh, a nervous energy almost permeating from her.

“Well, I’m kind of looking for a job right now.. No pressure,” I chirped.

She looked me over, leaning back against the counter with her own paper cup of coffee.

“You know cars? Bikes? That kinda thing? Mostly, we need someone on the phone, too.”

“Oddly enough, I do,” I said, finally bringing my cup to my lips and sipping on the hot beverage, not bringing up the destroyed phone on the pole. “And I’ve had plenty of experience on the phone. I had to do everything for my mother, from making appointments to taxes.”

I exhaled with a quiet hum, grateful for the warm drink. It warmed me up almost immediately, like fire on ice, and I couldn’t help but feel comforted by it. My day had been rough, but there was still hope. Either that, or the coffee was way too good.

After speaking to her for a while about my knowledge of mechanics, she left to speak to Lou privately. I kept my fingers crossed around my cup anxiously, hoping that maybe my day would turn around. I didn’t have a place to stay, but a job was half the battle. I could weather a few nights in the cold if it meant saving for an apartment. Or at least a long-stay motel room.

Spending the money I tucked away in the cedar chest on a room was tempting, but that was saved for a reason. I’d fallen on hard times, but unless they got harder, like Lou not agreeing to my employment, I could still save for the bigger picture. There was still hope for me. Silently, I prayed to whatever might be watching over me as I heard them murmuring to each other across the shop.

Waiting by the vending machine, I let myself relax just a bit and enjoy being out of the direct cold. The song on the radio was catchy, but had a solemn tone to it that reminded me of my life in every aspect. I listened to it, getting lost in the melody for a moment before hearing Vic walk up to me, jarring me out of my small trance.

“Welp, you’re in luck— welcome to the team!” She said, holding her hand out to me to shake it.

I gasped, jumping a bit in place as I took her hand in return, shaking it with an excitement I didn’t know I could still muster after everything earlier.

“Oh, thank you. You don’t know how much I need this right now. When do I start?”

“Bright and early tomorrow morning, we open at nine, sharp. I’ll be around to help you out, show you the ropes— but I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it quick. Lou’s always here if you need anything after, though.”

The relief I felt was unbelievable. All I had to do was figure out where to stay. I guessed I could use some of the money in my wallet for a room somewhere— The question was where. By foot, everything was so far away, and my middle-of-nowhere town wouldn’t know what a taxi or bus was from a hole in the ground.

But at the same time, I was too glad to care for the moment, sipping from my cup and exhaling quietly. Half the battle was won. Now I needed to go in and win the war with a place to stay, and I’d be on my way to some kind of normalcy, whatever that might have felt like.

Vic led me over to the front of the shop then, and I opened my bag of chips, remembering how hungry I actually was as I lightly popped one into my mouth. The song playing into the air grew louder as we approached the radio. I smiled and gestured towards the little electronic device.

“I’ve never heard the song on the radio before— what’s it called?” I asked Vic curiously, swaying my head to the melody gently.

She stopped walking, turning around to face me with a furrowed brow, concern written all over her features as she spoke.

“The radio isn’t on…”

[casiavium]

As his sight began to blur with glowing light, Link caught sight of a woman remarkably like Zelda, blonde hair whipping in the wind as she watched on with centuries of suffering etched into her face. Milky eyes saw through the storm and into his soul, his in only name but hers to command for the countless reincarnations to come. Her tattered, bloodstained sleeve showcased the struggles of the gods as she raised a hand to banish him, fingers outstretched in a warning, not a goodbye.

Hylia is going to be soooo cool in this fic

[cherryxxmoon]

– 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠

Rating: T Fandom: Naruto Relationship: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke Characters: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke With the Uchiha, Sakura had grown up. After the bloody battle in which her grandfather and father had lost their lives and the Haruno clan had met its end, what at the time was only a little girl of not even six years old was welcomed within the castle walls as a guest, as a hostage.

Initially it had been necessary to prevent those still loyal to the Haruno from taking her into custody and thus claiming rights to the territories which had once belonged to the clan and that, following defeat, had been annexed by the Uchiha.

Then, as the years passed whatever semblance of influence her name might still have had had waned, largely due to the swift and steep rise of the Uchiha clan, which could now boast control of ten of the largest provinces in the entire country, the only ones able to rival against the current ruling family.

She was no longer a valuable hostage, but despite this she had continued to live in the castle, actively participating in everything related to the clan but never really being a part of it. Ostracized and estranged, Sakura had longed to be able to feel that she belonged to something, that she was not a single particle of something which now no longer existed, floating in nothingness, with no ties, no identity.

The possibility of being welcomed and accepted, rather than simply tolerated, had manifested itself when she had shown marked skills in combat and, with them, a desire to be able to learn, the latter ignited initially by the futile and childish motivations of a little girl eager not to lose her playmate once she reached the age when their gender difference would inevitably lead them to entertain themselves with distinctly opposite activities.

When one is a child, clans, territories, politics and power do not matter. She and Sasuke were not members of what had once been enemy clans. Sakura was not his prisoner. Sasuke did not see her as a means to be used. They were just kids, peers who lived in the same castle and therefore had naturally sought each other out and united, in the most spontaneous way possible.

"Why did you summon me?" The dark-haired was behind her back, thus purposefully choosing not to show her his figure, his face. Sakura was gracefully seated on the floor, knees bent and sitting composedly on her heels. Her gaze was turned before her.

