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rafyki · 2 days

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(Lil snippet of the Goth!Nico/Surfer!Percy fic inspired by the beautiful amazing incredible art by @neo-kid-funk !! It's definitely going to be much longer, but I hope you enjoy this for now!!)

(under read more bc it's more than 1k words lol)

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“He's here again”.

Jason didn't even turn around to see what Nico was referring to with those words - at that point it was such a common occurrence that it wasn't really necessary. Still, Nico felt a little offended at his friends' dismissal.

“Jason”, he said, almost in a whine. “He's here again”.

Now finally (though with a smile and a roll of his eyes) Jason did turn around to look at the current source of all of Nico's troubles and the main character of many of his dreams.

Dark hair, tall, all tan skin and toned muscles, swim trunks hanging way too low on his hips - all in all, the most handsome man Nico had ever seen, and he couldn't keep his eyes off him.

Nico looked at him coming out of the water holding onto his surfing board as if it weighted nothing (and Nico knew that wasn't true, he had almost collapsed under the weight of one once), a hand going up to card through his wet hair plastered to his forehead. He looked so beautiful and at home in the water Nico couldn't help but feel like he was some sort of sea god.

He was too far away to see it now, but he knew that even his eyes were the color of the sea.

What is he even so hot for?

As ridiculous as it sounded, Nico could feel himself blush just looking at him. Yet there was something (everything really) about him that was so magnetic it made it impossible to tear his eyes away - really, at this point Nico spent most of his shifts at the beach kiosk looking at him; he wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse that that man came to the beach so often.

Percy.

He only knew the name because he had heard a girl calling him (was that his girlfriend? God, Nico really hoped she wasn't), and obviously not because he had had the courage of talking to him outside of the small exchanges whenever Percy came to buy something.

He kept following him with his eyes, teeth absentmindedly biting his lips, playing with the rings there.

He was so busy thinking and trying to stare without making it too obvious that he almost missed it when Jason said: “Looks like he's coming here”.

Nico jumped out of his skin. “What!? No, Jason, please please, you take his order, please”.

Another roll of his eyes and another fond smile that Nico had seen all too many times. “Nico”, Jason said. “It's your chance. Talk to him!”

Nico shook his head vehemently. He could already feel his heart starting to pound in his chest and his cheeks grow hot. “No way. He's going to smile at me! I'm a weak man Jason, don't do this to me”.

An obnoxious laugh reminded Nico that Leo was there too - he was so caught up in thinking about Percy that he had completely forgotten about him; but of course there he was, sprawled on the counter as if he belonged there (and with how much time he spent there even without working with them, it might as well have been). “Goth-boy, you're on a beach wearing a black t-shirt under the august scorching sun - you're anything but weak, man, you can do it”.

“Oh shut up Leo, we all know you're no better than me - remind me how long it took you to talk to Jason?”, Nico shot back.

He wasn't looking at his friends though, his eyes still drawn to where Percy was - and yes, Jason was right and he was definitely coming there.

Nico's heart was beating absurdly fast; it really was ridiculous how much he liked a boy he barely knew. But he did - oh god, he really did. Percy was handsome and bright and had the most beautiful smile Nico had ever seen.

And Nico was just a boy who looked very out of place on a beach.

Still playing nervously with his lip rings, he took off his hair tie and fixed his ponytail. Did his hair look good? He hoped so at least.

What did Percy think about him? Did he even have an opinion on him? Or was he just the weird kid working at the kiosk? Probably.

“Don't deflect Nico, Leo is right”, Jason said, cutting through his line of thought. “And don't worry you look good”.

“As cute and charming as always, man!”, Leo added, and maybe from someone who didn't know him it could have sounded teasing but at this point Nico knew him well enough to recognize the honesty in his smile as he did a thumbs up to show his support. “Just smile and he'll fall for you in a second”.

Nico scoffed at that, but appreciated the sentiment.

It was probably too much hoping that Percy would even look his way, let alone anything more than that.

Jason nudged his shoulder, once again taking him away from his thoughts. “Really, you're all good”, he said. “Now get ready to take his order”.

The next second, Nico found himself staring into a pair of sea-green eyes so deep and mesmerizing he was sure he was drowning in them, could almost feel the water filling up his lungs; and if that wasn't enough, a smile so bright it could rival the sun came with them, effectively cutting off the last bit of breath. Oh it was so unfair.

And he wasn't wearing a shirt - of course he wasn't, they were on a beach and he had just come out of the water five minutes ago. His tanned skin seemed to shine under the sun, water was still dripping from his hair and Nico had to use all of his willpower to not follow with his eyes the little droplets' way down his neck and collarbone.

It was more than unfair, and it was definitely a curse.

“Hi, can I get you anything?”

Thank god he was so used to his job that he could sound natural enough saying that even while panicking on the inside.

Even without looking at them, Nico could feel his friends almost laughing at him; he would have been offended if he weren’t so busy trying to survive the moment. Percy really was way too handsome and hot for Nico’s sanity.

Don’t stare at him, he berated himself, it’s not polite to stare at customers. He’ll think you’re weird.

Oh god, he needed a smoke as soon as possible. If he kept biting on his lip like that he would end up biting his lip ring away.

“Huh”, Percy seemed to think about it for a second. “Can I have the same blue drink from last time? You remember?”

Nico did remember. It had been the longest conversation he had ever had with Percy (the longest and most intense five minutes of his life until now), with the surfer asking for some kind of blue drink, and Nico trying his best to understand and make it for him - he had managed to, in the end, and then had proceeded to think non stop for days about the happy smile Percy had gifted him.

