fire for you;

ABOUT

Full Name/Nickname: Adrien Bahati Cadieux

Age/DOB: July 7th, 1987

Zodiac Sign: Cancer

Gender: Male

Place of Birth: Marseilles, France

Arrondissement: Elysees (8th)

Sexual/Romantic Orientations: Heterosexual

Religion: Agnostic

Occupation: Fashion Designer

PERSONALITY:

Goals/Desires: To continue to breathe life into the fashion world 😂 

Fears: Death, heights, of losing someone he loves, having a car accident. If someone is driving him somewhere and they hit the gas, he’s likely to clench the sides of his seat. 

Hobbies: Jiu Jitsu, kickboxing, weight lifting, designing clothes, drawing, drinking an excess amount of cafe lattes each day. Oh, he’s also going to be a frequent at the underground fight club at Le Rouge. 

Likes: People in general, architecture, dressing well, a clean living space, a clean working space, riding his bike everywhere, gin and tonics, parties, spending time with his family, & smelling good.  

Dislikes: When he spills drinks or food on his clothes, people who are inconsiderate or rude to waiters, betrayal and dishonesty, windy weather. 

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

FAMILY

TW: Death mention, parental death, car accident mention

Parents: His father was Alexandre Cadieux (deceased), and Bahati Cadieux (deceased). They passed in a car accident when he was nine. Adrien was adopted by his uncle Antoine Cadieuxand aunt Océane at ten years old. He refers to them as mama and papa. His father is also currently the President of France. 

Sibling(s): He has two siblings (Antoine and Océane’s children). 

Pet(s): None

POTENTIAL CONNECTIONS:

I’m going to put out a WC for his siblings and parents, but for general connections, I’m looking for friendships, neighbours (he lives in a nice apartment in Elysee), a drinking buddy he attends lots of parties/clubs with - who is the only one who knows about his fighting (which he wishes to keep under wraps), a confidant (someone he confides in), employees who work at Cadieux (personal assistant, seamstress, etc), clients who he’s dressed in the past, fwb, exes, etc. 

Some fun plots: 

BARISTA: Barista and person who has a ridiculous coffee order. Aka, this would be Adrien. 

AWKWARD: We live in the same block of flats but haven’t ever talked and Sunday morning we were both doing the walk of shame and had to stand in the lift together

DID WE JUST BECOME BEST FRIENDS? YUP. Simply two people who found something in common and decided to be besties, stepbrothers style.  HS REUNION: It’s my highschool reunion and I need a hot date so I can rub it in the faces of the people who hated me

BOYFRIEND: "I had to be your fake boyfriend bc some creep was hitting on you and it was making you uncomfortable and now I have busted knuckles and a cut lip but hey are u okay"

STATUS: closed LOCATION: cafe du temple DATE/TIME: sunday, late morning

          “Last night was out of control,” Adrien muses in his post drunken stupor, referring to his night out at Le Rouge the night prior. He’d headed out with a bunch of friends, including Finn, and, safe to say he couldn’t remember much of the night. Thankfully, he was sober enough the next morning to compose himself for Sunday morning brunch with one of his favourite people. His head, however, begged to differ, and so he kept his sunglasses on in a bid to escape all the bright light Paris had to offer that morning. “Your first Saturday off in ages.. tell me, how do you feel after being on the other side for a night?” 

▧ »¦« ▨

sigrid winces, gaze glaring down at the now evacuated glass floor. she too pondering the same questions, however only adrien had the strength in their drunken blunder to verbalise it. she shakes her head, swallowing down the knot forming within her throat. with each laboured breath, sigrid finds the haze building up in her brain began to slowly fade. “people that have death wishes.” in the moment it was really the only reasonable answer. an architect herself, sigrid refused to design buildings with glass floors due to her own phobia. “i think the alcohol is what’s making this particular moment a more terrifying experience than it probably should be.”

