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hiyyihrts · 2 months

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Parks, Picnics, and Pound Cake: A One-Shot Polin Fanfic

Summary:

Colin Bridgerton is gone for a month-long venture with his brother Benedict for artful inspiration outside of London. Benedict has the time of his life, happy to chat with locals and indulge in new dishes; while Colin can do nothing but write dozens of letters to his wife at home, wishing for nothing but to have her in his arms once again and to feel her warmth.

Colin is convinced she’ll drop everything upon his arrival and take him to their bedroom at once.

Penelope Bridgerton has other ideas for her husband.

AO3:

Colin Bridgerton is many, many things. He’s charismatic, charming, complimentary, practically any word you can think of that starts with a C could be used to describe him. Except for a specific word that comes to mind, but that is a bone to pick for another day. He’s always been partial to C-centric words, though, probably to do with his given name starting with the same. However, any word that could be taken as a compliment in the English alphabet is something that could most likely pertain to Colin.

The only word that no one close to him would use to attribute to his personality would be patience. Specifically, patience when it comes to traveling, and patience when it comes to anything regarding his wife, Penelope.

Since he had given up his lifestyle of traveling for months on end to be with his love, that patience had transmitted itself to something he had to apply to his relationship instead. But not in the sense that he was quick to annoyance or anger. While his wife sometimes tempted those emotions, he rarely came to direct anger anymore since being together. No, his patience stemmed into physical patience. His wife made him nothing short of a saint with the way she made him keep his hands to himself at all occasions, never allowing him to be untoward unless they were alone, in the private of their home or bedchamber of whatever residence they found themselves in.

His patience for this was hung by the skin of his teeth, day in and day out, because his wife was beautiful. She was a goddess come to life, a gorgeous woman that every man should have been desiring for years on end (this, however, was not allowed unless he himself was the one doing the desiring, because no man should dare look at her untoward until he was cold in the ground and long gone from this Earth).

Ringlets of sunset-colored hair and a button nose that he wanted to touch with his own, and deep, ocean-blue eyes he wanted to drown in endlessly, his Venus in her clam shell that would be remembered through his history and then some. The curves of her hips and the fullness of her bosom would be enough to make all of the Greek statues in existence weep with envy. He could lose himself in her beauty, and wit combined, for the rest of his days. Whether she was gazing out a parlor window, pained with the forces of laboring a child, or deep in pleasure writhing beneath him, she was beautiful- always a sight to behold.

And she was his. His love and wife and everything good in this world for him.

So when he’d been gone for a month with Benedict, he had done nothing but crave her. Every morning he awoke to lovely sunrise, with the sun shining in on him with a vibrancy different to the London skies, but it wasn’t quite as appealing to him unless she was beside him. And his brother interrupting the solitude of silence was also an annoyance he could have done without.

He wrote to her, of course, as they always did when they were away from one another for longer than necessary. Even as children they had done so, before they had ever thought of courtship or marriage or anything but being friends. Or, that’s how Colin remembers it at least. Penelope would beg to differ on the timelines and semantics, but that is a tale for another time. But nonetheless, he’d written to her, and she had not responded. He hadn’t expected her to, as the time it would take for the letters to arrive could vary greatly, and they’d been home by the time any of them had crossed into the country anyhow. Most of them were nothing but his longing for her and their child. He missed them both terribly, and he missed the intimacy he’d grown accustomed to from them both.

He’d been ecstatic to arrive back in London. It was all he could do not to jump out of the carriage once they’d neared London and run at his full speed all the way to his love. He hadn’t done that, though, obviously. He’d been patient. Like his wife would have wanted him to be. He’d waited a month to see her, after all; a few more hours wouldn’t hurt him. Although, they might make him combust from the inside with nerves, but nothing physically capable, anyhow.

The carriage ride had them stopping in front of Number Five like anticipated around mid-day. His wife was to be there with his mother, Violet, and Benedict’s wife, Sophie, upon arrival to greet them after their travels.

But once Colin stepped down from stifling heat of the carriage, his wife was no where to be seen. In fact, only his mother greeted them at the front gates, a large smile on her face. She took quick steps forward to embrace her two songs in one large embrace. They had to bend down to accompany her size, and both when released gave her a kiss on the cheek. Both men looked at her with the unasked question that hung in the air- Where were their wives?

