Helloo, I just came into your account and I’m not sure if is ok, but could you do reader first time with boyfriend Jude? Like they have been dating for a while, but Jude never tried to take it any further since he knows she was virgin, but reader did wanted to do it, but didn’t know how to tell him, and someday he hears her talking with her friends about it
Thaaaanks
hi darling! your ask has been answered here! i hope you'll like it!
•° ✶ . SYNOPSIS 𝁘 in which . . . jude does not think you're ready to take your relationship to the next level when that is so not the case.
•° ✶ . GENRE 𝁘 established relationship. fluff. minor angst. smut.
•° ✶ . CONTENT WARNING(S) 𝁘 plus sized!reader. insecurities about body image. reader refers to themselves as fat*. p in v intercourse. nothing too crazy considering it's their first time. (and my first time writing smut and it definitely shows.)
•° ✶ . NOTES 𝁘 hi! this is a combination of two asks i got, which i thought would work well together! hope you'll enjoy it. writing this was so nice because I've been labeled fat my whole life and is still in the process of learning to love my body (because it is very much a healthy body). and to pour some of those feelings into a work was really healing.
*which isn't a bad thing and i believe that the stigma around that word needs to stop. fat and obese are not interchangeable or synonymous at all. alas, i know that some people don't like that word, so i've put it in the triggers.
an afternoon spent baking sweet focaccia and brewing freshly ground coffee with your closest friends yielded few results— a few pieces of salvaged nutella stuffed bread lest jude complained, burnt coffee permeating the interior of your apartment, orange sunlight peering through the windowpanes to bathe everything in fire and gold.
and an unwarranted interrogation by said friends you had no means to escape.
you sat tucked into the corner of the plush fabric sofa, knees drawn to your chest and chin resting atop them. you were a pair of faded grey sweatpants, yes they were jude's, and an oversized knit sweater that spilled off one shoulder, flesh adorned with stretch marks. in the golden hour light, your frame looked plush and curved—a soft silhouette that had taken you years of silent, internal wrestling to finally accept. even now, with someone like jude in your life, those old insecurities ometimes whispered at the edges of your mind.
your friends were scattered about— kika on the opposite end, sanvi curled on the loveseat and alex sprawled on the floor, playing with tiramisu. kika cradled a coffee mug in her hands, steam curling over it. her eyes were fixed on you with a mixture of affection and mild exasperation.
“so,” she began, regrading you with a smile that felt more menacing than comforting. “have you two done it yet?”
you had just taken a sip of your own coffee, and promptly choked. “what the fuck?” you hissed, wiping the stray coffee on your chin with the back of your hand. “you can't just ask me that!”
“no, no,” alex spoke up, scratching under your norwegian forest cat's chin. “that's a valid question.” you scowled at them, looking away with a huff. your silence seemed enough of an answer for them, if their frustrated groans were anything to go by.
"for the hundredth time, you are completely out of your mind," sanvi said, gently shaking her head. "that man looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars yourself, babe. like seriously, have you seen him when you walk into a room? nothing exists to him but you."
you let out a soft, breathy sigh, tracing the seam of your sweatpants with your thumb. "of course i know he really likes me, sanvi.” you ignored alex's muttered ‘like, my ass. that man is in love.’ and continued on. “i don't doubt that. he makes sure i know how much he cares about me every single day. this is just... different."
"different how?" kika asked softly, setting her mug down on the glass coffee table with enough noise that drew another glare out of you. “sorry.” she whispered before gesturing you to continue.
"you guys already know we’ve been dating for a few months," you murmured, your cheeks warming instantly at the simple admission. "and we… you know… do stuff. we make out, cuddle. and he sleeps over all the time. but it doesn't go any further than that. it's like he always stops right at the edge. he just… change the subject, even though i can literally feel his boner in my ass.”
"because he knows you're a virgin, right?" sanvi offered gently. "yes alex we know it's a social construct,” you added before alex could give you all another lecture on how it was just ‘cis, heteronomative bullshit’. “but still… it's just… daunting when it's your first time.” alex hummed, placated before inquiring— “i thought you said he was really sweet about it when you first mentioned it?"
"he was! he was amazing about it," you admitted, feeling a rush of fondness in your heart just thinking about the way he’d held your hands that night, telling you there was zero rush. "he said he wanted me to feel completely safe with him. and i do feel safe and i've been ready for weeks. i want him so much.”
you paused, chewing on your lower lip as a wave of hesitation washed over you.
