oranges on blouse

A moment to imagine the joker in dresses

Headcanon that J completely ignores the gender binary and gets bruce to buy him ALL the pretty dresses and skirts and makeup and jewellery, as well as fancy suits and nerdy shirts and colourful waistcoats and expensive hair gel

- The joker in an acid green cocktail dress with matching stilettos

- J at a Wayne charity gala in a violet mermaid dress and diamond-smothered bracelets, not giving a fuck about the opinions of the rest of the guests

- J in a nurses costume oh wait that already happened in canon

- the clown hanging around Wayne Manor in a mint green tennis skirt that clashes horribly with his orange blouse, helping the batkids with homework and giving Stephanie make up advice

mysteriouslysizzlingthing  asked:

Hi! It's my birthday on March 24, I'd love some AgeGap! Smut. Thank you so much for doing this, each and every story is a gift!

Happiest of birthdays, @mysteriouslysizzlingthing!! Your birthday delight was crafted by the amazing and creative @peetabreadgirl (who also sent along the gif above!) We hope you enjoy!


When it’s Right, Part 2

(part one is here)

rated M


Since Peeta had thrown caution out the window and kissed Katniss that day in her classroom, he hadn’t been able to think of anything else. He dreamt of it at night, thought about it during class time when he should have been focused on teaching. But only when he was alone did he allow his mind to be consumed by more than kissing. And it went wild.

What was the rule again for sex? It had been so long since he’d needed to know. Was it three dates or five, he wondered. Ten? God, he hoped not.

They’d taken things very slowly since then, and that was a big part of Peeta’s problem. He had a new vibrant, young, incredibly attractive girlfriend, but there hadn’t been time for more than a few stolen kisses on their breaks now that Peeta was coaching an outside soccer league with games on the weekends and Katniss was helping the music department get ready for the spring program after school. They rarely saw each other in private due to their crazy schedules and they were already several weeks into the relationship, but they only had a few dates under their belts.

For the first month there hadn’t been a lunch they hadn’t shared, or a night they hadn’t talked on the phone until the wee hours of morning. He hadn’t run on three hours of sleep since college, but being with Katniss made him feel like a teenager again.

Peeta had been thankful at first so that he could sort out his feelings about their age difference - fifteen years was a lot to get over. But now that he’d gotten used to it he found himself wanting more. The conversations they had during their respective conference periods were amazing and with every word he fell harder for Katniss. But if he had to go another hour without being able to touch someplace other than her arm or hold something besides her hand, he was going to physically explode. Which was why he was avoiding her today.

Keep reading

Counting on Love

A/N: So, I’ve made it and can’t believe it. Only took me about 4 years. ggg

This is for the February challenge “Love is …” at @loveinpanem and will most probably be a Two-Parter. The second part still needs to be finished, so no idea when that one will be published. Hopefully not in another 4 years. ;)

There would be no submission if there hadn’t been a couple of ladies and their support and help. So, thank you @thegirlfromoverthepond for your constant cheerleading and handholding. You brought me back to wirting, I never realized how much I missed it. Thank you @greetingsfromthenorthernsea for our brainstorming and all your very helpful comments. And last but not least @honeylime08 for the incredible betaing. I loved all those little comments you gave at certain parts. Without you this story would be in terrible shape. ggg

THANK YOU, ladies!

Enough now, let’s start with the story. Hope you enjoy! :)

You can also read it here: FFn


COUNTING ON LOVE

Part 1

Numbers were her thing.

Ever since her first lesson in mathematics back when she started school at the tender age of 6, Katniss loved to solve equations. She added, substracted, multiplied and divided. She draw graphs, she solved page long math riddles.

She loved numbers.

And even though there were people out there who thought it boring and stupefying, Katniss also loved being an accountant.

Oh, and she was good at it. It was fulfilling for her to know every aspect of her clients company, to know its monthly debits and credits to the T, to have the books clean and correct and always up to date.

No matter how chaotic or unorganised a new client was whenever they sought out her company’s help, Katniss made sure the books were up and running within a short matter of time.

Tax authorities loved to work with her, always breathed a sigh of relief when they read her name as responsible for the account of the company they were reviewing.

So it took her by surprise when on Tuesday afternoon (she remembered it being a Tuesday because she had a burrito for lunch, and Tuesday was burrito-day in the cafeteria) her supervisor knocked on her office door and introduced her to her newest client.

And in stepped the most handsome man Katniss ever had laid eyes on.

