ViolentFrench

 Yamaguchi hated his freckles. This much was no secret. He was bullied for them his whole life. They were constant reminders of the pain and torture of the past. They were like small bullet holes of the hurtful words he had received in his youth. So it really should be no surprise that he ended up in front of his bathroom mirror, crying and scratching at his face until he drew blood. An all-too-pale concealer was open and smeared onto his cheeks, uneven and streaky. His uniform was disheveled on his shoulders. Yamaguchi looked at himself one last time, and reluctantly clicked off the light, and left his house. Tsukishima was waiting for h

“SIMON SNOW!” Baz screeched, and bounded over to Simon’s bedroom. Simon sat up from his bed, and looked Baz in the eyes, “What happened? Was there an attack or something? Do I need to call Penny? I think she’s visiting Micah in America--wait, what are you doing in my flat at three in the morning?” Baz rolled his eyes, and held up the document he was clenching in his fist. Simon eyed the document carefully. The awful penmanship of the doctor’s chicken scratch was enough to make is obvious it was the document the magickal surgeon gave him about getting his wings and tail removed. “This could

Soulmate AU where you and your soulmate have matching tattoos. “Is anyone honestly surprised that I would have a tattoo of Saturn as my soulmate tattoo?” you asked, laying your head on top of your history textbook. “No not at all. Honestly all your space talk gives me a headache. You’re almost as bad as that guy on the volleyball team. What’s his name? Oikawa?” your friend replied leaning back in their seat. You scoffed, “I’m nothing like that playboy. Honestly I am offended you even compared me to him.” Your friend laughed and hit you on the shoulder. You sighed and leaned back in you

"Can I tell you something?" You turned, your hands playing with the hem of your shirt. Tsukishima raised his eyebrow. His honey colored eyes looked over your much smaller form. He could see how nervous you were. Whether you liked it or not, he could read you like a book. "I guess," his voice was dismissive. As if your words meant very little to him. Your throat went dry. Tsukishima stared up at you expectantly. His long finger pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. He let his cocked eyebrow fall back into a resting position. “I-I,” you stammered. The walls of Tsukishima’s bedroom seemed to choke you. They