"so why haven't you just told him?" kika asked softly.
"because I don't know how!" you burst out quietly, burying your face in your hands for a second before looking back up. "what if i try to initiate something and i look ridiculous? what if i fuck up and make it awkward? i’ve never done this before and jude is... well, he’s jude. he’s confident, athletic, built like a fucking greek god and he’s probably had plenty of experience. not probably. definitely,
and look at me. i’m fat. literally nothing like any of his exes. sometimes we'll be relaxing in bed and i can see how my thighs are thicker than his. or i'll… i bought this lingerie a while back, and i can see my rolls when i look at myself in the mirror wearing it. it makes me wonder if… what if he’s holding back not just because of the virgin thing, but because he’s afraid of hurting my feelings or... or… i don't know, he's realized that he isn't actually attracted to me like that—"
beyond the heavy wooden front door of your apartment stoof jude bellingham, holding a paper bag from your favorite bakery in one hand and his set of keys in the other. he had just finished an grueling afternoon training session and had driven straight over, eager to surprise you with fresh pastries and spend a quiet evening together.
he quietly inserted the key you had given him a while back into the lock, turning it with practiced silence so as not to startle you. he had intended to slip in, drop the bag on the kitchen counter, and wrap his arms around your waist from behind while you were busy reading in your bedroom.
instead, as the heavy door cracked open a fraction of an inch, the sound of your voice drifted through the hallway, clear and heavy with raw vulnerability.
“…how my thighs are thicker than his. or i'll… i bought this lingerie a while back, and i can see my rolls when i look at myself in the mirror wearing it. it makes me wonder if… what if he’s holding back not just because of the virgin thing, but because he’s afraid of hurting my feelings or... or… i don't know, he's realized that he isn't actually attracted to me like that—”
jude froze instantly, his broad shoulders tensing beneath his jacket. his hand remained motionless on the metal door handle.
he hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but every word still hit him like a physical force. hearing the insecurity lacing your tone made something twist painfully in his chest. ‘what is she talking about?’ he couldn't help but wonder.
to jude, every curve of your body was pure perfection—a soft, warm sanctuary he looked forward to coming home to every single day. he loved the weight of your thighs over his when you laid together, loved the softness of your waist under his hands. he adored how plush your ass was, the lush warmth of your skin against his.
jude had spent the last few months consciously holding himself back, reining in every burning impulse to pull you beneath him, purely because he was terrified of making you feel pressured or rushing a milestone you could never get back.
to hear that you were sitting there, doubting your beauty, doubting his attraction to you, worrying that you weren't thin enough or beautiful enough… it made him feel as though he had failed as a partner. what had he done to make you see yourself in such a way? what—
jude carefully pulled his key back out of the keyhole before he could spiral, letting the mechanism click shut. he stood in the dimly lit hallway for a long moment, closing his eyes, allowing his heart to rate settle from the sudden surge of adrenaline.
hhen, making a deliberate effort to sound loud and unhurried, he jiggled his keys, knocked twice on the heavy wood, and called out, "babe? It's me!"
inside, you and your friends jumped slightly at the unexpected voice. you quickly wiped at the corner of your eye, clearing your throat as alex gave your knee an encouraging squeeze.
"hey!" you called out, trying to sound completely casual as jude unlocked the door and came into your vision field, setting the bakery bag on the small table by the mirror.
"hey, sweetheart," jude said smoothly, slipping off his jacket and hanging it over a chair. he glanced up, his deep brown eyes meeting yours across the room. there was an extra layer of warmth in his gaze, a quiet intensity that made your pulse flutter, though he kept his smile entirely easy and relaxed. "and hello, ladies. hope I’m not interrupting."
"not at all, mate," alex said, standing up and gathering her jacket. she shot you a glance before turning to hude. "we were just about to head out anyway. good session today?"
"yeah, long one. ready for a quiet night," jude replied smoothly, stepping into the living room and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. kika snorted at how frozen you were, a wince immediately following as sanvi jabbed her with her elbow. “in that case, have fun.” she said, shoving kika and alex to the hallway.
once the door clicked shut behind them, silence settled over the apartment once more—but the energy in the room had subtly shifted.
jude didn't immediately walk over to the kitchen to grab himself a cold drink or ask about your day. instead, he stood near the edge of the rug, his large frame casting a long shadow in the warm light. he was dressed simply in a dark t-shirt and green sweatpants, his short dark hair slightly messy from practice. he looked effortlessly handsome; all broad, dark haired and sweaty.