Violet puffed out a quiet laugh, “Ah, it’s been so hot this morning that the ladies have had to keep cool inside. They said they would be on their way out in a moment, but it’s been a few bit since then.”

Colin looked up to the sky at that. The sun beat down uncharacteristically hot. Not a cloud lazed in the sky, making its beams feel all the more oppressive out in the open, unwelcome unless obscured by shade. He was starting to feel a prickle of sweat along his back standing outside, with hardly a breeze to cool him off. After a moment he heard the click of a door opening, and he stared past his mother to the front door. It took him a moment to adjust to not looking directly at the sun (stupid of him, he knows) but when he did he saw his wife and Sophie stepping down the walkway towards them.

Ah, how he missed his Pen.

He felt his breath leave his lungs in a rush and his heart swell in his chest, tight and aching for her. She wore a stunningly blue piece, light in color with white trim, and her hair laid coiled in an updo as it usually did most days. The color shown fiery in the sunlight while her dress shown pale, as if it were translucent in color and not a baby blue ensemble.

While Sophie ran to meet Benedict, Penelope hurriedly came to him with tears in her eyes threatening to fall and a radiant smile crossing her face. Penelope wasn’t one for theatrics or inappropriate advances, especially in public where eyes were always on one another, so she refrained from hugging him and halted with stuttering steps in front of him. She was mere centimeters away yet Colin felt as if an ocean lay between them. His fingers twitched at his sides to brush the tear that had fallen from its stubborn hold of her blue eyes, but he refrained. He was a gentlemen after all, her being his wife or no.

“Colin.” She said, smiling at him with flushed, rose colored cheeks.

”Pen.” He replied, with probably just as flushed skin as she, taking in every niche and sight of her he could.

A bead of sweat dropped from her hairline to her cheek, and ran down the line of her jaw to her, mixing with the stray tear, and landed on her chest. Colin’s eyes flitted to the droplet, now sliding down to the dip between her breasts and flowing to a place he’d dreamed about for weeks now. He licked his lips and sucked in a shaky breath. He forced his gaze to flit back up to hers, focusing on something other than the fantasies he’d had over his travels about her.

She must have been thinking the same, because her smile widened into a grin, and she had that teasing look in her eye she got when she was meant to playfully scold him. She must want to get out of the sight of his family as fast as he did.

She took a step closer and brushed her gloved fingers with his and said, “I’ve arranged for a picnic.”

———

“When you said you’d like for us to go for a picnic, I hadn’t thought you actually meant a picnic.” Colin grumbled.

He held Penelope’s arm in the crook of his elbow, trailing her along for a promenade along the river. He had to bend slightly to adjust to her height, but he made it work, even if it was slightly uncomfortable to stagger about. They nodded to other couples and families they passed by, a few mumbled names and “Mr. Bridgerton and Mrs. Bridgerton’s” following suite. He shifted the small basket his mother’s cook had arranged for them on his arm. He would never admit it out loud but it was becoming a bit tedious to carry. And by God was it hot. His hair kept sticking to his forehead and rivulets of sweat were running down his back at lightning speed. He sure Penelope wasn’t fairing much better. The fan in her hand had been working overtime to keep a modicum of her complexion less flushed, but it would be of no use. She was prone to a red tinge as it was, and the heat only accentuated the color.

“Don’t be melancholy, Colin. I thought it’d be nice for us to promenade after so long away from one another. It’s also a nice day out. We should enjoy it while it lasts.” Penelope remarked, always trying to look for the positive in any situation.

He grunted in reply, trying not to yank her arm up as he maneuvered the basket again.

”I rather thought there’d be other things on your mind after not seeing your husband for a month rather than a damned promenade.”

Penelope swatted at his arm harshly, “Colin Bridgerton, do not speak that way.” She lowered her voice to a hissed whisper, “Not while we’re in public, at the very least.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, but held his tongue. She was right, of course, but she had a way of bringing out his fallacies like no other that made him want to curse as if it were his first profession.

“Besides, what else would you have had in mind if not a nice promenade?” Her tone remained aloof as she asked the question, but her eyes moved too quickly away from his own to warrant any other response except for a cheeky remark.

He stepped slightly closer to her side, pulling her into him, slowing their walk to a crawl. He leaned down until his breath hit the shell of her ear, and said, “I’m sure we can think of a few ideas, my love.”