Keep reading

Through the Years, Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

Prompt: Continuation of ‘Backstage’ and ‘Wedding Plans’. Actual prompt was made up by me. Compilation of texts sent between reader/Lin through their relationship.

Words: 1501 (Yikes.)

Author’s Note: This took a lot of thought from me. It’s impossible to be clever through text. Sigh. Also, formatting was a bitch…hopefully it looks ok? I honestly feel like I can write a whole fic about each individual text convo. Also, it jumps time a bunch. Not every text convo is covered.

Warning: I’m sure I cussed somewhere. Under a read-more because it is that long.

Askbox | Masterlist | Part One Part Two | Part Four


February 29, 2016 - 11:46pm

From: Daveed, 11:46pm

did he ask you out? this is important. i have money on this.

To: Daveed, 11:46pm

how much money? i expect a cut. he asked me out.

From: Daveed, 11:48pm

$50 richer

Keep reading

Surprise Dinner [a Barry Allen AU]

Request: Hello beautiful!! You’re so Pretty, your Video gave me so much hope as, when i was 6 I got diabetes and it was diagnosed to late and I lost a big ability to walk and slowly got it back and your Video makes me to cry Also maybe you can do a Evil!Barry where you guys are in a fight (superhero kind) tell him youre pregnant and he stops everything and leaves you alone and one day he asks you to dinner and find out the babys his from somthing thst happen a while back Well goodbye Baby!!

a/n: first of all, thank you!!! SECOND IM SO PROUD!!


“Come on, where’s the fun, doll?” Barry smirks, crossing his arms over his tight fitting maroon t-shirt, leaning against a post of a street light. The toe of his shiny black Supra’s hits the ground, legs making a abstract triangle. “The least you can do is fight back!” he says, exasperated, bending over.

Fire sparks from your fingers on and off and you groan, throwing your head back. Okay, first of all, you didn’t even want to get in your suit in the first place! Second, Barry Allen just wants to push your buttons. No. Not today. “Look, I’m not in the mood to play right now, got me?” you snap, slowly walking towards the speedster.

Huh. Your voice is…different. Barry didn’t catch any hint of the usual flirting. The two of you always flirt! “What’s got your panties in a twist?” the brunette scoffs, pushing himself up straight. He shoves his hands in the back pockets of his ripped blue skinny jeans.

Oh. Oh, that is it! “I’m pregnant, you fucking asshole!” you scream, catching Barry by surprise. His bright lime green eyes an inch and unexpectedly, he flashes off, leaving you standing alone. Does he…no, he can’t possibly know. It was only a one, okay tw- three… a three time thing…

*TIME SKIP*

Leave it to The Flash to lead you to a fucking safe house…again. Rubbing your growing stomach through your flowy orange blouse, you cautiously step into the small building. “Barry?” you whisper, craning your neck to gaze around his ‘house’. Swallowing, you continue to waddle in, hoping to find a couch…or a chair.

“It’s mine, isn’t it? Comes his dark voice from the corner of the room. His back is towards you and you can make out his muscles through his silky black dress shirt. “Wasn’t hard to figure out.” he sighs, hands tinkering with something in front of him.

You huff a breath out, biting your lip. “Yes, she’s yours, Barry.” you confirm, shifting on your feet. “Why am I here? Obviously we can’t fuck, so what do you want? My back is killing me.” A hiss escapes you and you grab your lower back. “Barry, please, I want to sit…”

The brunette spins around, smirking. “Well, sit.” he rolls his mossy green eyes, retying the red apron above his waistband. It flares out against his skinny black jeans, stopping mid thigh. “I even made dinner. Yes, made. Didn’t steal…well, this time. “ he mocks, smirking while he pulls out a chair.

Hesitantly, you sit down, sending him a little half smile. “What’s your angle here?” you tease, placing the napkin on your lap.

Laughing, Barry takes a seat across from you, shaking his head. “No angle. Just Barry and Y/N. No good, no evil.” he purrs, unwrapping the meal, “I just…want to be there. For both of you.” His green eyes sparkle at you, lips in a faint grin. Maybe Barry will be a good dad.

anonymous asked:

Could I get 2 with 2D? Because lord that poor boy and his mom jeans

Also for the other Anon who also wanted 2 with 2D xx


2. “Why on earth are you wearing that?”