      This is why companies need people like you.. people that are creatie enough to use the view and the sky line as opposed to the floor. I mean, really?!” Shaking his head, Adrien couldn’t fathom modern architecture and its need to install glass everything. Was the view of Paris from this height not enough?! Paris was a beautiful city, immersed in antiquities and tradition.. sometimes it felt like people were trying to make it something it’s not. “I feel like it’s the only thing getting me through.. but that’s not a great habit, is it..? In any case, I’ll get you a water?” 

“Wouldn’t say I mind them, no.” Lincoln gave his good friend a definitive response all the while curiously eyeing what Adrien was pulling off the many lines upon lines of clothing racks. “But you know I do trust your judgement.” After all, would he look half as sharp for his business dealings for the architect firm or would he have been able to keep up with Paris’ high-flying designer lines without the master of Cadieux? Likely not. Lincoln had practically thrown out nearly everything he at least thought he knew about label clothing from the states since becoming fast friends with Adrien. So of course he took it upon himself to take time and visit the fashion house to try on anything suggested his way. With a checkered coat jacket hovered out to him, Lincoln took the article of clothing to throw on, shifting towards the nearest mirror. “Ok, Ok, I’m liking this already, fits nice I think. — Thoughts?” 

      “I would never let you down, monsieur. You know I wouldn’t,” a warm smile crosses his features, then. Fashion had been the greatest form of expression for him, ever since he could remember. He could look at a single person and envision an entire collection or theme that would suit them best. He knows, deep down, he can attribute the artist within to his mother. Every so often, the memory of her sitting at her drawing desk, by the window with an uninterrupted view of the Mediterranean sea. It’s fleeting, and it pains him ever so deeply. So much so, he chooses to shove it all back down, focusing on the situation at hand — the present. “Wow.. now this was made for you.” Moving to adjust the way it sits on Lincoln around the shoulders, he fixes the collar, bringing his gaze to the mirror. “Who wouldn’t want to have you design their project? Suave and well dressed.”

starter: @adricn​

location: le rouge nightclub

The two men were often seen in Le Rouge sharing stories and tonight was no different. They came from completely different backgrounds but that only brought them closer, as they would bond over the oddities of their experiences. The Irishman remembered the other man’s face when he showed him pictures of his gaelic sports days, where he broke his jaw. They were chalk and cheese and it worked in the best way. 

“Right, if you could had to choose – fingers for toes or toes for fingers, what one?” Caoimhín asked trying his best but failing as a loud laugh left him. It was safe to say he was very drunk when questions like that were leaving his lips. 

       Le Rouge was quickly becoming his second home, given the copious amount of times he’d frequented the joint. Caoimhín made it all too easy, too, given that he was, in Adrien’s opinion, the top bartender there. “Dude—” he cringed, the mere thought of toes as fingers sending him sideways. But, the thought of fingers as toes creeped him out even more. You couldn’t win. The question was far too deep to think about. “All I know is, I do a lot with my hands man, so I don’t wanna lose those. Perks would also be a bigger shoe size.. and you know what they say about a bigger shoe size,” he winked. Yep, he was definitely drunk. No matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t keep up with the Irish - they were a different breed. “—Why, which would you choose?” 

✧･ﾟ* ☾

Lida Senol had really OUTDONE herself.

If it weren’t for her day off today, she wouldn’t have pulled that kind of shit from last night. She was far from sober, but she was coherent enough to return home. Stumbling out of her vehicle with the help of her chauffeur, she gave them the thumbs up and a cheeky smile before bidding adieu and instructing them to pick her up later so she could head back to her manor. She decided to rest and sober up in one of her parents’ property apartments since there was no way she was returning to her daughter in this state.

Pressing the button for the elevators, it opened up and she was face to face with Adrien. “You look like absolute shit Cadieux.” she blurted out with no shame. Holding a finger up, she shook her head as she was not having it. “DON’T…I don’t want to hear it. I’m well aware of the obvious on my end, but I will say I STILL look good. Now are you hopping off of the elevator or?” Being this drunk and high, she certainly did not have any filter and was completely unhinged. “Also where’d you go, hm? And do you recommend it? You look like a man who ventures a lot in the Parisian night life.” 