"you okay?" you asked softly, sitting up a little straighter on the couch and tugging at the edge of your sweater, hiking it over your shoulder so it covered the stretch marks. "you look tired."
"'m not tired," jude murmured softly. he walked back over to the couch with the paper bag in hand, but instead of sitting next to you, he dropped down onto his knees on the rug directly in front of you, bringing himself eye-level with where you sat.
the sheer intimacy of the gesture made your mouth go dry. jude set the pastries next to you and lowered his broad hands onto your thighs, warm, heavy palms resting over the fabric of your sweatpants. his thumb began to trace slow, soothing circles into the soft flesh above your knees.
"jude?" you whispered, your heart beginning to hammer against your ribs like a trapped bird. "what's wrong?"
jude looked up at you, his gaze burning into yours with an intensity that felt weightless and heavy all at once. "nothing is wrong, darling. but i need to tell you something, and i need you to promise you won't be embarrassed."
a sudden wave of heat rushed up your neck. "what... what do you mean?"
jude let out a soft, low sigh, his fingers squeezing your thighs gently, anchoring you to him. "when i came up to the door earlier... i sort of heard the last part of what you were saying to the girls. i didn't mean to listen, i swear. i just opened the door a bit and… yeah…"
your heart stopped. blood roared in your ears, a sudden, searing blush spreading clear across your cheeks, down your neck, and into your chest. you instinctively tried to pull your legs back, eyes glancing everywhere but at him, mortified beyond words. "oh god. jude, i'm so sorry, i didn't—"
"hey, no. baby, look at me," jude commanded, words soft but with a firmness that left no room for argument. he shifted up onto one knee, reaching up with one big, warm hand to cup the side of your face, his fingers gently resting against your jaw, guiding your chin back until your eyes met his.
his thumb gently wiped across your cheekbone. his eyes were entirely soft, filled with an overwhelming warmth that immediately melted the panic in your chest.
"don't ever apologize for how you feel," jude whispered, his voice low and raspy. "and don't you dare ever feel embarrassed with me. do you hear me?"
you swallowed hard, nodding faintly. "i just...Ii felt so stupid..."
"you are not stupid," jude cut in gently, his forehead coming forward to rest against yours, allowing you to share the same breath. "well, okay. you kind of are. i mean… you said you were worried i didn't find you attractive. you said you were worried about your body, and about not knowing what to do."
he took a deep breath, his thumb tracing your cheek. "sweetheart, i look at you every single day andIi wonder how the hell i got so lucky. i love your body. i love every single inch of you—every soft curve, every part of you that you try to hide under these big sweaters.” he tugged at your sleeves so that it slipped down once more, exposing the stretch marks you had tried so hard to hide.
“but to me angel, you are the most beautiful, desirable woman in the world. i haven't touched you like that yet because i wanted to go at your pace. i wanted to give you time so that you'll feel more comfortable. i knew it was your first time, and i was terrified of pushing you before you were completely ready."
he paused, his eyes searching yours in the dim light. "but if you're ready... lord, love, I've been waiting for you since that day you spilled your coffee on me."
the air between you turned thick, heavy with anticipation. the silence of the apartment seemed to expand around the two of you, leaving only the sound of your shared breathing and the gentle patter of rain against the glass outside.
"i am ready, jude," you whispered, the words finally tumbling out, free of fear, free of hesitation. "i’ve been ready. i just... i want it to be you."
a low, deep exhale left jude's chest, his eyes darkening with an intense devotion that burned through him. but be didn't rush. he stood up slowly instead, taking your hands in his and pulling you up off the couch with all the gentleness in the world. he led you down the hallway and into the quiet warmth of your bedroom without a word.
the room was bathed in the dim, amber glow of the bedside lamp. jude guided you to the edge of the bed, turning you around so your back was to the mattress. he stood in front of you, his large frame towering over yours, every movement he made was brimming with an almost reverent tenderness.
he reached down, taking the hem of your oversized sweater in his hands. he paused, looking into your eyes— a silent request for permission. you nodded softly, raising your arms.
jude lifted the sweater over your head in one swooping movd and set it aside. you stood before him in just a soft lace bralette and your sweatpants. your shoulders folded inward on instinct, that old self-consciousness rearing its ugly head.
jude caught your chin instantly, raising your head. "don't hide from me," he whispered gently. "look at me, love."
he stepped closer, his large, warm hands settling onto the sides of your waist. his fingers sank into the soft fullness of your skin, pressing firmly, lovingly, holding you right where you were. he slid his hands down your hips, tracing the natural, lush curves of your body with devastating adoration.
