christopher brow

slightlied  asked:

victor becomes genre-savvy and offers yuuri some interesting choices

so basically @exile-wrath, @forovnix​, and i have been watching W: Two Worlds and we just finished ep7 and it’s heckin amazing (wrath’s seen it before, so he’s been all “honey u gotta big storm coming” to us and mzsjglkjdf) and we basically need a viktuuri au of this RIGHT NOW 


“Is… Is there a particular reason why Viktor isn’t here himself?” Yuuri asks, raising an eyebrow as he watches Christophe take a sip of his latte across the table in the chic little cafe they’d cloistered themselves in. “I mean, I know he’s busy, but –”

“He wanted me to deliver you this message,” says Christophe, his brows furrowed somewhat as he sets down his cup and consults his mobile. “He says that, er, he would like for you to make a decision.”

Yuuri blinks. “A decision?” he echoes.

“Yes,” agrees Christophe. “He says that since this is the story that the two of you are creating together, he doesn’t want to continue without your agreement as to how to proceed.”


“Since this story of fashion and intrigue is at an impasse, I’ve decided in the meantime to try and figure out how to best romance Yuuri,” declares Viktor as he dons a pastel blue jacket and adjusts his cuffs. 

Christophe nods. Viktor has been saying some strange things lately, and this is barely skimming the surface of weird at this point. Just the other day he’d caught Viktor muttering something about a devil wearing Prada, and had wisely decided not to question him on it. 

“Why not ask him yourself?” he asks.

Viktor raises an eyebrow while in the middle of tucking in his Hermes pocket square. “We aren’t quite at that point yet in the story,” he remarks cryptically. 


“Can you make sense of any of that?” wonders Christophe.

Yuuri bites his lip, dons a smile he hopes doesn’t look too fake. Of course when his version of Viktor Nikiforov finds out that he’s in a fanfiction, he’d also take the opportunity to call Yuuri out on his lack of updates. 

“I suppose,” he hedges. “Is that it?”

Christophe consults his mobile with a dark chuckle. “Oh, no. He’s told me to offer you the following choices.”


“I’ve been doing my research,” continues Viktor as he starts to comb his hair, clearly unaware of Christophe’s confused expression hovering in the mirror behind him. “I’ve found that there are several romantic storylines that we could use.” 

He whirls around then, and Christophe quickly affects a placid smile, praying to any god he can think of that Viktor won’t see right through him. 

Viktor holds up a finger. “One: Like a Fairytale, or a Cinderella-esque encounter complete with balls and fancy parties.”

Christophe nods. Viktor holds up a second finger.

“Two: Beside the Dancing Sea, or a romantic getaway in a remote seaside town full of magic and intrigue.”

Christophe frowns, but he nods anyway. Viktor holds up a third finger.

“and three: Like Your French Girls, or a simple, sweet everyday sort of romance.”

Christophe opens his mouth, intent on saying something, but Viktor sweeps past him to head out of the wardrobe room, and Christophe has no choice except to follow. Besides, Viktor is still talking, even though half of the terms seem to be in a completely different language.

“I don’t suppose Yuuri would be into the idea of a/b/o dynamics, and besides, that would probably require more worldbuilding that wasn’t already previously established. We do still have to work within the confines of what is possible in this universe, after all, so I guess a rivals storyline wouldn’t fit – which is a shame, since it could lead to really hot – oh! One more suggestion, Chris.”

“Yeah?” asks Christophe, coming to a stop just behind Viktor, whose hand is already on the door of the wardrobe room.

Viktor turns back, shrugs one shoulder out of his suit jacket. “Four: The Boyfriend Experience, or a bold and sexy adult-only romance.” And he winks.


Yuuri gapes. 

Christophe grins.

Yuuri gapes harder.

Christophe examines his nails idly. “For the record, Viktor would like to inform you that he has a preference for number four.” He pauses. “And so would I.”

Yuuri hides his face in his hands. “What?” he wheezes. 

“Which one will it be?” asks Christophe.

Yuuri eyes his own cup of coffee. “I…” he begins, but the words fail him. Viktor really has done his research. “You know, that’s really not –”

“You just have to choose a number, you know.”

“What were they again?”

Christophe laughs. “One: Like a Fairytale, two: Beside the –”

“Yeah, okay.” Yuuri pinches the bridge of his nose. “But why?”