"I heard about the request you made," Sasuke explained, although those words contained no real elucidation.

It was only natural the news would quickly reach his ears. The choice to train as a warrior naturally had implications, namely that those skills of hers would sooner or later be made available to the clan. Not that Sakura had anything against this. To fight and die for something would have meant being a part of it, feeling finally integrated, respected.

And she had done so by demonstrating great prowess in her exploits, distinguishing herself on more than one occasion on the battlefield, proving herself several times essential to achieving victory. This had secured her a certain fame, as well as the favor of Madara Uchiha, the current head of the clan. Probably having grown up in the castle had been essential to that last point, for the man's policy had roots precisely in the importance of relying on what was near and known, distrusting instead the rest. Sakura was not an Uchiha by name or blood, but alienated from what was outside the clan she had grown up with those precepts, so harpooned by the only reality she knew that she became loyal to the core. The affection accrued for certain family members, Sasuke especially, had only fostered the entrenchment of what would arose in any case, something which obviously those who ruled the clan could take advantage of.

"That doesn't answer my question, though," Sakura retorted, clenching her fists against her knees. The past few months had not been particularly easy. Not only were they in the midst of a siege which, if successfully ended, would guarantee them a crushing and essential victory, the annexation of new territory, and a new step toward total supremacy, but the dark-haired's behavior was proving unpleasant and confused.

It seemed almost as if the closer Sakura came to what she had been craving since childhood, the chance to have her own identity, the more Sasuke decided to distance himself from her, perhaps even unknowingly. That was why she had requested of Madara Uchiha that her position be changed, that she could leave the siege to join the army to the west, assembled for battle. And that was why being summoned by the dark-haired had taken her by surprise.

"You cannot make these kinds of decisions without consulting with me." At his words, Sakura barely tilted her head sideways, not sufficient to make out even part of his figure, but enough to show she was listening to him and that what she was hearing did not please her at all. "I'm in charge of this army. Not you."

"I never questioned this." She could not understand what the animosity shown by Sasuke stemmed from, when in the past they had been so close. It was a painful detachment but probably only for her. She had been extremely happy when with her small contingent she had been chosen to add to the troops under the dark-haired's command. The intimacy they had would have made the collaboration smooth and flowing. Or at least that was what she had believed and hoped. The reality of things was turning out to be quite different.

"You did that, bypassing me to address your foolish request directly to Madara." This was not a choice he could make without confronting the clan leader, so why would she let Sasuke intercede when she herself could have presented her proposal to the man? "He refused," the dark-haired then concluded, with what seemed to her to be a hint of satisfaction.

"Why?" Wasn't it more essential for the bulk of the forces to move into the open field, with a battle coming, than to stay there and take part in a siege whose outcome was now a foregone conclusion? Sakura was a skilled warrior, not to mention that her contingent could boast just under three thousand men; no small addition which could have sealed the fate of the battle.

"Because I told him it’s necessary for you to remain here," Sasuke explained, with the naturalness and resolve of one who was convinced of his words, of one who was certain he was acting in the right.

"Why, Sasuke?" asked Sakura again, unable to appear indifferent and composed, unable to prevent perplexity and annoyance from oozing through her words, from imbuing her tone of voice. "The siege is now in its last throes. You have already won, you don't need me here."

"That is not for you to decide. You are not here to strategize, to determine how and where to deploy warriors. You are here to fight." It almost seemed as if Sasuke was deliberately trying to provoke her, to make her lose her temper to the point of exploding.

"There is nothing to fight here," she pointed out to him, still keeping her fists clenched. It was not easy to remain completely still when her mood was altered. She longed to move, to give vent to her frustration with gestures rather than flaunt stiffness and composure.

"I don't care about your opinion. The decision is made and irreversible," Sasuke sanctioned, as lapidary as he was detached, really like a general intent on giving orders to one of his subordinates and not even one of valor, one to be preserved, but as if she were a soldier of the lowest possible rank.

"Why are you doing this, Sasuke? What have I done to you?" As was to be expected, Sakura was unable to maintain the detachment which with gestures the dark-haired himself had demanded, almost as if their bond was worthless, as if it had never existed. It was impossible for her, just as it was inconceivable to let him speak to her like that without asking for an explanation, to allow their relationship to slip away without confronting him before giving up.

"You overestimate yourself if you think there is something personal behind my decision. It's pure military strategy." At that point, not blurting out completely for the pink-haired was unimaginable. In fact, heedless of manners, composure and etiquette, Sakura got to her feet, turning to face the man standing behind her.

"Is that why you won't even look me in the face while talking to me?" Some of her anger and resentment faded as she found herself mirrored in those familiar dark eyes. Only for a few moments, however, as her anguish easily regained the upper hand when Sakura discerned anything but indifference in them, as if he felt nothing at all.

"I don't need to look at your face to give you orders. We are not equals. I ask and you obey." It seemed to her that she was looking and listening to a complete stranger, someone she was unable to recognize. That was not the Sasuke with whom she had grown up, with whom she had shared childhood and youth, joys and sorrows, frivolities and ideologies. That was not the Sasuke who would sneak into her room on stormy nights to hold the hand of the little girl terrified of painful memories resurfacing. He was not the Sasuke who had planted a cherry tree for her in the castle gardens so the pink of the petals might no longer make her feel so unique as to be an outsider. He was not the Sasuke who, on the evening before their first battle, had given Sakura her naginata as a gift together with her first kiss, with the promise that the next day they would see each other and find each other again, unharmed and safe. The Sasuke with whom she had been madly in love seemed to have vanished. In those cold, detached eyes there was not even a hint of him.

