sunshine. @soleilfournier-blog - Tumblr Blog

honesty hour~

soleil matteo monica angel

Most intriguing person you have met so far.

I assume you mean someone other than my boyfriend - if that is the case, maybe Gabriel? Maybe Damien? Melanie is certainly intriguing. There are plenty of intriguing people in this city.

@gabrielvbeaumont // @mvgpie // @derrieuxmelanie

What makes you smile when you’re having a bad day?

Either painting or my boyfriend. Maybe painting my boyfriend. Or painting on my boyfriend.

if you could meet your favorite artist... who would it be?

Well, of course, this depends on era, and subject matter, and the likes. For portraits, Rembrandt or Da Vinci. For skyscapes, it is Simon Denis.

What's one wish that you would never tell anyone about?

To get out of this awful city. For good. With the man I love.

honesty hour~

soleil matteo monica angel

#tdrhonestyhour

wnq-writers

Art makes me realize things And feel emotions I didn’t think existed

cosmic-blissss (via wnq-writers)

#dirty brushes | aesthetics

merrrpppp

I would like one large order of intimacy and affection pls. With fries.

#mon amour ; mon chéri | olyvar

fckolyvar‌:

‘i’m not a clean freak, my love. and i own the apartment so not sure if i care about the deposit. if i’m asking you to live here with me, i want you to be comfortable painting wherever you’d like. and reorganize as you please. this place is now as much yours as i am.’ olyvar melted into soleil’s touch, leaning down to kiss the necklace that sit around his neck now. the world would know soleil was oly’s and oly was his and it was way more sophisticated than a hickey, but it did the same trick. oly’s lips followed to the fainted hickey he’d left on the other only yesterday. yesterday which seemed like hours ago in his embrace with soleil.

the world didn’t matter anymore, the sadness and the joy was irrelevant because they’d make their own. at least that bit was evident, these two boys didn’t need anyone else or anything else. ‘i adore you.’ olyvar smiled, holding his cheeks and smiling widely before he leaned down to kiss his cheek and nose and meet his lips in the middle for a deep kiss that was enough to make his knees wobble. ‘keep your loft, love. if anything it can serve as a painting storage place, mine doesn’t have too many dark corners. i want us… to make this our home. not just mine and you’re moving in. but ours. so that if your mum and dad come in for a visit they’ll come to our house and marvel at how we’d done it. my sweet, beautiful boyfriend, i will love you until our parting days. you make me the happiest.’

“Thank you...” he murmured, truly appreciative and grateful. What Olyvar had given him was much more than a place to stay and a necklace - he’d given him a promise of a happier future, of love, laughter, smiles, and sex as frequently as they wanted it. It was a home, a family. Soleil knew that what he had with Olyvar was special. No matter what they had, whether it was Soleil’s loft or this beautiful penthouse or a villa in Marseille or Bordighera, Soleil knew that he would be happy. He curled his fingers into Olyvar’s hair as he leaned down to kiss the necklace, his eyes falling shut for a moment. He took a deep breath in at the feeling of Oly’s lips against the hickey on his neck, his eyes falling shut. It felt like a lifetime ago that Olyvar had left that mark on his neck, and not just the night before. It felt like he’d been Oly’s for longer than he could remember - having Olyvar in his life was all that he wanted to know. Olyvar in France, Olyvar in Italy, Olyvar traveling the world with him and showing him true happiness.

He felt giddy as Olyvar held his cheeks, his nose wrinkling up playfully at the kiss to it, then kissing him back, his eyes falling shut again. It felt like time stopped, like their kiss was the only thing happening - there weren’t millions of people down in the streets below, no cars moving, no horns honking, just the two of them, kissing, in their own private fantasy. “I would love for my parents to come see this place... they would love you, Oly. I know that I have mentioned that before, but I am being honest. You and they could talk for hours...” he laughed, lacing his fingers into Olyvar’s. “Come, come, sit - tell me about your day... welcome home...” he whispered, moving to pull Oly to a couch, wanting to hear everything about how he had spent the time that they were apart. They still lived two separate lives, but now was the time for Soleil to catch up and learn about what had happened during his day, and, if it was a bad day, Soleil could start to make it better.

