#fitzwilliam darcy x reader

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Tangled Hearts - Fitzwilliam Darcy X Female Reader

Title: Tangled Hearts

Fitzwilliam Darcy X Female Reader

(Could be seen with either BBC Darcy or the 2005 Darcy; I personally see it as the 2005 version/settings based off the 2005 one)

Additional Characters: Reader's parents, Charles Bingley, Caroline, George Wickham (Mentioned), Jane Bennet (Mentioned), Georgiana Darcy (Mentioned), other random people (Mentioned), Albert Wright (OC), Mr. Took (OC) (Mentioned), and Duke Phillip Colston (OC) (Mentioned)

WC: 7,526

Warnings: Typical Pride and Prejudice era misogyny and so on, toxic parents, Reader is mentioned to wear dresses and heels, Reader hates balls, society sucks, Caroline, banter, gossip, arranged marriages, Darcy's in love, scandals mentioned, yelling, crying, Charles is the voice of reason, itty bit of suggestion (time period wise), angst, and fluff

Pemberley. Your home away from home. The large country estate was gorgeous, surrounded by vivid green grass, and which sat across a crystal clear lake. You loved Pemberley not only for its beauty, but because the place had become your own haven of peace and solitude. It was where you could be yourself without worrying about being judged or ostracized. 

Though, during the time, you always were forced to look so prim and proper, on days where you had no other responsibilities, you would sneak out to sit on the soft grass outside. That was the only time you really felt free.

As a child, you visited Pemberley more often than not. Your family were great friends with the Darcys and Bingleys, resulting in you spending a lot of time at the residence and within their presence. You had become close friends with Charles Bingley - his sister, Caroline, not so much - George Wickham, and Fitzwilliam Darcy. 

During your later adolescent years, you had briefly traveled to the Longbourn estate, where you had grown close to Jane and Elizabeth Bennet, despite your parent's wishes. Your mother specifically didn't want you spending time with those in the Middle Class. That didn't stop you though.

Out of the three, Charles, Caroline, and Fitzwilliam, you spent most of your time with the latter. And eventually Georgiana Darcy in the later upcoming years. Ever since you were a young child, you would travel to Pemberley with your parents, occasionally playing with the young Darcy if you were both not in lessons with your shared tutor.

You never really understood why both you and Fitzwilliam were tutored together, you never voiced your questions out loud, in fear of being scolded. But, during your many years in the company of Fitzwilliam, the two of you became very close friends, which was only natural having grown up together.

As the years went on, your parents began forcing you to attend balls, and at the age of twenty-two, you began to realize that they were actively looking for a suitable husband for you. You had a distaste for the idea, but were forced to comply, knowing that they would not end the search, no matter how many times you had voiced your own wishes.

Thankfully, Charles, Caroline, and Fitzwilliam were usually always attended. And occasionally, you'd spend time with Jane and Lizzie when they attended the same events, but otherwise, you would stand on the sidelines with Fitzwilliam as everyone else danced.

Your personality, though more reserved, wasn’t lacking. You had a great sense of humor, a sharp intellect, and an excellent memory. You enjoyed reading books and watching plays and operas; at a time wishing you could play a part in either one. You were kind, and generous to a fault; which, when you were younger, had gotten you into some trouble at times. You were very free-spirited, not afraid to speak your mind in certain situations; which your parents thought resulted in you spending too much time with Elizabeth Bennet. 

Fitzwilliam, though holding many similar interests, his demeanor was seemingly unfriendly, aloof, and unapproachable. He kept to himself, rarely engaging in social activities and never participating in conversations unless spoken to first. And while he was a bit arrogant and proud, he was actually very caring and understanding towards the ones that he held in high esteem. He still remained distant from most people, preferring to watch them from afar with a critical, often anxious - though, he was rather good at hiding it, gaze. 

You usually stood on the sidelines with Fitzwilliam at balls, only occasionally dancing with some random man your parents wanted you to dance with; in hopes some spark ignites. But, you disliked dancing, especially with strangers, and preferred to read books and relax in your room. Fitzwilliam, ever the gentleman, would start up some sort of conversation with you, albeit awkwardly. Though it happened rarely, it was always welcome; all the balls that you have ever been to have always been dreadful, but less so with Fitzwilliam there.

Balls had become associated with finding suitors and respectable husbands, rather than having fun and enjoying yourself, and you were beginning to resent that aspect of life. You knew that there was going to be a very low chance, or none at all, that you would be allowed to choose your own husband; or even have any say in the arrangement in the first place. If you did have a choice, you would choose Fitzwilliam. A few years prior, you noticed that you had developed feelings for him, feelings that were growing every single day. 

You greatly admired Fitzwilliam, his intelligence, kindness, gentleness, handsomeness, and overall good nature. But you said nothing of it. You knew you had no choice in who you were going to marry - whether you liked it or not. So you kept your head down and tried not to think of it too much. Though, it was hard to not think about him, you spent a lot of time with the man after all. But, being a very respectable and composed young woman, you didn't show most of your emotions to others.

As an Upper Class woman, you were required to follow every rule laid out by your parents and society. You also had a duty to act demure in public, especially during formal events, and to appear to be a perfectly poised young lady. This was something that you hated, not being able to express yourself freely, or to be your true self. But, you were really good at it. Being taught to hold unwanted emotions at bay, which you had learned to hold certain romantic feelings for Fitzwilliam in a tightly controlled manner.

Sitting in one of the many sitting rooms in Pemberley, you quietly sipped your tea with Fitzwilliam and Caroline. It was silent, aside from the occasional clink of a tea cup being placed upon a small saucer, the sound of Fitzwilliam's quill upon the parchment, and the sound of you turning the pages of your book as you read. Whilst your mind was elsewhere, you hardly noticed Caroline as she read some letter about a scandal some banker was in before hearing your friends, Elizabeth Bennet's presence being announced.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Shutting your book, you let a small smile grace your features as Lizzie entered, her hair down and mud on her shoes. She gave a polite smile, looking around the room as Fitzwilliam stood and gave a curt bow of the head. Setting your book on the table before you, you walked over to the young woman, greeting her with a quick hug.

After a moment of silence, Caroline quietly gasped, "Good lord, Elizabeth. Did you walk here?”

"I did..." She answered as you both pulled away from the hug.

"Lizzie, it is so good to see you. Are you well? It has been ages since we last spoke." You asked, "I hope you won't become ill. It was rather chilly out this morning."

"I am well, thank you. And yourself?" She asked softly.

Clasping your hands together before you, you nodded, "I am doing marvelously, thank you. We will have to have tea together sometime soon, I miss our riveting conversations."

Lizzie's smile widened, "Of course." After another slightly awkward moment, she continued, "I'm so sorry, how's my sister?" She brought her eyes to Fitzwilliam and Caroline.

"She's upstairs." Fitzwilliam answered and Elizabeth nodded.

"Thank you." With one last look and smile towards you, she left the room with haste. 

Letting out a small sigh, you walked back to the table, sitting back down in your seat and reopening your book. "My goodness, did you see her hem? Six inches deep in mud. She looked positively medieval." She mocked with amusement in her tone, and you rather hoped that she would finish speaking, but she wasn't done. Caroline then turned to you, and braced yourself for her words, "That was rather unlady-like, wasn't it?" She asked, as you flipped to the next page of your book.

"May I ask you to elaborate, Caroline?" You asked, barely giving the woman a glance as you continued reading. Ever since you were a young child, you and Caroline had never seen eye to eye. You weren't exactly fond of each other, and you didn't care to try getting along any better than you already did.

"Greeting her in such a manner." Caroline responded as she picked up a small finger sandwich.

You flipped to the next page, "Isn't it rather unlady-like to bring yourself into one's business, Caroline?" You asked, looking up to look at the women with a raised eyebrow. She only said nothing, letting out a small scoff as she looked away. "Oh, Caroline, dear... You have a little bit of something..." You began, lightly tapping the side of your mouth; even though she had nothing even blemishing her face.

Caroline quickly snatched a napkin from the table, dabbing the corner of her mouth. If she was embarrassed, she didn't show it, but you could tell by the way she fidgeted slightly in her seat that she was anything but pleased. Before going back to your book, you glanced over at Fitzwilliam, who had sat back down minutes ago, a very, very small smile on his face; his eyes held some amusement. Smiling lightly yourself, you went back to your book and tea.

~~~

It was a particular sunny day, birds singing in the trees, and clouds rolling through the sky. It was a beautiful afternoon, and you were enjoying it immensely. The weather was perfect for taking a stroll in the countryside, and if you were being honest, you loved being outdoors. The sun felt warm and inviting against your skin, the breeze gently blowing past you caused your dress to flutter a bit in the breeze. Carrying your book in your hand, you found a nice grassy spot to sit, not too far from Pemberley, but close enough to the lake that you felt at ease. You opened your book to where you had left off earlier and took a deep breath, trying to clear your mind of any unpleasant thoughts. 

You did not know how much time had passed before you heard footsteps, but you didn't bother looking up. When the person then took a seat beside you on the grass, you moved your gaze away from your book, looking up. There sat Fitzwilliam, his expression unreadable. "How may I be of service, Fitzwilliam?" You asked, placing your bookmark between the pages of your novel, closing it gently and setting it in your lap.

"I had been looking for you," He began, staring straight ahead, "May I accompany you for a while?" He added, and you nodded.

"As you wish." You replied, "I'd love the company, Fitz." He didn't say anything else, just giving you a short nod, a barely visible smile before looking off at the lake.

You went back to your book, opening it once more to where you had left off, but you didn't feel like continuing. It seemed that he had something on his mind, and it seemed that he wasn't in the mood to talk about it. Perhaps it would do him good to get it off his chest. But you knew better in asking him to do such, though he was pretty open with you in general, Fitzwilliam was quite reserved when it came to matters of the heart; he'd hide things behind a façade of calm and composure when talking to those around him. So you didn't say anything, didn't push him, allowing Fitzwilliam to take his time.

After a couple of minutes, he finally spoke, "What is it that you are reading?" He asked, turning his gaze to the book in your hands.

Looking up, you meet his gaze, "It's called 'Emma.' It speaks of a young woman who thinks of herself as a matchmaker." You replied softly.

"Ah. I suppose I should not be surprised that your reading has led you to romantic literature." Fitzwilliam commented.

"Well, I wouldn't say that." You countered. "I simply find them fascinating, as they give me new perspectives." You explained, tilting your head to the side slightly, "Have you read this publication?" You asked, motioning towards the book in your lap.

"No, I have not. I believe Miss Caroline had mentioned it in passing once." He admitted, and you gave a small hum in response. "Though she was not seemingly fond of it."

You lightly scoffed, turning to stare at the lake before you, "I would suspect that she finds it distasteful." Another silence washed over the two of you, and you found yourself looking at Fitzwilliam. You could sense an uneasiness in his gaze, though there was something else there, as well. You wanted to ask what was bothering him, but you decided against it, knowing better than to pry into the affairs of another person. However, you were curious, and as you watched his eyes dart across the water, you knew you needed to speak. "Are you feeling alright, Fitz?" You questioned softly.

Fitzwilliam looked over at you, staring at you before speaking, "I apologize if you feel that I am acting peculiar..."

"Do not worry. You are not behaving strangely." You assured him, smiling slightly, "I am just worried that something might be on your mind." 

Fitzwilliam pursed his lips briefly, his blue eyes locked with yours. The way you looked at him caused his stomach to flutter nervously, your overall presence made him nervous, and the overwhelming pounding of his heart was deafening. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was completely and utterly hopelessly in love with you. How could he ever resist you? He wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms, kiss you until the world disappeared, and tell you everything. But that would be highly inappropriate and perhaps even selfish, and he knew that. He had no right to ask such of you, and he knew that; he pushed those desires aside immediately and forced himself to think rationally. 

"Would it be presumptuous of me to inquire as to if you are going to be attending the ball this fortnight?" He finally asked, his voice low, his eyes flickering over your features.

Your heart skipped a beat upon hearing the question, and you could not help but swallow dryly. "Yes, I will be attending. As you know, my parents wouldn't allow me to miss the event, even though I would much rather be reading in my room." You answered, trying to keep the trepidation out of your voice.

"I must agree with you. I would much rather be alone in my room as well." He replied quietly, lowering his gaze back to his own lap. 

"Well," You sighed out, grabbing your book once more, "At least we will have each other's presence to distract us from the tedium of the events." You said in an attempt to lighten the air, but he only offered a small chuckle before he turned his gaze back to the lake. 

Silence fell over the both of you again, with the soft sound of the wind rustling through the leaves and the birds flying overhead filling the space between the two of you. The atmosphere was peaceful, as it always was whenever you were together. For you, the silence was comforting, and Fitzwilliam enjoyed the silence as well. It was rare when the both of you had the chance to have a quiet moment together, so this was always a treat for you both.

~~~ 

Standing at the edge of the room, in your best dress from the newest season, you stood beside Fitzwilliam as the ball was in full swing. Your eyes surveyed the large room, glancing from the dancing couples, people chatting amongst their family, friends, etcetera, and finally, your parents. They stood, speaking with a man, whom you couldn't quite place his name on. From where you were, you could not understand fully what they were saying, which worried you slightly.

And it seemed that Fitzwilliam had noticed your straying gaze on your parents, and how your satin-gloved hands fumbled together nervously in front of you.

"Do not mind them." He muttered to you, leaning slightly towards you so you could hear him over the music.

"It is hard not to, Fitz," You spoke, turning your gaze away from your parents and back out upon the dancing. "They've been trying to find me a husband for the past couple of months. I am hoping at some point they will give up in their search."

"By the way that you speak, it would seem that you do not wish to marry." Fitzwilliam said, and you turned your head to look up at him.

"You know me, Fitzwilliam." You sighed, shaking your head slightly, "I do not want to marry someone I am unsure of. Besides, there were many whom were willing to offer marriage to a lady like me, and many of them, if I must say so myself, were handsome in all senses of the word. But from the few who have offered me marriage, I have turned away. I know that they had only seen my wealth, status, and looks rather than my personality. And I find that I cannot fathom the idea of marrying someone so shallow, or lacking in depth and solidity for that matter."

"I admire your strength of character." He said, looking down at you.

"Thank you, Fitz." You smiled sweetly up at him. "I admire your kindness and integrity." You added, your smile becoming genuine as he returned your smile with one of his own; though hardly noticeable.