"What happened to you?" A question addressed more to herself than to the dark-haired and one she certainly did not expect him to answer. In fact, Sakura merely lowered her gaze, her fists still clenched in anger, but this time employing all her strength to keep the tears from streaking her face.

"I just understood the way of our world. It's time you began to do so too, Sakura," he pronounced her name in a way too familiar, too intimate; a mistake he evidently realized himself. The young pink-haired lifted her gaze abruptly, managing to catch just in time the slight lapse Sasuke had unintentionally fallen victim to and was quickly recovering from.

"What is this supposed to mean?" She decided that perhaps pressing the issue might lead him to surrender completely, to return to expressing himself to her as he had once done, intimately and naturally, aware that no one would be able to understand him, and perhaps hearten him, more than Sakura.

"I have finished with you. You can go," Sasuke sanctioned, again shrugging off the indifference he had displayed up to that moment, quickly leaving behind that semblance of humanity he had demonstrated, as if it had never happened.

"You may force me to stay, Sasuke, but you cannot impose me to stay away from you, to stop asking you for explanations. If you won't talk to me, if you won't even look at me, if you no longer have an ounce of respect for me, why don't you just let me go? Free yourself of my tedious presence and free me of what you have become." So that she could at least treasure what had been, keep that precious memory in her heart, without being corrupted by coldness, indifference and a resentment which she never thought could ever arise between them.

"I can't," the dark-haired concluded, frowning and curving his lips downward, evidently as vexed with himself as he was with her. "So stop making things harder and grow up."

"Am I the one who needs to grow up, between us? Or perhaps is the one who doesn't even have the courage to speak plainly to me, preferring to hide behind his rank, making a shield of his name and position to treat me as just another servant, as if that could erase—"

"What do you know about courage, Sakura?" he asked her, approaching her with a gesture so quick that she could barely feel the air shift, cupping her face between the fingers of his right hand, voluntarily trapping her jade irises with his own. "It is so much easier to be the one standing there judging and criticizing, heedless of what is going on around. It’s the other who has the hard choice. It’s the other who must have the courage to act for the best of both."

Sakura was taken aback not only by the swiftness with which he had reached her or the sudden closeness of their bodies, but also and especially by his words, which were as enigmatic in meaning as they were explicit. Grow up, he had just told her. And for Sasuke, growing up meant accepting the reality of the world in which they lived, where rules and precepts trumped instincts and feelings, where the continual pursuit of power, where honoring one's clan, was all that required their efforts, all that they had to vow their existence to.

Sakura had always been convinced she was ready for it, that it was all she wanted, that she needed nothing more than to feel she could belong to something, that her own efforts could prove useful to someone, that her worthiness, her existence as an individual, would be recognized.

"That is not courage," she whispered to him, bringing her hands to his chest, tightening her fingers around the fine fabric of his dark kosode. "It's resignation."

Almost as if moved by some unknown force which guided his gestures more than reason did, the dark-haired leaned forward a few inches, close enough to brush her face with his warm breath. Sakura closed her eyes, begging her body and soul not to delude itself with shivers of anticipation of something the man before her, the Sasuke he had become, could not and wouldnot grant.

"Resign yourself, too, then." And immediately after uttering those words, that sentence, Sasuke turned away from her, again sanctioning distance, condemning her to that sense of emptiness, to the coldness which his reticence inflicted on her entire figure, almost as if without the warmth the dark-haired could offer her, her blood refused to circulate.

Abandoned and alone, Sakura watched him walk away, distancing himself with body and heart, determined to continue according to what he had stubbornly imposed on himself and what he was selfishly forcing on her, pretending it was a last act of love and not simply the cowardice of a man unable to demand what he most viscerally desired.

"I will," the pink-haired assured him, whose little newfound resolve could not at all overpower and conceal her being hurt, upset, and anguished not only for herself, for the pain she was the one to feel, but also for the torment Sasuke was inflicting on himself, shouldering the burden he believed he had to bear and do so alone, without her. "If you will let me leave."

Sasuke suddenly stopped, yet continued to have his back to her. He was willing to distance himself from Sakura, to treat her with detachment and sufficiency, but he was equally not ready to deprive himself of her completely. Keeping her there within his grasp, yet without really seeking her out. To satisfy at least part of his innermost needs, even at the cost of inflicting on her the pain which having him there without really having him was causing her. And if Sasuke had chosen that path, Sakura would force him to walk it all the way, without shortcuts, without loopholes, without even the slightest smear.

"Do as you wish," the dark-haired granted her, after moments of silence, long instants of hesitation and doubt. She had naively hoped he would retrace his steps, that the clean and final cut was too much even for him, and that he would therefore choose to end the bosh. Instead, Sasuke had not wavered, sanctioning his decision by walking away and leaving her alone in that room, just as she would be from then on.