For some reason, the way Percy said “you remember?” made Nico’s insides melt, a swarm of frantic screaming butterflies flying in chaos in his stomach. Like it was something between the two of them, something they shared.

Nico had never felt more ridiculous in his life.

“Yeah, I remember”, he managed to say, and in a way it was a relief to turn around and get to work. Part of him wanted to drag it out as long as possible just to make Percy stay a little longer; at the same time, though, part of him wanted this to be over as soon as possible just so he could finally go back to breathing.

“Great!”, Percy said with a smile, like Nico had just told him the best news of the day.

It was such a peculiar request, “can i get a blue drink” - no flavor or anything, just a blue drink. It was weird and endearing at the same time, and it left Nico wanting to know more about it, more about Percy. He wondered how many other weird and endearing things like that Percy did.

“You like it that much?”, he found himself asking, his mouth moving before his brain even registered it.

Another blinding smile. Nico was so weak.

“Everything tastes better if it’s blue”, Percy said with such conviction that he almost made it sound like that made any sense.

It made Nico stop, and then he couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped his lips.

“Does it?”, he asked, smiling back, as he handed Percy his drink.

Percy nodded. “Of course. You should try it sometimes”.

The butterflies were going absolutely crazy in Nico’s stomach, so much he almost forgot to take the money Percy was giving him. “Maybe I will”, he said.

“Thanks for the drink, Nico”.

For an instant, Nico’s brain went blank except for a mantra of he knows my name, oh god he knows my name. Then he remembered he was wearing a nametag, so of course he did.

Idiot.

“Have a nice day”, he said through the lump in his throat.

“You too!”, Percy said and went to leave. He seemed to think back on it though, because he turned toward Nico again, holding out his right hand to him. “I’m Percy, by the way”.

It felt like looking at himself from the outside, like it was happening to someone else, as Nico shook his hand. It was warm and big, and Nico wanted to hold onto it. “Nice to meet you”.

Percy smiled, big and bright and happy, and Nico smiled back.

“See you next time, Nico”.

Nico stared at him as he left and went back to his friends, pretty sure everything that had just happened must have been a dream.

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #nico di angelo #pjo #percico #nicercy #pernico #my fics #percy jackon and the olympians #throwing a lil bit of valgrace in this bc why not #also throwing the much needed friendship btwn nico and leo bc yes.#im having SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!!#last time i wrote an au was like ten years ago and guess what? it was a percico fic lmak #btw spoiler but Percy is already just as head over heels for nico as nico is for him #love me some good old mutual pining 😌

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mediawhorefics · 1 day

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word for word

rating: G relationship: Evan Buckley/Tommy Kinard word count: 3.6k summary: 'if you knew my story word for word, had all of my history, would you go along with someone like me?' young folks // peter bjorn & john Or Tommy's a little withdrawn, after. A 7.09 coda. read on AO3

#911 #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan #tevan fic #kinley #kinley fic #kinkley #kinkley fic #911 fic #tommy kinard #evan buckley #my fics #as i said in my author's note.... i fear the bucktommy brainrot is incurable rip

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gulliblelemon · 2 days

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Paper Frogs and Fairy Tales

“Do you think His Majesty Crown Prince Erik knows that he’s written a queer allegory?”

Simon works in a bookshop. Wilhelm shows up for a royal book event. Neither of them are particularly pleased with this set up... at first.

Read Chapter 1 (of 2) on AO3.

#yr fanfic #young royals #yr fanfiction #young royals fanfic #young royals fanfiction #Wilmon fic #my fics #paper frogs and fairy tales #gulliblelemon

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arliedraws · 15 hours

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Drabble - Sirius escapes Azkaban at the start of SS/PS and swims to the shack where Harry and the Dursleys are staying.

Just a small exercise I used as a writing warm-up :)

—

Harry had never received a letter in his life.

This was, to Uncle Vernon, the natural order of things. The post came each day, except on Sundays, of course, and over the years, they received plenty of bills, birthday cards for Dudley, and letters from Aunt Marge, but never a single envelope addressed to Harry.

To say that Uncle Vernon was upset that one finally did come to Harry at number four might have been putting it rather mildly, for in his compounding fury, Uncle Vernon had gone to extremes to find a place to which letters were undeliverable. The fury that Harry Potter had received one letter drove Uncle Vernon to hasten them out of Little Whinging and into the car where they spent several days hunting for a hiding place that would restore the natural order of the universe.

Perhaps they had finally found it. The shack was perched atop a small island just off the coast. The Dursleys and Harry had come by boat, braving the freezing waves to land upon the rocks. As Aunt Petunia urged Dudley into the dilapidated shack, Harry halted at the edge of the island, staring off into the distance where mist shrouded the horizon line.

“What’s the hold-up?” barked Uncle Vernon. “What are you looking at?”

“I think there’s another island out there,” said Harry.

Uncle Vernon shot him a nasty look. “There’s nothing out there.”

Harry shrugged as Uncle Vernon followed Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the shack. He could have sworn he saw an outline of something huge, like a tower, in the distance, but the fog was too thick now, and whatever it was had been swallowed up.

Eventually, the chill of the sea battered at his jumper until he was shivering, and Harry felt slightly damp as he resigned himself to joining the others in the shack. By the time he closed the door behind him, Aunt Petunia was already serving their rations which consisted of a packet of crisps and a banana for each of them.