#fckolyvar #associates | writing

antonipls‌:

Walk-ins were always welcome, especially on days like these when a client had rescheduled an appointment and left his afternoon looking pretty free. He was trying to make the best of it by reorganizing a few things in his work space and then helping around the shop. He was at the front when the person stepped in; immediately he knew this wasn’t one of the regulars. “Hello!” The accent was interesting, but not uncommon in a city full of diverse people. It’s one of the things Antoni liked about living here and having a range of different clients. If he listened closely, he knew he would be able to understand.

“Actually, it’s a great time. If you’d like, we can have a consultation now?” It didn’t look like the guy had any tattoos, but he’d figure that out once they got to talking. “I’m Antoni.” He held out his hand. “It won’t take long.” He added, just in case the other was on a schedule and couldn’t stick around. “And then we can discuss appointments.”

There was a part of Soleil that was nervous; he wasn’t sure how he’d handle the pain of being tattooed. He hadn’t experienced too much pain in his lifetime, and he knew that getting tattooed could be a painful experience. But, with that being said, he knew that pain was beauty. It took him very long in the morning to get ready, but he didn’t mind that. He could sit for an hour or two or however long it took to have a beautiful piece of his on his arm forever.

“Oh - oui, if you have the time,” he nodded in agreement, surprised that they had enough time for that right now. Maybe that was just his nerves talking. “Antoni, pleased to meet you. Soleil,” he introduced himself. Then, he paused, unsure if Antoni heard him right. “My name - it is Soleil.” He nodded in agreement, running a hand through his hair. “Yes - now is good, please, and thank you. I am... new to all of this, but enthusiastic.”

#antonipls #associates | writing

fckolyvar‌:

the penthouse had been his for the past few years but it was always missing the sound of laughter. the sound of joy and moments he wouldn’t ever forget. even if for some awful reason oly and soleil weren’t together, the memories would be enough to last him till life took him too. it was luxurious and beautiful, a bedroom for them and a guest bedroom. maybe for a kid, maybe they’d have them some day. right now, just caring for soleil was more than enough.

‘of course you can get paint anywhere, soleil. we’ll clean up when it’s dirty.’ he smiled fondly at soleil, letting out small sounds of comfort at the others touch. this panting, though temporary was… gorgeous. it was where he wished they’d be right now. but new york didn’t seem too bad either, not up here with the beautiful sun shining in and the window showing buildings, not people. in new york everyone was just people here and people there, finding individuality was hard. maybe this is why soleil shined so bright to oly that day. ‘i can’t wait to be there with you, someday. darling boy, even walking to the bodegas is an adventure with you. speaking of which, we need to go grocery shopping.’ he laughed, nuzzling his nose against soleil’s cheek. ‘don’t cry, my love… oh sweet boy.’

oly stepped around so he was standing in front of soleil once again and held his cheeks, thumbs wiping under his eyes to get any runaway tears. ‘you’re welcome, darling. i… i really hoped you’d like it. it matches the one you gave to me. you will forever have a piece of my heart and i wouldn’t have it any other way, soleil. it’s me and you until this world stops turning. and.. we didn’t do an official thing that at this point it seems silly to ask. but.. regardless, soleil fournier… will you be my boyfriend? and live with me. or i’ll come live with you. the location doesn’t matter, it’s you who matters.’

This penthouse was really something; Soleil hadn’t been able to speak when he first saw it. It was almost as if he hadn’t grown up in the lap of luxury, almost as if his family didn’t have two different villas in two different countries on the Mediterranean coast. The views were to die for in every direction - Soleil knew that, as soon as he had the free time to start painting them, he would. Maybe he’d ship one of those paintings to his parents as a sort of way to promise them that he was doing well in New York, that he’d found someone who meant the world to him, that they had nothing to worry about. There was something extraordinarily special about standing out on the balcony, feeling the wind whipping through his hair because of the height, with a warm drink in one hand, the other wrapped around Oly, watching the sun as it set behind the World Trade Center and over the western horizon.

“Honestly? I do not think I have ever cleaned my studio - there is paint everywhere, it is a bit of a disaster zone; I will never be getting that deposit back,” he joked, squeezing Olyvar’s hand. As they stood in front of the mirror, Soleil felt as if his heart was taken from him and handed to Oly. Everything that Soleil was, everything that he would be, was for himself to share with Olyvar. This necklace meant the world to him, and he knew that he wouldn’t be taking it off any time soon. Every time he left the penthouse with his shirt unbuttoned a few buttons the way he liked it, people would see the necklace, would see his devotion to Olyvar Peters. He felt like the luckiest boy in all of New York. “Happy tears...” he promised him, his hands curling up in Oly’s hair again.