---

Sakura never imagined that, sooner or later, she would find herself seated at a war council, as a silent but welcome guest of a feudal lord. Not that she did not possess the merits, but whatever others might say, Sakura was not a fool and was not completely unaware of what an unpleasant reality the world she lived in was.

She was a woman. She was a skilled warrior, sure, a convenient and useful addition to one's army, but that was not enough to make her in the eyes of the men who daily surrounded her an equal to them. In fact, seated at the same table, they looked at her with suspicion, some even outraged at having to share that space with her, almost as if their lord was mocking them.

Seated at the head of the table, Madara Uchiha seemed to be untouched, as if the constant stares directed at him did not bother him in the least. Knowing him, that must really have been the case. He had never allowed the judgment of others to affect the way he ruled, following his own line, placing his decisions above those of anyone else. Whether others agreed or disagreed was irrelevant when it was his word which was absolute.

It was different for Sakura. She was unable to pretend the looks she received did not upset her. She felt tremendously out of place there and even found herself wishing the Uchiha clan leader had never summoned her.

They had been back in Otogakure no Sato for a little over a month, after their success against the combined forces of Senju and Uzumaki at the Battle of Amegakure no Sato, which had allowed the Uchiha to annex the area into their domains. The latter's power continued to grow by leaps and bounds, so it was not implausible to assume they would soon be able to oust the current ruling family, thus sanctioning the end of that war with the beginning of a new era.

"I propose the next move is to move directly on Hi no Kuni. After the resounding defeat, the Senju will have no way to defend themselves."

"I think we should first reorganize our forces. Now that we are certain we have the upper hand, we should not act rashly. The slightest mistake could be fatal to us."

"What mistake? Victory is now in our grasp! We must strike fast and hard, showing no mercy to the enemy! Only in this way will we ensure in the future no one will dare to face us."

Sakura naturally remained silent, listening to the exchange between the senior officers of the Uchiha army. Although she had been invited to participate, she was certain her own opinion should not be expressed and that certainly no one would be willing to listen.

Even Madara had chosen to tacitly assimilate the words of the other men present, expressionless and motionless, almost as if to give the idea he was not even present in the room. Yet the aura of authority emanating was impossible to ignore. It exuded from every fiber of his imposing and menacing figure, reaching out without fail to all present, and even the most massive men were intimidated by it, and no one dared to seek his gaze, even to seek approval.

"The Senju are not to be underestimated. How do you think they came to be the ruling family, despite all the insurrections of the last century?"

"Even they cannot hope to hold out any longer, not after—"

"I plan to seal a truce with the Senju." Everyone fell silent, hushed by the rumbling voice of the man seated at the head of the table. They appeared like frightened children, but that was before the implications of Madara's statement hit them, fostering astonishment and surprise.

"A truce— my lord?" Only one of them had the courage to ask, uncertain and hesitant. Perhaps he thought he had guessed wrongly, for there was nothing more unexpected than such a decision. It had been about four years since the conflict with the Senju had been going on, with occasional moments of respite, but with tempers always flaring. And the Uchiha had never been able to claim such a clear and overwhelming advantage as they did at that moment. An armistice was indeed unthinkable.

"I have already established contact with Hashirama. One of their representatives will be here in a few weeks," the clan leader continued, untouched by the looks of sheer bewilderment the men present ventured to reserve for him, as if their lord had been replaced by a mythological creature.

"But with the successful siege of Tetsu no Kuni there will be twelve provinces under our control. By now it can be said that the nation is ours—"

Sakura barely flinched from her position, fortunately without attracting anyone's gaze, without the witnesses being able to catch her discomfort, too caught up in the astonishment caused by that new twist. The end of the siege not only sanctioned a victory on the part of the Uchiha but also the imminent return of the troops stationed up to that moment near Tetsu no Kuni, that is, the contingent of the army that was led by Sasuke.

Their last discussion had been final and had sanctioned a definitive and irreversible parting of ways. They had never spoken again, and Sakura had left the siege to join the rest of the army and take part in the battle of Amegakure no Sato. A void which not even the time passed had been able to fill. Having now the knowledge what had been would never return, she had mistakenly believed that resigning herself would be easier. Instead, just evoking even the slightest memory of him was capable of inflicting a stabbing pain in her chest, more agonizing than any wound suffered on the battlefield.

Sakura was certain, however, that this would even be amplified once she and Sasuke found themselves in the same castle again. In those months apart, the dark-haired had been a constant thought, but not having him constantly nearby could be considered something of a palliative. With his presence everything would have been more complicated. Close and yet distant, Sakura would have to suppress the desire and need to make up for that imposed distance and still seek him out.

"It is," conceded Madara, still motionless and inscrutable, his arms joined to his chest. "That is why Hashirama has sought a truce, an agreement which will turn almost entirely in our favor."

If the right terms for a peace had been reached, Sakura was of the opinion it was right to pursue it, rather than to continue in a bloody conflict, suffering more loss of precious lives, only out of pride and desire to establish a hegemony based on terror.

"The Senju have never compromised so far and have never needed to seek alliances. It has always been others who have begged them for protection. What would be different this time? They may be in trouble, but they remain the ruling family. They have their honor. To grant peace without anything in return would undermine their dignity. It would be preferable to losing on the battlefield to this." Fugaku Uchiha was a man of few words, just like his son, so that he had expressed his thoughts with such minuteness and in such detail was unusual. So was the look, so quick as to appear unnoticed by anyone, which he reserved for her, before refocusing his attention on what was not only his lord but also his brother-in-law.