You were sitting in one of the chairs of the clothing store, waiting for Stu to come out of the dressing rooms. Your phone had died along the way, so you were practically staring at the ceiling. 2D was “the ultimate woman” while going shopping. It could seriously take hours sometimes to just be in one store and you thought it was kinda funny. The curtains flew open and you looked at him while lying kind up side down. 2D started laughing by the position you were sitting/lying in, but you started to laugh harder by the sight of him. He wore big mom jeans in this bright blue color and he wore a neon orange blouse. 

“Why on earth are you wearing that?” you asked, as you sat up straight. 2D his smile faded a bit and you felt bad right away.

‘Aren’t those from the women apartment?’ you asked as you pointed at his pants. 2D stood awkwardly in his dressing room and you stood up to stand in front of him. 

‘I thought it would look nice,’ he whispered, so that only you could hear it. ‘I want to wear it when we are going on tour again. So that everyone can see that it is totally fine to wear women’s clothes.’

You sighed and pressed a kiss against his lips. 

‘It looks great on you 2D, I am sorry,’ you said. ‘I just was expecting some more skin to show.’ A cheeky grin grew on your face when you unbuttoned two buttons on his blouse and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek. His face turned bright red and he mumbled something you couldn’t understand. 

‘Damnit Y/N,’ he whispered as he looked around nervously. ‘Not here.’ You laughed and took and sat down back in your chair. 

‘You can pull of anything Stu,’ you said. ‘You could stand her in a dress with holes in it, with a neon yellow wig on and bad make-up. And you will still look more beautiful then me.’

2D walked over to you and placed a kiss on your lips. He let his hand go in to your hair and pulled you further in for the kiss and once he let go, you were almost out of breath.

‘2D you cheeky boy’ you grinned but he looked dead serious at you.

‘I could never be more beautiful then you,’ he said. ‘Never forget, okay.’

You turned red and nodded softly. He smiled at you and placed a quick kiss on your temple, before he went back in to his dressing room and left you blushing in your chair. 

🎶 There is a castle on a cloud… 🎶

X FILES AU: Enjolras, steadfast believer, and Grantaire, the inveterate skeptic assigned to monitor him, team up to investigate the mysterious disappearance of Cosette’s long-lost mother. Together they uncover a vast conspiracy designed to conceal from the general public the existence of a floating sky city that the government is trying to quietly track down and invade…

Imagine your OTP meeting as kids and Person B decides to woo Person A by giving them pretty rocks that they find.