"you're perfect," jude murmured, leaning down to press a soft, slow kiss to the crook of your neck, right where your collarbone met your shoulder. you gasped softly at the heat of his lips on your skin, hands automatically reaching out to grasp the firm muscle of his shoulders.
he kissed his way up your neck, lingering beneath your ear, leaving a trail of fire at his wake. "every soft part of you... i want all of it."
he reached down, his fingers catching the elastic waistband of your sweatpants. slowly— so, so slowly— he pushed them down over your hips, letting them fall to the floor along with your underwear, leaving you bare before him. you shivered; not from cold, but from the raw vulnerability of the moment.
jude didn't look away. his eyes traveled over your body with a fierce, quiet appreciation that made your heart hammer faster against your ribs. he reached out, his open palm resting against the middle of your stomach, feeling the softness of your abdomen, his thumb stroking back and forth over your skin in slow, reassuring rhythms.
"so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
he leaned down, pressing his lips directly to your stomach, right where his hand had been resting. his hot breath against your bare skin sent a shiver straight down your spine, your fingers burying themselves into his short hair as you held him close.
jude drew back up after a short moment, pulling you in for a kiss. it wasn't frantic, but something slow, heavy and thoroughly intoxicating that made you melt into his hold. his tongue slipped past your lips, tasting you, claiming you, drawing a soft moan from the back of your throat.
he reached behind you, unhooking your bra with practiced ease and letting it drop away before he crawled on top of you. the mattress dipped under his weight as jude shifted over you, supporting his upper body on his forearms so he wouldn't crush you. the sheer size of him—strong, muscular, and solid— was such a contrast to the soft, yielding curves of your body beneath him.
but before you could spiral again, he kicked off his own clothes, stripping down until there was nothing left between you but warm, bare skin. you did not dare to glance down at him, because it would make everything more real. but the feeling of his warm chest pressed against yours, skin to skin, made your breath hitch in our throat just as much a glance at his dick would have.
"you okay, sweetheart?" jude asked softly, resting his weight on one elbow while his other hand brushed a stray lock of hair away from your forehead. his brown eyes were entirely focused on you, searching your face for any sign of discomfort.
"i'm okay," you breathed, reaching up to cup his cheek. he had forgot to shave that morning and you could feel the rough stubble against your palm. "just... nervous. i want this to be good for you."
jude let out a soft, husky laugh, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. "good for me? love, looking at you right now, touching you... this is already the best thing in the world. you don't have to 'perform' or worry about a single thing. just let me take care of you."
he slid his hand down your chest, tracing the curve of your breast before slipping further down, past your stomach, until his fingers reached the warm, sensitive skin of your inner thigh. you let out a quiet gasp, your legs parting at his touch.
jude moved with painstaking patience. he stroked your inner thighs, encouraging you to open up for him, his touch feather-light and teasing until you were writhing softly beneath him, seeking more of his warmth. when his fingers finally found your pussy, he let out a low, satisfied hum at how hot and wet you already were for him.
"see?" Jude whispered into your ear, his thumb gently circling over your clit, making your hips lift off the bed in a sudden, sharp pleasure. "your body knows exactly what it wants, love. you're doing amazing."
he took his time, bringing you up to the edge of a sweet, agonizing ache, kissing your mouth, your jaw, and your collarbone every time a small whimpering breath escaped your lips. jude payed attention to every tiny gasp, every involuntary twitch of your thighs, adjusting his pace until you were clinging to his shoulders, completely lost in the sensation.
when he finally felt you shaking against his palm, so wet and completely ready, jude drew back slightly. he laughed at your displeased whine, pressing a soft kiss to your brow as he reached for his discarded sweats. he fumbled through it before pulling out a condom with a cheeky wink that made your laugh, settling himself back between your thighs.
he rested his hand over yours, intertwining your fingers tightly and pressing your hands into the mattress beside your head.
"look at me, love," jude instructed softly, his voice dropping an octave, deep and rich.
you opened your eyes,heavy-lidded and teary with pleasure, fixing your gaze on his.