"Daughter," Your gaze swiftly moved from your long-time friend to your mother, who stood with your father, and another gentleman you have never met before. "I would like you to meet Mr. Albert Wright. He's the owner of the Wright & Co. bank here in England." She informed you, a smile on her face, but her eyes held such excitement.

This Albert fellow was certainly some character, judging by his attire. His suit had a deep black waistcoat, a dark green vest, black breeches, and black shoes. And despite his clothing being quite plain, he did make an imposing figure; he was tall and broad, with a strong jawline, and he appeared to be very well built. His hair was dark brown, curly, and cut short, and his eyes a brilliant green.

You curtsied to him, trying to be as polite as possible, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wright." You greeted, forcing a smile upon your face.

"Please, call me Albert." He spoke, his voice deeper than you expected. Surprising you further as he bows his head and then offers you his hand. "May I have the honor of asking you to dance, my lady?"

The thought of taking his hand made you nervous, yet you took it regardless; not wanting to cause a scene or to upset your mother and father. Fitzwilliam stood helplessly as he watched you being led across the room by Mr. Albert just as another song began; his frown deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched as you danced with Mr. Albert. 

"Lovely match, don't you think, Mr. Darcy?" Your mother asked Fitzwilliam as she watched you dance with the banker.

Fitzwilliam reluctantly spoke, "I suppose so." He responded nonchalantly, averting his gaze momentarily before looking back over at you once more. Fitzwilliam had recognized the name Albert Wright from a couple of weeks prior. Having heard what the name had done, Fitzwilliam couldn't stop himself from warning your parents about Mr. Albert Wright's past scandal. "Madam, I understand wholeheartedly that you wish only the best for your daughter, but I feel that I must inform you that Mr. Albert was a part of a scandal many years ago regarding an older woman, whose husband was a respected merchant."

Your mother's eyes widened at the news, her hand coming to be placed upon her chest in shock, "Where did you hear of this, sir?" She inquired, your father mirroring his wife's expression, but he said nothing.

"From Miss Caroline, madam." He explained, turning to face the dancing crowd, his eyes following your figure.

Her mouth parted in surprise, her eyes widening further, "This is absolutely unacceptable! Our daughter should not associate with a man like this!" She exclaimed, her tone raising to one of anger as she glared at Mr. Albert.

By the end of the dance, Albert raised your hand and pressed a kiss to your gloved hand, bowing his head as you curtsied. Finally, you had thought, saying your goodbyes and thank yous to the man before heading back to your mother, father, and Fitzwilliam.

As you got closer, your eyebrows furrowed slightly, seeing your mother and father's angry expressions as they spoke to one another. Finding your spot next to Fitzwilliam, you leaned slightly towards the man to speak. "What has gotten my parents in such a temper?" You asked him, noticing his shoulders tensing slightly.

He glanced over at you briefly and shook his head lightly, "I am afraid I don't know. Perhaps it concerns Mr. Albert." He mused softly, keeping his eyes locked onto yours.

"But why is Papa so enraged? I haven't seen him this red since Mr. Took had tried to cheat him out of some money." You commented softly, looking up towards your parents once more.

"I believe it has to do with the fact that Mr. Albert had been a part of a scandal many years back." Fitzwilliam answered, making your jaw drop slightly, your hand coming up to cover your shock.

"And where did you hear of such a thing?" You asked quickly, wanting to know more details as to what scandal that Mr. Albert had gotten involved in.

Fitzwilliam looked down at you for a moment, turning back to the dancing, "If my memory serves me correctly, Miss Caroline had read upon it in a letter."

Trying to hide the smirk on your face, you lightly cleared your throat. "Well, isn't this unexpected," You muttered, amused. "And I could only assume that you had mentioned such news to my parents?" You asked, looking up at the name, eyes glinting with amusement.

Fitzwilliam looked down at you, nodding his head slowly, thinking, "Yes, you would be correct." He confirmed, saying nothing else which only made you smile.

"Well, thank you, Fitz," You began, "Without you, I wouldn't doubt my parents would have me married off to the man." You joked before another peaceful silence engulfed you both - that is, it was peaceful for you. 

Fitzwilliam looked down at you from beneath his eyelashes, studying you carefully, almost as if he were trying to memorize every feature of your face. When he realized that he was staring, he quickly turned away, clearing his throat lightly as he gained the courage to offer his hand out. You looked over, looking up at the man, to his hand, and back.

As you raised your eyebrow in question, he finally spoke, "Would you like to dance, my lady?" He asked softly, and you couldn't help the smile that grew on your face. You had your shock well, but you were surprised that 

"That sounds lovely." You whispered, placing your hand into his gently.

~~~

The sun was shining brightly as it peeked through the clouds, causing the water to sparkle with each droplet of rain that hit the surface. You love it when the sun's shining and it's raining at the same time. You had started your day as you usually did when you stayed at your family estate; waking up in your lavish bed, before getting ready for the day. Choosing one of your favorite day dresses, you style your hair neatly, grabbing a new book before leaving your chambers. Before breakfast, you did your daily practice on the piano for a moment before sitting in one of the sitting rooms and reading your book. 

Joining your mother and father for breakfast, you ate delicious small cakes, breads, and hot coffee. Breakfast was pretty peaceful and quiet, aside from your father occasionally speaking up. After a while, the topic shifted from the conversation regarding your plans for the afternoon, which included spending the time walking about the grounds, as you had previously intended to do earlier in the morning. 

You hid your feelings well, but you wished that you were at Pemberley at the moment. You had never really felt comfortable or a part of your family's estate. You loved both your parents dearly, but they were rather strict compared to how you're used to life at Pemberley. In truth, you missed staying there; however, you were happy that you were able to stay with your family once again and you didn't want to disrupt their routine. So, you continued to smile politely through your father's comments and continued to eat your food.

You had begun to zone out at some point of your father's speech, nodding along when you thought necessary when suddenly, you heard your name being called. You snapped your head up to see your mother with a small frown on her face. "Your father had asked you a question, young lady." She informed you. You bowed your head and apologized for spacing out. Your mother sighed, placing her small fork down on her fine China plate. "Your father had asked if you desired to attend the upcoming ball at Pemberley?" Pushing your shoulders back, your mind racking at your mother's words. But before you could answer, your mother cut back in, "We know that you don't have a fondness for such events." Your mother included, which you found odd and surprisingly thoughtful, that she was aware of your dislike for socializing, and was finally letting you have a choice in the matter.

Though, you couldn't help but wonder, why now? What had happened or what had been said that would allow your parents to change their minds? Looking up, your eyes met your mother's, "If I may, mother, I had thought that you would want me to attend such gatherings. Has something happened to change your mind so?" You asked her, tilting your head slightly as you spoke.

Your mother nodded her head, her smile widening with excitement, "Precisely so, but we have splendid news for you." Glancing to your father, he then decided to speak, clearing his throat before doing so.

"Your mother and I have found you a suitor. We have met with him many times over these past few weeks and we have deemed him to be most suitable. We have decided to arrange for your engagement with him." Your father announced.

Your breath caught in your throat, unable to utter even a word. You felt as if the world had begun to crumble around you, all your efforts of being independent forgotten as your father's words sunk in. You wanted the Earth to swallow you whole, the sky to open up and spit you back out, and any other form of escape would be welcomed by you. Your heart ached as your father finished speaking, your fingers twitching slightly as you grasped your fork tightly; your knuckles turning white. 

Your lips and mouth felt extremely dry as you opened your mouth and licked your lips, a shaky breath escaping you, "Who have you arranged me with?" You asked, "... If I may inquire?" Your voice was shallow and quiet, your gaze directed downwards.

"Duke Phillip Colston, a very wealthy gentleman who lives here in England." Your father replied, watching you closely as if waiting for you to react. "I believe you'll make a very respectable wife for him, just so as long as you do not cause him too much trouble. He is an eligible bachelor after all." Your father added quietly.

Sighing inwardly, you lifted your head to look at your parents, swallowing heavily, "Do I have any say in this?" You questioned, your voice still weak as your hands clenched into fists under the table. You could feel tears building in your eyes, and you desperately blinked them away, refusing to let them fall as you tried your hardest to keep yourself composed.

"I am afraid not, dear," Your mother answered, "We have gone countless months trying to find you a respectable and kind suitor - a man who is willing and able to take care of you and provide you with all the comforts of society. And yet, all of our attempts have failed." Her tone grew seemingly irritated. "Every man we had brought to you, offering marriage, you have turned away." Her voice rose into one of anger. "You are at a point where men will not even be interested in marrying you, your refusals are becoming the talk of the town, gossip, and blather, and I will not have it." She practically spat angrily, looking up at you with fire in her eyes, a fire that you could not seem to extinguish. 

You stared at your mother silently, a slight pain throbbing through your heart as you took in her words, "I understand wholeheartedly, mother," You began, pushing your chair back to stand, and setting your napkin onto your empty China plate. "I will say this, that I have no desire to marry such a man; duke or not. My heart belongs to someone who is worthy of it." You stated firmly. You then turned on your heel, walking out of the room without saying another word.

Once you were out of their sight, knowing that they weren't going to follow you, you ran. Rushing out into the hall, you ignored the odd looks from your family's servants and maids, swiftly making your way to the front doors and stumbling out into the chill air. Breathing heavily, you felt everything rushing through your veins and blood; flowing throughout your body. Without a second thought, you stepped out into the light rain before running once again. 

You kept running and running, your feet stomping into the wet grass, hair plastered to your face, cold rain falling onto your face; soaking your dress. You didn't care nor have any mind to where you were running or where you were, you just needed to get away. Away from them. Away from them all. Your life, you had no power, no control over it; no matter how hard you fought against it, you could not escape fate. 

You had known that at some point, your parents would grow tiresome of your constant rejection of the men they had brought to you. You knew it was going to be only a matter of time before they would just arrange for you to marry someone else. It was bound to happen sooner or later, considering your age. You weren't getting any younger, and no one wanted a spinster for a daughter.

Still breathing heavily, you came to a stop in a dewy field, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. Finally, you let the tears fall from your eyes, your vision blurry as the water streaming down your cheeks. You wiped your cheek with your sleeve as a sob escaped your lips. You collapsed to the ground in a heap, feeling as if your heart was breaking all over again. The day of the shining sun and the falling rain, something that you had once adored, now only seemed to mock you. As you cried softly, ignoring how cold and drenched you were, you did not hear the sounds of hooves, and someone calling your name. Only when you felt someone touch your shoulder, did you look up.

Fitzwilliam's usually stoic expression was long gone, replaced with worry and concern. His brows furrowed together as he looked at your tear-stained cheeks, and your dampened dress. Fitzwilliam slowly helped you to your feet, helping you lean against him as he guided you to his horse. You did not remember much of the ride back to Pemberley, nor entering the large estate, nor when you were rushed off with a couple of housemaids. You felt numb as you were in the bath, hair being washed and skin being scrubbed. During that time, you had only wished the bath water to be scalding. 

You were quickly dressed in an afternoon dress - one of the dresses that you had kept in your room for when you stayed at the estate - swiftly, you were brought to your room. You sat on your bed, in the home that you'd grown to love more than your own, gazing out the window as the rain began to slowly cease, revealing a beautiful blue sky. A sigh left your lips as a knock sounded upon your door, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Enter," You muttered, surprisingly loud enough for the person to hear, as they opened the door.

Turning your attention from the window, you looked over to see Fitzwilliam, the same worry on his beautiful features as when he had found you in the field in the pouring rain. Silently, he sat beside you, leaving enough space to make you feel comfortable. It wasn't long until Fitzwilliam's curiosity and urgency to see whatever was the matter got the best of him. He watched as you fiddled with your fingers and sighed deeply, "What troubles you? Why were you sitting among the fields?" His voice was soft, filled with concern, and you raised your hand to your hair; brushed but not styled. 

You felt your eyes well up with tears once more, a breathy sigh leaving your lips before you spoke, "I have been arranged to marry Duke Colston." You answered, a voice at the same level as the man beside you. You couldn't even bear to look at him, if you did, you were sure that the tears in your eyes would become a waterfall.

There was silence for several moments as you awaited Fitzwilliam's response. When finally, you glanced towards him, his gaze was locked straight ahead as if lost in thought, "Is this something that you are unhappy about?" Fitzwilliam inquired, his voice calm.

"Incredibly so," You answered with a breath, "I do not wish to marry that man, nor ever." You said, your words laced with bitterness, looking down at your lap, "But I do not know what to do. Despite everything, I cannot bring myself to refuse." You admitted, feeling guilty as soon as you finished speaking. Though you did not agree with the society that you lived in nor the repressing of women's voices, you knew that this was something that had to be done. Not for you, but for your family, no matter how much you detested the idea. "I will have to go along with the matter, for it pleases my family." 

Fitzwilliam stared at the side of your face, subconsciously admiring you as he thought. In his heart, he despised that you were forced to marry someone who was unworthy of you - you did not deserve that, you deserved far better. But what could he do? Again, Fitzwilliam was hopeless. He was unable to do much of anything. Right before him, you were miserable, and he could do nothing but sit here and offer you comfort. He did not even know which he could offer you at this point. He could only watch helplessly as you felt like he was watching you crumble right before his very eyes. His time was up, his hopes diminished, his dreams crushed.

~~~

Fitzwilliam sat in his office, staring down at the many papers and letters before him on his desk. The ticking of the grandfather clock was loud within the silent atmosphere, its deep, heavy, and unenthusiastic noises echoing around the room, as Fitzwilliam tried to force himself to focus. He was not successful, however, as his mind drifted to you every time he closed his eyes. Every time, he would imagine you, dancing with the Duke, marrying the Duke, starting a family with the Duke. Everything that Mr. Darcy himself had desired with you. 

He sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead, closing his eyes briefly as images of you danced across his mind. You, in his arms. Dancing at the ball from only a month ago. You looked up at him with those eyes, those eyes that held his heart. You laughed, and he swore to himself that he would do everything in his power to keep you happy and laughing; he could not lose you. But he did. Why did he not ask for your hand?

A knock sounded at his office door and Fitzwilliam snapped his eyes open, turning his head to face the door. "Enter." He called out, clearing his throat. He watched as Charles Bingley, one of his friends, walked in, bowing slightly before giving him a small smile.