"An extremely correct analysis, Fugaku. However, not flawless. It just so happened in the past it was the Senju themselves who sought an alliance, and to this day the Uzumaki are the only ones who enjoy every privilege that being considered equal to the ruling family grants them."

"That was a single case. The only way the Senju use to establish that kind of bond is—"

"Marriage," Madara finished, interrupting one of the generals who had intervened in the speech. "With Hashirama's heir, his brother," he resumed, fostering the amazement of those present, whose eyes were now widened.

"We do not have enough valuable brides to warrant the respect of the Senju. They are just using this pretext to buy time with a false truce and attack us as soon as they are ready."

Madara Uchiha had never taken a wife and fathered neither sons nor daughters. Having no siblings, his direct heir was therefore his brother-in-law, the husband of his sister. Mikoto Uchiha was rumored to have been the clan's most coveted bride, and Sakura had no difficulty believing it, not only because of her beauty but also because of the position the man designated would hold. Two children had been born of that union, both boys, so there was no woman who could represent a marriage desirable and valuable enough to enshrine a peace with her existence alone. Those whose kinship was closer to the main branch of the clan were not enough for such a pledge.

"We have the most precious bride one could wish for instead. The Delight of Spring, the most beautiful flower which blooms on the battlefields." The realization of those words did not immediately strike her, but when it did it had the same impact as a bucket of icy water.

It was only natural that in the course of time Sakura had begun to acquire a certain fame among the armies and therefore was given epithets of all kinds, flattering and otherwise. A woman warrior was not, however, something recurrent in battle, so her presence was often easily recognized, thanks in part to her very distinctive features.

She understood, therefore, that Madara Uchiha was talking about her and imagined that was the only reason he had decided to allow her to attend the war council, along with the senior officers.

"She is not even an Uchiha, so why should he represent our clan with the Senju?" Words Sakura had heard directly or whispered behind her back which always managed to make her feel estranged and alone, never really part of anything.

"She grew up with us, fought with us. My sister loves her like a daughter, so it's time for her to act like one, with all the burdens which come with that. Sakura is part of the family, and if I have turned down every marriage proposal received for her, from those present included, it is precisely in anticipation of the arrival of a suitor suited to her value. I could never have wasted such beauty and strength on anyone who was not worthy of it."

Sakura lowered her gaze to her closed fists pressed against her knees. She had never really felt part of the Uchiha, so the clan leader's words should only have brought her joy. However, denting her happiness, her fulfillment at having succeeded at least in part in finding a place to belong, was the knowledge she would have to separate herself from the family she did not believe would ever consider her as such, that she would have to devolve her future to another person, to a man foreign to that core to which the pink-haired had vowed herself since childhood.

In her heart, then, there was only room for one name, one face, one individual. And it was only by his side that she would have wished to embrace the role of wife. Sakura had never considered such a chance feasible, so she had always ruled out the possibility of being able to marry in the future. It was not what she wanted, but now it was not what she could oppose. The role she had sought all her life had been established. If in order to consider herself part of something, an Uchiha, she had to sacrifice all of herself for the good of the clan, she would do it.

---

She was in her rooms, wrapped in a veil of sadness whose nature she knew but which she was trying to ignore, not to allow anything negative to poison her mind and risk dulling her judgment. Her wedding was to take place the next morning, thus marking the end of the conflict between Senju and Uchiha, along with the beginning of what was hoped would be a long and fruitful alliance, that the two clans could coexist as equals, sharing the power they had over the years mutually tried to wrest from each other's hands.

It was a night not freezing but cold enough to make her shiver on the porch. Still, she did not want to go back inside, did not want to slip between her sheets, did not want to allow sleep to take over, for the moment her eyes opened, she would be a new person, a protagonist of power intrigue. Before her would be a new road to travel. Behind her would be everything to which she would no longer belong.

She clutched herself in her night robe, letting a lonely tear line her face. The only relenting she could allow herself and only in the privacy of her own rooms, there where she would be for the last time, as dawn would bring with it a new home, a new name, a new life.

Whether she wanted to or not, her viridian eyes could not budge from the towering cherry tree which towered in the castle's inner gardens, among those avenues that held every memory of her childhood, every precious moment etched in her mind, in her heart, along with a face and a name.

"Sakura—" It almost seemed to her she could even hear his voice, as if her mind was playing a sadistic trick on her, reminding of all that had been and all that could never be again, just when those memories should have remained locked away in the deepest corners of her memory, sealed never to see the light again. "Sakura." When the pink-haired turned around, she could swear she was going crazy. She was not only fantasizing about his voice but even about his presence there.

Standing between her room and the veranda was Sasuke, his face distraught and his clothes unkempt, his raven hair tousled and his breath short. He had been running, indeed he looked as if he had just dismounted from his horse, as if getting to Otogakure no Sato rapidly was essential. Was this how her mind had decided to show him? She would have imagined the best way to torment her would be to mold him into a perfect form, ethereal and unreachable in all his usual glory. Instead, in that instant she found by projecting him in that way her mind had chosen the cruelest to torture her, wanting to instill in Sakura the idea that Sasuke would be ready to rush to her with desperate urgency in order to get there in time.