"i'm going to go slow," he promised, his eyes locking onto yours with absolute sincerity. "and if it hurts, if it's too much, you tell me immediately and i'll stop. okay?"
"okay," you whispered.
jude nudged his length gently against your entrance, guiding himself in with slow, agonizingly careful movements. you bit your lip as a sudden, sharp tightness bloomed in your core, your hands tightening instinctively around his fingers.
jude's body came to an instantaneous halt. he didn't move an inch deeper, remaining perfectly still. he lowered his head, kissing your temple, your cheek, and then your lips, murmuring sweet, nonsensical praise against your skin.
"shh, i’ve got you. take a breath for me, love. just breathe."
you took a deep, shaky breath as told, letting the air out slowly as you focused on the steady weight of his body over yours, the warmth of his chest, and the fierce devotion in his eyes. slowly, the initial tightness began to give way to a deep, blooming warmth.
"better?" he asked softly, searching your face.
"better," you admitted, shifting your hips slightly up toward him. "more, jude. please."
a dark, beautiful smile touched the corners of jude's lips. "whatever you want, sweetheart."
he slid the rest of the way in. a low, guttural groan escaped his throat as your tight warmth completely enveloped him. he held still for another long second, letting you adjust to the full sensation of having him inside you, before he began to move.
his movements were slow at first—long, shallow thrusts that drew out the sweetest, most excruciating pleasure you had ever known. every time he pushed inside, his hips pressed firmly against yours, the weight of his body completely covering you, anchoring you to the bed.
that slight ache completely dissolved into a rising wave of pleasure, your hands slipping from his grip to wrap around his broad back, your fingers digging into the firm muscles of his shoulders.
"jude... oh," you gasped out, your head thrown back against the pillow as a sudden surge of heat rippled through your lower stomach.
"i know, babe. i know," jude rasped out, his breathing growing heavier, his rhythm picking up pace slightly, shifting from slow and cautious to deep, powerful strokes. "you feel so good. lord, you are so wet for me, love. so fucking warm."
he leaned down, catching your lips in a deep, desperate kiss, swallowing your gasps as his hips moved faster against yours. the friction, the weight, the sheer intimacy of his eyes locked onto yours— it made every lingering self-doubt, every insecurity about your body or your lack of experience burned away completely in the heat of his skin against yours.
there was no awkwardness, no hesitation. just jude bellingham—his hands gripping your hips, pulling your plush body securely against his. his voice whispering endless praise against your lips.
"look at you... taking all of me," jude groaned out, his head resting against your neck as his pace became urgent; deep and relentless. "so fucking soft... so perfect..."
all those sensations crested rapidly, a sudden, overwhelming wave of ecstasy crashing over you. you cried out his name, your body tightening intensely around him as your climax took hold, ripples of intense pleasure washing through every nerve in your body.
hearing your cry and feeling your core contract around him shattered the last of jude's restraint. with a harsh, ragged breath, he drove into you one last, deep time, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his own release tore through him, his body shuddering powerfully over yours.
jude carefully shifted his weight off you, withdrawing gently before disposing of the condom and returning to the bed within seconds. he didn't pull away or retreat to his side of the mattress. instead, he reached out and wrapped his long arms securely around your waist, pulling your back firmly against his chest and tucking you into his warmth.
he tugged the heavy duvet over both of you, burying his face into the back of your neck, pressing sweet, lingering kisses into your soft skin.
"you okay?" jude asked softly, his voice delightfully raspy from exertion, his broad hand resting over your stomach, fingers casually tracing small patterns against your bare waist.
you turned your head slightly, resting your cheek against the pillow to look at him. a warm, exhausted smile spread across your face, your heart feeling completely full.
"i'm better than okay," you whispered softly. "that was... perfect, jude."
jude let out a low, contented chuckle, pressing a kiss to the curve of your shoulder. "told you. you had nothing to worry about. you're incredible."
you shifted around in his arms, turning over to face him. the duvet slipped as you moved, your bare shoulders exposed to the soft light of the room. you looked into his dark eyes swimming with affection and saw nothing but absolute devotion reflected back at you.
"thank you," you murmured softly, trailing your fingers over his cheekbone, feeling the solid structure of his face under your hand. "for being so patient with me. for letting me take my time."
"always, my love," jude said softly, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to your lips. "i'm always going to take care of you. and you don't ever have to doubt how much i want you, or how beautiful you are to me ever again. got it?"