The only boon of the filthy little house was that it seemed to thoroughly depress Dudley who slumped on the sofa and ate his crisps miserably, staring at the spot where he must have been pretending sat a television. Uncle Vernon was quite cheerful, however, pleased that he had brought his family to a place so far removed from society that the postman would never find Harry.

When night fell, Aunt Petunia made up the sofa for Dudley. Harry claimed a threadbare blanket before she could give them all to Dudley, and he found a spot on the floor where he thought the dirt was the softest. Awkwardly, Harry rested his head in the crook of his elbow, trying not to breathe in too deeply the blanket’s stench of seaweed.

The storm outside the shack rattled the wooden walls, and sea spray splattered the windows. This did not concern Uncle Vernon who bid Dudley and Harry goodnight with a slightly deranged smile before disappearing into the second room with Aunt Petunia. Harry, however, couldn’t help imagining a huge wave sweeping the house right into the sea and drowning them all.

Harry tried to settle into his nest on the floor, but he was too cold, the ground was too hard, and Dudley was snoring loudly enough to rival the crashing sea beyond the walls. Harry’s birthday was only a few hours away which might have been something to look forward to, but it seemed too sad to consider that he’d be turning eleven in a place like this. Well, he reasoned, was it any worse than his cupboard?

Harry turned over as lightning flashed through the windows. Dangerous thoughts were occurring to him. Life had never been particularly fair to Harry, which was something he’d come to accept, yet when he really stopped to think about it, Harry wished for a completely different one. Apparently he’d had a different one before because his parents died when he was a baby and left him to his mother’s sister. Uncle Vernon insisted that Harry’s parents were drunkards who died in a car crash, and while this wasn’t particularly pleasing to think about, Harry rather thought he’d prefer loving layabouts to the cold and hostile Dursleys.

Dudley’s stomach growled, startling Harry. Uncle Vernon had forced them all to suffer the depressing meal of crisps and bananas, and it was most certainly not enough for Harry; for Dudley, it must have been merely crumbs. It must not agreed with Dudley either because a foul stench filled the room, and Harry balked, rolling away and stuffing the blanket against his nose. The blanket, however, wasn’t any better. Unable to take it, Harry got up towards the window.

He was expecting to see waves breaking against the rocks, rising with the increasingly swelling storm. He expected to see the rain as it slapped the pane of glass, and perhaps even a jagged bolt of lightning splitting across the black sky. But as Harry looked out the window, he locked gazes with a pair of wide eyes.

At first, Harry thought he was dreaming. A ghastly, emaciated face was looking at him. The thing was horrible—it was a ghost with pale, sunken eyes, gaunt cheeks, and black, lank hair. Harry’s cry was stuck in his throat as the thing stared back. It seemed almost as surprised as Harry.

Then it was gone.

Heart pumping painfully against his ribs, Harry stumbled back from the window.

I’m dreaming, he thought. That wasn’t real. I didn’t see anything.

Harry whipped his gaze to the door. It didn’t have a lock—at least, the one that was on it was broken. He rushed towards it, suddenly terrified. If that thing came in, what would it do? Just because the Dursleys refused to believe that there were supernatural forces in the world didn’t mean they weren’t real and that they couldn’t eat them all.

For several minutes as thunder rumbled and the wind whipping the house, Harry pressed his back against the door. He was hours away from being eleven and he was skinny—a quick meal for a monster. He couldn’t let it get him.

Then, as Harry sat there, he began to feel stupid.

There were no such things as ghosts or specters or vampires. In his exhaustion and hunger, he must’ve invented the vision and convinced himself it was real; when he really thought about it, he was certain he knew he had imagined it.

Eventually, Harry slinked back to his spot on the floor and pulled the ragged blanket over his jeans and jumper, curling into the dirt. If he closed his eyes and squeezed them tightly, sleep would come for him and erase the nightmarish specter from his memory. It would be his birthday, and he would spend it in the middle of the sea.

He thought so, at least.

The door creaked. The crashing of the waves grew louder.

Harry’s eyes snapped open, though he stayed very still, his gaze locked on the empty fireplace. He heard the door close. His heart was pounding so hard now that he could hear it, and he tried to keep the harsh huffing of his breath quiet.

He heard nothing—nothing but the sound of the sea, the howling wind, Dudley’s stomach…

Then, a hand touched his shoulder.

Harry tried to shout; hand clapped over his mouth. A rasping voice was hushing him. Harry tried to shove the creature off of him, screaming into the wet palm. Panic overtook him. He scrabbled for a thin wrist and kicked in his silent, grunting struggle.

“Harry, Harry, please—stop—I’m—I won’t hurt you—” the hoarse voice was whispering. “Shh, please—”

Harry looked up at the creature in terror. Wet, matted hair hung over the specter’s brow, darkening his already shadowed eyes. They stared at each other. It wasn’t a ghost at all, but a man.

“What are you doing here?” whispered the intruder. His gaze flickered to Dudley who was still snoring.

The hand eased from Harry’s mouth. Maybe it would’ve been wisest to scream for help—to bring Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia scrambling into the room, but Harry couldn’t think. This thing—this man knew his name. The man was soaking wet and wearing strange clothing that hung in rags from his skeletal body. His hand stayed clenched on Harry’s shoulder.

“Who—who are you?” breathed Harry.

“Sirius,” he murmured. Harry frowned, not understanding. “That’s my name…” Again, the intruder looked back at Dudley to ensure he was still asleep.