After a few moments of painful contemplation, Sakura closed her eyes, hoping once she opened them again that figure would no longer be there to haunt her, wishing instead that face would never leave her mind, that it would continue to obsess her to madness.

"Sakura— I came as soon as I could—"

"Don't. Please go away," she uttered in a barely audible whisper, a plea addressed to herself and to the sanity she was desperately trying to cling to but which seemed to slip away more and more every moment. "I know you are not here, that this is not you. The Sasuke you are now would not dare so much. He knows how to make the hard choice. He has already done so. Sasuke has grown up, he said I should too." Sakura opened her eyes, only to be greeted again by the vision of the one man who should not have been there and the one whose presence was her most burning desire. "I did."

"Don't do this to me now, as if I didn't feel miserable enough already." His tone was unrecognizable, but at the same time tinged with some shades of familiarity, such that it gave her the impression all those last years had been just one long dream and that both of them were still the children they used to be.

"This is you," she conceded to him, performing a bitter smile. "Bold enough to talk to me as if nothing had happened, as if you had done nothing, as if I were the cause of your sorrow and not vice versa."

"This—" began the dark-haired with unusual uncertainty, venturing a step toward her. "It’s not my fault. It's not my choice, it's not something I would ever consider." Now that he was completely on the veranda, Sakura could admire his face illuminated by the moonlight. Though tired and broken, Sasuke never lost the ability to take her breath and leave her speechless. "This is not what I want." At those words, the pink-haired turned completely toward him.

It had probably been years since Sasuke truly expressed what he wanted, that he did let his personal yearn corrode him, that he did not prioritize what concerned his clan, his honor, his duties.

"If we talked with Madara together, perhaps we could—"

"No," Sakura simply sanctioned, lapidary enough to leave the dark-haired speechless and perplexed. "It's my turn to do what's right, to make the hard choice." It was a fine line between what was necessary to bring that conflict to a peaceful end and what her heart fervently craved for. Sasuke must have known this. He had already been there and had acted according to his judgment. Now it was her turn. "I promised you if you let me go I would resign myself. And that's what I did. I could tell you that you left me no choice then, lay the whole blame on you and feed your desolation, but it’s not, Sasuke. This is now my decision."

Belonging to Sasuke had been natural, uncontrollable, and at the same time bothersome, painful, frightening, and unpredictable, for it lacked stability, the assurance that over time nothing would ever change. Pleasant and additive, dangerous and swinging. His mere presence managed to offer her a place to exist, not physical, not tangible, but the sensation her whole essence was real only because it was connected to another person's, to Sasuke's. However, it was a feeling as intense as it was fallible, capable of instilling an unparalleled wholeness except to fail in the blink of an eye. No one like him could lift her up and tear her down with such ease, and as much as belonging to anything other than him was a palliative, a consolation, it was something solid, with a foundation to cling to in the event of a disastrous collapse, so as to take away the unpleasant feeling she was floating in the unknown, aimless and nameless, with no identity.

"I choose to renounce you for the sake of my clan. And I have no regrets—" A break in her voice betrayed her, attempting to her resolve, her confidence, the firmness she was trying to express. "Despite everything, for nothing in the world would I deny what has been, even if it embitters what will be instead."

For several moments, what the two exchanged was only silence and a stare full of regret, of that affection they had never been able to get rid of mingling inexorably with the knowledge they would never be capable to express it, that it would remain there, unuttered and pulsing, a constant reminder of what they could have had if only they had led different lives, if they had been born in a more benevolent age.

Then, Sasuke advanced one step toward her and then one more, until he was so close to her he enveloped her with his warmth, with his mere presence, real and tangible, proof he was there, that Sasuke, her Sasuke still existed somewhere in that man's soul and in that circumstance he had taken over, pushing him up to her, mad and senseless to the point of riding like a madman to get there in time.

"If only you could be mine—" He brushed her face with unusual gentleness, almost as if between the two of them it was he who feared Sakura might vanish at any moment, slip from his hands if only he dared too much impetuosity.

"I was." I am, she was risking saying, in a mad rush of irrationality. Half lie half truth. She would never be anyone else's as she was Sasuke's, and she would no longer be his as she had been willing to be.

"You can still be—" It was sadistic and masochistic to inflict her and inflict himself that stab in the chest, to instill a false glimmer of hope which they both knew would never be fulfilled. Closer and closer, the dark-haired leaned toward her, so near he inebriated her with his scent, so overwhelming he ignited every fiber of her being with his breath alone. "Just for tonight?" An invitation so tempting tasting, so sweet sounding, that the next morning it would turn into her worst regret. Not for what was about to happen, but for what would never be again.

Part 2 here ( rating M )

[cherrydreamer]

It starts with a microwave.

Susan's microwave.

Susan's fancy-ass fucking brand new microwave that Neil had so smugly given her as a birthday gift only yesterday. The one that he'd then gone on to give a whole damn speech about, making sure the whole family- especially Billy- knew just how expensive it was, how it was a 'top of the line' product and should be treated as such, how they needed to make sure it was always wiped out after every single use and how they best not do anything dumb, like trying to reheat chicken on the soup setting. 

That microwave.

The one that Max had, of course, somehow managed to break, her stupid, clumsy hands jabbing at the buttons until one of them stuck down and the timer went all weird and the fucking thing wouldn't stop beeping until Billy wrenched the plug out of the socket.