She did not reply, yet her chest rose and fell quickly, and her hold on his arm tightened slightly. Colin looked down to her gloved hand fisted into his coat sleeve, and he knew some chord had been struck.

Penelope cleared her throat and looked off to to the distance, focusing on some geese or tuft of grass that held no actual significance to her. It was just a way to distract herself from what her husband was implying to her out in the open. A cherry red flush creeped up her neck and Colin was quick to take notice.

He bit his lip to contain his smile, pulling her closer to his side. Or, at the very least as much as social propriety allowed between a husband and wife in public. If anything she could blame the flaming of her skin to the scorching sun overhead, and no one would be none the wiser.

But they would know, of course. And, God, he wanted this picnic to be over with now more than ever.

Colin quickened their pace along the walkway, foregoing minimal formalities if they passed by anyone walking towards them. Spotting a thicket of trees that led into a more dense forest ahead of them, he steered them off the popular path and pushed his wife towards a small dirt step way, Penelope uttering a snapped “Colin!” as he did.

As they traveled further into the forest, Colin realized that the path he’d chosen was hardly even a path at all. It was an unclear rut of rocks and packed dirt, and both him and Penelope struggled to work their way through the thicket. The only reason he’d led them this way was because he knew of a small, secluded clearing he’d discovered in his youth with his brothers. They’d hide out here to get away from their Mother during promenades, if they could help it at all.

Violet never caught on to their antics, so it’s even more likely no one else would find him and his wife here, either. And that, in the moment for Colin, was the most glorious thought he’d ever had.

Penelope stumbled a few times, her skirts catching on fallen branches and thickets. Colin was there to hold her up with an arm wrapped around her waist in support, feeling her let go of her own weight to have him hold her. He relished in it, being able to feel the curve of her stomach and grip her hip through the fabric of her gown, almost as if he could feel her skin between his finger instead.

Soon. Soon he would be able to feel her in full.

When they finally reached the end of the path, Penelope gasped, surprised to see a clearing of grass dotted with blooms of flowers all around. A tree bore overhead a portion of the clearing, providing some shade from the sweltering sun even further above.

“Oh Colin, it’s beautiful.” She said.

He grinned.

And led her to the patch beneath the tree, setting the basket down at his feet and opening it to see if a blanket had been provided for them to sit on. Of course, there was, as his mother’s cook and maids were always very meticulous when it came towards her children. There weren’t many items in the basket, as the blanket took up most of the room, but there were a few sandwiches and some lemon pound cake for dessert. No beverages, though. Alas, some moments couldn’t always be perfect.

Birds chirped a melody above their heads, and the taller grass swayed in the slight breeze that had steadily built as the day dragged on. Colin laid the thin blanket out as flat as he could manage, and held his wife’s hands as she sat herself down and bent her legs underneath her. She fixed her skirts to splay out in a circle around her, and it seemed to swallow her short frame whole, and her eyes buzzed with a shine of excitement and love.

Oh, how he’d missed her.

Sitting himself down beside her, he divided their portions using the utensils that had been provided, and they ate quietly. The silence of the moment and the solitude of the clearing washed over them, calm and resolute. He’d missed his wife’s body, yes, how could he never not miss the shape of her and the feel of her pressed against him? He’d have to be mad to think otherwise. But, he would never be remised to admit that he missed her company alone even more so. Her whit and humor were what brought a smile to his lips first thing in the morning. Her light laughter at something he’d said or something their child had done in learning were what made him want to walk this Earth endlessly. He’d do anything to keep his wife and child in his life for as long as he could. So, yes, he missed her body, but he missed her soul even more.

Beside him Penelope delicately took her gloves off to eat her dessert. The sandwiches hadn’t been too messy for her, so she’d kept them on, but the dessert was too hearty and coated with melting icing. She picked a slice up placed between her ring, forefinger, and thumb, gripping it with an intensity even he found admiring. He appreciated someone as involved with their food as he was.

He watched as she held the slice to her mouth and took a bite from it, chewing methodically, not taking notice to the pair of eyes trained on her movements. A dribble of icing coated the corner of her lips. The tip of Penelope’s tongue darted out to lick it away, trailing across her plump bottom lip and sweeping along the other corner. She hummed in approval as she swallowed the first bite- and Colin felt it rumble low in his groin.