"Her parents have sent a carriage," He spoke to Fitzwilliam, "She'll be leaving soon, Darcy."

Fitzwilliam nodded, placing his quill back on top of his desk as he stood, walking over to the window, peering down at the carriage, "How long before she leaves?" He asked, but before he could receive an answer, he watched as you entered his vision, seemingly thanking the driver, and though reluctantly, stepping into the carriage.

Charles walked over, standing beside the man as he watched you leave. The man then glanced at his friend, observing him. The stoic look on his face, though more brooding, did not mask the sadness and pain that resided in his eyes; clearly, he cared deeply for you. Charles, and anyone else close to either of you, could have seen that. 

"You care for her," Charles spoke softly, Fitzwilliam's shoulders stiffening slightly at his words, "I believe that you might even love her, Darcy."

Fitzwilliam turned toward Charles with an odd look on his face, "What makes you say such a thing?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

"The way you look at her, the way you speak to her," Charles paused, smiling warmly at Fitzwilliam, "There is no one else that looks at her the way you do," Fitzwilliam said nothing, turning his gaze away from the window and heading back towards his desk once your carriage was out of sight. "You should go after her." Charles said suddenly before leaving the room.

Fitzwilliam sat back down at his desk, letting out a deep sigh as he let himself slouch a little. Charle's words were ringing throughout his mind, causing him to frown deeper. He didn't know how long he sat there as he stared at the paper and his quill in front of him before he suddenly stood and grabbed his coat.

~~~

Sitting in the sitting room, book in hand, your mind could hardly focus on the words written in the book. Your thoughts were all on Fitzwilliam, all on the future, and your upcoming marriage with another man you did not love. Your mind already distracted, you snapped your head over to the study's entranceway, hearing muttering coming from down the hall. You could not make out anything, only hearing that it was two men speaking, but you furrowed your brows; hearing the muttering quiet before hearing the closing of another door. Curiosity was clawing at you but you turned back to your book, trying your hardest to get back to reading it.

But as two hours passed, having checked the clock every ten minutes or so, you began to grow restless. Shutting your book, you stared at the doorway, trying to strain your ears to hear anything, but you could not make out anything. The large estate was quiet, aside from the hustling of the servants. You looked over at the clock on the wall, about to stand to practice the piano to calm your nerves before your mother walked into the room. 

She stood, tall and poised as usual, a small smile on her face. With a small gesture, she told you to stand and follow her. And you did so, forgetting your book on the velvet loveseat and following your mother to your father's office. With a steady knock, the door opened and a small gasp left your lips. 

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy stood beside your father, who sat at his office desk, leaned back, and with a thoughtful expression on his face. Immediately as the door opened, Fitzwilliam turned to face you, bowing respectively, as you glanced from your mother and to your father. Looking back to your long-time friend, you tilted your head to the side slightly, "Mr. Darcy, this is a surprise." You then looked to your mother and father once more, "Whatever is the matter?" You questioned.

Your father gave you a soft nod, "Please, join us." More than confused at this point - bewildered - you stepped further into the room, your mother leaving your side to stand next to your father at his desk. "Mr. Darcy here has come to inform us of something rather pressing." Your father answered finally, standing from his leather chair with a small grunt. "We shall leave you both to converse," He added as he made his way out of the room, followed by your mother.

As soon as they were gone, you turned to Fitzwilliam, "Whatever is going on, Fitzwilliam?" You asked as the man in question took a step towards you. 

And though he had a small frown on his face, his blue eyes held such vulnerability, such tenderness. "My lady," He muttered, his eyes searching yours, "I must confess that I am… Somewhat troubled." Letting out a small breath, he continued as you stared up at him, "For many years, I have found myself longing for you, and I can not seem to help but fall in love with you…" At his words, your eyes widened, and your lips parted slightly as he continued. "I have come to speak with your father about your arrangement. I can not force you to continue, nor can I force you to end it. But I can only hope that you could consider me as a potential suitor - husband rather, if that is agreeable to you."

You felt your breath hitch, your heart racing as you stared at the man you loved confessing that he had feelings for you, as well. After a moment, you managed to regain your composure, though you still remained speechless. Licking your dry lips briefly, you spoke, "It is," You breathed out. The words were barely above a whisper, and yet it seemed so loud to Fitzwilliam. He blinked rapidly, almost surprised at your response. You brushed the stray tear from your cheek, a small crawling sensation taking residence in your stomach. "I would be honored to accept your proposal, Fitzwilliam Darcy."

And though it was brief, you saw his smile before he took a step forward and hesitantly took your hand in his. The skin-on-skin contact, though usually forbidden between a gentleman and a young woman, caused butterflies to fill each of your stomachs as you both pressed your foreheads together, eyes fluttering shut. 

~~~

The sun was shining brightly today, as were the birds who were singing their songs in the tree branches, which were swaying lightly in the breeze; the light rain drizzled down from the sky. A content smile spread across your face as you leaned against the railing, overlooking the beautiful gardens that surrounded the estate. Your smile only widened as you felt a pair of arms slowly wrap around your waist, tugging you back into the warmth of Fitzwilliam's body. You hummed and rested your head upon his chest, your hands coming up to cover his. 

His arms tightened around your body, pulling you closer to him. "Good morning, my love." He spoke softly, planting a gentle kiss upon your temple. His lips moved along the soft skin of your cheek gently, causing you to shiver as goosebumps rose along your skin.

"Good morning, Fitz," You whispered in return. "I do declare that this is the most beautiful day I've ever experienced." You sighed out as he chuckled, nuzzling into your neck before pressing his lips to the skin there.

"That it is," He agreed before lifting his head and looking into your eyes. He gazed at you lovingly, brushing the hair from your face before leaning in and placing a soft kiss upon your lips. You sighed as he pulled away, allowing his forehead to rest against yours. Your fingers ran through his short hair, gently scratching his scalp as he hummed contently, enjoying the feeling.

"What is the time?" You asked, breaking the silence.

He glanced at his pocket watch, "Just past eight," He stated, giving you a fond smile, "Shall we head to breakfast?" He then suggested, earning a nod from you. Taking your hand in his, you brought it up to your lips, pressing your own kisses to his knuckles before he began to lead you from the balcony.

Behind the both of you, outside the window, just as the rain began to fade away... A rainbow slowly appeared.

#cute #fluff #slight angst #x reader #fanfiction #x female reader #fanfic #x you #x y/n #pride and prejudice 1995 #pride and prejudice #pride and predjudice 2005 #mr. darcy #mr. darcy x reader #mr. darcy x female reader #fitzwilliam darcy #fitzwilliam darcy x reader #fitzwilliam darcy x female reader #fitzwilliam darcy x you #fitzwilliam darcy x y/n

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 [𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐙𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐘]

PAIRINGS —  Fitzwilliam Darcy x fem!Reader

SUMMARY —  Referred by a close family friend, reader finds herself a job tutoring a lovely young girl and begins to form an unlikely connection with her older brother

WARNINGS — slight angst, non main character death, breastfeeding (non descriptive, idk if this i need a warning for this but)

NOTE — okay so I know some of my fics in the past got kinda niche with concepts and some characters but honestly I think we’re entering a new era with that, but either way I hope those of you who like P&P enjoy this just as much as I do :) also I wrote this with Colin Firth’s Darcy in mind but I think it could just as well work with Matthew MacFayden’s (This can be considered to happen after his proposal to Lizzie but like if they didn’t end up working out)

You tried desperately to shake off the nerves that overcame you, it was not like this was the first wealthy family you had tutored for, but something about Pemberley just seemed so out of your grasp. You had received the position only through an old colleague who was moving to Scotland to be nearer to his family and had communicated with your employer via mail. From what your friend had shared his former boss wasn’t one who was warm and open, he might even be considered a little standoffish, but all he wanted was what was best for his younger sister who you would be tutoring. 

He’s a good man, he’s just maybe not as warm as you’re used to. 

And according to friends you were used to a lot warmer than most. Your father was never shy showing his affection to his children and you all loved him more for it, but it seemed to make you just a little off put with the way everyone acted in such a closed off society. 

With one final deep breath you knocked and the door was almost immediately opened by one of the servants. 

“I-I’m here to see Mr. Darcy,” you explained. “I’m the new tutor for Miss Darcy.” 

“Yes, Miss (L/N) is it?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” you gave her a polite smile. 

“Right this way, Mr. Darcy is in his office.” 

You followed the housekeeper inside and had to keep yourself from gasping at the beauty of Pemberley’s interior. 

After your presence was announced to Mr. Darcy, you were allowed to enter the room and gave a quick curtsey to get the formalities over with. 

“Mr. Darcy, it’s nice to finally meet you in person,” 

The man nodded, but offered no response. 

“I am assuming you have gone over the subjects I would like Georgiana to go over?” 

“Yes sir,” you nodded and bit the inside of your cheek. It was your job, why wouldn’t you have done that? 

“Very well, then that will be the extent of our dealings today. Someone will take your to Georgiana so you can meet her and being your studies,” 

“Thank you, sir,” 

Hamish was right, Mr. Darcy was not as warm as you were used to.

The lady who had shown you to Mr. Darcy beckoned you to follow her again and took you down the long halls and up the grand staircase which took you to the young Miss Darcy. 

When you saw her she was hunched over what looked like a piece of sheet music, making various annotations and comments in the margins. You remembered a younger version of yourself doing something similar to remind yourself of where there needed to be extra emphasis on things. 

Georgiana Darcy had a quiet shyness even just to the way she carried herself, but in that way she reminded you of your younger sister closest to you in age. She was maybe a year or so older than Georgiana and even from having barely known her a few moments you knew if they were ever to meet they would be great friends. 

“Ma’am,” Georgiana looked up and noticed you in the room, quickly shuffling away her papers while introductions were made. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you smiled. “I’m close friends with Mr. Morrison, he’s told me a lot about you.” 

“You know Mr, Morrison? I was so sad to hear he was moving so far away,” Georgiana sighed. “He was a very engaging tutor,” 

“I hope I can live up to his standard,” you chuckled. “Your older brother gave me the impression that you’re prepared to begin your lesson today.” 

“I am,” she confirmed. “I was hoping we could start with something a little lighter though, but knowing my brother and his curriculum that might be impossible.” 

“He does have very high hopes for you,” you noted. “He mentioned to me in one of his letters he hopes for you to have the tools to be a smart, capable, and independent young lady.” 

“As long as being independent doesn’t mean being sad and alone,,” she giggled. “Come, I have a space set up in another room for lessons.” 

Georgiana took your hand and dragged you off to her study room, decorated by he you assumed, with flowers, paintings and lots and lots of books. There was even another piano in the corner of the room and she gauged your reaction to the space. 

“It’s beautiful,” you grinned. “You did this all yourself?” 

“Aside from moving the piano, yes,” she nodded. “But I told them where to put it and my brother helped me pick out the paintings.” 

“Well, you both have very good taste,” you praised. “Which might be a rather nice segue into our first lesson,” 

“Are we going to paint?” Georgiana asked, she even looked a little excited. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but unfortunately not. It’s a review of art history, but I promise I’ll try to make it as bearable as possible,” 

“I trust you,” Georgiana smiled and sat down at the table. “As long as you can keep up with my endless questions we should be in good shape,” 

“I’ll try my best.” 

You smiled as you set down your papers and lesson plans. You would have to send a letter to Hamish because this may just turn out to be the best job you’d ever have. 

—

It had been a few months of you working at Pemberley and you couldn’t have been happier. Your walk to and from the village everyday was a little long, but it was worth it when you had a student like Georgiana. It really felt like you were spending time with your younger sister and you thought she maybe even came to see you as an older sibling. 

You had only really spent a handful of moments with Mr. Darcy and most of the pleasant ones involved his younger sister. You hadn’t much inclination to spend time with him although you didn’t complain when he came to sit in Georgiana’s study room to observe or read quietly while you went through your lessons with her. 

There was a quiet handsomeness to him and although he was not outwardly warm and fuzzy at least he was like the works of art you would review with Georgiana when discussing sculpting during the Renaissance. 

One afternoon during lunch, you noticed Georgiana was sending her brother some sideways glances, as if she wanted him to say something and when he wasn’t understanding her signals she cleared her throat and turned her attention to you. 

“(Y/N)-,” 

“Georgiana, we’ve spoken about this,” her brother scolded. 

“No, it’s quite alright,” you assured Mr. Darcy. “We’ve made a small agreement to refer to each other by our first names,” you explained. 

“I am well aware of the agreement, but that doesn not change the fact that it demeans your position as her tutor when she refers to you so plainly,” 

“I didn’t think my name was that plain, sir,” you remarked and ate a bite of your salad while Georgiana chuckled. That seemed to silence him so his sister continued. 

“Anyways, I was meaning to ask you about your walk to Pemberley every morning, it must be terrible when the weather is poor.” 

“I must admit it worries me to catch a cold when I should be fit enough to work, but I don’t mind the walk too much,” 

“I believe what my dear sister is trying to express,” Mr. Darcy jumped in. “Is that we’ve cleared a room for you to stay at Pemberley if you wish to do so.” 

“A room here?” you confirmed and Georgiana nodded with a wide smile. “You wouldn’t have to get up so early in the morning anymore and if you’d like to walk you can always do it around the grounds.” 

“T-That’s an incredibly kind offer Mr. Darcy,” you looked at him. “Are you sure this is something you would be alright with in the long term?” 

“I’ve given it extensive thought and it seems to be the best course for Georgiana’s studies and to ensure your continued good health.” 

“Well then, in that case I’d be honoured to accept your offer,” you smiled shyly. “I’ll move my things this weekend.” 

“Fitzwilliam and I can come and help you,” Georgiana suggested. “Can’t we?” 

Mr. Darcy looked at his little sister and you thought you might have caught a flicker of a smile before he nodded his head. 

“We can bring a carriage down and help load it up,”

He very well could have people come and do that for him, but there was something interesting about how he was so casual in accepting the suggestion of his sister. 

You would have assumed helping his younger sister’s tutor move into his home to be something quite beneath him. 

“Thank you, that’s a very kind offer. I’ll be sure to have tea waiting for when you arrive,” 

Georgiana clapped her hands together as if having you move to Pemberley was the best news she’d ever heard. You couldn’t help but wonder if the closed off and distant Mr. Darcy was doing all of this to please his younger sister, but when you took a moment to glance at him you saw how his eyes were already fixed on you and maybe it wasn’t just Georgiana’s doing after all. 

