#simon e33

[butterflysist3r]

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[keirln]

I DID IT

I FUCKING DID IT

[glitter-goblins]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Clea Dessendre/Simon, Aline Dessendre | The Paintress & Clea Dessendre, Aline Dessendre | The Paintress/Renoir Dessendre | The Curator, Clea Dessendre & Original Verso Dessendre, Clea Dessendre & Maelle | Alicia Dessendre Characters: Clea Dessendre, Simon (Clair Obscur: Expedition 33), Aline Dessendre | The Paintress, Renoir Dessendre | The Curator, Original Verso Dessendre, Maelle | Alicia Dessendre Additional Tags: Character Study, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Grumpy/Sunshine Relationships, No Sex, Kissing, Grinding, Nipple Play, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Clea has eldest daughter syndrome, AU where everything is fine and no one dies, Simon is a real person Summary:

Clea isn't interested in being tied to anyone in marriage. Being the Heiress of the great Dessendre Painter family, all she's concerned about is managing the expectations of her position. That is, until a handsome stranger appears to ruin all her plans.

The sound of footsteps behind her set her spine straight and her teeth on edge. Clea closed her eyes in a moment of defeat. She knew who it was before she even turned around. 

“Clea is it?” he asked. His voice was husky with a hint of gravel. It shouldn't have affected her but her stomach clenched to spite her. 

“That depends entirely upon who's asking.” 

The man chuckled with a lopsided grin stretching over his features, “I'm fairly certain every social elite in Paris knows of the infamous Dessendre Heir. I've just come to see if the rumors are true.” 

Clea’s brows pinched. Rumors? That was a new development. But of course, she kept her cool with a dismissive response. “I'm sure whatever they say about me is true.” 

[walrusface]

I’ve been on a Clea x Simon trip recently- but do you have any hc on their dynamic or meet in any of your aus. :3

In Pallor, there were a lot of references to vampire!Clea’s history with Simon as one of the first tributes from Lumiere. Here’s their first meeting.

Clea keeps her head raised as Lumiere’s tributes line up in the opulence of the Manor’s Grand Hall for their inspection - they might call it an introduction, but nobody’s fooled.

It’s ridiculous. A pantomime. It’s nothing but a pretence at civility with Lumiere - but if her father is truly convinced that this will keep them all safe and fed, Clea can play along. She can act as if the painted warping of her body and mind is just one more inconvenience to adapt to; she can pretend that she’s still herself, deep underneath these painted fangs and the artistic stilling of her breath.

One year ago, she had been like any other woman walking through their city; she’d been ordinary.

And what is she now?

The answer is blocked by the deep bow of one of the Tributes as he’s presented.

His long hair has been tamed and tied at the base of his neck, only a few strands slipping free; his strong jaw clenches as he acknowledges her; and his eyes - god those eyes - don’t look away, even as he bows. Her eyes are draw to his neck, inescapably, framed as it is by the crisp white of his shirt collar.

She can hear his heart beating. Steady. Calm.

He’s not afraid of her. Not like the others.

“It’s an honour to be here,” Simon promises, still deep within his bow. On instinct, she reaches out to offer him her hand - and, in the background, she can hear Verso’s petty snort of amusement in response. It doesn’t matter. She can be impulsive for once when it results in the softest grasp of Simon’s hand around her palm, and the gentle kiss he leaves on the back of her hand. His lips linger.

His eyes don’t leave hers. Not once. It’s only then that she becomes aware of it - her own eyes blown-black with hunger, her own lack of self-restraint painted in a dark abyss.

Still, Simon doesn’t flinch.

“It’s an honour to have you,” she responds.

She means every word.

She hates it.

Their hands don’t part, and Simon doesn’t rise from his bow, but she feels it. Resonance. Their chroma interlinks, overlaps; her paint and his thrum at exactly the right frequency.

They fit.

Her mouth waters at the thought. Her fangs, sharp in her mouth, only hunger for the proof of it.

When her father interrupts, a firm clearing of his throat, they spring apart, but it’s already too late - even as she breaks the link of their gaze, she feels it. She feels Simon flowing through her veins as surely as her own dead blood.

And, once she tastes him, she’s not sure how she’ll ever be able to stop.

[hiddency]

They put The Captain Fromsoft in Clair Obscur