She continued eating her cake, oblivious to her husband’s molten gaze holding her captive. The heat was stifling, even while in the shade, and her slice of lemon cake wasn’t immune to its forces. The icing that the cook had probably slaved over in the early hours of this days morning was undone in mere minutes outside. It trickled down slowly between Penelope’s fingers, drawing a line down her palm to the delicate bend of her wrist. And Colin’s eyes followed relentlessly. Her gloves were gone, and her arms were bare and pale and glowing with lemon-glazed goodness. She allowed the icing to drip and drop and flow down her fingers and hand while her husband’s resolve faded to dust.

His patience for her finally snapped when she opened her mouth and inched her fingertips towards her outstretched tongue. Colin grasped her forearm and hurled her forward. Penelope let out a burble of words that didn’t quite form coherently into anything and fell into her husband’s chest and into his personal space. Her left hand was held in Colin’s iron grip, and her right landed precariously on his thigh, dangerously close to his throbbing need.

Patience, patience, Colin.

Penelope’s eyes flitted back and forth from Colin’s hold on her to his own heady gaze. His eyes darkened and he leaned in to her icing-covered fingers. His wife’s breath puffed out, hot and smelling faintly of lemon, against his lips, then hitched when he darted his tongue out to lick at the pad of her fingers. Her cheeks flushed bright red. Her hand on his thigh clenched into a fist, holding tight to the thick fabric. Colin took the pad fully into his mouth, sucking lightly, bobbing his head down one knuckle, then the next, until her finger was completely between his lips and his tongue circled it clean. When he finished with the first finger, he moved to the next, then to her thumb, licking and swirling as if he were between her legs and sucking the sensitive bud hidden within her folds. Satisfied with the state of her fingers, he lapped at her palm, then dipped his head down to lick and bite at the thin skin of her wrist.

She let out a whimper from her parted lips, leaning impossibly forward until her eyes were level with his and their mouths were centimeters apart. Colin continued his kitten licks along her palm, sighing out against her skin, “You cannot know what you do to me, my dear.” Her head tilted so her lips could graze the stubble along his cheek, carving a path to the lobe of his ear, which she took between her teeth for a moment. Colin fought the urge to tip his head back and let her work her plump, radiant lips at the line of his jaw, a low groan forming in the back of his throat.

Penelope’s breath hit the shell of his ear, and it made him shiver in the heat of the summer day, “Mr. Bridgerton, you forget that I know all in this town and relationship.”

Colin’s resolve snapped along with his patience, thrown to the wind and gone for the while. He crushed her flush to him, finding her lips as quickly as he could in his haste. It was nothing but teeth and open mouths, carnal and anything short of a romantic, lingering kiss. He wanted her, and she wanted him. The romantics would have to wait for later.

She moaned into his mouth the moment his tongue touched hers, whining and full of need. Her breasts pushed against his chest in the best way, and her hand roamed in altering grips in his hair, her other moving closer and closer to his hard on for her. Sweat was already forming on their temples, running in rivulets down their cheeks and stinging their eyes when they opened to find a place the other wanted to devour. Penelope lingered on his lips at first, then she changed her mind and mouthed at the curve of his jaw and neck. Colin’s eyes darted to the deep cleavage exposed by her position against him, hunger clouding his vision. They were practically ripping the seams of her dress, begging for them to be taken into his mouth and worshipped.

His fingers moved aptly towards the few buttons that trapped her inside the suffocating gown, undoing them with a swiftness that even a seamstress would be impressed by. Before he pulled it down, he grabbed Penelope by her bottom and heaved her into his lap, making an attempt for her to straddle his waist. She obliged, doing her best to hike the fabric of her dress up and around her thighs. Though she participated in the action, her words were hesitant, not as confident as she’d been a moment ago whispering into this ear.

“Colin-“ He dragged her dress down her shoulders, helping her slide her arms out of the holes. “We’re in public!” Colin undid the bindings of her bodice, though simple in style, it was hard to maneuver through. He grunted at her as he struggled to undo the ties, his fingers fumbling and shaking with nerves.

”It does not matter.”

”But what if someone sees-“ She hissed.

”They do not matter!” Colin growled, ripping the bodice in frustration and tearing it off of Penelope in one fell swoop. The gasp that escaped her turned in to a low moan as Colin cupped at her breasts.