He looked up as Oly held his cheeks, his own love and devotion clear in his eyes. His hands moved down from Olyvar’s hair to his cheeks, giving him a smile. “I adore it...” he murmured, leaning forward to brush his nose against Olyvar’s. The question made him feel giddy inside, his arms going to wrap tightly around his now-official boyfriend. “Yes - of course, of course I will... I am so, so happy to be yours... and I could not think of a more beautiful place to live than here. I do adore my loft, and I will not sell it, in case we are ever uptown and need a place to stay, but... this is to die for, Olyvar. It is like I am living in a fantasy...” He leaned in to kiss him deeply, trying to savor the taste of Oly’s lips on his. “You are what matters most to me - I could not be happier, my beautiful boyfriend...”

#fckolyvar

fckolyvar‌:

oly had always enjoyed his time alone, in the solace of his home. his sunroom, that was his favourite room. in fact that was the room he’d let soleil turn his own. the room hung so many of his paintings as it was, and now it was being filled with memories. these were olyvar’s favourite moments. he had plans to plaster the walls with pictures of soleil and him, of just soleil too. he never wanted to forget a moment… never wanted to forget what he looked like sleeping next to home. never wanted to forget the early morning kisses, he was sure even if he’d left at the ass crack of dawn, he wouldn’t leave without a kiss.

there were things on his mind, like were they exclusive? did he really have a desire for anyone else? soleil was enough but tying himself down further than calling him his boyfriend sounded like a lot. the sound of his laugh took olyvar’s thoughts away, smiling to himself as he let himself be pulled away to see soleil’s work. ‘you know i love you and you’re always covered in paint when you paint. it’s cute.’ oly dropped a kiss to his shoulder as he walked into the room, standing in front of the beautiful painting and holding the artist close to him. ‘oh… it’s gorgeous. this is marseille. it looks like this in my dreams i love it, my baby. you’re a work of art, it’s gorgeous. i can picture us there. just like this, standing here with you in my arms.’

remembering the necklace he’d found earlier he held his hand over to brush over soleil’s eyes. ‘close, please. i have a surprise.’ after having soleil’s permission to spoil him rotten, oly really intended to do so. he took out the necklace - a dainty silver key engraved on a disc with their initials on the back side. oly put the necklace on him and touches his own lock which he’s now never planning on returning. ‘okay, open.’ he smiled, tugging him over to a mirror to look. ‘and turn it over too. i love you, sunshine.’

There were endless things that Soleil loved about having Oly come home to him. He felt needed, wanted, absolutely adored. The man he loved loved him back, and was coming back home to him. Soleil knew that he could get used to all of this - or, well, he had gotten used to all of this. Very quickly. The penthouse was to-die-for, with beautiful views of Manhattan. He hadn’t known Oly’s wealth when they’d first met, but if anything proved it, this penthouse definitely did. He felt like he was living in the lap of luxury; Soleil was delighted.

“It is not so cute if I get it all over these nice floors,” he joked, combing his fingers through Olyvar’s dark hair, looking down at his painting. He tilted his head to rest it against Oly’s shoulder, hoping for his approval of the painting, despite the fact that it would be out of their now-shared apartment as soon as it was completed. He wanted Oly’s approval on everything he did, craved words of praise and adoration from him. Olyvar was the first and only person he’d ever felt like this for before, and he liked the sound of his voice when he was saying nice things about his art. Then again, Soleil liked the sound of Oly’s voice when he was saying anything at all. The praise, despite how badly he craved it, made him blush anyways when it was administered. He bowed his head slightly, wrapping his arms around Olyvar to hold him as well. “I cannot wait to take you there someday... you will love it so much, mon chou... Thank you. A thousand thank yous. I do hope the person who this is meant to be a gift for will like it, but your opinion is the only opinion that truly matters to me.”

He was surprised when Oly brushed a hand over his eyes, telling him to close them. Doing so, he stood as still as possible - he was awful at surprises, but, for Olyvar, he did his best to not fidget on his feet. He felt something cool against his upper chest and his neck, tilting his head slightly with his eyes still closed. When he was told to open his eyes, he did so immediately, ducking his chin to his neck to try to see the necklace, which, unfortunately, didn’t work too well. Instead, he let Oly tug him over to a mirror, looking at the necklace. “Oh, Olyvar...” he whispered, his hand reaching up to the disk around his neck. Turning it over, he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. “Merci - merci beaucoup, je t’aime, mon amour...” he wrapped his arms around Olyvar tightly, pulling him close, pushing his face into Oly’s neck. “C’est très beau...”