       “Lots of people would beg to differ, Lida. Nobody looks like shit when wearing Cadieux.” Adrien had been raised not to land himself in situations such as these; and yet there he was.. at all hours of the morning, visibly recovering from being absolutely wasted. It even took him a moment to realise who the person standing by him in the elevator was. An amused smile colours his features now as he gives her a once over. “Who, me? I’m not saying anything,” he purses his lips whilst shaking his head, though he’s unable to hide just how clearly amused he was by this situation. At the very least, it wasn’t someone that would run with the idea of catching the president’s son in a compromising situation. Or so he believed. Clearing his throat some, he furrows his brow over at her, “I’m heading up to my apartment.” Since he could’ve sworn she didn’t live in his apartment complex; then again, he’d been spending less and less time at home to even be able to tell if he’d acquired a new neighbour. Lida’s question prompts him to actually think about his night, causing him to widen his eyes. “Where’d you go, is the real question? And why are you in this complex?” Deflection. It was the best kind of avoidance. 

When Le Vieux came into view, her natural reaction over the last few months would be to lower her gaze and keep walking — it was their spot. And it almost felt like grappling with a betrayal to stumble through their doors without him on her arm. Tonight, however, she happened to crave a particular favorite of hers: their cauliflower and potatoes au gratin. It was a simple side dish, but there was something about the way they made it. She debated whether she should’ve come tonight, and just gone home — but no, against her better judgement, she decided to stop by. The moment she was past those familiar doors, it was like a wave of nostalgia washing over her — every nook and cranny of the establishment threatening her to relive the happy memories, before it all inevitably… well… went to shit. Fingers tightening around her phone, as though gripping it like a vice to steady herself and keep her grounded. A slow exhale of air allowed her a brief reprieve from her thoughts, but not for much longer.

That was when she saw him — familiar and alien, all at once. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed him; his presence was overwhelming, and she often sensed him around… supposed that’s what happened when things ended, and so abruptly too; it was like their tether to one another was slashed, and try as she may, there was no fix for that. Keziah pushed her sleeves up, tucking her phone into her coat pocket, revealing the unmistakable cream wisp of her corset… one he’d crafted just for her. Swallowing deeply, she tried to look away but it was impossible. She willed her feet to move, take her far away from this scene, but no part of her entire being seemed to take stock in her commands — that had a mind of their own. Wringing her hands, a tick she was sure he’d notice, she attempted (and failed) to settle her heartbeat, the sound of it hammering evident in her ears. Should she say something? Why couldn’t she leave? There was so much left unsaid between them, and she knew, mostly, that was her fault. “I — Adrien.” It was all she could manage; his name like a caress at the tip of her tongue.

         What did he expect? That she’d ignore him? That he’d make it through that door without so much as a glance in his direction? He felt his chest tighten as he neared her, the sound of her voice immobilising him in place. Adrien feels consumed by the sheer nostalgia of it all; this restaurant, the all too familiar smell of delicious Parisian food.. her. For a moment, just a moment, everything felt like the way it used to.. as though they were together; as though their connection hadn’t been completely shattered some ten months ago. Reality, however, had a way of consuming one whole at the best of times, let alone now as he stood face to face with someone who brought him nothing but pain. The kind of pain that gnawed at him consistently like a dog to a bone. Reality had always been shattering, to say the least. When the sense of nostalgia faded, and he was reminded of said heart ache, it’s only then that he notices the way his heart pounds in his chest, and uncomfortably so. The way it beats in his ears, echoing.. the way that rising lump in his throat feels all too difficult to swallow. He’s all too aware of his visceral and physical reactions, that his mind is playing catch up. 

        It feels like minutes have passed when he finally manages to respond. “Kez...iah.” A slip up, of course. They’re no longer on a nickname basis, he reminds himself. He hadn’t anticipated running into her; he’s unprepared. Furrowing his brow, his eyes wander — something he couldn’t help, given he can’t hold her gaze for longer than a moment without feeling like his world will implode. It’s then he notices the fleeting sight of what he knew to be his corset. The design he’d made specifically for her, many moons ago. Adrien was finding it increasingly difficult to manage his breathing at this point. There were just too many feelings, too many unanswered questions.. old and new. Am I dreaming? “How.. how are you?” 