—

Something you would never come to understand was how the gardens of Pemberley were so pristine no matter the time of year. The hedges were perfectly trimmed, flowers beautifully in bloom and never wilted. 

During the summer months it was warm enough to go outside and sit without a jacket by the lake which you enjoyed doing on the weekends, bringing a good book and soaking up as much of the sunlight as you could get. 

You were so engrossed in your novel, oftentimes you wouldn’t notice if someone had come to call on you, or anything around you for that matter. 

So it came as a shock when you heard a voice that was in very close proximity to you, making you jump with fright. 

You placed a hand on your chest to steady your beating heart as you looked up only to find Mr. Darcy there. 

“Oh, Mr. Darcy, I don’t think I’ve been scared like that since… well, it’s been a long while,” you tried to catch your breath and steady it. 

“I apologize,” he said. “Might I ask what has inclined you to sit out here,” 

“Well, the sunlight for one,” you noted. “And a good book which I was reading until I was so frightfully interrupted.” 

“Right,” he nodded. “I should take my leave so you can continue-,” 

“Mr. Darcy I’m afraid you misunderstand me,” you interrupted him with a small chuckle. You were only teasing him,  “If you’d like to join me you're most welcome to. This is, after all, your home.” 

Mr. Darcy lifted his coattails and sat himself down on the grassy knoll next to you, looking out towards the lake. 

“Is your family all in good health?” he inquired. 

“Yes, as of last week they are,” you nodded. 

“You have how many siblings?” 

You took a moment to count on your fingers, whispering the names of each of your sisters and one brother until you had the final count of six. 

“Six, sir. I assume it’s just you and Georgiana?” 

“You are correct in your assumption,” he nodded. 

There was a moment of awkward silence between you both before you figured you would probably have to be the one to break it. 

“I do enjoy myself greatly at Pemberley, I’m very thankful for your hospitality.” 

Still silence, but as if he wasn’t sure how to answer. 

“Mr. Darcy are you alright?” you asked. 

“Quite,” he cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes, I’m quite alright,” 

His eyes drifted over to your book and noticing its title he pointed to it. 

“M-May I?” 

“Of course,” you nodded, sliding in your bookmark and handing the novel to him. His fingers brushed over yours and you could feel your breath hitch at his touch. 

He examined the binding and structure of the book before its contents, scanning the first few pages, but you were too focused on the burning feeling that he left on your fingertips. You gently massaged it away hoping he wouldn’t notice the way you had reacted to such a simple thing, but desire was nothing to be fooled with. 

“H-Has it passed your inspection, Mr. Darcy?” you asked, glancing down at the book, then at him, your hand still folded in your lap. 

“I have no objections,” he agreed. “A fine choice.” 

“I’ve only just started it,” you told him. “I’m rather anxious to see how it ends,” 

He took one last glance at the title as if he wanted to commit it to memory before handing it back to you. 

“I shall look forward to hearing your thoughts on it once you finish,” 

You smiled when he said that, you knew what Hamish had said when you first came to Pemberley, but now that you had been there the greater part of four months you wished to believe that maybe Mr. Darcy did have a soft side. 

“And I shall look forward to conversing with you,” 

You noticed the faintest twitch of his lip as if he was fighting away a smile, but he quickly brushed it off and gave you a polite nod before standing up and wishing you a good day. 

You opened your book back to where you had left off, but your mind was distracted. It was safe to say you didn’t get much further. 

—

“Fitz, you have to help me convince her she’s being very stubborn,” Georgiana eyed you and you tried to focus on eating your dinner. 

“I’m sure Miss (L/N) has a very good reason to not be convinced of whatever it is you’re asking of her,” Mr. Darcy came to your defence. 

“But-,” 

“Georgiana,” her brother warned, but the young lady would not have it. 

“Fitzwilliam,” she mimicked him. “She’s planning on staying bolted up in her room during our ball you have to do something,” 

Mr. Darcy looked up from his plate to you, his hands holding the utensils relaxing as he eyed your curiously. 

“You won’t come to the ball?” he asked. 

“No sir, I was not intending to,” you shook your head. 

“May inquire as to why?” 

“I-I don’t have anything to wear,” you admitted. “And I do not want to make yourselves or myself out of place with the company you shall be hosting,” 

“It would be more cumbersome for us if you weren’t there,” Georgiana tried to convince you. “Most of these balls are out of societal obligation and Fitzwilliam and I would be better off with your company, not without it. Lord knows how much he hates small talk,” 

“Georgiana, now that’s enough,” Mr. Darcy ended whatever was left of the conversation. “Miss (L/N) is a grown woman and can make the decision herself on whether she will attend the ball or not,” 

You thought that would be the end of it and that you would stay in your room with no questions asked, but a few days later when you walked into your room there was an unfamiliar package on the bed. 

You picked it up and unwrapped the carefully folded paper packaging to reveal a beautiful dress, one of the latest fashions from London. Something you could never imagine being able to afford. 

Attached to the package was a note, you quickly unfolded it and read what was written. 

I hope you understand that I only wished to remove any barriers preventing you from joining us next week. The decision is still yours, but I hoped this might help. 

Darcy

You looked down and examined the dress again. It was in a colour you remembered having mentioned — perhaps it was to Georgiana — you liked and the detailing was something like you’d never seen. 

You closed the door to your room and slipped off the dress you were wearing, replacing it with the one from the package instead. 

When you saw your reflection in the mirror you knew then and there you could not let this dress sit away in a closet to be eaten by moths. This dress deserved to be worn. And even though the very thought of it made you sick with nervousness, it deserved to be worn at a ball. 

—

“I cannot tell you how happy I am that you’ve decided to come,” Georgiana linked your arm with hers once you entered Pemberley’s ballroom. 

“It would have been foolish of me to stay in my room with a dress like this,” you looked down at yourself, still unable to believe you were wearing it. 

One of the maids had helped you with your hair, it was in a different style than what you normally wore day to day, but she had done such an amazing job with it you figured it would be hard for people to figure out you didn’t really belong.

Georgiana was your saving grace for a while, helping you start conversations with others and introducing you to their guests, but eventually — just like all good things coming to an end — she was pulled away by one of her friends and you were on your own. 

You poured yourself a glass of punch and stood off in a corner, observing everything that was appening in front of you. 

Georgiana was now dancing with the others and you realized that the whole night you hadn’t caught a glimpse of Mr. Darcy. Your eyes scanned the room for him, but there were so many new faces it was almost becoming dizzying looking through them all. 

“I see you’ve taken my approach to the ball,” 

You jumped at the sound of his voice so near making you spill your punch and staining your new dress. 

“Mr. Darcy,” you gasped. “I hope after this encounter you come to realize how easily I am frightened,” 

“Again, I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to scare you,” he was sincere, but there was a hint of a chuckle in his voice. 

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” you took a deep breath and set down your drink, wiping your hands on a napkin and turning to give him your full attention. “I must say I’m surprised to see you on the sidelines.” 

“I believe Georgiana was ever so kind in mentioning that I detest small talk,” he reminded you. 

“And dancing?” 

“It depends,” he looked straight ahead, his eyes finding Georgiana’s in the crowd. 

“On?” you urged him to continue. 

“Who I’m dancing with.” 

You looked at him thoughtfully before remembering the stain on your dress and you knew there would be no way you could remove it with a little scrub of water alone. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me, Mr. Darcy,” you sighed. “It is unfortunately not acceptable to dance in a punch stained dress.” 

“Of course,” he nodded. “Although, Miss (L/N),” 

You turned your head back and looked up at him. 

“Yes?” 

“I would be very grateful if you would allow me to accompany you.” 

“Accompany me?” you confirmed. “To remove the stain from my dress?”

“Yes… or to perhaps mysteriously disappear from my own ball and not return,” he offered and you quickly lifted a hand to cover your mouth and stifle a laugh which finally revealed to you Mr. Darcy’s smile and what a beautiful sight it was. 

“I would be happy for you to accompany me Mr. Darcy,” you nodded and waited a moment for him to catch up the few extra steps to be at the same pace as you while you walked out of the ballroom and towards the bedrooms. 

You could still hear the music faintly in the halls and you admired the peacefulness of it all. 

“Does it ever feel too big?” you asked. 

“Pardon?” 

“Pemberley. Does it ever feel like it’s too big?” you asked him. 

He took a quiet moment of reflection and you patiently awaited his answer. 

“It’s all I’ve ever known,” he admitted. “I’m not sure what smaller would look like.” 

“It’s more about what it feels like,” you expressed. “Including my mother and father there were nine of us at home while I was growing up,” you began to explain. “Our home was not as small compared to a lot of the others around us, but in contrast to Pemberley it seems miniscule. When I wanted to get away from everyone I would have to leave the house, go take a walk in the field. Here I can just go to my room and I’ll be left alone,” 

“Do you miss your home?” Mr. Darcy asked. “Surely you wouldn’t stay there forever.” 

You looked at him curiously and he clarified, 

“What I mean is a woman such as yourself will eventually get married, perhaps move away.” 

“I do miss home sometimes, but it’s mostly my family. There is something about the quiet here, it’s so serene.” you clasped your hands together to stop them from swinging at your side. 

There was another spell of comfortable silence before it was broken again by Mr. Darcy. 

“Miss (L/N), if we stopped by my office I may have something that can help remove the stain from your dress,” 

“You do?” 

“When I was younger I had an awful habit of spilling tea on my white shirts so the maids started to give me something so I could get them cleaned faster,” he explained. “I-I’m not sure if it will work, but it might prove to be useful.” 

“Perhaps you should go grab it while I change out of this dress and into another?” you suggested. “You can meet me at my room.” 

Mr. Darcy nodded and quickly took the turn to his office while you hurried your pace to the end of the hall where your bedroom was. 

As quickly as you could, without damaging the dress, you removed it and laid it on your bed before picking out the nicest clothes you had out of your own belongings, but it came nowhere near even the simplest dress at the ball.

A couple moments after you had gotten dressed there was a knock on your door and you grabbed the dress and opened it. 

“We may need an area with better light,” you looked at your dark room only lit by a small candle. 

“Bring the candle, if we take it to one of the balconies it should give us enough to work with.” 

You nodded and did what he suggested before following him to one of the balconies in question. 

Mr. Darcy held out his hand for your dress and you gave it to him seeing the jar he held in his opposite hand. 

He hung the dress along the balcony’s ledge and opened the jar, pouring some of its contents on the stain. 

“Vinegar?” you asked. 

“And lemon juice,” he nodded after placing the jar down on the ground and scrubbing the affected spot. 

“Mr. Darcy, if you’d like I can take care of it,” you reached out and offered to take the dress off his hands. 

“I-,” he stopped himself as if he was unsure how to word what he wanted to say. “It would mean a great deal if you allowed me to do this for you, Miss (L/N),” 

You nodded your head and retracted your hands, holding them against your stomach, watching as he took extra care until, by the warm light of the candle, the stain was almost completely removed. 

“Thank you,” you said while taking the dress carefully back in your own hands, folding it and placing it on a table inside before coming back out. 

You could hear the music clearly coming from the ballroom, you suspected the windows were open and the sound was travelling. You thought it was a shame you didn’t get to dance, but that was partially your own fault, if you weren’t hidden off in the corner perhaps someone would have asked you. 

“Miss (L/N), I know it is just the two of us, but if I noticed correctly you did not dance tonight,” 

“I was just thinking about that myself,” you nodded. 

“If you would do me the honour of sharing a dance I’m sure we can change that,” he offered his hand. The music was slower, not something one would typically dance to, but maybe Mr. Darcy knew a different style of dance than that which you were familiar with. 

You cautiously took his hand and he brought you close to himself. You placed your other hand on his shoulder while he placed his just above your waist. 

“Have you ever waltzed before?” he asked. 

“Not that I can remember,” your voice was a whisper unable to comprehend how close you were. 

“It’s very simple,” he explained softly, “It’s three steps and you just follow my lead-yes like that,” 

You kept watch on your feet until you got a hang of the movements, allowing yourself to look up and see Mr. Darcy staring right back at you. 

You felt like you couldn’t blink, that if you did the whole moment would vanish. 

“I-I’m sorry I ruined the dress you bought me,” you apologized and looked down again at your feet, any excuse to tear away from his burning eyes that you sensed were reading your very soul. 

“No, I should be the one to apologize for frightening you,” he said. “With or without the dress you could fit in here, Miss (L/N),” 

You could feel your cheeks grow warm and you thanked him quietly for his words. 

The music came to a slow close and your movements stopped with it. You stood a moment, in that same waltzing position like you were waiting for another song to start so you could continue, but it didn’t. At least not one you could waltz to. 

You let go of Mr. Darcy’s hand and you were about to let your hand drop from his shoulder when you noticed a stray curl had fallen on his forehead, and out of instinct — perhaps from years of caring for your younger sisters or maybe even once or twice with Georgiana — you moved it out of the way, only realizing what you had done when it was too late. 

“Oh my-I-I don’t know what came over me,” you quickly stepped away. “I’m so so sorry Mr. Darcy. I should-I think I should take my leave,” 

Your movements were almost frantic as you quickly brushed past him and stepped back into Pemberley, grabbing the dress on the table and rushing to your room, overwrought with embarrassment. 

As if dancing with him so closely wasn’t enough, you scolded yourself behind closed doors, angrily lighting a spare candle and sitting down on the chair in front of the vanity. 

You looked out on yourself, a simple woman, from humble beginnings, desperately wanting something that could never be yours. 

—

“(Y/N), I am absolutely utterly restless, must we continue this lesson immediately?” Georgiana asked you as she looked down in dismay at her French grammar assignment. 

“I suppose not,” you hummed. “Would you like to go for a short walk perhaps? We can both get some fresh air and come back with a clear mind able to conjugate verbs,” 

“That would be amazing,” Georgiana shot up, out of her chair and was already halfway out of the room as you grabbed your things.

You linked arms with her and she eagerly led the way out of Pemberley and towards the lake. 

You saw a figure walking from there in your direction and you squinted trying to figure out who it was, but soon became distracted by some of Georgiana’s questions. 

She asked about the small town you came from, what it was like there, if you missed your family (the answer to that was yes, but the letter you had recently received from your father helped a little with the homesickness). 