#fckolyvar #mon amour ; mon chéri | olyvar

fckolyvar‌:

the party was too much that night. everything had gone wrong, but amidst all the wrong things there was soleil. who became officially his, his boyfriend, his lover and everything in between. when before they hadn’t been able to name it, now it was easy. he’s got a boyfriend named soleil fournier and they’re madly in love, nothing could be better. the party was forgotten about mostly and he was left only with soleil and him living in his house.

his home had always felt empty with just oly. he didn’t have the need for a companion, he had plants. they thrived, somehow. now he had soleil who was able to feed himself and sometimes even cook for him. things were really swell, even if it had only been a couple of days. he liked this new life, being greeted with a smile when he walked through the door. ‘hi baby, you’re looking gorgeous as always.’ he said with a grin, leaning down to meet soleil’s lips and wrap his arms to twirl him around. ‘good, better now. how about you? painting?’ he asked, despite it being evident with the paint under soleil’s nails.

Living at Oly’s was odd - he’d always had his loft to himself, and, if he was really in a rut or a painting frenzy of sorts, he could go days without seeing another person. Now, he woke up beside the man he loved every single morning, he got to kiss him before bed every night. They shared meals, watched films together; they were each a half of one whole. He never thought he’d enjoy sharing a space with someone, adjusting to their rules of the home while upholding his own, but he and Olyvar worked extremely well together. Soleil couldn’t be happier.

He liked being baby. He liked getting a kiss whenever Olyvar came home. He liked the way that Oly picked him up and twirled him around. Soleil giggled - really, truly giggled - as he wrapped his arms tightly around the other man, feeling weightless, feeling like a child again in the best ways possible. There were no worries in the world anymore. He was genuinely the happiest he could ever remember being. Kissing Olyvar once more, he laughed, one hand coming to rest on Oly’s chest. “How could you tell?” he asked, knowing that he had paint under his nails, if not elsewhere on his body. “Come, come, look--” He had never been one to show others his works in progress. They were incomplete, and, therefore, imperfect. But he didn’t mind; Olyvar could see. “Someone commissioned it - it is Marseille. I am almost finished, and, as soon as I am, we can get this giant canvas out of your home, but I want you to see it... I want you to picture us there...”

#fckolyvar #associates | writing

teenagecrush

#mon amour ; mon chéri | olyvar

☼ @antonipls ☼

A tattoo hadn’t been something he’d been considering until recently. And, until recently, he’d had no plans put in place. But there was a painting of his, a favored, beloved painting of the sky above his summer home in Bordighera one sunset. Beautiful blues, pink clouds - something he’d treasured and kept hung up above his bed in his apartment. He figured that he ought to make it permanent; he was an artist, and it wasn’t as if he couldn’t get tattooed for fear of being jobless. He was his own employer, and this was what he wanted to do.

Walking into a shop, he looked around at the mostly open-space floor plan. He had an image of the painting on his phone, as the painting itself was too large to be comfortably toting around New York City. “Hello,” he greeted the first person he saw, hoping that his thick French accent wouldn’t make this an incredibly difficult process. “I was just wondering about making an appointment... is this a good time...?”

#antonipls #associates | writing

overdose-art

Clouds Studies by Simon Denis

#dirty brushes | aesthetics

☼ @fckolyvar ☼

The party had been hectic, to say the least, but at least it was over now. It was over, and they could go home. The police cleared them to leave after a few simple questions - Soleil Fournier, freelance artist, I am just here with my boyfriend, Olyvar Peters. Now, they were settling into a new normal. Soleil had set up a makeshift studio in Oly’s home, and he absolutely didn’t mind getting to see Olyvar much more frequently than he had before.

That morning, Oly had been out, and Soleil had gotten himself up to paint. He heard the door open - Oly was home - which brought a smile to his face. Setting down his brush, he turned towards the door, stretching his arms above his head. “Hello, you... how has your day been so far...?” Finally pushing himself to his feet, he crossed the room to give Oly a kiss, smiling up at him. Olyvar really was a beautiful man, a beautiful soul; there was no wonder that Soleil had fallen in love with him. This new normal was definitely something that he could get used to.

#fckolyvar #associates | writing

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

sunshine.