"got it," you smiled, a soft giggle escaping your lips as he leaned down to gently bite your lower lip in playful punishment.
you tucked your head under his chin, resting your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady, comforting beat of his heart. his arm tightened around your waist, keeping you pressed firmly against him—a solid, unyielding anchor in the dark.
for the first time in a long time, those voices of insecurity were entirely silent.
you finally fell asleep, wrapped in jude's arms, warmth sinking into your bones knowing with complete certainty that you were loved and wanted by the man holding you.
forgot how fucking annoying tumblr is with their 'why would you tag x reader for fics with ocs' bullshit. yall are all new to fandom spaces and it fucking shows. you might think you're entitled to shit, but you fucking aren't. these authors write voluntarily, so you complaining about a wrong tag about something that isn't even serious is so fucking stupid. i don't see any of these people enraged when explicit content isn't tagged properly, or other mature themed aren't tagged properly. yall will excuse incest, rape, abuse and everything that isn't tagged but draw the line at an oc. so fucking pathetic. literally just scroll away instead of complaining. or use it to complain about tags that are actually crucial and needed.
•° ✶ . CONTENT WARNING(S) 𝁘 period-typical sexism. period-typical ableism (implied). profanity. alcohol (mentioned & consumed). cigarettes. (mentioned & smoked. include alternatives such as pipes and cigars). reader is the same age as riki or younger. reader is sunghoon's younger sister(unspecified whether biological or adopted.) reader is shorter than riki and riki is referenced to lift her up. hunting animals for sport. guns. accidental gun violence. reader is said to have dark hair, though texture and color is unspecified. i imagined reader as plus sized and autistic, though neither is mentioned by word. implied sunsun. smut warnings will be included in relevant chapters.
•° ✶ . NOTES 𝁘 highly inspired by colin and penelope from bridgerton, aka my favourite couple in both books and show. this just came to me on a whim so i wrote it. feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments and/or asks. have a nice read.
•° ✶ . EPISODES 𝁘 one. two. three.
the time period following that dreadful summer spent at hawthorne hall, you were fortunate enough not to encounter nishimura riki until the sun painted freckles on your cheeks again, for he was to attend eton college— er, cambridge university, now; you supposed. you were overcome with longing as you did every year, though lingering traces of grief dulled your yearning.
but the world did not pause at gilded autumns or snow-dusted winters or fragrant springs. it turned in its tilted axis and summer carried a taller sunghoon— and his companions— to hawthorne hall once more.
in hindsight, you knew that a year had passed since then, that you had buried the fragile emotions bruised from his sharp words as though a gravedigger would a casket. but you could not help the emotions crackling beneath your ribs, an odd concoction of hope and loss; clawing at your flesh and yearning to crawl out of you where they were buried inside your heart.
and they rose from the ruins of your ribs the moment you heard that familiar laugh permeating the air. you contemplated exiting the drawing room with your scrapbook in favour of the library, though she knew that it would come across rather odd to your parents. you resigned yourself to fate, retrieving a violet that had been pressed between the pages. you absentmindedly reached for the glue brush, a languid stroke over the dried petals before—
both the brush and flower slipped from your fingers at the unexpected touch. you let out a frustrated noise, shoving sunghoon's hand away from your now mussed hair in retaliation. “sunghoon!” you hissed. “look what you did! i don't even have any violets with me, and the only one i had is probably stuck to the floor now!”
“apologies,” sunghoon said, sounding the least apologetic anyone had ever managed to sound. it was truly remarkable how he managed to make his speech drier than kyungja's biscuits— a great-aunt of theirs who, if park donghwa's words were honest, had no gift for baking, though believed strongly that she did. “clearly i overestimated how much my sister would have missed her favourite brother.”
you were a polite, well-bred young lady who did not typically roll your eyes. you were taught more graceful ways to express your disdain. only, sunghoon was your brother, and thus, was entirely undeserving of grace— and entirely deserving of your eyeroll.
“of course i missed you, sunghoon. but i will also miss my violet. did i mention it was the only one i had?”
sunghoon let out laugh in response, moving away from your chair and towards their mother. you let your eyes linger on eunha and sunghoon for a moment, taking in the delighted smile adorning your mother's face before you reached down to reclaim your flower.
and another hand shot outwards in that exact moment, apricot-honey skin closing around the violet petals before yours could make contact. your fingers brushed against his for a moment that was so brief you thought you had imagined it, though the tingling sensation lingering at your fingertips indicated otherwise.