Harry leaned away. The man smelled like seawater, perhaps even more so than the ragged blanket, and he was trembling from the chill. If Harry had not been so terrified, he might have offered the man the blanket, but as it was, he was convinced the intruder was going to do something terrible to him.

“Are you going to kill me?” said Harry so quietly, he was surprised the intruder heard him.

Sirius, so he called himself, shook his head. “No…but I…I shouldn’t have come in… It was only…I can’t…I can’t believe you’re here…” He stopped to cough which he smothered with the crook of his elbow, the veins protruding in his forehead as he tried to keep himself quiet. His eyes were red as they turned to the dilapidated shack, taking in the dirt floor and moldy sofa and the cracked window before they returned to Harry. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, his voice so hoarse, it was hardly more than a hiss of breath. “Are you…safe?”

“I’m fine,” lied Harry.

The intruder frowned. “Are you?”

“You—you should probably go, Mr.—er—Mr. Sirius—”

“Where are your aunt and uncle?”

“They’re just in there—” then Harry lowered the finger he was pointing as he realized what the intruder was asking. Another wave of horror paralyzed him. How did this Sirius person know about Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia?

“Shhh, it’s all right…” said Sirius who must have seen the panic on his face. His hand hovered as though readying it to slap it over Harry’s mouth again. “I’ll leave… I shouldn’t have… I only wanted to…” He swallowed. A bead of water dribbled down his nose as he tilted his face at the ragged blanket. “Why are you sleeping on the floor?”

It was the last question Harry expected.

“Er—I—there wasn’t anywhere else to—”

BOOM.

Harry jerked; Sirius’s hand gripped his shoulder painfully. They both stared at the door in bewilderment.

Fear shone in Sirius’s eyes as he turned to Harry, urgently whispering, “Harry, what I’m about to do—don’t tell anyone. Please—I beg you to keep my secret—”

Another boom! shook the shack.

“Secret?” said Harry.

Dudley was stirring behind them. “Where’s the cannon?” he said.

Sirius said nothing more—he couldn’t say more—because when Harry blinked, in his place was no longer a man but an enormous, jet black dog. The dog faced the door, hackles raised, growling softly as the pounding continued. Harry gaped, sputtering at the dog—

“Who’s there?” a voice roared.

Uncle Vernon had rushed into the room clutching a rifle, aiming it at the door. Aunt cowered behind him as he warned the intruder to stay away or he’d shoot, but either the newcomer did not hear or they did not care, because in the next moment, the door flew from its hinges, crashing to the floor as a gigantic man, the largest Harry had ever seen in his life, ducked through the doorway.

The dog shrank away—the dog that was really a man—slinking behind Harry. If he meant to hide, he was far too large to disappear behind Harry…

Uncle Vernon yelled. The giant, however, was unperturbed as he bent and put the door to rights, fitting it back into the frame. He turned to face them, his wild black beard and hair sopping wet and beady black eyes sweeping over the shack.

“Rough seas. Not easy getting’ here in a storm like this. Could yeh make some tea?”

#my fics #harry potter #sirius black #drabble

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ambeauty · 3 days

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Colder Than Titanic Water

Summary:

“I woke up five minutes ago. I had a dream at first. He was in it. He looked scared, but he kissed my forehead and he said everything was going to be okay. It was weird. Because I didn’t feel like he was going to be okay. And he didn’t look like he was going to be okay. I don’t know Mom. I got up immediately and started looking around the house. I checked Jake’s room. I checked the training room. I checked his office. I almost called Grandpa but then I thought I should tell you. He’s not here mom. Something is wrong. I feel it.” Mar’i rubbed her hand against her chest to try and soothe her wildly beating heart.

Dick is missing and Kory and her family enlist in an epic rescue mission that takes an unexpected turn.

This fic is a belated birthday gift for the one and only @escapism-through-imagination It’s still May so it counts!!!

BESTIES!! I missed you! Happy Summer! @graysonfamfan2021 @lyanaalvarado @jonskory @meetmeunderthestarrynight @selinascatnip @justabovewater20 @koryvndr 💜💙

Above are my face claims for teen Mar’i and Jake! Let me know what you think.

#titans fic #dickkory fic #Kory anders #mar’i Grayson #Jake Grayson #my fics #daughter fic #dc titans #DickKory Family fic #don’t beat my ass if the comic book lure does not line up #we just having fun over here

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rowanisawriter · 2 days

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80 stories on ao3 🎉

my brain rot has reached new heights! here are a couple of stories i’ve written recently that I’d like to highlight, in honor of this milestone 😁

1) allegory (bg3 - wyll/shadowheart) a fairy tale subversion, i like rarepairs in bg3 but wyll (prince charming) and shadowheart (gods favorite princess) fit so well together, especially when wyll doesn’t realize he’s the one who might need saving

2) a catalog of non-definitive acts (dragon age - cullen/trevelyan) cullen’s in Denial, i am always scared of writing exchange fics because i don’t like writing with rules but am proud of how this one turned out

3) candlelight (ff7, cloud/aerith) a quiet moment near the end game, i snuck this one into the planned series and love its quiet sincerity, privately i think this is my best ff7 fic

4) west hall mirror (hades, thanatos/zagreus) my tsoa rot meets hades rot, creating this supernova of pining from achilles’s pov, pining for his old life and what he sees before him as than and zag fall in love

#milestone post #80 stories wow! im just using ao3 as a diary now tbh #incidentally people are also reading it #which is cool #bg3 #wyll ravengard #wyll x shadowheart #da #cullen rutherford #ff7 #clerith #hades game #thanzag #my fics #my writing

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 8 hours

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Ed Teach runs a life skills mentorship service for other people with autism, ADHD, and other neurodivergencies that focuses on working with their symptoms rather than against them, and he loves it but it's gotten to be a bit of a grind. When Stede's shitty dad recommends him for the service, Ed helps Stede figure out how to be kinder to himself, and Stede helps Ed apply his philosophy to himself.