Okay, so this is based off of a prompt from @otpprompts with Classic Sonamy. Hope you like it!

~~~~~

Sonic zipped through the trees of the forest in a blur without showing any signs of stopping, only to suddenly skid to a halt and dash behind a tree. His fur was standing on end, and his eyes were wide as he peeked around the tree at none other than Amy Rose.

What was she doing here?!

Sonic hadn’t seen the pink hedgehog since he’d rescued her from Dr. Robotnik back on Little Planet…he hadn’t planned on seeing her again either.

She still looked like she did when he first met her almost a month ago. She still wore the blue and white sneakers, and the orange skirt, and the green blouse. Her bubblegum quills were still slicked back like Sonic’s, apart from three bangs on her forehead that fell over her eyes a little.

She was kneeling by the edge of a small stream, her bare hands digging through the shallow water. She pulled her hand out, and she examined whatever was in it before frowning and dumping it back into the stream. She dug near the bottom, and after a minute her eyes lit and she pulled out…something. Sonic wasn’t exactly sure what it was she had. He watched her put it with a pile of things that looked just like it, and when he got a closer look, he noticed they were…

“…rocks?” Why would an eight-year old fortune teller be collecting rocks in the middle of the forest? He had to admit they were pretty nice rocks. Each had their own unique size, shape, and design. Some were spotted, some were striped, some were both. There were at least twenty in the small pile.

Sonic stared at the pile for a minute before he sparked an idea, and he ran off into the forest.

~

Amy pulled her hand from the water again, a dissatisfied look on her face. She had been fishing in this stream for two hours, and she still hadn’t found the right rock. Sure, the others she had found were good, but they weren’t the super cool amazing rocks that she wanted to impress Sonic the Hedgehog with…if she ever saw the blue blur again.

She pulled her gloves back on, and she was about to collect her rocks and leave when she felt a gust of wind behind her. Not even a second later, she heard a small splash as something fell into the stream. She looked into the water, and she saw a small pinkish object at the bottom. She reached in and scooped it out, seeing it was another rock.

It was oddly shaped, with rounded spikes jutting out all over it. Is was also multicolored, with layers of pinks, reds, greens, yellows, blues, and whites all over it. Amy had never seen a rock like this one before. She thought it was fake, something made in a factory somewhere, but something told her it was genuine, colors and all.

Another gust of wind passed behind her again, and something hit the top of her head with a thump before falling into her lap. She looked down, only for her eyes to widen when she saw another rock. This one was much smoother than the other one, and shiny too. It had red, white, and blue spots on it, along with a splotch of gold here and there.

Amy stared at the rock for a minute before looking at the other one. She looked back and forth between the two before her eyes widened again. A smile spread across her muzzle, and a squeal escaped her lips as she realized just who gave her the two rocks.

Not too far away, Sonic peeked around the side of a tree at the pink girl, a small smile on his face.

Sweet As Honey 1

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6  AO3

Alya had been so careful with her money, she swore she had. Write an article here for her paper, put some it away for emergencies, even cut down on groceries by grabbing some enough leftovers from her mother’s workplace to last a week or so. She had been managing it so closely and so efficiently that her friends joked she could start a class on financing. The idea had been ridiculous at the time and yet…

It wasn’t that she was scrapped for cash but it wasn’t like her job paid her that much for her talents either. What Alya needed was a boost to her wallet. She had made a list and checked it twice but none of them seemed viable at 23. That’s how she ended up sitting in a large booth with her friends from lycée. To her left sat her best friend, the girl she most likely considered her soulmate, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. To her right sat Alix Kubdel, followed by Juleka and Rose Couffaine-Lavilliant, Myléne Bruel-Harpele, and Lila Rossi.  

“Why not just move in with Nino?” Marinette asked innocently enough. Alya caught the hesitation in her voice though.

“We can’t all live with our high school sweethearts,” She teased as she threw mock glare at Marinette’s direction. She then turned it on Myléne (who looked away sheepishly) as well as Juleka and Rose (who both merely smiled a little smugly).“Besides, as much as I adore the guy, things would just be too weird.”

Keep reading

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.

anonymous asked:

I wish you would write a fic where... idk uhhhh okay Riley and Farkle are baking for a school bake sale and they make cupcakes and while Riley is trying one she gets frosting on the corner of her mouth and farkle wipes it away with his thumb and then he kisses her on instinct and at first theyre like oh shit what but then riley kisses him and they find out they like each other. yes i know this is cliche but lets face it it's so riarkle

Title: When Orange and Purple Meet

Sorry, I haven’t posted anything in two weeks but I’m back and writing! I hope you like this. Some pure fluff for you. :)


“Riley and Farkle, you will make cupcakes for the bake sale.”

It was nearing the end of the tenth grade, and their new cooking teacher, Mrs. Hanson, had decided that a bake sale would be the best end of the year project.

