Summary: Rui is your muse.
Genre: Fluff, Friends to lovers(?), pining, yearning af, Reader is fem but neither their nor rui’s sexuality is elaborated on, can be read as platonic or romantic, rui get naked but for art, mostly she/they pronouns for rui
A/N: IM ALIVE AGAIN‼️I’ve been incredibly busy, but here’s yall food. I hope it was worth the wait🫡
Rui always considered herself a muse.
Not because of arrogance, but—
“Hiiiiiii~”
—because of a need.
“Hello.”
A burning need to spread love and beauty around them like a bee to pollen, and if that love and beauty spread back to her, which it often did unfailingly, then who were they to stop it?
The sound of your precise brushstrokes against the blank canvas makes him pause at the door. A pout forms on her lips—you’re setting up already.
A whine escapes them as she scurries from the still-open door to you like an angry child. They can’t believe this.
“You started without me!”
Your sharp, unmoving eyes bore into the canvas as you breathe out, “Please close the door.”
She huffs, shuffling back to lock the door with ease; he quickly moves back into your personal space, their head lying on your shoulder. Her head fidgets on the bony surface, bouncing from sitting their chin calmly to swishing her hair from side to side. All the while, he continues pouting like a child who missed the first few minutes of their favorite show.
Their head turns, she’s trying to find the perfect blend of observing the canvas while keeping their feline eyes attached to you; a cursory glance reveals nothing, nothing that she can piece together anyhow. It’s undoubtedly decadent, as all your work is, but it’s a sketch, so it looks sketchy. Smooth lines in the shape of lilies and narcissuses paint the image of a still pond as little faint lines of grass tufts poke out from the drawn edge of the paper water; on the edge of the page, there seems to be a lyre, but he’s not so sure.
“You were late.” How heartbreakingly plain.
Her arms tighten around your waist, fussing an, “I know~” through their pouty lips. The bag creaks and sways through her long fingers as they look for your reaction–None as usual. You’ve always been an immovable force, stoic and plain almost to a fault, while Rui was an unstoppable object bent on making you bend if only for a moment. His pink lips jut out further as she continues, “I got us dinner.”
You respond with soft strokes to their arm, molding and bending the fabric like a clay sculpture. Every move you made seemed like art to her. You’re only trying to calm them down; he knows that. However, her greed doesn’t let them stop pushing. To be further molded and shaped by your skilled hands, to make her the most perfect, dazzling work of art that could rival all those that came before and amaze all that came forward. Their face nudged yours slightly, a subtle sign. Give me more attention.
Your lips pass a low sigh as his fussing continues; You know what they want. Soon enough, Rui feels a faintly muffled “Thank you” ring against her lips as you place a light kiss onto them. There it is.
A mischievous smile wraps around her lips; They got exactly what he wanted.
“You’re welcome~” leaves her lips cheerfully as their arms unfurl around you; she’s clearly in a better mood now. Their heels mute against the floor as he buzzes out a high-pitched tune.
She’s never been hard to please. A few kisses, a solid hug, a long night spent intertwining yourselves together, or a simple “I love you” said after a long, unhappy moment, and they're putty in your hands.
Rui is your muse.
The food is dropped sloppily onto the counter as she wastes no time getting undressed; the familiar sound of rustling clothes and hums mingle as they strip, his shoes left in the corner, perched against blank canvases and old paintbrushes, as a thought pops into their head.
What pose should I do?
What would make me the most exciting to you?
That doesn’t mean that you’re together.
“Do a sitting pose. It’s a comfortable piece.” You state, leaving her thoughts to the wayside.
–But that doesn’t mean they don’t want to be.
Her long, elegant legs cloak his face in shadow as they move into position; she takes a deep breath. Your house smells of fresh coffee and crayons–actually, of encaustic wax. That’s right, it’s encaustic wax and painter’s oil, as you always remind them. She still doesn’t fully understand the difference between them. Oh well, he shrugs, nuzzling their face into the crook of her arm. Home smells like home, no matter what it’s actually called.
Musing isn’t hard.
Posing naked and looking pretty for hours isn’t hard. Rui could do that in their sleep.
Love is a different matter.
“You’re really pretty.”
Rui feels herself unfurl like a summer rose; he hadn’t yet realized it, but a deep seed of love planted itself within their small body. Those words, as large as a cypress, spoken to her by you, a messy-haired kid only about as high as a yardstick, stemmed a deep, unmoving feeling within them.
“I wanna draw you.”
Rui always loved attention; at all moments, she wanted to feel everyone’s eyes on him–to see them. She wanted to control their thoughts, their feelings, their adoration–to know in that moment that all the love, the love that they felt on the verge of bursting out of her skin like a crown, was focused on him. That, and that alone, is what fueled her, but this was different. Attention was nice, but fleeting. A quick shine from the burning sun, when the clouds decided to part from its gaze. This, however, was hot.