That fucking microwave.

And Billy knows that he's getting the blame. Because that's how it works. Because, even though it's not his fault, Billy is the one who's gonna get it in the neck for this, even though he'd told Max, he'd fucking told her, that if she just waited five goddamn minutes for him to finish his workout, then he'd sort out some dinner for both of them. But she just couldn't. She just had to rush on in and break it and ruin his whole fucking night and-

It doesn't matter.

Billy reminds himself of that fact. It doesn't matter how it happened because it's happened. Neil and Susan went out for their special fancy meal and Billy didn't watch Max closely enough and Max broke Susan's brand new microwave and, as soon as he finds out, Neil is going to break Billy.

It's fucked.

Everything is fucked.

Billy, most of all, is fucked.

Except. Maybe he isn't.

Because when the disorientation of the initial panic starts to ebb, giving way to an all too familiar clench of cold fear, Billy is suddenly granted an idea. A slight glimmer of hope. And he knows he can't afford to replace the thing, but maybe a repair could be manageable. Doable. It'll probably wipe out all his savings, the wad of cash he keeps under the seat of the Camaro and that he's pinned a whole load of his future hopes on, but hey, if Neil comes back and finds out what Billy's done, then his chance of a decent future is looking mighty slim as it is.

So Billy has a plan. Sort of. He heaves the microwave into his arms and hauls it out of the kitchen, yelling back at Max to grab the trailing cord clattering along the counter, and he manages not to drop it the whole way down the steps and then he's placing it into the passenger seat of the Camaro, taking more care of it than any actual passenger he's ever had, and then, with Max in the back, he high tails it all the way to the Hawkins' high street, screeching to a stop right outside of Radio Shack.

And it's closed. Of course it's closed. The real, definite, 'sign flipped and shutters down' kind of closed. Of course it is.

Because that's the kind of night Billy's having. And, ok, maybe he loses it a little and aims a frustrated kick against the door and maybe he pounds against the shutters and yells a few obscenities at the well locked door for good measure.

But hey, who can blame him?

And he's just about to turn around, head back to the Camaro and either drive home to face his fears, or just carry on driving right outta Hawkins, just him and Max and a kidnapped microwave that he might manage to hawk for gas money. He hasn't decided yet.

But for once, someone's looking out for Billy. Because, despite the store being closed, there's a sudden flown of a light flicking on behind the shutters, and then the door is opening and the chubby face of Bob Newby is right there, peering out at them with a bemused expression,

"Now guys, I know we've just got the new Flavoradio in but you kids really don't have to go beating down the door to get it, they'll all still be there tomorrow."

But Billy's already back at the Camaro, lugging the microwave out, raising a surprised sounding chuckle from Bob and an amused retort, "Careful there, sport, that looks like a weighty one." And then Bob's off, chatting away like he and Billy are old friends. Like Billy actually gives a shit about the crap he's rambling on about, "That how you get those muscles, huh, lifting appliances? Cause, that'll do it. Some of the guys in our warehouse? Arms like Schwarzenegger. Not quite the same for us store guys though-" he pauses, patting his gut and smiling, "Although I can't deny that the old brain cells do get a fair workout now and again."

Billy really doesn't have time for this, and, for all Bob's stupid jokes, the microwave is fucking heavy, one sharp corner of it digging right into the crook of his arm, so he's a little harsher than he means to be when he says, "Look, I really need this thing fixing. Tonight." But he quickly manages to tack on a, "Please?" when Bob's eyebrows start to raise.

"Well, now, Mister," Bob sucks his teeth, and tilts his head, "this is Radio Shack, and this thing sure as sugar isn't a radio. And technically, we're not even open."

Billy's heart starts to sink. Plummet, actually, aiming to land somewhere deep down to his feet, but then Bob's smiling again, "But hey, I won't tell if you don't."

And then he winks, ushering Billy and Max inside. He gestures for Billy to put the microwave down on the counter as he pulls a tiny, plastic case from out of his shirt pocket, opening it up and selecting a tiny screwdriver from a whole row of them, tapping the silvery end of it lightly against the microwave's control panel.

"And it just so happens-" Bob wiggles the screwdriver back and forth, tongue poking out from between his teeth as he concentrates on getting the angle just right, "-that I have some personal experience with this model. There's a bit of a design flaw with the, uh, the plastic edge here, right by the buttons, you see?" He taps the screwdriver on the place he means, smiling even more when Billy finally leans in to look, "Press it with a little bit too much force, and you might just find that it tends to jam right up, especially if someone touches it with sticky hands." Bob aims a knowing nod at where Max stands browsing over by the personal stereos, "But it's nothing that can't be fixed when you know how. In fact..."

Bob purses his lips, looking back down at the control panel and then up at Billy. He nods, seemingly to himself, and then he pulls the screwdriver away, holding it out, handle first, to Billy, "Why don't you do it?"

Billy shakes his head, "Nah, no way, I'll just fuck it up even more.

"No you won't," Bob sounds so certain of that fact, and Billy has no idea why, until he continues, "Because I'll help you. Teach you. So you do it and then if it happens again, well, you won't need to lug this thing all across town."

It's sensible, really, Billy thinks. Knowing Max, this is unlikely to be a one-time occurrence. And he can just imagine the look on Neil's face if Billy is the one to save the day. Hell, he thinks, his dad might even be proud of him. It'd be good, Billy thinks, really good.