Damala was never hesitant to remind Lale how much her youngest daughter allows her emotions to rule over reason. As a mother, Damala was always quick to scold Lale to not allow feelings cloud her childs judgement. And she tried, at first. She really did, because back then, she was afraid of loosing her family, her connection and roots. Her whole sense of self and belonging even though she hadn’t felt like she was part of the family for a long time ; which is why she felt in the first place. Her family thinks it was easy for Lale to leave. It wasn’t. But it was the best decision for her which is something her family would possibly never understand.

But, this is while Lale finds herself at the bar of this grand hotel. Feelings. Boredom, anxiousness, and loneliness: a constant threat to Lale and her already frail, poor judgment. In order to help make herself feel better, Lale decides it’s best to get dressed and get out of the attic. The dress she chooses sits upon her skin as soft petals, its hue the shade of a rose garden. Though, it was when Lale put on those high heels that she felt elevated, which gives her a confident glow too, a radiance that wasn’t so bright when she was doing chores. 

Lale doesn’t know what compelled her to spend her night at the ‘ rival ’ hotel, as Lida may put it if she knew her sister was here, but she knows she doesn’t want to be near anything close to family. When she arrived, the grand hotel was already crawling with people. Assuming there must be some sort of event happening, the brunette swiftly makes her way to the bar as to not interrupt any conversations and just her luck, a seat had opened up. She was happy to slip into the seat and order a beverage, something a little stronger than a gin and tonic, something that she wasn’t used to: a dirty martini.

A good fifteen minutes might have passed when Lale is being joined. He has a deep voice, one that gave him an air of solid confidence and was so very easy on the ears. ❝ Bonjour, ❞ Lale replies slowly with her good eye flickering over the handsome stranger without shame.

A dark brow quirks upward at the mention of a favour. She’s been in many situations such as thing one. Men, women, folks asking Lale for a favour. Sometimes it was something as simple as trying to find someone who sells blow. Other times, it has something more to do with privacy or becoming intimate. ❝ … D'accord, très bien. je vais mordre. ( … alright, fine. i’ll bite. ) ❞ She shift with leisurely grace, facing the stranger with a spark of interest. This was why Lale got into as much as she has over the years. Naivity and her curiosity usually went hand-in-hand when it came to her poor sense in judgment. ❝ Avant que toute autre chose ne soit dite: je trace la ligne en prenant des photos de mes pieds. Anladım? ( before anything else is said: i draw the line at taking photos of my feet. got it? )  ❞

       He’s so distracted by the turmoil of having to attend the reunion alone, and all the attendees continuing to waltz in, that he almost doesn’t hear her condition, let alone the fact that she’s agreed to grant him this one favor. “Whoa, ok... non, non non.” Adrien shakes his head, the expression written all over his features a telltale sign that that most definitely wasn’t what he was intending. In fact, the mere thought makes him queasy. As he strives to convince her that that most certainly isn’t the case, he processes what she’s just said. “Attendez... des gens ont demandé à prendre des photos de vos pieds? / Wait, people have asked to take photos of your feet?!” The mere thought both confuses him and makes him feel uncomfortable; who in the world—?! He prays away the discomfort, shifting his mind to the more pressing matters at hand. “I can assure you that isn’t the case. I promise. It’s uh...” It’s then that Adrien actually captures his counterpart’s gaze, immediately captivated by the sight of her eyes: doe like, lined with thick lashes.. aqua marine blue. One in particular a piercing shade of white.. they’re the most striking pair of eyes he’s ever seen, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t completely entranced. At least, momentarily. “—Erm.. it’s my high school reunion tonight, and uh.. I’m running into a lot of people. So, I need you to be my date. If it’s not too much to ask, of course.” 