You smiled at her curiosity, but your smile disappeared when you looked up and were face to face with a very indecent Mr. Darcy. 

Your eyes grew wide as you saw him in nothing but a soaking white undershirt and pants while Georgiana tried to hide a laugh. 

“Georgiana, Miss (L/N).” he addressed you both. 

You hadn’t spoken to Mr. Darcy — aside from light chatter at the table while you ate your meals — since the ball. You were far too embarrassed to try and converse with him after what you had done, but now here he was in front of you, hardly dressed and making your stomach flutter.

“Mr. Darcy,” you nodded. 

“Shouldn’t you be doing a French lesson Georgiana?” he asked his young sister. 

“We decided to take a break,” she explained. “We’ll get back to it soon,” 

“A-Are you enjoying your walk?” he asked, but his eyes were locked with yours. 

“Yes sir,” you nodded. 

“And your family is in good health? They are all well? Y-Your mother, father and siblings?” 

“Yes, from what I have last heard.” you confirmed. 

You stood there the three of you, staring at each other for a moment before Mr. Darcy finally excused himself to go dress more appropriately. 

After he was out of earshot Georgiana turned to you and with a quiet chuckle noted that her brother enjoyed swimming in the small lake on the property occasionally in the summer to cool off. 

“I don’t think I've seen him quite so flustered before,” she said. “He’s often so composed but I haven’t seen him stutter and stumble like that.” 

“I’m sure he was just cold,” you lied, hoping more than anything you could quickly go back inside and forget about the incident all together. 

—

Mr. Darcy walked down the halls of Pemberley a couple weeks after the lake incident, simply trying to go to his office, but when he heard a loud shriek come from your room his adrenaline raced and he ran there as quickly as possible, knocking on the door to see what was the matter. 

“Miss (L/N)?” he called. “Miss (L/N), are you alright?” 

There was no answer so he announced that he was entering the room, worried for your safety, only to see a letter dropped at your feet while you clutched your heart. 

“Good God,” he ran up to you, almost offering you the solace and comfort of his arms before remembering that it wouldn’t be appropriate. “What happened?” 

“I-I-,” you gagged and covered your mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick!” 

Tears were streaming down your face and your heart was racing far faster than it should have been, you wanted to tell Mr. Darcy the terrible news you had received. What made you cry in horror, and withered your very soul, but you felt dizzy, your dress far too constricting and making it harder for you to breathe.

“(Y/N), you must let me call someone, a doctor, you are unwell,” 

You shook your head, but not as a sign of refusal, you weren’t even aware of what was happening anymore, everything was becoming fuzzy before your knees buckled and it went black. 

You were lucky Mr. Darcy was right next to you as he caught you before you fell and quickly carried you to your bed, laying you down before rushing to the hallway and calling for help. 

Georgiana was closest and she came running down the halls wondering what her brother needed. 

“Georgiana, I need you to get Evangeline to call a doctor immediately and bring me a towel soaked in cold water and the smelling salts.” 

“What happened?” 

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “She read something and became distraught by it. She wasn’t well enough to tell me before she fainted.” 

“I’ll be quick,” Georgiana nodded and ran back down the hall to do the tasks her brother had requested of her. 

Mr. Darcy headed back into the room and kneeled down next to your bed. He couldn’t help but reach out to hold your hand and give it a squeeze, the worry shimmering in his eyes. He could care less about propriety at that moment. 

He needed you to be alright, desperately, whatever the news was, when he found out he would do everything in his power to assure your comfort. 

Georgiana came back quickly with the requested items and Mr. Darcy sat himself next to you on the bed. gently dabbing the cool towel on your forehead. 

Georgiana placed the smelling salts under your nose only getting a slight twitch from you before Mr. Darcy told his younger sister to leave it for a moment before continuing. 

“Georgiana perhaps you should be at the door when the doctor arrives,” Mr. Darcy said quietly, his eyes never leaving your still frame. 

“Of course, please do call someone if you need anything though,” 

“I will,” he nodded and she slipped out of the room leaving only you and Mr. Darcy. 

He placed the cold towel on your forehead and gave it a moment before he tried the smelling salts again, this time with more luck seeing you begin to stir and wake, realizing all over again what had happened. 

You barely even had a chance to sit up when your body erupted with sobs, your chest heaving and shoulders shaking. Mr. Darcy, again, desperately wanted to offer you comfort in an embrace but giving you any sort of added shock dissuaded him from doing so. 

Georgiana, presumably having heard the sound, ran back into the room and fell at your feet her hand tightly grasping yours. 

“(Y/N), what happened?” her voice was gentle but carried the pain she knew you were feeling. 

“I-It’s my father,” you pressed your lips together and shook your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, covering your mouth with your free hand.

Mr. Darcy grabbed the letter that was on the ground and with your permission skimmed its contents before passing it on to Georgiana.

“Miss (L/N), given the circumstances I believe I should escort you to your family home,” Mr. Darcy shared. “After the doctor has come and checked on you. I’d like to make sure you’re in good health before I return you to them. They need you in one piece.” 

You nodded your head and sniffed, wiping away your tears with the sleeve of your dress. 

“A-And Georgiana, what about h-her? Her st-studies?”

“Never mind me,” Georgiana shook her head and looked at you like you were being silly. She sat next to you on the bed and wrapped you in a tight hug. “I’ll manage for a while. Go be with your family, they need you and you need them.” 

“I can’t thank you both enough for your continued kindness,” you whispered. “Especially at a time like this.” 

“Of course,” Mr. Darcy nodded. 

Georgiana offered to help you pack a bag and you accepted it graciously while Mr. Darcy insisted you stay seated until the doctor came around, not wanting to deal with another fainting spell. It was frightening enough the first time. 

The doctor arrived around five minutes later and assured Mr. Darcy you were alright, just greatly overwhelmed. He recommended for you to take time to rest and relax, but both you and the Darcys knew that would only come when you were back home with your family. 

So with your bag in Mr. Darcy’s hand, you walked up to the prepared carriage. Mr. Darcy helped you inside and he followed shortly after securing your bag, taking the seat next to you, but leaving a decent amount of space between you. 

As the carriage began to make its way off the property you stayed quiet. Watching outside of its window at the gardens passing by, thinking about how long it had been since you’d seen your father and how you wished you could have been at his side when he left this world. 

Your eyes flicked to the empty spot next to you, noticing the way Mr. Darcy’s hand was resting next to his side. You carefully inched yours closer to his, wanting to ask for comfort, but not knowing what reaction it would bring. He was — after all — a very proper gentleman. 

You turned your head again and watched the scenery outside when you felt the faintest brush against your hand, to be sure you looked once more and saw how Mr. Darcy’s hand was now even closer to yours, as if he was making sure it was alright. 

You slowly stretched your fingers out slightly to him as he made the last move, placing his hand over your own and giving it a gentle squeeze as you both continued to look out of your respective windows. You didn’t dare turn to look at each other. 

When the carriage stopped in front of your home, Mr. Darcy was the one to let go of your hand, but only for a moment until he helped you out of the carriage. He told the driver he would handle your bag and after he handed it to you, you thanked him once more for his kindness. 

“And not just this, Mr. Darcy,” you sniffed and wiped away a few remaining tears. “It’s not lost on me what you have done for me in the time I’ve stayed with you at Pemberley. My room, the dress, the small parcels of books you’d leave on my desk every month,” the thought of his generosity was enough to bring a small soft smile to your face. 

And if he had the chance to do it again, Mr. Darcy knew he wouldn’t change a thing. 

“Thank you for bringing a light back into Pemberley that I haven’t seen in many years. You’ve done me a service just as much as you have claimed I have for you.” 

You gave him one last fleeting smile as a goodbye before you knocked at the door of your home, waiting for one of your siblings to let you inside.

—

It had been three weeks since you had left Pemberley and as much as you wanted it to be, it wasn’t a pleasant feeling to return, knowing what was in store. 

Once you were let in, you headed straight for Mr. Darcy’s office where Evangeline said he would be. You knocked on the door and as soon as you heard permission to come inside you entered. 

“Mr. Darcy, I need to speak with you urgently.” 

“Miss (L/N), I-we weren’t expecting your return today. I’ll send someone immediately to prepare your room.” 

“There’s no need, sir,” you bit the inside of your cheek. “I’ve come here to hand in my registration.” 

“Resignation?” Mr. Darcy was not expecting that. “I-Is this because of the passing of your father?” 

“In part,” you nodded. “I’ve been given time to reflect on the matter and I have now realized that during my time here there have been many boundaries of which I have crossed,” you continued to explain. “This has nothing to do with either your or Georgiana, this is completely my own mistake and I wish to own up to it.” 

Mr. Darcy was speechless, he wanted to argue with you, tell you how foolish you were being and that nothing of the sort had happened, but he could see your mind was set and if this was something that would make you happy, he didn’t want to be the person who got in the way. 

“I understand your decision, and although I do not necessarily agree with it, I will not stop you,” he said quietly. 

You pressed your lips together and nodded, “I’ll go pack my things and give the news to Georgiana.”

You left his office without another word and headed to your room to begin packing. 

After everything was complete and your belongings were in the carriage you looked around for Georgiana, finding her by the piano playing a quiet melody. 

Her playing stopped abruptly when she noticed you were there and she ran over to give you a hug. 

“You’re leaving aren’t you,” she mumbled quietly into your shoulder and you nodded as the young girl squeezed you tightly. 

“I’m so sorry Georgiana,” you apologized. “Please know that I have loved every moment I have spent with you. And I love you very dearly, as if you were one of my sisters.”

“I love you too,” she cried softly and you held her close, clutching a letter you had written for her in your hand. 

You gently pulled away from her, only to be able to wipe her tears and place a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“You can come visit me anytime you’d like,” you assured her. 

“I will. As much as I can.” 

You handed her the letter and she held it close to her heart. 

“I’ll see you again, I promise,” you tucked a small strand of her blond hair behind her ear and pulled her in for one last hug goodbye before leaving Pemberley and your heart behind you. 

—

Two months later…

“Fitz,” 

“Hello, Fitz?”

“Fitzwilliam Darcy,” Georgiana snapped her fingers in front of her brother’s face and he finally blinked out of his trance. 

“What is it Georgiana?” his voice almost sounded like a sigh, the past two months at Pemberley had been gloomy to say the very least. 

“You’re unhappy, Fitzwilliam,” she stated. “Melancholic, miserable, despondent, however you put it, it doesn’t matter.” 

“Why do you think that is,” he sat back in his seat, listening to his sister. 

“Because you miss her,”

“Her? Who is her?” 

“(Y/N), you miss (Y/N),” she said. “And do not try to deny it. You’ve been grumpy since she’s left and all you’ve done is mope about. You love her, Fitz. Which is why you should go after her because I think she loves you too,” 

Mr. Darcy only shook his head at his little sister, but it was more to save his own image than to disregard what she was saying, because he knew it to be the truth. At least for him it was, why would you have left if you loved him.

After lunch he sat in his office and attempted to get some work done and unfortunately his productivity was not particularly fruitful. Evangeline came in later to bring him a cup of tea and he thanked her, hoping maybe a warm drink could get him back on track. Instead, he knocked over the cup and spilled its contents on his white shirt as he cursed himself for his clumsiness. 

He grabbed a spare shirt from his room close by and went to try and remove the stain from the dirtied one. As he pulled out his mixture of vinegar and lemon from one of his desk drawers he paused, his mind drifting back to the night of the ball. 

He remembered holding your dress in his hands, insisting that he be the one to help remove the stain, it was so simple yet to him it felt incredibly personal, he hoped it showed that he cared. The way you danced together, slowly, close to one another, scandalous by all definitions, but how you had both become lost in each other's eyes and how you hadn’t missed a beat in fixing an unruly curl that had fallen onto his forehead. 

Upon a moment of reflection, he realized that perhaps his reading of your behaviour had been wrong, that maybe everything you had done, even leaving, you’d done because of him. 

He didn’t want to inflate his own ego, but there was only one way he would be able to get it out of his mind and that was to ask. The worst that could come of it is things would stay the same. Mr. Darcy would be alone while the woman he loved moved on with her life. But if there was even an inkling of a possibility, he wanted to take a chance. 

He left his office in haste and asked the driver to prepare the carriage for him. He informed Georgiana that he was going out and that hopefully he would return by nightfall. 

The carriage ride seemed to take forever and Mr. Darcy waited impatiently for them to arrive at your home. He knew this was an unannounced visit and it was as rude as one could be, but he had to know, he could not wait even another second. 

After he knocked on your door, he had half a mind to leave, to abandon this foolish pursuit completely, but before he could give it another moment’s through the door swung open. 

You had to blink a couple times to make sure you were seeing things right. You carried your little brother on your waist and he had his head tucked into your neck, not wanting to expose himself to the stranger in front of him. 

To Mr. Darcy you had never looked more beautiful. 

“I-I do apologize, I realize how rude it is of me to come unannounced.” 

“Yes, quite so,” you nodded, still shocked by his presence. 

“(N/N) who is it?” one of your younger sisters ran to the door to come get a look at their visitor. 

“Iris,” you hissed quietly. “Go back inside.” 

“(Y/N), be nice to your sister,” your mother came to join the three of you by the door all staring at Mr. Darcy. “Sir, you must accept my apology for my daughter’s apparent lack of manners. May I ask who you are?” 

“This is Mr. Darcy, mother, my former employer,” you introduced. 

“Then what is he doing standing outside, please come in.” 

Your mother took no hesitation in pushing you out of the way so that he could enter and by that point, the rest of your sister had gathered around to see what was happening. 

Mr. Darcy stepped into your home and he was able to adequately see what you were describing the night of the ball. Your home was obviously much smaller than Pemberley, but comfortable enough to house you, your mother and your six siblings. He could understand how it might easily get loud and boisterous, but it gave him just that much more insight into you. 

“Might we offer you some tea Mr. Darcy?” your mother asked and Mr. Darcy shook his head. 

“No thank you, but may I ask for a moment of Miss (L/N)’s time? There’s something I wish to discuss with her in private.” 

Before you even had an inch of room to answer, Julia, the sister closest in age to you, swooped in to take Peter out of your arms and pushed you in the direction of Mr. Darcy. 