This is a very fluffy, self-indulgent modern AU about working with yourself, finding other people who get you, and lots of sweet, sweet AuDHD4AuDHD care. Rated T, 4.5k words!

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fic #my fics

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moviemandy · 1 day

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Honeymoon Loving

Summary: New York is very aware how drunk she is right now, but she also can’t help but feel drunk from Toilet girl as well. Drunk off her taste, her smell, the way she feels, off of her. It’s addicting and she’s happy to feel this way for someone who’s all hers to ravage and make love to.

Also big shout out to @sage-lights for beta reading this hot mess of a fic and really helping it come together, you’re insanely awesome 🤍

#amangela #smosh #amanda lehan canto #angela giarratana #smosh ships #smosh games #smoshblr #smosh fanfic #smosh fic #my fics #this fic literally #came to me in a dream #glad I was able #to write it out

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queen-haq · 2 days

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Fic: Never You, Part 11 (Penelope x Colin)

andom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 released scenes.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)

A03 link if that’s more your jam

Chapter 11

Penelope exited the hack and started walking home, clutching the small knife in her hand. As always she exercised full caution, refusing to be complacent about safety. In the beginning when she first started to publish Lady Whistledown sheets, late night treks through the city were imperative. Thanks to Miss Delacroix and the network they cultivated in the past year, it was no longer necessary. However she needed to discuss things with Mr. Banfield, her solicitor, and he had suggested meeting at the same tavern they used to convene at during the early Whistledown days; there was no chance of them being discovered in such a place.

Now that marriage was no longer an option, she had to find a way to escape her family. Thankfully Mr. Banfield, who had guided her initially on how to publish, was happy to provide his assistance. Tonight was their second meeting over the past week, and they had continued their discussion on how to carry her plans to fruition. With his help she would leave Mayfair, perhaps even the country, and make a new life elsewhere. Yet her heart was still heavy with sadness.

Only a fortnight ago she had looked forward to a different future, one that involved marriage and children. A loving home, a happy family – all the things she wished for whilst growing up. But that was no longer a possibility, thanks to her own foolishness. And Colin. Anger rushed through her immediately, her gaze landing on the Bridgerton house across the street. Her heart lurched, remembering their last encounter a week ago. Since her confession to him, there had been no contact between them. That didn’t surprise her, of course. Societal expectations dictated ladies be pure and innocent and she was no longer that. It was only natural he no longer desired her, he likely never did.

Colin’s strange obsession with her had been some kind of a temporary madness, his feelings never in earnest, which meant she had ruined her future with Arthur for no reason at all. And the thought of it filled her with so much rage and self-loathing that she wanted to scream. Why? Why did Colin have to play with her emotions in such a manner? Why did she allow herself to be swayed towards him despite knowing better? She had begged him, pleaded with him, to leave her alone but he had insisted – no, demanded – her body and soul, crossing all respectable boundaries of society to get his way. Along the way, he had stormed through all the walls surrounding her heart.

A part of her resented him, wishing that she never knew what it felt like to be ravaged by his kiss, the sensation of his mouth on her body. It was so much easier to live with ignorance because then she wouldn’t be haunted by dreams of him, the piercing intensity in his eyes while he claimed her. If only she could feel hate for him, things would be so much easier –

A large hand closed over her mouth, the other grabbing her from behind. It happened so quickly she was too startled to react. Fear rushed through her body, making it impossible for her to think rationally. Was this how she would die? Without accomplishing any of the things she wanted? No family, no children. Alone. No goodbyes with Eloise. No Colin. And suddenly everything became clear again. No. She wouldn’t die like this. Immediately her survival instincts kicked in and she started fighting back, kicking, using the knife in her hand to strike against her attacker.

“Pen, calm down! It’s me!”

Colin. She dropped the knife, circling around. Her heart was pounding in her chest while she stared up at him frantically. “You scared me half to death!” Her breath was labored, still recovering from the fright he gave her, she pushed him away. “Why are you here?”

“Why are you?” He trudged forward, closing the distance between them. “It’s past midnight and you’re roaming the streets with no concern for your safety. Do you know how daft that is?”

“Is that why you snuck up on me? To teach me a lesson?”

His blue eyes darkened with furious indignation. “Do you have any idea what kind of danger you put yourself in? What if I was a brute with bad intentions-”

“You’re bleeding!” She quickly grabbed his hand, seeing the cut on the side of his arm.

Oblivious to the blood, he continued to chastise her. “At least you had the foresight to carry a weapon. I suppose I should be grateful you haven’t completely lost your mind.”

She retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket, too worried about his bruise to continue the argument. “We need to clean this before it becomes worse.” Wrapping the cloth around his arm, she led him towards the back of the house where Martha had left a door unlocked for her. “Everyone is asleep, we must be quiet.”