“i believe you said something about a violet?” nishimura riki mused, voice bright as he held out the delicate flower with ease. he appeared relaxed, as though he had not torn your heart to shreds a mere year ago, be it intentional or not.
you risked a glance at him and the feelings you had buried away began thrumming inside of you, erratic and unpredictable like a beehive that had lost its queen. he should not have affected you as much as it did, for he looked the same as he did last year. only more pronounced, sharper cheekbones and angular jaw and darker eyes; reminiscent of a masterpiece donning its final charms.
“thank you.” you said, your voice tinny and high-pitched in your own ears; shrill enough to make you wince. you seized the flower riki was offering you, your gloveless fingers brushing against the calloused skin of his bare palm. his skin was warm, you realized, even though he appeared to have forgone gloves the entire journey.
warm, as if someone had gathered evening sunrays and moulded it to flesh.
you pulled your hand away in a haste as though the contact burned you. it did not, but it was in your best interest not to linger too long in any situation where nishimura riki was concerned.
you glued the flower into its designated space in your scrapbook, smoothing a finger over the petals to ensure its uniformity. you were prepared to close the book and retire to your room, though riki's hand on the backbone of your book stopped you from doing so.
“viola ordata.” he echoed, holding the book in one hand and toying with the fraying folios with the other. “interesting.”
“it's the scientific name for violets.” you said, feeling a sense of defensiveness creep along your spine and bleeding into the flustered mess of your emotions. you reached out for your book, but riki simply held it higher. he flipped through the pages swiftly, likely admiring the flowers, before he returned it to you.
“i see you know a lot about flowers and their symbolism.” riki said, offering you a crooked smile that sent heat creeping unto your cheeks. “i admit, i never thought there could be a depth to them. they seem far too delicate.”
“then you are prejudiced, lord nishimura.” you said, smoothing the page once more out of habit. “you must not make judgements solely based on appearance.”
“an interesting statement, miss park.” riki settled himself on one of the parlour chairs with gilded velvet upholstery. he turned to you, elbows resting on his dark, linen trousers. his head was titled in a manner that made the sunlight streaming from the window gleam against the sharpness of his jaw; a golden halo adorning his dark curls. “interesting, but true. have you always been this philosophical?”
“i have been reading sunghoon's old texts.” you offered bashfully. “i saw something along those lines somewhere and just memorised it i suppose. i am no plato.”
“even so, you're a better student than i am. i've learned those material with tutors at my disposal and i do not recall that.” riki sprawled back on the chair with all the aplomb of a prince— or a to-be-duke in his case, you supposed. “you're quite smart.”
“thank you, lord nishimura.” you regarded him with the first sincere smile you had crafted since your conversation began. “i simply enjoy reading as means to pass time.”
“just reading?”
“well, i enjoy being in the garden. and i paint, most of the time. and i suppose i enjoy helping maude— she's the cook. i like to bake.”
“really? i hope i will get an opportunity to try something made by miss park this summer.”
“perhaps.” you said simply, pushing away the taste of apricots burning at the back of your throat. riki seemed satisfied with the answer, immediately moving onto his next question. “wonderful, though i am more interested in knowing something else.”
“what is it? paintings?”
“now that you brought them up, definitely. but this is something different. you know about a lot of flowers,” riki said, gesturing to your scrapbook. “i wanted to ask if you had a favourite.”
“of course i do. i believe everyone does.”
“well then, what is it?”
“my favourite flower? why?”
riki shrugged, loosening his collar. “just curious. i suppose it's not violets?”
“no.”
“what about daisies?”
“i really don't see why you are so interested.” “just indulge me,” riki said, smiling lazily at you. you felt an ache inside your heart, tugging at the bruised corners. “won't you, darling?”
“i—”
you could not finish your sentence, for sunghoon choose that moment to return to the drawing room. “riki? jake and jay are likely to duel it out for the best bedroom. sunoo says that this is not something you would want to miss— oh.”
he paused at the doorway, something unrecognisable flickering in his eyes. you knew that there was nothing compromising about having a conversation with riki, though sunghoon's stiffness made you wonder if there was something amiss.
“sunghoon,” you said, an embarrassing crack to the words as though you were a child again. “lord nishimura and i were just talking.”
