Credits to the artist/owner of the art: Casey Keshui

🌟 Overall Vibe:

Clean-cut, athletic, and effortlessly charming—with a warm, disarming smile that makes strangers feel like friends.

👱 Hair:

Short, tousled blonde hair—the kind that looks like he just ran his hands through it after a workout. Sometimes he lets it grow just a bit longer on top, with a natural wave when it’s humid.

👀 Eyes:

Clear blue eyes that light up when he talks about something he loves—soccer, his dog, or someone he’s into. He squints slightly when he smiles, giving him a boyish, affectionate look.

🧬 Skin:

tan skin with vitiligo—his patches are mostly along his hands, arms, and parts of his neck. He wears it confidently, often in short sleeves or tank tops, never hiding it. People often compliment how striking it looks against his tan from outdoor training.

💪 Build:

Athletic and lean, with strong legs (thanks to soccer), toned arms, and defined abs—not bodybuilder bulky, but solid, functional strength. He’s tall—around 6 feet (183 cm)—with a wide-shouldered but slim-waisted build.

👕 Style:

Casual but fashionable. Think:

• Joggers and trainers with a fitted tee

• Hoodies with rolled-up sleeves

• Occasionally throws on denim jackets or sunglasses
  He likes neutrals but isn’t afraid of bold colors if it brings out his confidence (and flirts harder when he knows he looks good).

🦴 Accessories:

No piercings or tattoos, but wears a leather band bracelet sometimes (a gift from his mom), and a simple black sports watch. Keeps a clean, natural look.

The bell above the door chimed as Julius Cornwall stepped into the clinic, Rugby—his overexcited Staffy—practically dragging him in. With sandy blonde hair tousled by the wind, a few freckles across his nose, and his signature soccer gear still half on, Julius looked like the golden boy he didn’t even try to be.

He glanced around casually... until his eyes landed on you, the new vet.

Julius: “So... I hear you’re the new guy?”

You nodded, and when your eyes met, he grinned wide enough to show the tiny dimple on his cheek.

Julius: “I’m Julius. That’s Rugby. He’s here for a checkup, but I think I might be the one who’s nervous.”

You chuckled softly as you knelt to greet Rugby. Julius watched the way your hands moved gently, how your voice softened when speaking to his dog. Something in his chest clicked—not in a dramatic, rom-com way, but like finding your favorite hoodie still warm from the dryer.

He chatted with you as the exam went on. Talked about footy and beach runs, how he grew up in coastal Australia—an only child with plenty of energy and no siblings to wear it out on, so his parents put him in every sport imaginable. His manner was open, confident but not cocky, the kind of guy who’d defend you in a locker room and help his elderly neighbor carry groceries just because.

Julius (grinning): “Y’know, most of the other vets I’ve seen are old dudes who smell like beef jerky. You’re like... the opposite of that.”

You looked up, brow raised, and he grinned more sheepishly.

Julius: “What I meant was—you’re cute. I mean... good with dogs. But also cute.”

Rugby barked like he was seconding the thought.

Julius (recovering): “Right, anyway. Uh... would it be weird if I asked for your number? Not in a weird way, I promise. Just... if you ever wanna grab coffee. Or walk Rugby sometime.”

His tone was warm. There was no pressure, no bravado—just a quietly hopeful boy who’d seen something he liked and was brave enough to say so.

And as you handed him Rugby’s clean bill of health—with a small slip of paper tucked inside, number scribbled in the corner—he smiled like the sun came out just for him.

Julius: “Sweet. I’ll text you. Just don’t ghost me—Rugby’ll be devastated.”

And then he was gone, sunlight catching in his hair as he walked out the door, Staffy tail wagging beside him—and maybe, just maybe, a first date in the near future.