They crept through the house, the kitchen, up the staircase, down the corridor to her bedchamber, all the while his long, lean fingers intertwined with hers, gripping her hand securely. The adrenaline rush from earlier had already started to wear off but her heart continued to flipflop due to his close proximity, her body fully aware of him. When they finally reached her chambers she knocked on the door in a specific rhythm, signaling to Martha she had returned. Her maid opened the door right away, her eyes widening in surprise when she spotted Colin standing behind Pen.

“Miss? Is everything alright?”

Penelope walked past her, leading Colin to the nearest chair and directing him to sit down. “Martha, can you get me a pitcher of water and the ointment Mrs. Varley keeps in the kitchen? Quickly? Mr. Bridgerton has suffered a wound.”

While Martha exited, Penelope busied herself by removing her cape, heading towards the wardrobe. Inside were clean cloths and she quickly retrieved some before returning to Colin’s side. Standing in front of him she gently lifted his hand, removing the stained handkerchief to inspect the cut. The blood had started to coagulate, he was no longer bleeding.

“Miss, here’s everything,” Martha placed the bowl of water and ointment on the table. “May I assist you in some way?”

“Thank you, but no. Penelope and I would like some privacy,” Colin replied in a gentle but firm tone. “Please.”

Casting him an annoyed glance, Pen addressed the other woman. “You’ve done enough, Martha. Thank you for your help tonight. Please get some rest.”

She followed Martha to the door, speaking in a low voice so Colin wouldn’t hear. “Did anyone come to my door while I was away?”

“No, Miss.”

“Have a good night.”

Locking the door, she turned around to confront Colin. “I don’t appreciate you ordering my maid about.”

“And I don’t appreciate her enabling your reckless behavior.”

Annoyed, she wandered closer until coming to a stop in front of him. With him seated, she was only slightly more elevated which made it difficult to avoid his gaze, especially as he was determined to scrutinize her while she tended to his wound. His breath hummed against her, his other hand purposely caressing her trembling fingers as she wiped his skin with a wet cloth. No, she wouldn’t look at him. Absolutely not. It was easier to hold onto her righteous anger than to think about his wild, unkempt curls that begged to be brushed, the haunting depth of his eyes penetrating her to her very core. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, as evident by the scruff on his face, and instead of lessening his looks it only made him more beautiful.

“Where did you go tonight?” he murmured.

Considering his harsh demeanor from only a few minutes earlier, his gentleness was surprising. Putting aside the wet towel, she dried his arm with a fresh one, then started rubbing ointment on him. “I was not feeling well and decided to go for a walk.”

His free hand snaked around her waist, pulling her close. Dark, riveting eyes peered up at her, holding her spellbound in his arms. “We both know that wasn’t a leisurely stroll, Pen. Do not lie to me.”

“What I do is none of your concern, Colin.” Despite her frayed nerves, her voice was calm and resolute, surprising even herself.

His unrelenting gaze refused to waver from her. “Everything about you concerns me. Especially when I catch you sneaking out to a brothel in the middle of the night.”

“Have you gone mad? Of course I didn’t go to such an establishment!”

“Perhaps you were too preoccupied with your guest to notice the brothel above the tavern.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yet you seem to be very familiar with it. Why is that?” She waited for him to deny her accusation but he said nothing, simply watching her. Jealousy flooded over her like a tidal wave, the implication of his silence fully sinking in. It was one thing to accept the inevitability of Colin falling in love and marrying another woman, at least then she could reassure herself he was genuinely happy even if it caused her agonizing pain – but to know he was lying with other women and behaving like a complete scoundrel? It was so infuriating she wanted to scream. “Is that where you were tonight? Patronizing the brothel?” How dare he? How dare he demand anything from her? “Let me go!” She spat out viciously, forcibly removing herself from his arms. “Get out! Get out of my chamber, get out of my life! I never want to see you again!”

Disgusted with him, she started to walk away when he stood up swiftly and pulled her close. Gripping her tightly from behind, he held her caged in his embrace. “It hurts, doesn’t it? To think of me screwing someone else?” he growled in her ear.

“Go to hell!” She yelled back, fighting him. Despite her struggle he overpowered her easily, maneuvering her between his body and the desk behind. She gripped the edges around the table to maintain her balance but it was hard to do with him bending forward to meet her at eye-level. Heaving, she glared at him defiantly, only quivering when he positioned his hands on either side of her to confine her in place.

“That sick, repulsive jealousy in the pit of your stomach? That’s what I’ve been feeling this entire time, thinking about you fucking men after men in my nightmares. Every time I close my eyes you torture me!” His gaze burned with ferocity, lips pursed into a thin line. “And when you’re not fucking them, you’re laughing with them, flirting with them!”

“So you’re using your dreams as an excuse to rake about with harlots? That’s pathetic!"

“Of course I didn’t go to the fucking brothel! I’ve been laid up in bed all week, too sick at the thought of you with other men!”

His words were so preposterous she started laughing. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. And completely out of his mind.

“It’s not funny, Penelope.” His voice was a raspy threat, his darkened eyes roaming over her face.

“Isn’t it? You’re making yourself sick over silly dreams.”

He shook his head. “Not dreams, nightmares. Nightmares that eat away at my soul, make me want to rip my eyes out because I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else.”

His face was achingly close, only a few inches separating them, his intoxicating eyes holding her enthralled. She couldn’t breathe, not when he was studying her so intently, his gaze locked on her lips. “Colin…” she whispered breathlessly.

He kissed her with absolute desperation, like a man starving, and she clung to him, returning his kiss with equal fervor. It wasn’t enough, she needed more, so much more, and her arms tightened around him while he lifted her and settled her on the desk.