“i can see that.” he said, eyes shifting to riki. the dark-haired boy had not made any changes to his relaxed position, a stretch of tanned skin visible at his collarbones. “seems quite comfortable.”
“it's not—”
“oh relax park.” riki said, standing up from the parlour chair he had folded himself into. “i was just asking your sister about her scrapbook. nothing to dwell in.”
“you wouldn't be opposed to coming with me then. we have matters to sort.”
riki, in spite of being at a higher rank, rolled his eyes at sunghoon. “whatever helps to retire at night park.” he said, strolling past sunghoon, though not without a casual “i'll guess your favourite flower later, miss park.” thrown your way.
sunghoon stared at you for a few moments before following after riki, leaving you to ponder what exactly had brought up such a reaction in sunghoon.
•° ✶ . CONTENT WARNING(S) 𝁘 period-typical sexism. period-typical ableism (implied). profanity. alcohol (mentioned & consumed). cigarettes. (mentioned & smoked. include alternatives such as pipes and cigars). reader is the same age as riki or younger. reader is sunghoon's younger sister(unspecified whether biological or adopted.) reader is shorter than riki and riki is referenced to lift her up. hunting animals for sport. guns. accidental gun violence. reader is said to have dark hair, though texture and color is unspecified. i imagined reader as plus sized and autistic, though neither is mentioned by word. implied sunsun. smut warnings will be included in relevant chapters.
•° ✶ . NOTES 𝁘 highly inspired by colin and penelope from bridgerton, aka my favourite couple in both books and show. this just came to me on a whim so i wrote it. feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments and/or asks. have a nice read.
•° ✶ . EPISODES 𝁘 one. two.
you were sixteen years old when nishimura riki broke your heart for the first time.
you had dressed yourself in colors of the gildburne marquisate that day— a delicate gold tea gown threaded with streaks of amber and a pinafore of the same color worn over the fabric— though you wore an forest green ribbon amidst the combed tresses curling at your ears, dark enough that one could mistake it to be yet another stray lock. in your flour-dusted hands, you held a papier-mâché tray inlaid with nacre and floral chinoiserie, though the teapot, cups and plates bearing ripe apricot and sweet honey scones you had assisted the chef in making made it so that it was not visible.
lady park eunha had initially resisted the prospect of allowing you to visit the training grounds. she worried, as any mother would, of her daughter's safety in a space where young aristocrats treaded the fine line between thrill and danger in a manner far too reminiscent of a circus aerialist flirting with death. but you had the remarkable ability to sway any adult with a gentle-enough smile, and lady eunha had always been soft when her children were concerned.
you traversed where your brother sunghoon and his friends were taking a temporary reprieve from riding, though the expansive rose bush prevented you from catching a glimpse of sunghoon. or riki. however, it did not prevent you from overhearing their conversation.
“—telling you mate, she fancies you.” came jake sim's voice— the oldest son of viscount sim— and you paused on your tracks. ‘who fancies who?’ you wondered, an odd, hollow feeling clawing at your ribs at the thought of someone else fancying riki.
“whatever do you mean?” riki's voice was low and syrupy; honey-like in its cadence. a touch of sweetness to it that tasted of apricots.
“as much as it pains me to admit,” began an accented voice you identified to be the next earl of silvervale, park jay. “sim is right for once in his dreary australian existence. young miss park is enamoured with you.”
you felt as though someone had shoved you into a raging sea, saltwater in your lungs, sinking into every crevice until it ached to breathe. your fingers flexed on the tray, bony knuckles white with the force of your grip. you craned your neck closer to the fauna, unwilling to leave any part of the conversation unheard after the fact.
“that's nonsense.” riki interjected over jake sim's indignant huff, an odd tinge to his voice as though the notion of you was the most absurd thing he had ever heard. “sunghoon's sister? that is laughable. even if she does fancy me, i cannot say i share the same sentiment. not even in your wildest dreams.”
“no offense to you, sunghoon,” riki added, almost as an afterthought. he sounded disinterested, itching to move onto the next topic of conversation as though he had not just delivered a death blow to feelings you had nursed for six years. “but your sister has always been a bit of an odd thing.”
you did not linger to hear the rest of the conversation. you handed the tray— tea cold and scones adorned with rose petals— to jane, the still-room maid with a mutter about being unable to find sunghoon, and slipped away to the library before jane could inquire about the tears staining your cheeks.