As if they had stood outside for too long and quickly rushed inside when the steady warmth threatened to turn into a bruising burn; as if she was thrust into a large, unflinching stage light that no amount of playful shyness and breathy murmurs of embarrassment could cause its gaze to leave; and they loved it.
“Ok!” he giggled, cupping your smaller hand into theirs.
“Are you comfortable?” That simple phrase breaks her train of thought.
They grin, teasing a light, “I’m comfortable~.”
You’re incredibly careful, especially with Rui.
You give a brief hum to his response.
“Let me know when you need a break.” You add, taking an extra step to confirm her comfort.
“Ok~” They casually respond.
That small exchange soon grew into shared classes, filled sketchbooks, and late evenings being dragged to Rui’s childhood home under the pretense of seeing more of your art.
Eventually, her eyes creep open, looking for stimulation; they’re bored–but not in a bad way. Bored in the way that breathing, walking, or sitting at home after a long day is boring, unexciting, but necessary.
Crumpled, sometimes torn papers filled with colorful, haphazard scribbles from your students plaster your wall while mild jazz plays. He lets it wash over them as goosebumps form. She doesn’t know the name of the song; they never bother to memorize these songs purposefully, but they always remind her of you. Jasmine candles mixed with undertones of eucalyptus, or some other plain smell, attempt to drown out the slippery smell of the oil paint you’re so fond of. The smell used to crinkle his nose, but now it barely registers. Nothing’s changed, including you–but she doesn’t mind.
“Nude paintings?”
The phrase feels foreign on their tongue, but also exciting, like you told her a particularly juicy secret about your homeroom teacher or about that sneaky girl in class B.
“Yes, Nude paintings. Of nude models.” You state.
“Ah.” They rest his head underneath her hands.
Huh. Nude models. A person at their barest, lying in front of you, for your eyes to see….They don’t like that. A bitter thought enters her head. I could do that. A pout, childish but almost angry, begins to form on their lips as the scratch of your pencil lures him in deeper. I can do that. I could do that better than anyone. Why would a stranger pose for you? Why should they be your muse? Have your attention? They look at the figure in your sketchbook hazily; faceless, unremarkable in every way, but important. Important because even with its unremarkableness, it had your full attention; it has your eyes focused solely on it.
Her thoughts spiral about the potential other models—they all fall short; They can be more elegant, more graceful, more beautiful—why would your attention ever waver when she’s here? I can do that better than anyone.
A smile crawls onto his lips as they ask, “So, do you need a model?”
“Ok, ten minutes.”
She takes a quick stretch, not bothering to cover themselves; Break time. She feels around on the floor abesent-mindedly; suddenly, in his spaciness, they feel grab something. Cold droplets drip and stream through her nimble fingers, causing a timid shiver to course through their wrist until it lands behind her eyes. A cozy confusion settles for a second; then a warmth floods when he realizes. Oh. You left a water bottle–How sweet. She takes a sip, letting a gentle chill pass through her. They look around again, hunting for new stimulation, even if they know nothing has changed from the last visit.
Same floor. Same furniture. He tries looking around at the wall again. Within the steady, almost stagnant, stream of your existence, the only changes that could be communicated, like to a trained eye like Rui’s, were the drawings plastered around your walls. She squints around for a moment; searching through these drawings was the highlight for them. It was a game, but also a secret. To find the minute changes within the plain woods covered with suns made with half circles and pointed lines resembling barely drawn trees, dogs, and people–to find the little changes of you reflected in poorly done scribbles done by kids too young to understand, but too enthusiastic to stop.
She looks around, finding nothing for the moment, until–There it is! Two little stick figures–a small one with a little pink bow in her hair, and a marginally taller one with a splattered apron and blank expression, no doubt representing you–holding hands on a stark white background. A smile frames their face.
“I want to be an art teacher.”
He stops stretching for a moment, looking up at you.
“Specifically, I want to be a kids’ art teacher.”
Oh.
Her mind takes a swift pause. It’s not like it’s unheard of–actually, far from it. You were intelligent; not to say Rui was completely stupid, but they knew her strengths lay. You were the brain sculpting the world into shapes with your skilled hands, while Rui was the beauty placing them in perfect order. You were intelligent, and at that point, most of the most intelligent people they knew up until his high school life were teachers.
Still, something felt off; she crossed their legs together, staring at the wooden floor beneath both of your feet, uncharacteristically silent. Huh. It feels….boring…no, it was something else..maybe unfitting? Like wearing a shirt that fits everywhere else, but the collar is just the tiniest bit loose around the neck; she couldn’t understand it. Being a teacher was respectable, and everyone else who claimed the position felt admirable to them. However, Rui had always thought, assumed, that something grander lay ahead for you–for both of you.
In Rui’s mind, you were two north stars blindly shining within the sky’s orbit; two special untouchables within the black void who only found solace in the constant circling that kept you touching infinity. So…why?