The madness that took over was overwhelming, his hands all over her body, claiming her as his own, and she yielded to him fully when he pressed her to lie back on the table. In his haste to situate her on the desk so she was comfortable, he pushed aside the bowl of water, and she heard it drop to the ground, the loud noise it made when it crashed, but it didn’t matter, none of it did, when his mouth was roving over her neck, his hands squeezing her breasts.

The small voice in her head burst through, reminding her how unseemly she must have looked to him right now. In a simple day dress that wasn’t flattering, no adornments on her face or hair, legs propped on the table so he was positioned between them, she felt undignified. She opened her eyes, intending to ask him to stop but the words died in her throat when she spotted the reverence on his face. Eyes glazed, mouth open, he was watching her as if she was the most beautiful thing in the world to him.

Her heart raced, his heated stare melting her inhibitions away. And she reached out to caress his hair, running her fingers through the silky strands before cradling his face.

He kissed her palm, smiling shyly at her. Only a few seconds earlier she was filled with trepidation but now it was passion that surged through her blood, filling her veins, leaving no space in her mind for anything else. Eyes locked with his, she started to untie the laces on the bust of her dress and he followed her every move hungrily.

She peered up at him, her fingers pausing on her partially uncovered breasts. “Do you want to touch me?”

Whatever semblance of control he was under seemed to dissipate in an instant. His mouth was voracious on hers, kissing her frantically while his hand trailed up the inside of her leg, past her thighs, sending shivers along her spine when he finally reached her core. Last time he had touched her so intimately there was a barrier of clothes between his hand and her body, but there was nothing that existed now. Unexpected sensations rippled through her while he penetrated her with his finger, one at first, and then another, curving into her so expertly she almost screamed. She couldn’t understand how his pulsing fingers felt so good, how she was supposed to breathe when all the nerves in her body were so heightened. Writhing, she dug her fingers into his spine, the other hand circling the back of his neck, clinging to him while he whispered the naughtiest things to her.

“You feel so good. So tight… and wet… and hot…. perfect,” he murmured, kissing the underside of her right breast before licking his way up to the center His tongue laved over the nipple, over and over again until it puckered, his hunger for her insatiable while he sucked on the hardened nub, teasing her, taunting her. “Perfect for me… my fingers… my cock…”

The rhythm of his fingers changed unexpectedly, drawing out a sound from her she didn’t even know was possible. “Colin…” she moaned, drowning under the pleasure of his hands, his mouth. His sensual words.

“…God, if you only knew… if you only knew how good you feel…” He was breathless, his body trembling like her own. “Look at me, Pen…”

Amidst the haze, she heard his plea and obliged. The blue pools of his eyes had never been this dark before, the sheer emotion so pure and potent it left her stunned.

“Your sweet, tight cunt…begging to be filled with my cock…”

“Please…”

“Want my cock inside of you, love?”

Love. The word registered somewhere deep in her brain but faded right away, tension building higher and higher inside her.

He pulled back a little, peering at her. “Do you?”

“Yes…”

He nipped her chin, traced the swell of her breasts with his tongue, his teeth. “Taste you so badly… fuck you with my mouth… my tongue inside you…”

Everything was amplified, her body on fire. “Please…” She was close, so close, his thumb brushing against her clit with just the right amount of pressure so her body keened. And then his fingers twisted inside in her such a way that the world exploded.

Ecstasy flowed over her, through her, fireworks exploding into stars. She was floating again, like the last time with Colin, her body boneless and fluid. Her senses slowly returned. Awareness sank in as she drifted back to reality, becoming cognizant of the gentle, warm kisses he was peppering on her neck. His hand on her right breast, cupping it, squeezing it. His hardness jutted against her thigh, strained in his trousers, because he had been too focused on bringing her pleasure.

She cradled his face, nudging him to look at her. “May I touch you?”

Colin’s eyes gleamed with wicked delight, his voice velvety smooth. “Yes.”

She nodded her head, smiling shyly when he helped her sit up on the table. The tender expression on his face left her heart thudding in her chest, how he looked at her with so much affection. For so long she had wanted to love him to her heart’s content, caress him without any reservation, and this would very likely be her last chance. Soon she would be gone, and there would never be another opportunity to enjoy him again. With that thought in mind she traced his eyebrows with her fingers, the contours of his face, the shape of his lips. He was beautiful, a Roman sculpture come to life. She sucked on his bottom lip, nibbling on him gently. Not only did he like doing that to her, he liked having it done to him.

Her hand lingered down the length of his neck, removing the shirt from his body until he was standing half naked in front of her. She caressed the soft, crinkling hair on his chest, excited to touch him. Remembering how he lavished over her nipples, she did the same to him, her mouth on one while her fingers played with the other. He fisted her hair, letting her continue while she teased him mercilessly.

“If you keep doing that, I won’t last long.”

In her limited experience she knew it took men longer to recover once they were spent, and she definitely didn’t want to lose her chance at pleasuring him. “It’s not very fair that you can have all the time you want with me while I have to hurry along.”

A delightful, mischievous smile marked his lips, causing butterflies to flutter in her stomach. “Next time you can have your turn first.”

Her smile stiffened but she didn’t respond, instead refocusing her attention back on him. Her fingers traced the planes of his hard stomach, lingering along every angular ridges of his body. Then she lowered his breeches, with his help, allowing his hardness to spring forth, and the sight of him stole her breath - just like before. Except tonight she was the one stroking him instead of Colin pleasuring himself. He was slick to the touch, the girth of him daunting, but she slowly started to mimic his movements from the other night.