“Of course, you both can use the sitting room,” she smiled and motioned for the rest of her sisters to follow her upstairs. 

Finding no other option, you led Mr. Darcy into the sitting room. He walked to the opposite side and when you closed the door you crossed your arms over your chest, waiting to hear what he had come all the way from Pemberley to say. 

He stayed silent, unsure of how to string the words together and so you tried to prompt him with a question. 

“How is Georgiana?” 

“She’s well, in good health,” he nodded. 

“And Pemberley?” 

He opened his mouth to say something then paused. 

“It’s not the same.” 

“Why not?” you frowned. 

“It’s not the same without you,” he finally admitted. “The estate is always quiet, Georgiana isn’t engaged in her studies, she misses you, I… I miss you,” 

“Mr. Darcy-,” 

“Please, allow me at least to finish and then if you wish me to leave and never come again I will respect that.” 

You nodded your head, signalling that you were listening and ready to hear what he had to say. 

“When you left you said that it was because you had crossed boundaries and you wanted to own up to your mistakes. I didn’t agree to that from that start, but if that is how you see it then I am just as complicit in crossing those boundaries. I will admit to that, but I crossed those lines because…because…” 

“Why Mr. Darcy?” you stepped closer to him, just a few inches, but it was enough to see the hurt glimmering in his eyes. 

“Because I had fallen in love with you. I still am in love with you. I wish for nothing more than to have you be the first face I see each morning and the last face I see each night. My heart is in agony, ever since you left us, I only wish for that pain to be soothed.” 

Now it was your turn to remain silent. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, in all your time spent with Mr. Darcy you could have never imagined that something like this could occur. He was a gentleman of high status and you were just a girl from the country. 

“I know it’s selfish of me to ask of you to come back for this reason, but I would be beside myself if I didn’t ask if you would even consider doing me the honour of becoming my wife.” 

“I-” your voice was caught in your throat as a couple tears escaped from your eyes. “I would gladly take that honour,” you nodded with a sniff, wiping away a few tears and walking up to him and taking his hand in yours. “And I will carry that honour with me as gratitude for allowing me the opportunity to marry the man I love.” 

Mr. Darcy gently lifted his hand to hold your face tilted towards him as you leaned forward to rest your foreheads against each other. His thumb wiped away a few more stray tears before you moved his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss on his fingers. 

“Is there any chance I may convince you to kiss me?” you asked. “If our relationship consists of boundaries crossed we may as well continue to be consistent.” 

Mr. Darcy chuckled and tucked a finger under your chin, allowing his lips to meet your own in a soft kiss filled with love and admiration for one another. 

When you pulled apart, Mr. Darcy couldn’t help but hold your face in his hands, with a twinge of a smile on his lips. 

“My dear, I know it is customary for one to ask for the blessing of the father when getting engaged, but given the circumstances, I would like to ask your family. Would you be alright with that?” 

You nodded your head, and held one of his hands that was pressed against your cheek as you turned to kiss it. 

“I’ll go get them and make some tea while you talk,” you said. 

You didn’t want to let each other go, but you knew for the time being it would be necessary. When you stepped out of the room, as you had predicted your family was gathered around the door, waiting for some sort of news. 

“Mr. Darcy would like to speak to you all,” you said. “I’m going to go make some tea.”

“(N/N) what did he say?” Julia asked.

“I’m sure that will come to light soon enough,” you nodded. “Go on.”

You shooed your siblings off into the room and your mother followed closely behind with a slightly skeptical look on her face. 

You sat and waited patiently in the kitchen with a cup of tea in your hands until when you looked up at the door you saw Mr. Darcy standing at the entrance. 

“Well?” you asked. 

He simply nodded his head and you couldn’t help the grin that had become plastered on your face. 

You had to contain your excitement and simply stood up to meet him and extend your hand for him to take. 

With one look to each other and a simple nod, you were both ready for whatever would come next.

—

The sun peeked through the curtains on a clear Thursday morning, you yawned and stretched, reaching over to your side only to be met with empty covers. As soon as there was a frown on your face you saw your husband emerge from the adjoining room with two glasses of water in his hands and your expression relaxed. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Darcy,” he said softly, placing the glasses on the table next to the bed and taking a seat next to you. 

“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” you yawned with a chuckle. “Have you been up long?”

He shook his head, “Just a few minutes.”

“Could you stay?” you asked while fixing a few of his tousled curls. 

“Of course,” he nodded and leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips only to be interrupted by the sound of a soft cry coming from the room next door. 

You were in the middle of pushing yourself up to attend to it, but a careful hand was placed on your shoulder and encouraged you to stay down. 

“I’ll get him don’t worry,” he assured you and not even a minute later, Mr. Darcy walked back into the room with your son cradled in his arms. “I think he wants his mother,” he said while watching the little boy squirm. 

“Oh he’s just hungry,” you pushed yourself into a seated position and held your arms out to take the baby while Mr. Darcy came and sat next to you on the other side of the bed. 

Just as you had predicted, the squirming immediately ceased while he was being fed and it made you chuckle. 

“What is it?” Mr. Darcy asked.

“Nothing, it’s just you get cranky too when you’re hungry,” you let a laugh escape while your husband shook his head with a smile. 

“My darling, you wound me,” he teased and you simply smiled back up at him.

“I’m sorry Fitz, what can I say? Like father like son,” you replied as he wrapped an arm around you and he used his free hand to gently stroke his son’s head, suddenly overcome with overwhelming gratitude that he took a chance to be happy. 

#mr darcy #mr darcy x reader #fitzwilliam darcy #fitzwilliam darcy x reader #pride and prejudice #p&p 1995 #bbc pride and prejudice #pride and prejudice fanfiction #mr darcy fanfiction

[profeyandere]

𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐙𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐃. ─── ☾ 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐘

Masterlist || Pride and Prejudice Masterlist || Wattpad

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Fitzwilliam Darcy x Fem!Reader

Warning: None uwu

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

A soft and refreshing breeze from outside, specifically from the lush forest, surrounded the entire most beautiful instance that someone had ever imagined seeing, causing the small room where this narration would take place to become even colder than it had been during the night and it is that, even though the thin and semi-transparent curtains had not moved during the hours of sleep, it had been with the arrival of the sun that they had finally begun to wave and entangle each other in such a way that they seemed to be dancing a sweet dance that the birds accompanied with their sweet songs. Usually, it was that wonderful voice of nature that caused the couple in the pastel room to wake up, but this time it was doing the opposite of what was expected.

Two lovers rested on the huge bed in the centre of the great room, carried and calmed by the song of the birds, dozing in peace with the body of the person they loved next to theirs, with their respective extremities entangled in knots such a way that, on the sheets, the only thing that could be distinguished was a small lump formed by that couple; the arms of both tightly hugged the other's body and their legs, to the surprise of many, were completely entangled in such a way that it was impossible to tell which belonged to whom and they formed that union they needed to be able to rest in peace. Both adults, previously trembling from the cold that had besieged their room, had joined in such a way that with the simple contact of the other's skin it was enough to feel in paradise and, together with the leafy and soft sheets that covered them, that only increased the feeling of intimacy that they always longed to have in each other's company.

The bedroom, previously in darkness, was greeted by the first rays of the sun, being the main room of the house the one that had received the warm welcome of the enormous star that was always around it and allowing its warmth to pass through the enormous windows to be able to offer the consolation of the heat that the couple so much sought. Although it seemed with this declaration that both would separate as soon as a warm gust of wind invaded them, it was quite the opposite because it was not only the search for a pleasant temperature that caused them to be in that position but the love that surrounded both of them.

All those who knew the couple were well aware that it would be impossible to separate them.

The first to open his eyes and greet the morning with a glance and a quick blink at the intense light that fell on him, was none other than Fitzwilliam, who used the sheets to cover his face enough to be able to stretch comfortably, slowly separating his arms from his lover's body and untying his legs from those of others, stretching until he felt a pleasant stiffness that made him sigh softly, thus avoiding making a noise that could wake up his beloved. From experience, he had learned not to overdo it because his back or hips could suffer throughout the day until he went back to sleep. His large hands opened and closed to the beat of the soft melody he remembered hearing the day before, smiling softly as he recalled the piece he had shared with the love of his life, who was precisely the same person who was next to him. on that big mattress.

His thin pink lips slowly formed a small smile as he watched the woman lying next to him stretch her arms up until her hands collided with the headboard, grunting under her breath before rubbing her eyes roughly and turning on the bed to turn her back on her husband. The man, enthralled by the figure of the woman, could not help extending one of his hands towards the matted hair of the female, trying to move it away from her face so that it would not bother her and placing it on the extension of the pillow in such a way that, in case it moved, do not pull the strands and hurt yourself.

“Fitz, leave my hair.

The barely intelligible murmur that came from your lips made the person named smile, who could not help but slowly approach you to place a chaste kiss on your right shoulder, which made you shiver in surprise and the cold that you felt his lips on your body. Darcy, understanding the clear signals you were unconsciously producing, reached out his hand so he could pull the sheets over you so that you were completely covered and sheltered from the heat the blankets produced.

"I'm sorry to bother you, dear," he whispered pushing aside his pillow as he sat on the mattress, leaning his broad back against the headboard to be able to observe your face, which, upon hearing the nickname with which he had named you, had distorted into a disgusted grimace. "I did not want to wake you up."

Darcy couldn't help but smile when he saw how slowly you turned around again to look at him, still with your eyes closed because of the sun that was shining directly on them, and that prevented you from opening them so as not to suffer from temporary blindness. With regret, and between soft groans that amused the man, you covered your head, and little by little, you began to get used to the sunlight that pierced the sheets.

"I don't like it when you call me 'dear', you know that," you mumbled between your teeth, listening to the serious laugh of the man you loved and gently hitting his right leg when you saw how he made fun of you. "You are a terrible husband."

"I'm sorry. I'm not good enough for you, my beloved pearl."

With his words, you felt a gentle pressure on you, one that came from outside, and that is that Darcy, in an attempt to show his love for you, leaned gently, without supporting his weight on you, to give you a sweet kiss on the sheets he expected you to feel. Maybe he didn't seem like the most caring man in the world, but when you exposed yourself enough to be able to make eye contact with his sparkling crystal eyes you knew you had gotten the biggest prize anyone could have imagined.

Your relationship with Mr. Darcy was not always as perfect as your acquaintances imagined, and the fact is that the other's presence in your respective lives began in the worst possible way.

You were just curious kids back then, and while you both seemed to have gotten along when you first met, it wasn't until there was blind trust in each other that you realized you didn't quite hit it off, at least during that time in your life. He wanted to travel, and you were just looking for a man who, under the standards that your parents had set for you, would make you feel happy to be his wife and the dreams you had were what the other needed to be able to make fun of him until he was fed up. Your arguments and fights always ended the same way, and it was not exactly a pleasant way. That little 'hatred' that formed around you did nothing but increase over the years and, although everyone expected you to declare at some point the romantic feelings that were disguised by the immaturity that you presented, it was not until that Wickham appeared in your life that Darcy realized that in reality, the little woman he had despised for so many years for nonexistent reasons, was the woman that society had told him so much about, you were his chosen one; Fitzwilliam had found the love of his life since he was little and it wasn't until he realized how you refused the boy's hand because someone was ruling your sweetheart and you quickly warned him that George might try to hoodwink Georgiana in the same way he had done with you, which surprised him due to the great prejudice that had formed around you, which finally began to see you with different eyes.

Darcy loved you in such a pure and sincere way that, several years after the Wickham episode, he wanted nothing more than to meet the young lady he had estranged for so long and had saved his little sister from falling for the charms of a man who would do nothing but hurt a family that had offered him everything, quickly proposing to you that he could court you during one of your birthdays because he had finally ascertained the reason why his heart pounded so hard or his strange stutter appeared when you were next to him. Darcy loved you too much. He could hardly take his eyes off you during the evenings you shared with so many other party guests, and the idea of ​​marriage finally appeared in his mind as soon as he saw you at that celebration that became more important and intimate for both of you when he asked for your consent to be able to fall in love in the same way that you had done with him.

He showered you with affection and gifts and, where once people found two children who hated each other, time showed that it was the love they had always hidden from the other.

"You know you were more than enough, Fitz," you murmured, smiling softly at the sight of her sparkling eyes and how they lit up more at the way you addressed her person. "Why did you have to wake up right now? We can stay together longer. There's no need to get up."

"I had no intention of doing it," he spoke, grabbing his pillow to place it on her legs still covered by the sheets. "Have you rested well?"

"How could I not do it with the man of my dreams by my side?" You questioned, crawling slowly across the bed to get closer to him so that you were completely pressed against his body. "And you? Did you finally get to sleep when we went to bed?"

"I took my time," he replied, smiling slyly as he brought his hand closer to your forehead so he could gently caress it with his thumb, slowly dragging his fingers to the beginning of your hair so he could brush it away from your face. "Just like this morning, I needed every little part of you memorized so I could see you in my dreams."

Darcy couldn't help but chuckle at the way your cheeks took on a deep reddish hue.

"You're too cheesy," you stated, gently taking his hand so you could kiss each of his knuckles.

The brown-haired man, slightly disturbed by the placid sleep in which he had been immersed minutes before, was fascinated by the scene that was happening before his eyes and that is that his heart, beating to the point of making him worry due to a possible heart attack close, he couldn't feel better seeing how you showed your love in the same ways he did. Somehow, he always thought you were one step above him since you managed to make him feel so much better than he thought he made you feel.

"What?"

That simple question was what it took for Fitzwilliam to lean down and kiss your forehead, making you smile too much at the affection your husband showed you.

"You look lovely, Mrs. Darcy."

"Don't call me that. You know you can only use that name when you are completely, perfectly and radiantly happy," you scolded him, placing your hand on his lips so that he wouldn't continue kissing you, receiving one of the most affectionate ones in the palm of your hand. "I can not with you."

"Why can't I call in this way the woman I love with all my heart and with whom I feel happy to have been able to marry?" He asked, taking your hands in his before kissing them. "I love you, Mrs. Darcy."

"And I to you, Mr. Darcy."

That declaration made you smile at the same time as your eyes began to shine as a result of the love that you reflected on the other. He leaned back to spread soft kisses along your face that you quickly reciprocated in the same way until your lips met in a soft kiss that, far from resembling the others you had shared, you would remember all your life. You might normally wake up that way, between little games or showing affection as sweet as the one mentioned, but they were all very different because the love you felt towards each other increased as time passed.