Riley wasn’t too worried - baking was never her strong suit, but then again, cupcakes weren’t very hard to make, and it wasn’t the first time she and Farkle baked together. They easily both agreed to walk to Riley’s after school to work on their project.

Although, Riley didn’t think it would be such a mess, standing in her kitchen, arguing with Farkle about what color of icing would be on the cupcakes which made up five percent of their grade.

“Farkle how are the cupcakes coming along?” Riley asks, still mixing her purple icing in the large bowl on the counter.

“I thought you were making the cupcakes while I did the frosting.” He replies casually.

Riley swings around to spot Farkle mixing the other tub of icing with yellow and red dye, making the used-to-be-white icing a bright orange.

Oh no.” She looks at him in disbelief, and Farkle frowns, confusion written across his face.

“What?” He looks over at her to see her expression of anger and then looks behind her to find the large clear bowl of purple icing settled on the counter.

Oh no,” he says in the same disbelief tone as she did minutes ago.

Riley throws her hands on her hips, “If we do both orange and purple cupcakes, it will just be a mess.”

“Orange is a bright and positive color. It radiates and health and youth, so I think we should ice the cupcakes orange.”

“Why can’t purple be a healthy color? Everyone loves purple! It looks pretty, and it’s the color of creativity!“

“Just because it’s prettier doesn’t mean the cupcakes will taste better! Besides, orange is warm and friendly, like the sun.”

Purple!

Orange!

“Why did I get stuck with you as a partner?” Riley throws her hands up the air, exaggerating.

“Because I’m your best friend and you love me.” Farkle shrugs nonchalantly, giving her a dorky smile.

“Unlikely,” she protests, but still, her lips quirk up into an amused smile.

“We’re still doing the cupcakes orange.”

“No, purple!” Riley counters, and before Farkle even knows what is happening, Riley smears purple icing all over Farkle’s mouth and nose, causing him to let out a strange noise.

“See? Tastes good, doesn’t it?” She smirks, satisfied with her actions.

“Did you really just do that?!” He exclaims, rubbing his hand over his nose, attempting to get some of the purple sugar off of his face.

“Uh huh. Whatchu a gonna do about it?” She taunts, giggling.

“You just started a war!” Farkle yells, grabbing a spatula and pointing in the air - like a knight in shining armor would do.

“Bring it, Minkus,” Riley puts her fists out jokingly, before grabbing her tub of purple icing.

“So this is what it’s come to, purple vs. orange,” Farkle sighs dramatically, a few feet away from Riley.

“I guess so,” Riley shrugs, and she knows they are both enjoying this a little too much.

Farkle and Riley charge at each other, purple and orange mixing. Riley is orange; her hair is orange, her cute little blouse is orange, everything is orange - except for Farkle, who is purple.

Riley, getting a little too competitive, pretends to hit her side on the corner of the counter and lets out a loud yelp before crashing to the floor, along with the tub of purple icing that is still in her hand.

Farkle dives to the floor, clearly believing Riley is hurt before grabbing her face, “Riley! Are you okay? Tell me what hurts.”

Farkle’s look of panic causes Riley to feel bad, but then she smiles her mischievous smile and Farkle is confused for a moment before realization hits him. It’s already too late, though, because Riley has a handful of purple icing in her hand that she shoves into Farkle’s face.

“Did you just - pretend to be hurt so you could win?” He sputters, barely able to talk with the amount of icing on his face.

“I know your weakness,” she laughs, bring her hand up to his face so she can wipe away the icing to see his eyes. She doesn’t say the words out loud, but they both know what she means. Your weakness is seeing me hurt.

“Why do I care about you so much?” He jokes, hovering overtop of her.

They stay still for a moment before it’s Farkle’s turn to grin, and Riley grows worried. “What?” It’s more of a statement more than a question. She knows that look. That is the look of trouble; it’s a rare face he makes.

“I know your weakness, too,” he grins,“you forget that I’ve known you since the first grade.”

Riley’s eyes widen, and she knows what he’s thinking in that genius brain of his. Of course, he would remember. Although she has never explicitly told anyone, she remembers the faint memory of Maya and Farkle pinning her down to tickle her to her third-grade death. “Don’t you dare.”

“There is no mercy.”

Farkle I swear -”

Farkle’s hands reach for her stomach, and Riley squeals, trying to swat his hands away. “Farkle!” She yells again, her laughs in the mix. She can’t help but feel a tinge of happiness. It reminds her of the first grade all over again, and she feels just like a kid when life was simple, and it was just her, Maya and Farkle.

“Farkle!” She shrieks, “stop!”

“You have to say the magic words!”

The magic words. The ones Farkle would get Riley to say all through middle school whenever she wanted something from him. Another one of their childish antics, something that was a secret between Maya, Farkle, and her.

She rolls her eyes at him, which just makes him tickle her harder.

“Fine!” She laughs hysterically, before blurting out, “you’re the smartest person on earth, and I am so lucky to have you as a best friend!”

Farkle laughs along with her, and all their problems seem to dissolve, and they are just there, at that moment, and she can’t remember the last genuine moment they had like this in a while. It’s like a breath of fresh air.

Farkle stares at the sun in front of him. Riley shyly tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, staring back at him.

“What are you thinking about?” Riley asks curiously, searching Farkle’s eyes.

“I was thinking about how much of a mess you are -”