“Because he wants your consent before proceeding with developing the romance. At least, that’s what he told me.”

“He really is a businessman, isn’t he?” wonders Yuuri. “Even his romancing requires a spreadsheet to keep track of all of his options.”

“He just wants you to pick one so we can begin preparations,” replies Christophe.

“You mean he’s serious about this.”

Christophe nods. Yuuri purses his lips, before picking up his latte and taking a sip, trying to buy himself some more time. 

“I do like the sound of parties,” he muses after a moment.

“So number one, then?” asks Christophe, already pulling out his phone.

Yuuri shakes his head. “Hold on, hold on! What about… what was number four?”

“A bold and sexy adult-only –” 

Nope.” Yuuri’s cheeks flush vividly. “Number three?”

“A simple, sweet everyday romance.”

Yuuri taps at his lips, and then nods, holding up his fingers. “I like the sound of three.”

“You’ve got four fingers up,” Christophe points out with a wink.

It takes all of Yuuri’s self-control not to dive under the table. “I meant number three,” he replies, putting one finger down. Christophe snorts.

“Right, I believe you,” he says, in a tone which suggests the exact opposite. “Okay, then, I’ll tell Viktor what you’ve decided.”

Yuuri nods, watching Christophe rise to his feet and set down some cash for his coffee. “I’ll… see you at work, then?” he asks.

Christophe nods, already dialling Viktor’s number. Yuuri watches as he heads out of the cafe, and then puts his head in his hands. 

What the hell is Viktor up to now?

South Park x Reader: Christophe "Ze Mole"

Fuck The World, Je T'aime: Christophe “Ze Mole”


The day was a stormy one, grey clouds covered the skies, hiding the sun as they rumbled loudly, screeching out warnings to the world of thunder and rain that was soon to come.

Christophe stared up at the skies with his emerald green eyes, kissing his teeth as he placed a cigarette in his mouth. “Fucking day, having to go and rain, like I need anymore of zis shit.” He grumbles, patting his pants in a small, desperate search for his precious, blue lighter.

“You know,” a familiar voice spoke, as a hand reach out, waving the blue lighter in Christophe’s face, “the world isn’t to blame for your troubles, it is most likly the Americans and their silly little government that can’t seem to take better care of its nation and its people.”

Christophe scoffed, snatching the lighter from his friend’s hands as he began to light his cigarette, “fucking American pigs who think they know it all,” the young brunet mumbled, as he took a quick, long drag of his cigarette, enjoying its bitter taste for a moment before puffing out the smoke, “they are what they are and have what they have thanks to Europe. They cause a lot of shit to happen in zis world and zen they turn their backs acting like fucking angels who have done nothing wrong!”

Gregory sighed, lifting a hand to run it through his slick, blond locks. The two were currently behind one of the school houses out in the back. It was the only place they could hang out at recess that was away from all the other, much stupider students. “Not to mention the women here, who only sit back and take what is thrown at them, or they fight for it but act like hypocrites.”

Christophe gave a short, bitter laugh as he leaned his head back, glancing up at the cloudy, grey skies, “ah Oui, ze women of zis country act all fucking high and mighty, zen bend down to get fucked like ze god worshipping whores they are. Fucking bitches.” He said, lifting the cigarette up to his lips and taking another drag.

“Yes, my only regret is coming here and dealing with that silly little girl, Wendy.” Gregory mumbled, closing his eyes and heaving a frustrated sigh.

Christophe hummed in response, staring up at the sky with a scowl on his face. A soft, chilly wind blew before them both, as the smell of rain began to fill their nostrils. Staring up at the sky, Gregory closed his eyes and sighed once again, “we better get going, the last thing we need is to get caught in the rain.” Nodding in agreement, Christophe flicked away his cigarette and walked back into the school alongside his blond friend, grunting as he felt a cold droplet on his cheek.

“Oh if only zere could be one girl in ze school zat wasn’t so girly or stupid and shit like ze girls in zis school are.” He grumbled, stepping inside as he lifted his hand, running it through his shaggy, chocolate brown locks. “If she were real then I would marry her.” Gregory mumbled, dusting off some of the small droplets on his orange blouse.

Christophe rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket, his fingers wrapping around the cool carton of cigarettes as he pulled it out. “Bitch please, if such a woman existed I would take her and make her mine. I won’t allow such a woman to be contaminated by all zese idiotic pussy licking Americans.”