Fitzwilliam, intent on keeping you from getting out of bed so he could reach his lips, slowly began to position himself in the same way he had woken up that morning, putting the pillow back in place and arranging his body so that he was lying on the large mattress that you shared but used half of, leaning on his left arm to be able to observe your face and continue kissing you calmly to welcome the wonderful day that was about to begin.

#fitzwilliam darcy #mr. darcy #fitzwilliam #darcy #fitzwilliam darcy x reader #mr. darcy x reader #fitzwilliam darcy x you #mr. darcy x you #fitzwilliam darcy x oc #mr. darcy x oc #reader #you #oc #Matthew Macfadyen #fitzwilliam darcy imagine #mr. darcy imagine #Matthew Macfadyen imagine #pride and prejudice #pride and prejudice 2005

[soft-for-them]

The feeling of anger and the letter that caused it - Pride and Prejudice x plus size reader

Summary: You've known Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley since your were a little girl, so it's only normal for them to offer you a ride home when they spot you sad and angry at the side of the road in such cold conditions. (Can be seen as any version of Pride and Prejudice.)

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

A/N: I hoping people like this like I love this for I have a whole idea for a series where you the reader get to pick who you end up with.

“I despise that filth.” You don’t even use the word man as you start to boil over into a bubbling fury of fire and flames. Your hands are clutched to your side as you walk without a chaperone, down a lovely path were the trees haven’t been effect by the sudden cold of the afternoon yet just so you can rant and mumble to you hearts content without your mother hearing.

Wearing a long black warm coat, one you’d normally wear in winter but the dreary weather calls for it, a very fashionable coat to suits the regency times without making you look bulky and wide, you stomp down the pathway leaving imprints of your worn shoes onto the frosted over dirt. The high collar of your coat tickles your rounder face, the warmth it gives no match for the fiery anger that sets you face aflame with warmth.

“How dare he ever contact me with such familiarity, after all he’s done!” you roar on with a hint of sadness cracking in your voice.

The bonnet you wear on top of your head, a quiet plain but big one with a nice yellow lace ribbon holding it on your head, narrows your view to the side so you do not see a carriage riding down a road off onto the path you stand on. The path, really an old dirt road farmers use to traverse between fields, is long and winding however you could see every inch of it if you just turn your head a little to the side and see the many little roads and intersections that connect onto it.

“If I were a man then I’d challenge him to a dual.”

You’re standing well to the side of the road, brambles and old man's beard catching onto your coat along with tiny drops of last night’s rain. Any carriage can get by just fine though you’re so blinded in fury that you do not notice as a carriage pulled by two fair horses traverses by.

The reticule clutched in your left hand swings side to side as you finally see the carriage now just a bit off in the distance, you eyebrows knitting together in slight confusion as you walk on only to see that it has stopped.

You steps are slows as you ascend upon the carriage, the horses huffing out cold foggy air as they patiently wait to trot on.

As you walk up to the side you see that the ruffled thick curtains, often seen in all carriages for privacy and to block out any unwanted sunlight, are open and two faces look out at you.

One face, all happy and puppy like, leans in more his eyes wide with worry despite still having a smile on his handsome face, whilst the other man sits stoic with a look of disdain on his face (though still handsome none the less.)

Of course you know of these men, how could you not, you grew up around them even if you’re not partially good friends with them.

“Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy.” You greet in the most polite way you can.

“Miss (L/n), I beg your pardon, but may I ask why you’re out walking alone on such chilly day?” Mr Bingley asks with the most concerned voice you’ve ever heard from him, gosh, you think you see his bottom lip tremble as he asks you it.

“Just heading home.” you half lie.

Yes, you’ll ultimately have to go home but right now you’re out walking venting out your anger and sadness, it’s better to do that then to brood at home until you explode into an angry fit of hatful, but untrue, words that would hurt the feelings of you dear family.

“Why don’t we give you a lift? It is unwise to leave such kind friend out here alone.”

For a moment you contemplate arguing back to Mr Bingley, make up a proper lie to deter the ball of sunshine from insisting. But you look up into his big round eyes and reconsider, really you do.

“Mr Bingley, that is very kind but…“ you talk before you figure out a good lie to tell him.

“It's unlady like to be out alone.” Mr Darcy pipes up making you turn your head to the shadowy man.

“I think it’s more unlady like to be seen unchaperoned in the carriage of two unmarried men, Mr Darcy.”

Mr Darcy like he always is just looks at you with his long boring gaze, no more words said, only the small door to the ornate carriage opened by his hand. You let out a ghastly ‘gah’ sound mumbling ‘fine!’ to the two men before hauling yourself up into the carriage.

Mr Bingley, ever the gentleman moves over so you can sit next to him for Mr Darcy seems to be frozen in place, his eyes still lingering on you.

With all your might your try to sit closest to the window so not to bump knees or squish thighs with Mr Bingley but after the carriage starts moving again your legs start to ache from being so tensed up that your legs knock with Bingley’s. The awkwardness inside the small quarter is visible like a thick fog in the air as you smooth down your dress over your round tummy. You try to sit up as straight as you can whilst the sharp stare of Mr Darcy still stares on at you.

It takes a good fifteen minutes for a conversation to start.

“I thank you both for this ride.” You say hoping it will clear the air and thankfully it gets Mr Bingley yapping.

“No ‘thank you’ needed dear friend-“ there it is again, him calling you his friend, “- I wouldn’t wish anyone to be walking out when it’s so cold out, let alone you Miss (y/n).”

“Well-“ your cheeks warm once more but not with anger, Mr Bingley always knows how to fluster you with his kindness even though you believe he does not realise he’s doing it, “- It is rather nippy out today.”

Before Bingley can speak up once more Mr Darcy speaks up.

“What were you doing out?” for a moment it sounds like Mr Darcy cares for you, his voice wavering just a bit to sound more kind.

“I-well-I-“

Your stutter of a response gets both men looking at you with concern on their faces.

They’re a few years older than you but your mother was always friends with Mr Bingley’s mother so you’ve always known the man, thus also knowing Mr Darcy. With knowing them, with befriending Mr Darcy’s younger sister, you’ve still never really been proper friends with them, not really. But from knowing them, knowing Darcy mostly, you’ve been rolled up in scandal and sadness.

You see when you were younger, more gullible, more effected by bullies who talked about your round body like it was a bad thing, a dashing young man by the name of George Wickham came into your life only to break your heart. Years later he came back but he wasn’t interested in you, no, he was interested in the younger Georgiana Darcy. It still makes you sick to think that you so young fell for him, that you hid away and told no one of the fleeting love only for Georgiana Darcy, a friend and honorary younger sister to you, to get hurt.

Now you sit among Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley angry at the man you haven’t thought about for so long, well until today.

With wobbly hands you dig into your reticule to pull out a letter. You look at Bingley, his face sweet and kind, before shoving the letter into Darcy’s hands.

“I got this. I got it just after luncheon, I have been walking off my disdain ever since.”

Darcy’s gaze on you breaks as he uncrumples the letter which was scrunched up and shoved into you reticule like it was kindle ready for the fire. The paper is flimsy and plain, the seal most gone only leaving a red stain on the folded paper.

Darcy open it and begins to read it to himself.

“To my (Y/n),

I hope that this letter is not too informal for I know we have not spoken in a while.

I regret it, how I lead you on for so long making you think I was to propose, for you were always such a good young girl who followed the men in uniform around so merrily, I never realised the love you had for me. I suppose this letter has come to a surprise, though I had to write it for I do wonder what kind of woman you have become.

I am currently in town and wish to see you again, you and you darling family that is.

If it isn’t too rude I wish to invite you to some afternoon tea, see the address below to send confirmation, which I hope you do.

Your dearest,

George Wickham.”

Mr Darcy’s eyes fill with a rage like no other, the flame only calmed somewhat when they flick up to see your face, to connect with your eyes on the verge of tears.

“I hope Georgiana is safe-” you say weakly, “-I have not seen her in a while.”

When Mr Darcy moved into Pemberley your family had moved into a smaller manor of only five rooms just outside Lambton for your father has long passed and many of your siblings, young and old, have been married off, the money problems rising and the network of close friends also moving with it.

“She is safe (Y/n).” Fitzwilliam Darcy says handing back the letter.

“Good, good good.” your eyes travel from Darcy’s to Bingley’s, his head cocked slightly to the side in a confused look.

“Wickham is back in town.” is all you say to the bright man, his hand goes to yours in which holds the letter but he does not take it from your hand, he rather engulfs your hand with a pleasant warmth, an act to show comfort.

You know this last week has been hard for both men; Mr Bingley having fallen for the eldest Bennet daughter to only find out that she’s been married to her childhood sweetheart for the last year (though the two of them have become fine friends none the less) and Darcy having been snubbed by another Bennet daughter.

Wickham is just the icing on the cake.

The carriage pulls up to your home surrounded by farmers’ fields and small ankle deep rivers.

“Thank you both for the ride home.” you place your free hand, reticule hanging from your wrist by its dainty strap, onto Mr Bingley hand given in to tight squeeze.

“My, (Y/n) must you feel upset again then call for me instead of freezing.” Charles Bingley says with a vigour you’ve only seen on love-struck men.

“I will, I will.”

You rise and step out of the carriage not before nodding to Darcy and saying another full ‘goodbye’ to Bingley.

The carriage does not move until you’re safely inside and waving from the front window to the two men.

#not proof read #pride and prejudice #pride & prejudice #p&p #pride and prejudice 2005 #pride and prejudice 1995 #fitzwilliam darcy #mr darcy #mr bingley #charles bingley #mr darcy x reader #mr bingley x reader #charles bingley x reader #fitzwilliam darcy x reader #plus size reader #x plus size reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader

[bearwriting]

Pride and Prejudice

Fitzwilliam Darcy

My Time is Yours: Fitzwilliam Darcy was never really one for balls (or social gatherings in general), but after some prodding from Mr. Bingley, he realizes they may be good for some things. 

#pride and prejudice masterlist #pride and prejudice fics #pride and prejudice imagine #pride and prejudice x reader #p&p masterlist #p&p fics #p&p imagine #p&p x reader #fitzwilliam darcy fics #fitzwilliam darcy imagine #fitzwilliam darcy x reader #mr darcy fics #mr darcy imagine #mr darcy x reader #bear writes

[gardenofdahlia]

❀Fitzwilliam Darcy x Reader❀

                                    ❀ “i love you, most ardently.”  ❀

summary: darcy confesses his love to y/n, gender neutral pronouns

warnings: none

word count: 264

                     I shudder, rain soaking my dress I clutch closer to me as I plunge further into the storm. Water rushes under the stone overpass, much higher than usual in the sudden downpour. My mind swirls louder than the torrent of rain, rushing through a path in the woods. 

Ahead is my reprieve from the storm, a raised and sheltered circular platform with many pillars. Rushing up the steps, I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My back touches the cold stone, giving me a moment to catch my breath. 

I let out a cold gasp as I see a figure standing just a few feet away, recoiling away for a moment. He’s tall, with dark hair and dark clothing. Darcy appears as soaked as I am, drops of rain sparkling in his tousled hair. 

“Sir?” I ask, breathless from the howling wind. His eyes are an unfamiliar emotion, sincere and almost vulnerable. 

“I have struggled in vain, and I can bear it no longer,” the words jolt from his lips as I watch. “I have fought against my better judgment, my family's expectations, the inferiority of your birth by rank and circumstance. All these things I am willing to put aside and ask you to end my agony. “

I stare at him, studying for any clue as to what he means. Darcy seems to gather himself, waiting for my reply. His eyes dart across my face, searching my expression and seeing my confusion.

“I don’t underst-” “I love you,” his voice interrupts mine. I freeze in confusion, watching.

“Most ardently.”

#pride and prejudice #mr. darcy #fitzwilliam darcy #darcy x reader #x reader

[taradactyls]

Trying to Tread Water: Chapter Seventeen

The Marriage of Convenience fic no one asked for

Mr Darcy will not break his word, so must go to London to host Mr Bingley for Christmas, but he is loathe to leave his wife. At least in town he gets to see Georgiana. Elizabeth finds she does not want him to leave either... but is soon distracted by the arrival of her aunt and uncle Gardiner.

Read on Ao3 here

First reviews: "Yeaahhh, new chapter!" "Wonderful update, thank you so much for sharing!" "It's sweet how Darcy couldn't seem to let go of her hand.." "loved this chapter!! can't wait for the next one in all its "monstrosity" haha, i love love love long chapters :'D" "Ohhh this was just lovely, their goodbyes in the cold warmed my heart ❤️ ... you know how to spoil your readers!" " I’m taking a class on Jane Austen this semester and I told my prof about this fic and she thought it was AWESOME so I’m passing on her kudos as well! It makes my day to see when this updates. You write so well and I adore the way you construct character relationships." "I love this chapter! Woohoo to the Gardiners! ... I’m more hyped than ever for a chapter to be posted!"

Story updates fortnightly, with Chapter Eighteen coming out on the 17th November.

Story tags: Elizabeth/Darcy, Marriage of Convenience, Unrequited Love, Not Really Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, Pining, Pining Despite Being Married, Mr Darcy thinks his worst enemy is Wickham but maybe it's himself.

#Once again I have to say that I have the best readers and they say more kind things than I could possibly fit #archive of our own #ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic #jane austen #pride and prejudice #elizabeth bennet #fitzwilliam darcy #mr darcy #elizabeth x darcy #darcy x elizabeth #trying to tread water #fic:t3w

[iluffyouxo]

fields || mr. darcy

Pride and Prejudice — mr. darcy x black, female oc

His pale blue eyes glistened under flickering yellow lights, his thin brown hair was drenched in sweat and clung to his forehead. He frowned down at me as he huffed out a breath. “Pyrrha Brighton,” he glowered, “What is it that you want?” Darcy clearly disapproved of something about me. But, what it was? I hadn’t the slightest clue.

I snicker, “Stop trying to intimidate me, Darcy. You’ve already called me ugly once…nothing else you say can hurt my pride further.”

He stumbles over his next words for a moment. His face flushing a dark cherry red. “I-I’ve said no such thing!” His response garners a hard eye roll from me. “You told Charles I was barely tolerable at the Summer festival.” I cross my arms. “And, technically, you insulted every woman there by calling Jane the only beautiful woman at the party.”