Riley barks out a laugh, but Farkle continues, “but you still shine like the sun. Just like you have every single day for the past ten years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” his lips quirk up into a goofy smile, “but you do have a little icing on your face.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” his thumbs hovers over her lips, “right here,” he says as it swipes over her mouth. He means it to be a joke but Riley’s eyes widen, and Farkle’s hand moves a lot slower across the corner of her bottom lip than he intends.

Riley has this wild thought that she wants to kiss him in this moment. She’s not sure if it’s her current intake of sugar or the way Farkle is smiling at her but she wants to kiss him so badly and she knows they’ll never have another moment like this one.

So she does the thing that could potentially crush her heart into little pieces and pulls him down on top of her by the back of his neck, and brings her lips up to meet his.

Farkle can barely process what’s happening until he feels Riley’s hands on his face, and Farkle’s eyes widen in realization. He’s kissing Riley Matthews. The girl he’s loved since the first grade. His sun. His best friend. The one consistent thing in his life.

Riley pulls away from Farkle, her eyes widening as she touches her lips. They still tingle from the contact.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that I was in the moment and -”

“Riley, it’s okay.” He assures her, his lips barely hiding a smile, and his cheeks turning a rosy shade of red.

Their eyes linger on each other for a long time, saying the words neither of them can say. I like you. And I like you, too. Until finally, Farkle moves off of her when he hears the door click, signaling that the Matthews are home.

“What happened in here?!” Topanga questions. Farkle and Riley stare at each other in panic from the kitchen floor, still out of view from Riley’s parents.

Riley pops up from the floor, cheekily smiling at her parents and Auggie. “Hi, mom. Dad. Auggie.”

Cory raises an eyebrow at his daughter, and then at Farkle as he also comes up from the floor.

“We… Um… Sort of got into a disagreement,” Riley rubs the back of her neck nervously.

Farkle nods vigorously, doing anything to agree with Riley, as long as Mr. Matthews does not find out about what just happened on his kitchen floor several moments before he arrived.

“So you two… Decided to wipe icing on each other?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what happened. That’s all that happened. Yep.” Farkle lies, nodding once again, receiving a weird look from Cory.

“Well, Farkle and I are done here so he’ll just be on his way,” Riley pushes Farkle out the door, scared he will get in trouble if he speaks anymore, let alone remains in her house any longer, “I will see you tomorrow.”

“You’re kicking me out?” He frowns, clearly hurt, after what just happened between the two of them.

“I’m saving your life from my father. If he finds out, you may not be able to walk, and let’s be honest, Farkle, you’re terrible at keeping secrets,” Riley says through her teeth as Cory and Topanga stare at the two of them suspiciously.

“But the cupcakes -”

“Don’t worry about them. I’ll go out and buy more icing, and we’ll do that on our spare tomorrow.”

Farkle is about to protest, but Riley shoves him out the door, and then turns towards her parents, “I’ll clean up the mess.”

It is 9:15 pm when Riley finally decides to text Maya and ask her to come over. Being stubborn and deciding not to talk to anyone is driving her insane, and she knows the only person that can help her is Maya.

Honey: Please come over. It’s a code red.

Peaches: Oh no, Riles. What did ya do?

Honey: It’s a long story.

Peaches: I’ll be there in 10.

“…So then I kicked him out, fearful that my dad would figure out something happened,” Riley explains to Maya, who is sitting in the bay window next to her.

“So… you kissed him?”

“I’m not really sure how it happened, but then all of sudden my lips were on top of his, and it was like nothing I’ve ever experienced.” 

And that was the truth of the matter. She’d had a few kisses here and there before - but none that made her stomach do flips or turned her world completely sideways like Farkle’s did.

“Because he’s Farkle, Riley. You and Farkle have always had a special connection, something more. I’ve known that for a while now, and I think, deep down, you know it too.”

Riley sighs, looking around the room. “Maya, what am I supposed to do? I need you to tell me how to deal with this.”

“There is nothing I can tell you that will help. This is your story, and you need to figure out how you feel. You need to tell Farkle how you feel, whatever way that is.”

Riley smiles at her best friend, who always knows the right words to say. She thinks about all of she and Farkle’s late night talks, all the trust, the good and the bad, and she realizes that maybe some things are blinded by the eye, but eventually, with time, they are seen for what they truly are.

“I don’t know how I feel yet, exactly,” Riley smiles down at her hands, still picking out the orange icing from her nails, “but, I guess, the one thing I know is that orange and purple have never seemed like a better combination.”

Dirty Laundry

Summery: Dean’s experiencing feelings towards you as of late, a laundry day and you in less clothes than normal give the perfect opportunity for Dean to express how he’s feeling.

Dean x Reader

Warnings: implied smut at the end! Swearing. Major make out scene! (at the end)

Word count: 2046


Dean wasn’t one to feel jealous, if he liked a girl he’d ask her out, if she rejected him, then some other dude could have better luck. No biggie. But this? This was a biggie.

Dean watched the man you were talking to carefully, eyes narrowed and grip tight on his knees. You both were on a case and had to talk to this man, Don Summers. Who knew Don Summers could have such game.

Stupid Don Summers.

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