“Finally.” He murmured, dipping his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth, teething it to a hard bud. She arched into him, her legs tightening around his waist and cried out.

Colin released her at the sound, glancing up through his lashes at his wife, deep cherry red cheeks and parted lips kissed raw and swollen. He made sure to accentuate each breath against her goose-fleshed skin as he said “If you don’t want someone to find us, my dear, you need to be quiet.”

She whined and rocked her hips down. “Make me, please, Colin.”

Christ above, Penelope Bridgerton was going to drive him to absolute madness.

He flashed her a grin, giving her a quick kiss on her lips and cheek. “Trust me, love. I imagine what I plan will have it nigh impossible for you to keep your pleasures at bay.” Her response was to grind on his clothed length.

He strained against his breeches, aching and uncomfortable in its entrapment. He shifted to lower Penelope onto her back on the blanket so he could remove his garments. She moved to cover her top with her arms, but a sharp glare from Colin had her lowering her arms to lay on either side of her head instead. Her hair laid like an orange halo around her, blending in to the shade of red her skin was turning at being exposed. Her skirts had draped down over her legs again, covering her deliciously decadent thighs. It irked Colin, and Penelope could notice. She quirked a brow at him in question of if he was going to act on it.

Slowly, he took the hem of her skirts and lifted it back up. He made sure to graze along her legs with his fingers as he did, and also making sure his wife didn’t cross her knees together in embarrassment at her womanhood showing so openly. No undergarments were in sight, letting Colin take in all of Penelope’s beautiful intimates. He swallowed at how she dripped with need, with want, for him, no less. It was enough to make a man fall to his knees in devotion.

Colin licked his dry lips, sucking in a sharp breath of air. He caught Penelope’s gaze and held it as he went to reveal himself. His fingers fumbled in anticipation, but he eventually got his breeches down to his thighs, his member springing free finally after a month of longing to be sheathed in his wife for eternity. No matter how many times they did this he always felt the giddy anticipation of a green boy in love for the first time. It was how Penelope always made him feel, and had made him feel, for many years now.

He shuffled to hover over Penelope, settling himself between her legs, taking her dress and hiking it further over her legs. Her chest heaved up and down as his fingers brushed stray hairs from her face. He nodded at her for reassurance, and she nodded subtly back, cheeks flushing like a young maiden in love.

He first touched her with his fingers, feeling her heat and wetness along the pads, feeling her in her most vulnerable areas. He wanted to make the slide as painless as possible for her, of course. He wasn’t going to get pleasure if she wasn’t feeling it as well. When he inserted his finger down to the knuckle she sighed, closing her eyes as he crooked it inside her, in and out again. He paused after a moment to insert another, and paused every few menstruation’s to wet his length for her. Every time he pulled out she opened her eyes to make sure he was coming back, mewling at him when he inserted his fingers inside her again. She bucked her hips up when he had three in all to their knuckles, not quite reaching that bundle of nerves she needed him to, but so close all the same. Every time he neared it she bucked up into him, mouth hung open in pleasure.

Colin watched her writhe beneath him until she was close, then he stopped abruptly. She looked at him with both a mix of rage and the most adorable pout of her lips she could muster, and he couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“I think you’re ready, now.” He grinned at her, adjusting himself and lining up to her entrance.

She did nothing but huff at him, but he noticed she inched her hips closer and closer to him. As the tip of his shaft entered her, he trembled, shook with the pleasure of feeling her around him again. He’d thought about it, dreamed about it, and had even written about his want to be buried within her over his time away. He was a man in love and a man without for so long, it was bound to make him practically delirious with desire when he arrived home.

And now he was here, not dreaming, not imaging it, but here with his wife. In the park, on a picnic in a secluded area of the woods, eating lemon pound cake, and fucking his wife like they’d never get the chance to again. He tried to be gentle as he fully sheathed himself in her, grinding his hips lightly against her in an effort to be slow. Once he was in all the way, they both paused, breathing heavy, staring into the other’s deep, blue eyes.

This was love. This moment right here. It wasn’t the main one, but it was love in its purest form, in its most vulnerable and pivotal. They were both exposed in more ways than one, but they were exposed together, with one another.