Gregory let out a soft chuckle, as he gazed at his friend from the under his lashes, “with that mouth of yours, I highly doubt she’d stay by your side.” The brunet scoffed, lifting his blue lighter and lighting his cigarette, taking a deep drag before puffing out the smoke, “if she truly loved me, she would respect and adore me for who I am.”

“She would be a strange one indeed then, a strong willed woman if she wanted a relationship with you, of all people.” Gregory mumbled, leaning his head back to dodge a punch that had been thrown his way.

“Fuck off.” Christophe responded, taking a deep drag of his cigarette as he walked off, ignoring his friend. Gregory watched with a smirk on his face, as he slowly walked behind him.

If only such a woman existed.

‘If she does, then I hope she comes here soon,’ Gregory thought, catching up to the brunet and walking along side him down the empty halls of South Park elementary. 'Christophe could use someone to love and accept him for who he is, god knows he needs all the love he can get.’


-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A week had gone by since the two boys have had that conversation, neither of them thinking much of it. Although it did cross Gregory’s mind every once in a while, for he wanted to help his friend out, he wanted Christophe to find someone to be with after all the two have been through.

And the two have been through a LOT together.

'But, none of the girls at school seem worthy of Christophe’s affection.’ Gregory thought, as he and said brunet walked down the crowded halls of their school, side by side. Lifting a hand to place it under his chin, Gregory thought hard as he allowed his sky blue eyes to glance around. He checked every single girl that were in the halls at the moment, trying to find one that could possibly be worthy enough for his friend.

'Christophe needs a woman, a mature young female. The last thing he needs is a gossiping tart.’ He though, heaving a sigh as they neared their next class.

“I honestly don’t see why ze school needs to put moi, into French class. I already speak French!” Christophe complained, as he plucked his cigarette out of his mouth, throwing it down onto the ground and stomping it out with his foot. Gregory simply shrugged his shoulders, as he placed his hands into his pocket, standing up perfectly straight and walking inside. “I suppose you will just have to deal with it like a man. Now come on, we don’t want to be late, do we?”

Christophe sneered as he walked inside, placing his own hands into his pockets and slouching a bit. “I wouldn’t s give two shits if I was late.” He muttered, following his blond comrade inside, as they immediately headed towards their seat in the far back.


The school had decided that French would be a good second language to teach, they had Spanish as well but Christophe had decided that French would be easier.

Besides, French was the language of amour, who wouldn’t want to learn the beautiful French language?


After a few moments, a large, red haired woman walked in, books in hand as she stacked them down onto the table. “Alright you little brats,” she began, taking a quick drag of her cigarette before putting it out on her ashtray. She then turned her attention towards her students, scowling as she glanced around the room, “today we have a new student, not to mention that I’ve assigned a study group project as well.”

The small classroom began to fill with the exhausted groans and whines of students all around. Rolling her eyes, the teacher turned towards the door and motioned the person inside.

“Students, I want you all to greet your new fellow classmate.” She began, as a beautiful young girl walked inside, her (h/l), (h/c) locks bouncing slightly as she made her way inside. Standing in front of the class, the young girl simply gave them all a swift nod, a blank look gracing her beautiful features.

“Everyone, this is (y/n) (l/n), she will be your new classmate from this day onwards. Now, where to sit you.” She said, looking around for a an empty seat to place her in. Once she found one, the French teacher lifted her hand and pointed towards it, “why don’t you go sit over there, in front of Christophe? Christophe raise your hand please.”

Said brunet, who had his head down on his desk and sleeping, did not hear what the teacher had. Grunting in frustration, Gregory lifted his hand, and pointed a finger towards the sleeping form of his french friend. The teacher sighed, but ushered (y/n) to the seat. Once (y/n) made her way down the aisle of seats, the large french teacher clapped her hands, glaring at all the whispering and giggling students.“Alrighty then, let us begin!”

As she took her seat, (y/n) turned her head around, raising a brow at the sleeping form of Christophe. She took in his features, from his shaggy, chocolate brown hair, to his closed eyes and narrow nose.

He sure was handsome.

Gregory rolled his eyes at the sleeping form of his French friend, before turning his attention towards the pretty girl. Smiling sweetly at her, the blond leaned in and nodded his head towards Christophe, “I apologize on my friend’s behalf, he does not seem to care much for French class, considering the fact that he already speaks French.”

