queennaerys

Note - It’s not really that sexual, more like R14. I’m sure everyone will be fine though. (F/n) means your first name. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Honestly, you didn’t understand why Akashi chose you as his girlfriend. You were intelligent, with all A’s and B’s, but you certainly weren’t as smart as him. You were also fairly skilled in tennis, but then again, none of those skills could compare to his own physical talents. Although you’ve never seen Akashi create artistic pieces before, you’re quite certain that if he had, hi

You remembered that the first time you met him was when you both were eighteen. He walked into the establishment with a whole party of people in suits and ties who seemed almost misplaced within the bar amongst the other, more casually dressed customers. They certainly constituted a rather memorable group. One of the members, a heavily bandaged brunette, crossed his arms vexedly with a childishly grumpy pout. “This isn’t the bar, Lupin.” “You always go there, let someone else pick for once. Besides, this is a one time thing in order to celebrate…boss...the...n…” Their voices quieted down enough so tha

An ominous feeling followed the heavy footsteps through the hallway. Dripped in black and navy blue the night sky left an eerie backdrop behind the eerily quiet house. The stillness amplified the floorboards creaking and shifting beneath the weight of two pairs of shoes while dust fluttered up from the tarnished grey rug. A green sickly light funneled in from beneath the basement door. A chill ran up your spine as a shadow flickered across the floor. With a clenched jaw you peered forward and tried to ignore the fitful pounding of your heart. Again the shadow raced back and forth behind the basement door with soundless movements almost like i

Deep within the recesses of emerald leaves and cedar, a powerful Lord searches for restoration. Sesshomaru's countenance is austere, princely; golden iris set on the myriad of glimmering light shining through the lilting branches, guiding him toward his private destination. Crimson stains and stretches across his white robes, bruises taint his alabaster skin. He is weary, but far from defeated. He has received much worse. Jakken is perturbed though he knows better not ask; Rin asks anyway, but is ignored. To their knowledge their leader seeks solace in a moment alone, whether it be a simple bath in the comforts of spring water or  mere the

Crepuscular light, rustic oranges and vibrant violets, gave a serene feeling to the more often than not chaotic office space, marking the end of another day. Desks long since vacated, papers put away, void of bantering; though it's not the first time you've been the last one to leave, it's silence is a foreign entity --one that reminds you just how much you prefer the quirky, and sometimes obnoxious habits of your friends. In the midst of your scribbling, you pause to survey the room, only to intentionally stare at the desk across from you. It wasn't hard to imagine Dazai's reclined posture, or even his hunched one as his head of unruly loc

Sesshomaru walked swiftly down the dirt path heading towards town, his long silver hair swaying behind him. One of his servants, A-Un trailed behind him carrying a small wooden cart, which Rin, a human girl, was resting on. The young girl's face was flushed and she was breathing heavily. She had woke this morning feeling dizzy and when Sesshomaru inspected her, he found that girl was suffering from a very high fever. Without a word, he wrapped her in a thick blanket and put her on the cart before setting out right away for the town. He was limited on his knowledge of human diseases, having no interest in it before, so he needed to find someon

"You seem distracted, Odasaku." Lips  pursed and sucked at the end of a cigarette, it's poison burning the back of the user's throat and coating his lungs. The brunette male responded with a slow exhale, nothing more, his gaze transfixed on the top of the stairwell and the blazing, setting sun. The cigarette smoke wafted away with another sigh. It wouldn't do Oda Sakunosuke any good to tell Dazai Osamu differently. He was distracted --entirely, and out of character even to himself, but the bandaged mafia member was the only one keen enough to notice. On the outside, to anyone else, Odasaku's expression was as unfazed and disinterested a

The faucet drips. The sound the fat droplet makes as it leaves the stainless steel and hits the water --a few degrees below scalding, and filled to the brim in it's porcelain cage-- resounds off the tile walls. It's a vacant sound; it's empty and, despite the warmth of the water and the steam confined in this space, it's cold. Both resonate with Dazai because it's exactly how he feels. Bandages lie haphazardly with his clothes across the floor, but there are some he hadn't bothered to remove. Those that remain attached to his skin are now soggy, and their ends float in a lazy attempt to unravel completely. Dazai's back is propped up against

There was a time when he didn’t care. A time when he could barely skim through the motions of life, every little thing costing him so much motivation that left him feeling drained not even an hour into the day. Every footstep was leaden, just another glum day of walking through darkness. A permanent dark cloud had hung over his figure, consistent in its attempts to conceal the mellow luminescent glow of the sun. Instead, everything had been filled in with a bleak grey that clung to every single surface in sight. His world was insipid, monochrome seeping into every creek, flushing away any potential colours as though they were harmful

 Pianist!Dazai Modern!AU He preferred to play alone, perhaps. Velvet seats once crammed full of illustrious folk gathered to view and be entertained by musical splendor, their desires met beyond their wildest expectations and expressed through standing ovation had vacated long ago. The notes that once beautifully resounded through the theatre seemed to pause briefly before refilling the atmosphere; in it's solitude, the sound held other-wordly riches and passion... Music meant for Gods, not humans. Osamu Dazai was prodigy. Self taught at an early age and later glorified among the most established musicians. Those who had slaved to obtai