Colin cupped Penelope’s cheek with his palm, brushing his thumb along her swollen lips. “Open for me, love.” And she did. Her lips parted and he slipped two of his fingers lightly inside, resting the pads of them on her tongue. Her teeth grazed his skin, not unpleasantly. “Now close.” He ordered. And she wrapped her lips around his digits, holding them there in place. His slid his hips back to slide out of her, the air hitting his heated skin and making him shiver again. He took his other hand to hold Penelope’s next to her head, clasping their fingers together and intertwining them, and he squeezed.

Penelope bobbed her head in a nod, and Colin slammed back into her with a force he’d been holding back on until now. He buried himself in and out of her relentlessly, slamming into her for any sort of relief he could find for his aching cock. Penelope bit down on his fingers as he hurried his pace, moaning with each hit inside her, squeezing Colin’s hand in a death grip that he was sure to leave bruises along the back of his hand when they were done. She tried to thrash her head to the side, but Colin’s hold on her with his fingers prevented her from doing so.

She was slick and warm for him, making his relentless pace in and out of her an easy slide. It spurred him on, knowing she was this wet for him and only him, and that she’d only be this way for him always. No one else would be privy to how she looked when she was on the flush of an orgasm, or when she was close to screaming from his pleasuring, nor would anyone ever witness how utterly wrecked he must look lusting over her, his wife, his everything to him.

Colin kept his pace, fraught at the thought of tiring himself out after waiting so long for her. He was close, embarrassingly close for such a short time, and he couldn’t hold himself back from wanting to drive into Penelope with wild abandon. He mumbles a sorry as he rips his fingers from their hold in her mouth and unclasps their hands so he can grip her hips instead. He rocks back to sit on the balls of his heels, lifting Penelope’s hips up so he can slam into her at an angle now, sheathing himself deeper and deeper into her for relief.

Now he was hitting that sweet spot of hers he loved so much, her cries inaudible as she reaches her peak. She lets out the tiniest of moans when she comes, tightening around Colin’s cock inside her. And it’s enough to send him spiraling. He spills into her soon after, her whines urging him on and keeping him ramming into her until he’s spent completely.

When he’s through, Colin collapses on top of his wife, caging her in with his frame. They both heave with exhaustion, the clearing silent but for their labored breathing. Colin goes soft inside her, but he doesn’t want to pull out. He enjoys her warmth, arousal or not, and wants to relish in this moment with her.

Colin hears a sniffle in his ear. He whips his head up to see his wife crying, arousal flushed cheeks streaked with tears.

“Pen, what is it? What’s wrong?” He inquires, worried he’d done something to hurt her in his endeavors.

Penelope wipes at her eyes, shaking her head. Colin holds himself up, ready to pull out of her, but she stops him, gripping his forearm tightly.

“No, no. Stay, please.” She says.

He stills, stiff in her hold.

”Please, Pen, tell me what did I do wrong?”

Her eyes grow watery again and her lips wiggle in a pout. She wraps her arms around Colin’s neck and yanks him down to her, maneuvering his head to rest in the crook of her neck. He feels more tears wet his cheeks as they fall between them.

“I… I just missed you so much, Colin.” Penelope confesses.

That’s when Colin realizes that he hadn’t actually done anything to hurt his wife. She just missed him. As he missed her. This was what he loved about his love, this was what love meant to him. It meant Penelope loving him for him. It meant Penelope missing him. It meant Penelope going along with his antics of fucking in a public park, amongst the eyes of God and men alike.

She was his. And he was hers. She was home.

———

“Colin, did you leave my basket at the park?”

Violet questioned her son upon his arrival to Number Five. He arrived alone. With no basket, and no wife in sight.

“No, no, mother, I have it right here.” He hastily places it on the table next to his mother where she sits in the drawing room, observing her son.

”You were gone for quite a while.” She remarks.

Colin nods, “We haven’t seen one another for quite a while.”

”Hm.” Violent hums.

”Well then, mother, I’ll be taking my leave. It was lovely to see you again.”

Her son kisses her on the cheek and then walks out of the room. If she notices the blush that crept along his neck at her questioning, she doesn’t say.

And if her cook finds a ripped bodice bundled up in the blanket within the picnic basket later on in the week, they certainly do not say so.

#this isn’t supposed to be canon it’s just smith I thought would be fun! don’t take it too seriously #bridgerton #polin #polin fic #polin fanfiction #penelope x colin #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #penelope bridgerton

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