#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

[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.

[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.

[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

[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!)

[cherryxxmoon]

– 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

Rating: GA Fandom: Naruto Relationship: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke Characters: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke A dull thud broke the silence of the Uchiha house, followed by a resounding curse from Sakura. It was fortunate that she was alone, with Sarada and Sasuke both away on missions.

She had taken the opportunity to fix up the house, the wardrobes especially now that the weather was becoming less clement. A good a way to spend the time, to busy her mind during her days off, when the two most important people in her life were not around to claim her full attention and care.

There was always apprehension, constant as a hum in the back of her head, repressed by the precepts inculcated since she was a little girl in the Academy. Sacrifice, endurance, strength. She could not completely prevent herself from feeling concern for Sasuke and Sarada, but she could at least silence that unpleasant feeling, exiling it to the far corners of her soul.

Sakura bent down on her knees, beginning to rummage through the fallen box. Some of the contents had spilled onto the floor. There were heavy clothes, coats, stuffed cloaks. She smiled wistfully when she spotted Sasuke's old poncho, the one which had accompanied them on their journey around the world, patched and battered, but a memento too precious to throw away.

She brought the worn fabric close to her face, inhaling its scent as if, after so many years, she could still smell the heady, familiar scent of Sasuke soaked into it. There still seemed to be something of him there but it was probably just her memory. That scent was well imprinted on her senses and when he was not there with her, Sakura still continued to sense it in every room because Sasuke never really left her.

"What's this?" She noticed a piece of paper folded in on itself on the floor, probably leaking from the fallen box. The handwriting was unmistakable; Sakura would have recognized it anywhere. It was elegant, simple, neat, without the slightest smudge. And the message contained was equally straightforward, concise.

Don't tire yourself too much while I'm gone. And don't worry too much. I'll be back soon. S.

She smiled; her heart so full it seemed about to burst. Sasuke was a practical man of few words, but none were ever wasted or empty. Such demonstrations were reserved only for her, the small, implied cares which kept making her fall in love again and again, more and more.

He knew her, he knew her worries, he knew her fears, and while he could not completely eradicate that burden on her soul, Sasuke made constant efforts to at least try to lighten it.

"Sasuke-kun—" whispered Sakura, clutching that simple note to her chest. She would treasure it carefully, just as she would all the messages she would find in the future; pieces of the intricate puzzle that Sasuke Uchiha was, comprehensible only to the eyes and heart of his beloved wife.

[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.