[6:34 PM]—nishimura Riki

[6:34 PM]—nishimura riki

includes: painter! ni-ki, photographer! reader, gn! reader

wc: 853

riki loves painting.

anything that meant putting paint on a canvas. he loved painting the sky whatever color he wanted, he loved making the grass blue, he loved painting the world how he wanted it to look. he was always told he had a wild imagination, and he poured his imagination into forms of art. he loved dancing as well but dancing is exhilarating in ways paint isn’t and paint is calming in ways dance isn’t. he didn’t feel like dancing today, his bones not roaring with the songs but rather his fingers were itching for a paintbrush.

if he loves to paint anything, he especially loves to paint scenery. he loves painting nature as it goes on around him. he loves the feeling being outside gives him, surrounded by his favorite mediums and colors. but he can’t go alone.

enter in you, who’s running up to him with your camera hanging from your neck and waving at him when you see him in view. he waved back, less enthusiastic but he is happy to see you just the same. you share the same sentiment with your love for nature, but you capture it through a lens rather than on a canvas. you always told him that you two fit well, how you both want to show everyone what the world looked like through your eyes. he could listen to you gush on and on about how you think it’s fascinating how the subtle changes in light and editing can depict a story with just one simple picture, and you can listen to him ramble about different brushstrokes and color combinations can give a painting a whole new meaning.

you sat behind him as he started painting the field before him, humming a softest tune, the sound he recognizes as the song you’ve been listening to on repeat for the past couple days, and hums along. you braid his hair, careful fingers braiding together strands to make two braids that you tie together to make a little ponytail. you always said how much you liked his hair when it’s long, and he liked you combing through it when he’s tired and laying in your lap. you quietly took flowers from around you, pretty white daisies, and picked off the stems to place them in between the interlacing of the braids, and he can hear how your hum subtly shifts when you smile because of your work. you back away and moments later he hears the shutter of your camera, clicking and going off in succession.

you always said you loved taking pictures of him the most.

“is it so wrong to take pictures of who I think is the prettiest person in the world?” you had said with a playful grin, after riki had asked why do you take so many pictures of him.

to you, there could not be any scenery prettier than riki, and riki had the same sentiment when it came to you.

he knows you know of them, but he will never outright admit to you how many sketchbook pages you take up, or how many canvases he has stowed away that are nothing but your face. he’s too shy, a little too boyish to be truthful when it comes to how much he loves you. but you know, have seen the pages that litter his studio floor, the paintings he leaves uncovered on easels, and he knows you know how much he adores you and that's enough for the both of you.

“yn, can i paint you?” he asks softly when he hears a pause in your clicking. you hum and skip over to his side.

“sure, but you don’t want to keep painting the field?”

riki shakes his head. why paint the field when he can paint you, someone more beautiful than any sky at any time of day? his favorite subject to paint, his one and only muse.

“i think i’d rather paint you than some grass.” he laughs and you laugh as well, walking in front of the easel he had set up and sitting down on the grass, unsure of what to do. he notices, of course, notices the way your fingers curl around the grass out of uncertainty. “just do whatever you want.” he assures you and you look up and immediately smile before looking at the viewfinder of your camera, pressing on the buttons on the side to scroll through the pictures.

you have the prettiest smile on your face as you do, one someone only brings out when they’re oh so deeply fond of something. riki gets curious.

“what are you looking at?”

you look up and your eyes melt as you giggle, like riki has asked a ridiculous question. to you, at least, it was ridiculous.

“what else? my muse of course.” you say easily and riki can’t help but blush and smile. he hides his face behind his canvas, pretending to go back and paint. he’s grateful that the gentle breeze cools his warm cheeks, because what he says next is a embarrassing, but he means every word.

“funny you say that, because i’m also looking at mine.”

a/n: based off the charybdis concept photos BECAUSE DID YOU SEE HIM AND HIS LITTLE PAINTER CONCEPT PLS i just love the painter photographer concept and being each other’s muses<33 a little longer than my other time stamps because im a little soft for riki(i just think he’s a funky lad)