(Y/n) turned her attention away from the sleeping boy, towards his blond friend, and sent him a kind smile, “it’s alright, I would probably sleep too if I already knew the subject.” She responded, sending him a polite nod. Gregory chuckled, and extended his gloved hand towards her, “I am Gregory of Yardale, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He greeted. (Y/n) returned the gesture and held his hand in her own, “I’m (y/n), it’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

As they shook hands, a small light bulb lit up in Gregory’s mind.


He had an idea.


“Well (y/n),” he began, gently letting go of her hand as he gave her his most charming smile. “I believe you and I will become great friend.”


Yes, great friends indeed.


-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-


“A new girl?” Christophe asked, raising a brow at his friend in disbelief as he held his lunch tray. The two walked towards their usual table, ignoring the shouts and screeches of the children all around them.

Nodding his head swiftly, Gregory placed his tray of food onto the table and took his seat, staring at his friend across from him. “Yes, she has been assigned to be your new partner for the study session in french.” He explained.

Christophe rolled his eyes and looked down at the mac and cheese on his tray, a disgusted look plastered on his handsome features. Picking up his fork, he began to poke at it in a lazy fashion, his mind drifting off to their little conversation. Could it be that this new girl was smart and not a complete bitch?

Naw probably not.

She could possibly be the biggest bitch of them all, well the second, the first one being god.

“I just hope she isn’t stupid like the rest of zese bitches.” Christophe mumbled, shoving a small forkful of Mac and cheese into his mouth. Gregory shook his head at his friend, as he opened his milk, taking a small sip out of it. 'He’s disinterested,’ Gregory thought, as he turned his head to scan around the room. 'Where is (y/n)? Maybe I can point her out to Christophe.’

(Y/n) had proven to Gregory that she was nothing like the other girls in school. She had been kind and polite, but the moment someone had tried to sass talk her, she stood her ground and fought. She also did not judge, 'to each their own’ she had told him. And at that moment, Gregory knew she was everything Christophe wanted.

'There she is!’ Gregory thought, as he spotted (y/n) enter the cafeteria, a (f/c) lunchbox in her hands as she looked around. Gregory let out a small smirk, lifting his hand to wave it around swiftly. Christophe lifted his head and raised a brow in confusion, wondering why Gregory was smiling the way he was and waving his hand around in the air. Rolling his eyes, the brunet shoved another forkful of Mac and cheese into his mouth, oh how he hated the cafeteria food, but he had no other choice.


“Hello (y/n), would you like to sit with us?” Gregory asked, his voice practically dripping with honey as he gestured to the seat next to him. Lifting his head, Christophe’s breath hitched in the back of his throat. A beautiful girl, one whom he has never laid his eyes upon, took the seat next to his blond friend. Her luscious (h/c) hair bouncing as she turned to Gregory, nodding at him politely in greeting.

Gregory smiled back at her, before turning towards Christophe and gesturing towards him, “(y/n), this is Christophe. Fully awake this time.”

(Y/n) let out a soft giggle, oh and what a giggle it was.

“Christophe,” Gregory continued, motioning his head towards (y/n) as a smirk began to grace his lips. “This is (y/n) (l/n), she is your study buddy for French class.”

Suddenly, (y/n) turned her attention towards him, her beautiful (e/c) eyes gazing into his own emerald green ones, as she gave him a polite smile. “A pleasure to meet you Christophe.” She spoke. The way his name sounded coming from her beautiful, soft looking lips made his heart skip a beat.

Christophe blinked, before opening his mouth, the fork he had there falling out and hitting the floor. As much as he wanted to say something, no words came out, as he sat there and stared at the beautiful girl in front of him, mouth wide open. Gregory heaved a sigh, before leaning in, placing his hand under Christophe’s chin and closing his friend’s mouth shut. “Honestly Christophe, you’ll catch flies if you let your mouth hang open like that.”

Christophe could feel his cheeks heat up as (y/n) let out another soft giggle.

“Uh… Bonjour.” Christophe spoke, blinking and shaking his head a little. 'Get a grip of yourself Christophe!’ He thought, growling at himself for being so stupid, 'you are making a fool of yourself in front of such a belle fille!’

“Did your voice just crack?” Gregory asked, raising an eyebrow at his French friend, his eyes glowing with amusement.

“Fuck off.” Christophe growled, before looking down at his own food, his cheeks dusted a soft pink from embarrassment.