His mouth opened but there were no coherent words that came out, not like when he’d been loving her and being very explicit about his wants. Now there were only gasps and groans of ecstasy, heightening her own excitement, and she watched his head loll back while he lost himself in her touch completely.

***

They were laying in bed together, facing each other. Her eyes were heavy with sleep but she didn’t want to give into it quite yet, not when he looked so beautiful and sated next to her. She wanted to freeze this moment, lock it somewhere deep in her memories so she could look back upon it fondly. But her bliss was short-lived, as always.

Love. He had called her love, more than once, in the throes of passion. He had used the term of endearment so easily, with complete nonchalance. Even though he didn’t feel the same, even though he was fully aware of how much she loved him. Her heart throbbed. The more Colin was in her life the more he would hurt her, perhaps not deliberately but through indifference or carelessness. This is why she had to get away from Mayfair, not just far away from her family but also him because she didn’t want to live in perpetual agony.

“You should leave, Colin. It’ll be dawn soon.”

He didn’t budge. “Why were you at the tavern?”

She contemplated her response. If he had been true about not being at the brothel, that meant he had spotted her at the tavern with Mr. Banfield. Thus, it would be foolish to lie to him – but she also couldn’t tell him the truth. No one could know of her plans to leave. Deciding a half lie was better than a complete one, she answered him. “Cousin Jack owed a lot of money from the scheme he concocted.”

“I’m aware.” Colin drew circles on her arm, playing with her. “What does that have to do with you?”

“Fortunately he didn’t escape with the funds, but Mama also hasn’t been overly concerned with returning the money to those he stole from.” She exhaled an exaggerated sigh. “So I’ve been meeting with Mister Banfield in secret every month, giving him whatever amount I can so he may settle the accounts for those Cousin Jack wronged.”

“Where are you getting the money from?”

Of course she couldn’t tell him all of the accounts had already been settled from her Lady Whistledown profit. “I’ve been managing the household accounts for a while now and siphoning the money from there.”

He clutched her face. “This is no longer your concern. I will meet with Mister Banfield this week and return all the funds to him.”

Penelope stilled. The last thing she needed was Colin spending any of his money on her behalf. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ve already paid back everything.”

Colin’s eyebrow quirked up in disbelief. “You were able to gather all that simply from the household fund?”

“And my dowry,” she added quickly. “Of course Mama doesn’t know about that.”

“Your dowry isn’t needed anyway. Father was very generous to all of us.”

It took a few seconds for his words to fully register in her brain. “Colin-”

He slid off the bed, picking up his shirt from the floor. With quick and agile movements he dressed himself, tucking the shirt into his trousers. “Tomorrow I will call on Lady Featherington and ask her for your hand in marriage.”

That woke her up instantly. She scooted forward until she was on the edge of the bed, facing him. “We can not be married, Colin. I’ve already told you this.”

He paused, regarding her closely. “But you love me.”

“So what?” she bit out. “It will fade with time.”

There was anger in his voice, in the clench of his jaw when he spoke next. “Maybe, but I don’t plan to give you that time.”

She couldn’t wrap her mind around his selfish words, this was so unlike the Colin she had come to know as a friend. “Don’t you think I deserve to marry someone who loves me back? You used to believe so.”

He approached her, until he stood directly in front and reached out to cradle her face. “I know you Pen, inside and out, and you are not fickle, far from it. Your love is strong, it’s passionate and unrelenting. I experience the sheer depth of it every time I’m near you, when you look at me, when you touch me.” His thumb stroked her cheek. “No one will care for you as strongly as I do. I can make you happy, the happiest you’ve ever been.”

“I don’t need your charity, Colin. I am perfectly capable of being happy without marrying you.” She wrung his hand away. “Especially as I’m betrothed to another.”

She tried to stand up but he blocked her path, causing her to sit back down on the bed. He knelt down in front of her. The hard glint in his eyes was now familiar to her, a look she had grown wary of in these past few weeks. “It would be a shame, would it not, if everyone were to find out about Mister Banfield’s activities with marriageable ladies in the middle of the night? What do you think would scandalize the ton more, the fact he’s meeting them in the first place or conducting business with the fairer sex?” He took her hand in his own, his thumb stroking her skin in a very deliberate manner. “I’m certain Anthony would no longer do any business with him. Others in society would probably quickly follow suit.”

The vindictiveness in his eyes sent shivers down her spine. He may have resembled her Colin with his soft, pleasing voice and manner but she saw right through the ruse; he was diabolical.

He tipped his head to the side, peering at her. “And I worry about Martha’s future if your Mama were to discover how lax your maid has been with her responsibilities. Letting you sneak off unchaperoned, allowing me to come to your chambers so late at night. Do you think your mother would continue to employ her after that?”

She shot him an incredulous look. “You would harm innocent people to get your way?”

A beat passed. “I would do anything to keep you in my life.”

Before she could respond to him, he dropped a kiss on the crown of her head before standing up. “I will call on you later today.”

She sat there in shock, watching after him as he quietly exited her chamber.

To be continued...

A/N - As always, feedback is loved and appreciated. I'm sticking with the names I had chosen originally, a.k.a Martha for Pen's maid (instead of Rae) and Arthur (as opposed to Alfred for Debling).

#polin #bridgerton #colin x penelope #penelope x colin #never you #my fics

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