▧ »¦« ▨

“i don’t know.” sigrid swallows back at the knot trapped within her throat. sigrid had always felt the phobia of heights. even looking out from the higher floors of the great skyscrapers of new york irked her. looking out off the side of rooftops locked her knees and left her searching for somewhere to sit. why on earth did a pair of friends who shared the same fear dare to venture out onto a rooftop bar, while already inebriated, was beyond her. they were only bound to enable each others growing panic. tightening her grip around adrien’s arm, sigrid’s begins taking shortly spaced paces backwards the safety on a non transparent floor, trying to lead adrien along her, “maybe… let’s drink inside. off the balcony. far away.”

       “We’re insane. Who .. who came up with this idea?” He tried desperately to avert his gaze from the glass floor, but it was practically impossible at this point. Adrien’s fear ran in his very veins, even his breathing was affected by the mere sight. Getting onto a plane was difficult at the best of times, let alone being in an open space like this. It almost felt like his throat was closing up. If he wasn’t inebriated right now, it was a wonder how his body and mind would react then. His heart was still racing when they managed to get themselves to solid ground, veering towards the inside section of the bar - his hand gripping her own on his arm. As much as he wanted to enjoy the slightly warmer Winter evening, it wasn’t enough to lure him back outside into hell again. “Let’s.. just—what are we drinking? I’m feeling like we need something strong, all of a sudden.” 

closed starter for @adricn​  ── valentine’s day event. ♡

date: saturday, february 12 location: le rouge time: 9:00 pm

While most singles often gagged or turned their nose up at the idea of celebrating Valentine’s Day, Camille was a hopeless romantic who not only loved the traditional pink and red aesthetic, but took joy in the people watching. From cheesy gifts to dates and proposals, la ville de l’amour was always a popular tourist destination around this time of year. 

With one successful day of the adoption event behind her, the model was eager to participate in the city’s other festivities for the rest of the evening. Though she wasn’t one to frequent the night club, enjoying a drink at Le Rouge seemed like just the thing to reward herself after a hard day’s work. And with a singles weekend in progress, Camille was rather humoured by the prospect of spending the holiday with an attractive man or woman. Perhaps, even just for the night. 

As she approached the crowded bar for a refill, the blonde noticed a familiar face among the slew of strangers. Resting her hand on Adrien’s shoulder, a playful smile stretched across her lips and her blue eyes sparkled in the dim lighting. “Excuse-moi. Is this seat taken?”

       Adrien’s plan worked; to forget all things that revolved around pain this time of year, and just to enjoy himself amongst the company of others. To forget.. or rather, distract himself. Though, he appeared to spend a little too much time at the bar that evening.. Very much inebriated at this point, his demeanour came across a little more confident and boisterous than usual as he turned to face the familiar blonde with sheer joy and affection. It was a pleasant surprise, to say the least, given they’d only recently reunited and, he hadn’t exactly expected to run into her. “Well, if it isn’t Camille Andre herself,” his lips curve into a contagious smile as he stands tall, cheeks flushed as he moved to give her the customary double kiss. “For you, never.” Pulling out the stool beside him, he waits for the blonde to take a seat before sitting back down on his own. “You here avoiding all that Saint Valentine has to offer, too?” 

location: Desiree’s Vending Table with: @paristarters​

In truth, he could have worn his usual attire. Perhaps, he could have chosen chinos and a nicer button up, he could have even gotten away with jeans and a nicer shirt, but no. It was a celebration for love and Saint Valentine, afterall. When he’d proposed the idea, Julieta’s eyeroll was something formidable, one he was sure could have caused an earthquake to tilt Paris off of its axis, But it was too good to pass up on and sure they weren’t near Hallow’s Eve, but what could he say? When he could, he’d play the part and swimmingly. Donned in his Cupid attire, Luca could feel the felt of the red wings laying across his back as he chose bushels of flowers for minute gifts. Though he wondered if it was too gimmicky, it was certainly drawing attention and any attention he could draw for the business was good in theory. With a brilliant smile, he thanked patrons as they supported the table, and just as he heard another person approaching, he carefully played around with his bow and arrow (also made from plastic and felt ) before he said, “Anyone I should strike on for you today?” 