Great, she probably disliked guys that cussed, she seemed too kind to like cursing.

To his surprise, (y/n) let out another batch of giggles.

This girl, she was interesting.


-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-


“Why are the guys in this school so damn stupid?”

“Eh?” Christophe muttered, pulling his cigarette away from his mouth as he turned to stare at (y/n). The two were currently outside behind one of the tent buildings, just hanging around in a comfortable silence.

The students all played happily, some guys were with their girlfriends, other played football and most were using the playground equipment.

The sky was clear, as the sun shined down on them with its warm rays, a nice change from their usual, cold recesses. Gregory had stayed at home from catching a cold. Which may have been Christophe’s fault.

He didn’t know that dumping water on someone while it was freezing outside would cause them to catch a cold!

He had now idea. It’s not like he did it on purpose to get a few days to spend with (y/n) alone.

He totally didn’t.

Christophe raised a brow as he watched (y/n) open her eyes, and turn her head to stare at him through half closed eyes, “I’ve noticed that most of the guys in this school are idiots.” She said, not noticing the small blush that began to coat Christophe’s cheeks. “You realized zis now? The women in zis pathetic country are morons too.” He responded, lifting his cigarette to his lips as he took another drag.

“I’ve noticed. They should really change that before they give the rest of us girls a bad image,” she mumbled, before turning back to staring up at the sky, and slowly allowing her eyes to drift close. “I wish I could leave this place, and go somewhere amazing.”

The brunet puffed out his smoke, gazing at (y/n) from underneath his eyelashes.

It hasn’t even been two weeks and already she has captured the young mercenary’s heart. She was everything he wanted in a woman, she wasn’t stupid, but at times she could be naive. She wasn’t a complete pervert, but she was not so innocent as well, she accepted the fact that he cussed and smoke, and not once had she tried to give him a lecture on smoking to make him stop. She showed understanding, and knew when he felt sad, mad or in need of a small hug.

She was quiet, speaking on rare occasions, such as now, but she always spoke her mind and was blunt. She was kind and polite, but did not allow herself to be stepped on and walked all over. She respected that Christophe had issues, and did not try to convert him into loving Jesus and god, and she even praised him for his skills, something not even his exes had done.

'Such a beautiful and perfect girl.’ Christophe thought, taking a deep drag from his cigarette. “Were do you wish to go? I might take you there someday.” He asked, puffing out the smoke into little circles which he had learned (y/n) secretly liked. Giggling, the young girl turned to him and smiled, “I wish to go to France.”

Christophe turned his head towards her, his eyes widening a bit in shock, “France?” He asked. The girl of his dream wanted to go to his country, she wanted to visit and even live there.

(Y/n) nodded, slowly making her way closer to Christophe and glancing up at the sky, “I want to visit the country of amour so badly, I want to walk the streets and eat the food,” she spoke softly, her eyes lighting up with excitement as her smile slowly began to grow. “I want to see the Eiffel Tower and drink French vanilla coffee… I want to leave this place and go there.” She continued, lifting her left hand up, as though to reach the sky as she spread her fingers apart.

Christophe watched her with intrigued eyes, a bright pink dusting his cheeks as he stared at (y/n), taking in her beautiful features. The genuine smile on her face as her eyes began to glow with want, she wanted to go and see it all, to explore the streets and taste the food.

Smiling at her softly, Christophe moved closer to her, so that their shoulders began to touch. Lifting his right hand, he intertwined their fingers, holding their hands up high as he took in the warmth of her hand in his own. “I’ll take you zere someday, I promise. You can enjoy it all and I’ll take you to all ze places you want to go,” he said, speaking softly as his heart began to race, “I’ll even take you to where I grew up, my old school and even ze best restaurants to eat.”

(Y/n) hummed in respond, leaning her head down onto his shoulder as she stared at their intertwined hands, his hand covering he smaller one protectively. “Really? You promise?” She whispered, enjoying the sweet moment she was having with her French friend.

Christophe chuckled, giving her hand a soft squeeze as he laid his head down gently on top of hers. “I promise. For you, I’ll do whatever you want to make you happy.”

And he meant that.

Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed and whenever she needed it, he would make sure she had it all, because he wanted her happy. Because he loved her.

That’s right.


He was in love with (y/n) (l/n).


