Chat Noir X Reader: The Muse

Chapter 7: Inspiration of the Artist

You were doomed.

That day near the Seine you had felt bad for Nino for still having projects to do, but after getting home and finding a forgotten post-it note in a sketchbook that said in bright red letters 'PROJECT DEADLINE COMING SOON DO IT', you realized your situation wasn't any better than his. Maybe worse. The project would decide your future in Paris and you didn't have a single idea about what to do. Yeah, definitely worse.

And so you began to think frantically. You had two weeks. The first one passed by too quickly and many crumpled papers with discarded ideas filled your apartment. You were on the verge of tears.

Being at the University wasn't much help, as you saw everyone from your class finishing their projects and talking about it. Marinette was one of them and her painting already looked amazing. It was driving you insane.

The encounter with Chat had been almost a week ago and you were counting on him appearing at your place on the weekend, like he had been doing before... that day on the terrace. There were still two days to go and you almost couldn't wait. How long had it been since he last posed for you? A month? It had been too long. You had tried to draw your muse by memory, the way his hair covered part of his eyes, how you could see the outline of his clavicle through the black suit – you know, important stuff, but nothing seemed to work and you were getting more frustrated by the second. A little part of your brain insisted it was also because you missed him, but you ignored it.

You had to get a good grade on this project's subject. The end of the semester was getting closer, as well as the cold autumn winds, and if you wanted to prolong your stay in Paris, the only way to get your university to allow you to stay was to get good grades in all subjects in the first semester. You were doing well in Human Figure I – thanks to Chat –, Musings on Still Life, and Art History, but this subject only had one project and it was worth all the points, so if you didn't get a good grade on it you could kiss Paris goodbye.

With that and the fact that you only had one week left on your mind, you were at the cafeteria eating your lunch with one hand as you tried to draw ideas with the other, when someone tapped your shoulder, making you almost choke on your food.

"Oh, désolé! Désolé!" A male voice said. You drank a bit of water and looked up. It was Adrien.

You tried not to stare at his pretty face and waved a hand dismissively. "It's ok."

He handed you an eraser. "It was on the ground."

"Oh," You furrowed your brows, getting the object from him. You didn't even notice you had dropped it. "Thank you."

He nodded and then handed you a pen. "Also this."

You chuckled tiredly and got the pen. "Thank you."

"It was nothing," He said, a gentle smile on his face. He seemed different from that day at the Seine, forming coherent sentences and not staring at your face in shock. You didn't blame him though, going to college and modeling afterwards must be hard, especially if you were a well-known model like him.

"Hey," he began, cutting you from your thoughts. You saw him scratch his neck a bit nervously. "I'm sorry for that day near the river. I had a long day and I also shouldn't have drunk so much." He gave an embarrassed chuckle.

Well, it seemed like you both were thinking about the same thing. You shrugged, smiling up at him. "It happens."

He smiled back, his face lighting up. "I want to try that introduction again, if you don't mind." He then extended his hand to you. "I'm Adrien Agreste, sculpture student."

Your eyebrows raised a fraction. Sculpture? You wouldn't have guessed it from his looks. It was difficult to imagine him all covered in dust or clay, as he was always so tidy, but with a glance at his extended palm, you saw it was beautifully shaped, yet strong. Yeah, definitely sculpture. With a smile you shook his hand, saying your own name. You felt a tingle run through your body as your skin touched his, but you didn't have time to dwell on it as a big yawn made you release his hand to cover your mouth.