       “Putain...” Adrien mumbled under his breath, frozen at the mere sight of Gianluca Nicoli... dressed in little to nothing in the middle of February, as none other than Cupid himself. He takes it all in, the hustle and bustle of onlookers, and how Luca seems to stand out amongst them all.. the sight of it was all it took. A bellow of laughter rose from his chest, clutching his stomach as he succumbed to the amusement of it all. “Oh my god, you seriously did it? You dressed up as Cupid? I thought you were joking.” Patting the guy’s shoulders, he gave him a good once over, laughter still spilling from his lips. “Well, well.. that’s one way to pick people up. Sure looks like it’s working,” he nodded his head in a group’s direction, all of which were staring at Luca, of course. “No, no striking on anyone for me today, dear Cupid. I’m avoiding all things love but I couldn’t resist coming to visit.” 

—

She chuckles a little before turning her body to face him, still keeping one elbow propped against the bar now behind her. “You mean to tell me you don’t check out all the broom closets at every bar you go to?” She cocks her head, for a moment feigning seriousness, before the smile is back on her lips. “I suppose,” she’s interrupted when a man emerges from the door, looking much worse for wear with a bloody lip and a bruise already forming under his left eye. “Looks like someone didn’t get along with the brooms too well.” she quips, sending her new companion a conspiratorial look. “What do you think it is?” she asks, nudging him playfully in the chest with her elbow. It was probably a good idea to find out what he knew… or thought he knew. 

       “—You mean to tell me that you do?” He’s quick to retort as he leans back against the bar, arms folded across his chest as he peers over at her. It wasn’t until the sight of the door opening in the corner of his eye, that he pulls his gaze away, yet again reaffirming his thoughts. “Maybe the club needs to rethink the broom situation,” he quips, narrowing his eyes as the man stumbles away, before meeting the unfortunate gaze of one of the bouncers. The expression on his features is seemingly less than happy that Adrien seems to be zoning in on the situation, but when he turns to face the woman beside him, he appears to relax a little and look away. Odd. “What do I think it is?” Adrien wouldn’t give his cards away so easily; he’d quickly learned not to do so after having information used against him time and time again. “I’ve heard things. My best bet is a wild escape room. Why, what do you think it is?” 

The night was going well. Finn was keeping things at the bar flowing smoothly which meant Micayla could easily give her attention to other things, especially the fight club. Which was doing pretty well tonight, people enjoyed letting out their frustration with the day of love physically, apparently. But with so many more people packing the night club who may or may not have been regulars, Micayla had to keep an especially close eye on who was being allowed downstairs and making sure they entered as inconspicuously as possible. 

She was doing just that, when a voice spoke beside her. Turning her gaze towards the man, she was about to correct him, to explain she owned the club and dismiss his curiosity when she realized just who had spoken. Andrien Cadieux. Nephew of the president. And he owned a luxury fashion brand. Of course Micayla knew who he was. In her line of business, you had to know these kinds of things. Was the president’s nephew really trying to get into the fight club? 

As much as the club drew bigger names all the time, Micayla was a little skeptical that a man like Adrien wouldn’t draw too much attention. Her gaze narrowed for a half second before a teasing smile tugged her lips upwards. While she wasn’t about to let him in, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun with him, no? "Tu ne penses pas que c'est un placard à balais? / You don’t think it’s a broom cupboard?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

       Straight off the bat, he enjoyed the energy she gave off; he hadn’t really paid much notice to many people tonight. Just on his agenda: to drink, to forget, and to find out what was behind that damn door. Arching his brows some at her question, he peered back at the door, retracing his memory and all he’d seen and known about it.. which, admittedly, wasn’t enough evidence but.. enough to know it sure as hell wasn’t some old unused cupboard. “You can’t tell me that many people enjoy a broom cupboard?” He asks, turning his attention back to the unfamiliar brunette; he had absolutely zero clue as to who she was. She was a local, he could tell by her accent, and it was refreshing given the fact that the club was filled with tourists; the holidays tended to do that.