-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-


Christophe sat in the room in silence, leaning his head back against the side of the bed as he sat on the floor. The soft, cold wind blowing into the room as the young brunet took a small drag of his cigarette.

Sniffling was all that could be heard, as it echoed against the walls of the bedroom. Gregory sniffled once again, as he reached over to his side table, plucking another tissue from his tissue box and blowing his nose into it.

Once done, the sick blond wiped his nose clean and threw the used tissue into his trash bin. “So, how was school with (y/n) today?” He asked in a sarcastic manner, rolling his eyes at his French friend.

He knew Christophe had gotten him sick on purpose, whenever Christophe wanted something, he would do anything to get it. Even get his friend sick for it.

Christophe had come over to bring homework to his friend, and check up on him.

Gregory was a good listener, and he gave good advice. And at the moment, Christophe needed his advice.

“I… I zink I’m in love with (y/n).” Christophe began, glancing up at the blue ceiling with a dazed expression. Gregory raised a brow at him, tilting his head to the side curiously as he examined the dazed expression on the mole’s face.

“She wants to go to France,” Christophe continued, closing his eyes as he thought back to his conversation with (y/n) during recess. “I promised I’d take her zere someday.” Lifting a hand up high, he closed his eyes, trying to remember the feeling of (y/n)’s hand in his own as they intertwined fingers.

Gregory blinked as he watched his friend’s actions. “And do you intended to keep this promise?” He asked. Christophe scoffed, staying as he is, “of course you dumb ass. For her I’d kill ze pope.” He responded, curling his fingers in the air and forming a small fist, missing the warmth of (y/n)’s small, soft hand in his own, large, rough one. Gregory couldn’t help but crack a small smile, his friend had found her.

He found his woman. The one who would love and accept him for who he was.

“If you feel that way, why not confess your feelings for her?” Gregory suggested, “write her a poem, sing her a song or bring her some flowers.”

Christophe scoffed once again, opening one eye to glare at his friend, “do I look like a fucking pussy to you? What kind of gay idea is zat?” He growled, but he had thought about it. He wanted to confess to (y/n) and show her how much he cared, yet he didn’t want to look like a little faggot doing so.

“Oh come now, you’re French, you should show her some charm, that French charm you take such pride in.” Gregory said, as he reached out and wrapped his hand around Christophe’s fisted hand.

Christophe hummed, “I will, just not in zat faggot little bitch way you want me to like zese American fuckers do.” He mumbled, before growling and pulling his hand to his chest, glaring at his blond friend. “And don’t fucking touch me, what ze fuck are you, gay?”

“Come now, was that really necessary?”

“You were touching me, you are sick and I am not gay.”

“Well neither am I!”

“… Could have fooled moi.”

“I’m not gay- you know what mole? Shut up.”

“Fuck you, you fucking god worshipping little donkey fuck!”


-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Christophe watched from a distance, his eye twitching in irritation as all of the boys in his drama class swarmed (y/n), flirting with her and sending her compliments, begging to play the role of Romeo to her Juliet.

“The fuck do zese assholes zink they are?” He mumbled, plucking his cigarette out of his lips and throwing it on the ground, stomping on it forcefully a he made his way towards them.

Luckily for him, the teacher had asked (y/n) for help and had taken her out of the classroom. Leaving Christophe to deal with all of the other boys.

“She’s so hot, she won’t be an easy lay though.” One of the boys said, shaking his head.

“Who cares, I’m sure that once you have her, it will be totally worth it.” Another added, licking his lips in the direction (y/n) had gone.

“How loud do you think she screams?” One of them asked, causing the rest of them to all talk about (y/n) in such a disgusting way. Christophe cleared his throat, capturing their attention as he lifted his hands, cracking his knuckles as he gave them all the dirtiest look he could muster. “What was zat I heard you say about (y/n)? You cum licking god fucking pieces of shit!”

The boys watched with terror as Christophe advanced towards them, an evil glint in his eyes as he fisted his hands. “I will make all of you American swines beg for mercy, consider zis ze last time you monkey fucking cock suckers all talk about my (y/n) in such a way!”

With that, he lifted his fist and began to attack, one by one.

He knew he was going to get into so much trouble for it, but at the moment he couldn’t give two shits. All that was important was showing these assholes who (y/n) belonged to.

She was a beautiful queen, not a sex toy, and they needed to respect that!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Christophe growled, stuffing his hand into his pocket and pulling out his packet of cigarettes. As he had predicted, he had gotten in trouble after all, but he was saved when he had told them the reason why he had started that fight with all the boys in his class for.