He felt her face scrunch; their eyes began to bloom bits of red as she ruminated more and more.
A star’s purpose is to shine as brightly as possible; There is no other way for it to live. It must clutter the sky with its untouchable beauty as they flow and vanish into each other’s image. So, why? Why couldn’t, no, wouldn’t you shine along with them anymore? What could a floating ball of dirt provide you outside of the galaxy? The galaxy you both existed in?
The silence stretched on until your meek, “...It sounds odd. Doesn’t it?” pierces his ears. The sentence rings throughout the practice room walls like an annoying, deafening rattle.
She looks up for a moment as you quietly continue.
“I know I’m too…dull.”
Your brows knit to your sketching pad, boring an endless hole into the newsprint; they can see your hands faintly shake, holding your perfectly shaven graphite pencil.
“I don’t…work well with other people…much less kids…So, I don’t know how it’ll work.”
You take a faint pause, looking down at your feet. She’s always known you to keep your head high and proud, even in moments where others would break. You were a force, one that unconcernedly followed and bent everything to your will without a second thought; at least, until now. A broken mumbling of “If ever.” slips from your lips, shattering their soft heart.
The world is cruel, isn’t it? Constantly pulling and shoving you and Rui into different directions and boxes that neither of you ever decided to take place in; throwing labels like “girl”, “boy”, “cold”, “warm”, “loud”, “creepy”, without ever taking a moment to know anything other than their own judgments. He supposes she was guilty of this, too.
In a way, they presumed that she imposed their own will on you. To Rui, there was no such thing as “too big” because that’s all he ever was. It was all she had ever wanted. To them, how could anything be too big when it’s the only way she knew how to exist? It was like saying your home didn’t exist, although they realized that isn’t how you felt. The galaxy was too big for you, and it overwhelmed instead of comforting you.
He scooted slowly towards you, staying quiet; you couldn’t bear to look up at her, so they settled on looping your pinkies together. A promise since little kids.
“I think you’ll be a great teacher.” she says, nuzzling their messy bangs into your shoulder. He feels your shoulder shake slightly.
Maybe the galaxy isn’t the place that you need to be; it’s too big, overstimulating, dark with people who don’t care or understand how each ball of gas burns so brightly to catch even a sliver of their attention. Rui could survive that; they welcomed it, but would you even want to? No, you wouldn’t. They should have known you would have hated it. She hates that she didn’t realize it sooner.
His nose nudges into your neck, willing you to look at them. The back of her neck feels hot from their growing hair and pulsing shame. She should know you better than anyone, and he couldn’t notice the obvious. Your head turns slowly, eyes gleaming with the faint sorrow of unreachable dreams. Her shame beats along the back of her neck as their head leans up. They bump your foreheads together, an old signal meaning close your eyes. Calm down. Instinctively, you close your eyes as Rui looks at you for a moment. He soaks in her own selfish shame rising to the back of their ears as the croaks of the practice room floors provide a white noise. She closes their eyes, and you both take a deep breath. Everything feels a bit lighter.
The galaxy isn’t the place for you, but that’s fine. He’ll just help build a home down on earth with you.
She opens her eyes and leans in slightly. They breathe shakily, cautiously slotting their lips onto yours. You’ve kissed before; once as an accident as kids while play-fighting, and a second time while Rui tested new makeup on you in middle school. This kiss, however, felt deeper than those. It felt like everything unthought and unsaid, between you both. It felt like a new path that you two couldn’t return from, and that sat fuzzily in his stomach. After a moment, they pulled away slightly, feeling the sting of shame in her bones turn into a tepid blush. They opened her eyes, bracing, but only saw your warm smile.
“Rui.”
“Yesss?”
“Time’s up.”
“Ok!” He chirps, leaning into a new position.
Rui sips on their soup daintily while you rummage through your fridge.
“Did you listen to our new comeback?” she purrs as you carefully lean over their chair to lay her glass near his filled bowl, replying with a smooth, “Yes. It’s catchy.”
They lean herself back in the chair, laying a sneaky kiss on the side of your neck.
“Our album is going to be even better.” she mutters, trailing their lips higher and higher until he leaves a scorching lip mark on your cheek.
“I don’t expect anything else.” you say, leaning your head into her hungry lips.
They give a playful chuckle, onslaughting your face with gentle pecks and occasional bites.
Loving isn’t easy. It is far different from anything Rui knows; still, loving you feels so easy.
“We should celebrate after it releases.” she says, leaving a particularly obnoxiously-sounding kiss against your reddened cheek as their sharply manicured head holds your head in place. He loves you so much. As friends, lovers, or something else outside or within those, it doesn’t matter that much anymore. She loves you, and at this moment, that’s all that matters.
“Ice cream?”
They give you a lovestruck smile as she looks at you, replying, “It’s a date.”
Maybe one day, you’ll cross that bridge; however, they’re more than content to be your one and only muse.
Credit to @pixopix for dividers!