So he takes the screwdriver. He listens to Bob's calm, measured instructions. He follows them. He listens a bit more. He pokes at the button. He jiggles it. He twists it. He nudges it.

It doesn't budge.

He nudges it again.

Nothing. If anything, it looks even flatter.

Billy throws the screwdriver down on the counter with a clatter, "I can't do it. I can't fucking-"

"You can, you've got it, look it's almost there," Bob's voice is patient. Reassuring. He picks the screwdriver back up, pressing it into Billy's hand again, "just tilt it up at the edge, give it a little bit more of a tap, and see what happens."

Billy breathes in and out, deliberately slow. He focuses his gaze on the end of the screwdriver, right where it rests against the sunken, stuck in button.

He tilts it up. He gives it a tap. Then another, a bit harder. And then one more, for luck.

This time, there's a click. It's the tiniest sound but it echoes in Billy's ears, and the button springs up, flush and level with the others.

Fixed.

Billy knows that he's grinning, a big, dorky, ear to ear one that he just can't stifle, and he looks up to see a matching expression on Bob's face.

"There you go," Bob says, voice full of pride, "Couldn't have done it any better myself. Look at that, huh?' Bob taps an approving finger on the button, pushing it in and watching it spring right back out, just as it should, "Good as new."

Billy nods, holding the screwdriver out for Bob, but Bob just shakes his head, gently pushing it back into Billy's hand.

"Why don't you keep hold of it?" he smiles, "Just in case?"

And Billy doesn't trust himself to speak. Not right now, when the surge of relief flooding through his body has left him dizzy and emotional, and Bob's kindness is only making things worse. So he nods, taking the screwdriver and dropping it into the pocket of his gym shorts, and then he heaves the microwave back into his arms, declining Bob's offer to help him carry it.

It's only when Billy's got the microwave and Max packed safely back into the Camaro that his brain catches up with him, and he grabs the bundle of cash from the gap underneath the seat, growling out a, "You didn't see anything, OK?" at Max's little gasp of surprise, and then he's heading back into the store.

He still can't quite meet Bob's eyes, especially when that dumb, bright, proud fucking smile is still on his face. So instead Billy looks down at the bulge of the case in Bob's top pocket as he rasps out a, "Thanks. For helping. And, uh, for the screwdriver. I, uh, I don't know how much-" he holds out the money, "But I'll get more. I promise. I don't have a job yet but I can-"

But Bob's shaking his head. Still smiling, he gently pushes the money back towards Billy.

"Don't be silly, you did all the work. At a push I could take a dollar for the loan of the tools but, uh, hey, I've got a better idea."

He reaches under the counter, pulling out a sheet of paper which he hands over to Billy.

It's an application form.

"We're pretty busy at the weekends," Bob explains as Billy tries to take it all in, "Gary and Lou handle most of the customers, but I could really do with a hand in the back. Repairs and such."

Bob must see the confusion on Billy's face, because he lets out a little chuckle, "I know, I get it. It's not the jazziest of jobs and I can't say the uniform is especially flattering-" he plucks at the collar of his shirt with a grimace "-but, hey, no one minds if we have the radio on back there, so that's a perk, and I'll teach you all you need to know, you've already proved you're more than capable of it. And I gotta tell you, there's a lot to be said for the job satisfaction." For once in their entire conversation, Bob starts to sound serious, "Just picture it, that whole experience of getting something that looks totally broken, all those pieces in a pile on the workbench, and, to start with, you might not know where anything goes or what all the parts are, even, but you know that if you try, if you figure out what all those pieces do and understand why they broke, well then, all you need is a little time and effort and you'll be able to put it all back together again. And, honestly, you can't beat that feeling, sport, you really can't."

It's a lot. Bob almost seems breathless by the end of his little speech, and Billy averts his eyes, staring down at the form in his hands until the words start to blur.

"There's no pressure, of course," Bob says, resting a gentle hand on Billy's shoulder, just for a moment, "But just think about it."

And Billy does.

He thinks about it a whole lot.

(So much credit for this one goes to @ihni and her wonderful Billy and Bob bonding headcanons. We pretty much came up with this whole thing during one of our many chats, and I've definitely borrowed a few of her ideas, I'm just the one who got round to writing it down first!)

[cherrywrites]

Pairing: Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya

Additional Tags: Soft Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya, Bantering, Nose Boops, Karaoke, Fluff, Soft Dazai Osamu, Alternating POVs, Nakahara Chuuya Swears, Cute Domestic Moments, First Kiss, Confessions, SKK Fic Exchange, Doting Nakahara Chuuya 

Summary: Dazai could be the messiest, most irritating mackerel Chuuya’s ever had the pleasure of spending time with, so when he isn’t, it’s a welcome relief.

A little gesture of affection may just be the secret.

[ch3rrys1uts]

so i could say this is a representation of my fursona?? its name is ares, idk anything about him just ares

[myherokatsuki]

7 & 11 from the meta ask? :)

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

Hmm... I think what characterizes my writing style is lots of description, lots of commas, stringing together sentence fragments (oops), romanticizing the mundane, & lots and lots of fluffy smut.

11. What do you envy in other writers?

I really envy writers that can write fast and who can spin effortless dialogue.