He was thankful that some girls had come to back him up. Some of the students had been suspended for a couple of days due to what they had said.

And the mole couldn’t be happier.

Currently, he was outside at the front of the school, waiting for (y/n) to finish her French oral exam. Lifting the cigarette to his lips, he lit it and took a deep drag, inhaling the bitter smoke of it, before he slowly let out a long string of smoke.

He regretted not having the ability to confess to (y/n), but he was going to today, he was planning on taking her out to get some ice cream, and then to watch that new movie she wanted to see. The young brunet couldn’t help but let out a small smile, just the thought of spending some time alone with (y/n) that wasn’t at school made him happy.

He couldn’t wait.

As he was about to take another drag of his cigarette, he heard some steps approaching him. Popping open one of his eyes, he watched with confusion as a few of the boys he had beaten up in drama class, stomped their way towards him.

'Great, just fucking great,’ he thought, taking another drag of his cigarette. 'This is the last thing I needed.’

“Hey you!” One of them shouted, standing in front of Christophe, hands on his hips as he glared at the brunet. Christophe simply blew some smoke out, flicking away some of the ashes before staring at the boy through one open eye, “what do you want from me, you little pussy?”

The boy growled, and lifting up his now fisted hands before him, “you got me and my friends in trouble you jerk!” He shouted, his friends agreeing with him.

A cold wind blew before them, lifting some of the snow as the boys all stood their in silence. “Boo hoo for you, you little faggot. Your problems don’t matter to me, if you want to go cry about it go run to a church and cry to your god.”

Suddenly, just as Christophe was about to take another drag of his cigarette, the boy in front of him slapped it right out of his hand. “Hey! We’re serious here you asshole!” He growled, as Christophe allowed his eyes to drift down towards his discarded cigarette.

To knock this boy’s teeth in, or to not knock his teeth in, that is the question.


Christophe heaved a sigh, as he lifted a hand to run it through his shaggy, chocolate brown locks in exhaustion. He really didn’t feel the need to start a fight, he didn’t want to get into any more trouble then he already was.

His mother would ground him for about four weeks if she heard he was fighting in school again.

“Alright, listen here you fucking pieces of American dog shits,” Christophe began, turning to glare at them all intensely, inwardly smiling that some of the boys were shrinking back slightly in fear, “I am not in ze mood to fuck each and every single one of you up, I have something important to do and if you guys ruin it for me I will personally rip off your dicks and shove them so far up your ass you’ll be shitting sideways!”

The leader, swallowed hard, before building up the courage and standing up straight, trying to look just as intimidating as Christophe, “wh-who do you fucking think you are, you British piece if shit?”


“I’m fucking French you pathetic excuse for a man!”

At that moment, a girl with short, red hair appeared, standing in front of the boy and glaring at Christophe. “How dare you talk to my little brother like that!” She screeched, causing those around her to cringe.

Why was it that on the day he was to confess to a girl for the first time in his life, that the rest of the world seem to be all up on his case? Do they not want him to get with (y/n)?

Well fuck it, he loved her and he WILL get with her whether anyone liked it or not.

“Shit, you could have caused me to go deaf with zat fucking voice of yours.” The brunet growled, lifting a hand to pick into his ear, grateful that he still had the ability to hear properly. Why did some girls in South Park have to have such high pitched annoying voices? Good thing (y/n)’s voice was so soft and beautiful, and could sooth him with just a few words.

The girl growled, and lifted her hand. In that moment, the sound of skin meeting skin was heard, as Christophe stood there, eyes wide in shock as his head was turned to the side. The students around them, that had stopped to watch the whole seen before them gasped, seeing the hand print on Christophe’s cheek. Feeling his cheek sting, Christophe lifted a hand and touched it gently, wincing at the small pain once his fingers made contact with his cheek.


That was going to bruise later on, he just knew it.

The girl smirked as she stared at the mark she had left on the brunet’s cheek. “That will teach you to insult me!” She shouted, placing her hands on her hips. “You’re pathetic, trying to act all high and mighty, intimidating and shit. You’re nothing but a scared little boy, who thinks smoking is cool. No girl would ever love a freak like you!”

Christophe knew he shouldn’t let those words hurt him, but he slowly began to think, what if she was right? His past girlfriends only lasted a few months, and what about (y/n)? She was the only girl he has ever felt such a strong love for. What if she wanted nothing to do with him?

What if she rejected him?

The girl rolled her eyes and continued, crossing her arms over her chest, “seriously, this is why no one loves yo-”

WHAM!

The students all around them gasped in shock, as the red haired girl fell to the ground, gripping her now bloody nose as she cried in pain. Her brother knelt down before her, trying to pry her hands away from her face and see if she was alright.

Christophe blinked in confusion, staring at (y/n), who had a tight grip on his shovel. 'When did she take it from me?’ He thought, watching as (y/n) turned around and grabbed his hand, leaving the scene without a single word.

She began to hold his hand tightly, her usually happy and calm face now twisted in rage as she gently led Christophe out of the school ground, and towards Stark’s pond.

This was the first time he has ever seen (y/n) look so angry. She would usually calm herself down and voice her anger out, she never showed it.

What pissed her off so badly this time?

As they made it to the pond, grateful that the place was now empty, she gently led Christophe towards an empty bench, pushing him down gently so that he could sit down. Complying, Christophe sat without a word, raising a brow as (y/n) placed his shovel down, taking off her backpack and pulling out a small, first aid kit she had. Opening it, she took out an ice pack, happy to see that is was cold.

Kneeling down before him, (y/n) gently pressed the ice pack to Christophe’s cheek, holding it in place as she took in the brunet’s expression. “Ow! Fuck!” He cussed, wincing a bit but allowing (y/n) to take care of him.

“Don’t listen to that bitch.”

Christophe lifted his head and stared deeply into (y/n)’s beautiful (e/c) eyes in confusion. Sighing, she stood and took a seat next to the mole, making sure she was close to him as she held the ice pack to his cheek. “What she said about no girl ever loving you, it’s a lie.” She spoke, her tone was soft and laced with love.

Christophe sighed, lifting a hand to cover hers with his own, “what if she’s right? Who could love someone like moi?” He mumbled, looking down at his lap.

He hated his current situation, he didn’t like feeling or looking weak, an not in front of (y/n). He didn’t want her to see him as pathetic or anything, he wanted to show her how he could handle anything, and be a man about it.

Lifting her free hand, (y/n) cupped Christophe’s cheek, causing him to stare deeply into her eyes as she sent him a soft smile. “That’s not true Christophe.” She whispered.

The brunet sighed and leaned his forehead against hers, he really hated feeling so vulnerable, but he felt so safe in her arms. “How do you know (y/n), what if zat bitch was right?” He whispered, closing his eyes as he tried to enjoy the moment.


(Y/n) let out a soft chuckle, and allowed her own eyes to drift close, “because I love you Christophe.” She confessed, rubbing her thumb against his cold cheek. Christoph’s eyes suddenly snapped open, as he leaned back to examine (y/n)’s features. She stared right back at him, a serious look in her eyes as she waited patiently for his response. “(Y/n)…” Christophe whispered, lifting his free hand to cup her cheek gently.

She loved him.

She had confessed to him, and told him she loved him.

Something began to swell up in his chest, and his heart began to race. In that moment, without hesitating for one second, Christophe smashed his lips against (y/n)’s, kissing her with all the love he could muster. (Y/n) blinked a bit in shock, before heaving a happy sigh and kissing back.

The world seemed to stop for those two in that small moment, as Christophe’s arms wrapped themselves around (y/n)’s waist, pulling her closer to him as he deepened the kiss.

And what an amazing kiss it was.

After a few more moments, the brunet pulled back, staring down at her through half lid eyes. She looked so beautiful, with her soft lips swollen from being thoroughly kissed, cheeks flushed red and looking so dazed.

Christophe heaved a happy sigh, cracking a soft smile as he stared deeply into her eyes, “I love you too mon cherie. Je t'aime… Fuck what everyone else says.” With that, he leaned down and began to attack her lips once again.

She was his now, and he was hers.

She was one girl he did not plan on losing.


A/N: Just FYI, when Gregory said that Christophe needed a woman who wasn’t a complete tart, he wasn’t talking about the tarts that you eat. In English, (the British English not the State’s English) a Tart is a prostitute or a promiscuous woman.

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Original list by fuckyeah-castle, extended version by takeiteasykate. Please let me know if I have missed any cast and crew, especially guest stars and cast members with regularly recurring roles.

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