Darcy’s eyes widen in shock. “You—uh—you heard me?”

“Uh—yeah, I heard you,” I click my tongue, “Anyways, I didn’t come over here to argue with you.” Darcy raises an eyebrow at me. “Then, why are you here…?”

“I’m here to let you know that Caroline is on her way to yell at you.” He blinks, “About what?” I shrug, “Something about you liking someone else. In her mind you two are dating.”

“But, we never—“

“I know,” I cut him off, “You never dated. But, who is it that you like? Even Caroline won’t tell me. It must be an awful important secret.” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully.

Darcy’s blush becomes prominently darker as he averts his gaze elsewhere. “It’s…It’s nothing you need to concern yourself over, Ms. Brighton.”

I groan. “How many times have I told you to just call me Pyrrha? I’m a year older than you, not twenty.” I turn on my heel to leave the gym as I wave him goodbye with the back of my hand. “C’ya around, Darce. And good luck.”

•

Music blared in my ears as my eyes tried adjusting to the dim lighting of the room.

I lean in closer to him with a hum, taking note of his features and the imperfections of his skin. “You have freckles…since when?” I question sitting back against my seat.

Darcy only stared at me wide eyed with a light-colored blush dusting his cheeks. “Uh…umm….”

Darcy and I—along with Lizzie, Jane and Charlotte—were at the annual “Bingley Ball”. The biggest college party that started off every school year hosted at Charles and Caroline’s mansion. The twins never disappointed and seemed to outdo the previous get-together.

The blue eyed beauty loosened the tie of his tux as he visibly gulped. He seemed rather…shy and uncomfortable. “I’ve—erm—I’ve always had freckles. They’re just light and hard to see. Unlike Charles’. But, I…I don’t really like mine. They make me look weird.”

“Look weird?” I snort, “The only thing here that looks weird is me in this dress, Darce.”

Every year the party has a theme. Last year was Kpop. This year it was Disney. And, unfortunately, Lydia and Kitty found it impossibly amusing to throw me in Princess Tiana’s dress.

Darcy’s nose scrunched up doubtfully. “Says who?” He asks quite defensively. I shrug. “Well, Lydia and Kitty found it rather entertaining and Mrs. Bennet thought I looked absolutely ridiculous…and I’m not the prettiest tool in the shed.”

“First off, it’s brightest tool in the shed, Ms. Brighton,” he scoffs, “and, secondly, I…I find you rather charming in that dress.”

I raise a questioning brow. “Oh, really? Charming…? I suppose if you had said beautiful, I would’ve caught your bluff all too quickly.” Darcy cuts his eyes at me with an annoyed huff, “You speak too lowly of yourself, woman.”

“And you, sir, speak too highly,” I chuckle, “It makes things unbearably hard since I’ve sworn to loathe you for all eternity.”

He blinks. “Wait—you what?”

•

With furrowed brows and a face scrunched in concentration, he impressed even God himself with his willful piano-playing talents (despite his aunts wishes of him focusing on basketball).

A blue eyed beauty with a good taste in books and an ear for music. The only thing he wasn’t good at was singing.

Singing, of course, was my territory.

I chuckle at the memory of him trying to out wit me in our own singing competition by lip syncing a song he thought I wouldn’t know. I smile. I hadn’t laughed that hard in a very long time.

I watched as Darcy grew more intense with playing the school’s grand piano. So much so that he had yet to acknowledge my presence before him in the doorway. And I took advantage of this moment by recording it.

Darcy was very much more attractive when he wasn’t spouting insults at me. (Though, I suppose that was attractive in its own right). But, I liked him more when he was shy and blushing. Darcy felt more like William Darcy in a weird way when he was anxious and fidgety.

Come to think of it…he’s never hidden behind a stoic disposition since I’ve met him.

“Ms. Brighton?” His deep voice echoed.

I blink out of my thoughts and send him a small smile. “Hello, there, Darce; did I interrupt you?” Darcy shakes his head as he awkwardly stands up from the cushioned piano bench. “No—uh—no, you did not. I was actually finished.”

“Aw, really? I was enjoying myself,” I hum. Darcy only nods once, sharply. “Is there something you wanted?”

I lean against the doorway, “I was dared to ask you who your crush was by Caroline and Lydia, but I think Mary would rather me ask if you wanted to take a walk in the fields with me.”

“So, will you walk in the fields with me, Mr. Darcy?” His big eyes only stare at me as I turn my head back to look at him. Darcy clears his throat, taking short, hesitant strides towards me, “Only if you agree to dance with me at Georgiana’s piano residual next week.”

I hum, “Why her residual? That’s kinda weird, no?”

He smirks mischievously. “She wants a dancing duet paired with her performance. She asked me to find a partner, and you’re perfect for the job.” I sit up from the wall. “Why me?”

“Because you’re the only person I’ve ever waltzed with. Now, shall we go walking?” Darcy begins to walk away as a chuckle rumbles in his chest.

“Hey! I haven’t agreed yet! Hey!” I run after him. Damn that boy’s long legs.

•

“I think…I love you, Ms. Brighton.”

Darcy was drenched from the sudden Sunday afternoon downpour. Lightening struck the ground as thunder rumbled the sky. “What?” I deadpan causing him to wince. “You love me?”

He nodded quickly with wide, expectant eyes.

Darcy looked boyish as his freckles seemed more prominent through his blush and the darkened lighting due to fearsome black clouds. I cackle slightly. “You can’t love me. You don’t even know what love is, sir.”

His brows furrowed in disbelief. “That’s preposterous! How could you possibly think that?” I cross my arms, “You have never called me by my first name, Darce. Not once.”

“What? Yes, I have.”

“Followed by my last name.”

He sighs, glancing down at his fairly large hands, and after a while he spoke again, “But, I do have feelings for you. I can’t get you out of my head, I tell you things that I don’t even tell Charles and, even if my aunt forbade it, I want to kiss you. It may not be love but, I-I care about you…more than a friend, I’m afraid.”

I look between his downcast gaze and fiddling fingers before I grab his hand and squeeze it in my own. “Well, Mr. blue eyed beauty, I guess we’re on the same page.”

“What? Really?” He gasped.

I stand on the tips of my shoes and kiss his cheek. “When I first met you, you were scolding at the dance floor in the corner of the room. If Charles hadn’t introduced us, I would’ve never known you had freckles or how cute you look with a blush. You’re shy and hesitant when it comes to letting people in but you’re kind and thoughtful. I may not feel love but, I like you, William Darcy.”

It doesn’t take long for him to kiss me.

I could tell he was inexperienced and tentative about taking the lead. So, I took the lead instead. “I like you, too, Pyrrha,” he breathed.

“How about we take another walk in the fields after it stops raining?” I grin. Darcy gives a quick nod, “Yes, I’d like that.” I peck his lips.

“Then, it’s a date, Mr. Darcy.”

#black writers #black female reader #black oc #excerpt from a book i'll never write #fanfiction #pride and prejudice #pride and prejudice fanfiction #mr. darcy #fitzwilliam darcy #darcy x elizabeth #darcy x reader #darcy x oc #elizabeth bennet #pride and prejudice 2005 #p&p fanfic #darcy #modern au #college au

[bookshelf-dust]

the ones in red are always the prettiest.

gareth emerson x fem!henderson!reader.

word count: 4,215

warnings: swearing, pining, mentions of smoking, eddie playing matchmaker, the sweetest most disgustingly adorable fluff

a/n: i’m kind of in love with this, which doesn’t happen often. it felt easy to write too, if that makes sense. i hope you like it as much as i do!! <333

————

You don’t have friends. At least not really. Not anymore. You keep to yourself: go to class, study as best as you can, try and take care of yourself sometimes even. But you have got Dustin.

Dustin may be three years younger than you, but he’s remains your best friend. You tell him everything, and he knows you better than anyone. He is your one confidant.

Yeah, there may be some things that you don’t tell him, but he sort of knows, in a way. He’s always been smart as a whip. Like how lonely you are. How hard things can get. But he notices. Notices when you shy away from him, sink into yourself.

Yet he’s always there. Always. So when he started high school with you—his beginning, your ending—and found the Hellfire Club, it was like a dream come true. He’d found more kids like him to nerd out with, not that he didn’t nerd out with you, because he did. But he’d found his people. His own little group. And you were over the moon for him.

But that did take him away from you a bit. What with the initiations at the beginning of the year, new members and whatnot, the numerous and lengthy campaigns, Dustin simply making friends and having fun, you just didn’t see him as much. Didn’t have as much time to talk to him. But you were okay with that, because he was so happy.

————

Dustin was sitting at the Hellfire table, today sandwiched between Eddie and Lucas. You’d packed him a lunch this morning when you packed yours, because he’d said he was staying after school for a club meeting, and you wanted to make sure he had enough food, what with how late they could sometimes run.

The cafeteria food wasn’t always the best, and if he was going to be there extra long, he needed some snacks. Seeing Gareth and Mike sit down with trays full of whatever that was supposed to be, he was grateful for your gesture. Dustin dug around for the cookie he wanted, and snagged it, realizing you’d accidentally thrown two in there. So of course, being himself, he wanted to give it to you.

Dustin’s head shot up from where he’d been looking down, his eyes locating you sat at the table he’d been taken away from at the beginning of the year. Your neck was bent, nose buried in a book, and you were occasionally picking through your lunch pail. She needs this cookie, Dustin thought to himself. He hopped up, not thinking anything of it, ignoring the “Where’s he going?” and “Hey! You almost knocked my drink over!” that followed his change in seating.

You resisted the urge to flip your shit over the way Mr. Darcy was treating Elizabeth at the moment. Not that it was necessary, seeing as you'd read the book more than was healthy. Your page flipped with the gust of air that followed Dustin's aggressive flop as he sat down on the bench across from you. "How's Fitzwilliam today?"

"Prickish," you told him. "As al--" "As always," Dustin interrupted and finished for you. You grinned at him, closing the book, but keeping your thumb in to mark the page. "Need something, Dusty?"

He held out the cookie with both hands, bowing his head. "For you, my liege."

"Why, thank you kind sir." Dustin giggled at you, always willing to indulge him, and held his hand out for a high-five, which you reciprocated, before he scrambled back to his table.

"What was that all about?" Eddie inquired, shoving the last of a half-assed turkey sandwich in his mouth, wiping the crumbs on his knees before remembering that was where the holes in the denim were, making him steal Gareth's napkin. Gareth flipped him the bird.

"Just being a kind sibling. Figured she could use a nice gesture." Dustin adjusted the hat on his head. "I don't see how the two of you are related," Gareth started, "She's so quiet, and you're so—"

"Enthusiastic," Eddie finished.

"She's always been shy, but I think the quiet thing came after she got to high school."

"How's that?" Gareth popped the tab on his Dr. Pepper. "She had a pretty tight friend group in middle school, but they sort of grew apart. They got boyfriends, became cheerleaders, clones of one another. She didn't. She likes to read and doesn't give a shit about being popular—that's how we're related—and so I think the more independent she's become has made her eternally quiet. But she's kind of like us, actually, like when she gets excited about something. She's quite the nerd." Eddie smiled genuinely at Dustin, admiring the way he spoke about you, since most people didn't talk about their siblings like that. Mike certainly didn't.

Gareth glanced at you from where you finished off a bag of Ruffles, tipping the dregs into your mouth. Yeah, you were definitely related to Dustin. You dug around in your bookbag, pulling a red flannel on over your t-shirt. It was the same red as Gareth's vest. He pretended like that didn't affect him and went back to the Goldfish he'd gotten from the vending machine.

————

Dustin futzed with his hair in his bedroom mirror while you adjusted his makeshift 'X' belt buckle. He then tugged his hoodie down down, tucking the front into his yellow sweats to display the black emblem. "Here." You handed him his costume glasses.

You'd even sprayed a little blue in his hair for effect. He was the best Hank McCoy you'd ever seen. Dustin and his friend group had decided to go as assorted X-Men this Halloween, and the two of you had worked very hard on his costume. He'd begged you to join in, and you couldn't say no to him, so here you were with a huge white streak of hair on your head, attempting to be your very best Rogue.

You'd made your hair as big and curly as possible, and even spent a little extra on your temporary white hairspray so that it would last, a black headband pushed up your forehead to top it off. Your yellow top was tucked into green corduroy's, which matched the green bomber jacket you'd found at the thrift store. You'd dug out some worn in yellow converse, and Dustin had helped you make 'X' patches for your jacket and shirt.

Lucas and Max were supposed to be Scott and Jean, with Mike having chosen Sean Cassidy. You'd heard he'd been slaving over his Banshee 'wings.'

Some might think that all of you were too old for trick-or-treating, but none of you gave a shit. The plan was to hit the rich neighborhoods, traumatize tiny children, and then you were driving the group to Jeff's house for a Halloween party. Eddie had warned that if you didn't show up in costume, you weren't allowed in.

With a successful haul, you pulled into the driveway, nervous. "Are you sure it's okay for me to be here?" You looked at your brother in the passenger seat.

"Are you kidding? They invited you! They think it's cool that my sister likes Halloween as much as they do. You're gonna be great!" He smiled at you, adding an aggressive thumbs up for encouragement.

————

"Holy shit! You guys look great!" Jeff shouted as he opened the door, ushering all of you in. Jeff was covered in various makeshift nuts and bolts and stitches, opting for a very well albeit lazily crafted Frankenstein. When Eddie appeared, he was draped in a red and green sweater, and turning his cheek, he had some fake scar wax adorning the skin of his cheek. Although his knife fingers were only on his left hand as he waved at the lot of you. "Ladies first," he drawled.

"Thanks, Fred." You wandered into the kitchen in search of a drink as Dustin and his friends mingled. You didn't want to be the obnoxious older sister tonight, especially since he'd invited you to hang out with him and his friends.

You poured your drink, and were digging in the candy bowl when a voice interrupted you. "Wow, things must've really downhill with Xavier if Rogue is hangin' out with us." You looked up to find Gareth grinning at you.

You snorted. "I'm just here for the candy. Hank doesn't like to share." You let your eyes wander over his Dracula costume. His curls were extra defined tonight, and he'd clearly had the same idea as you, with a good bit of black spray weaved in with his natural brown. He was wearing all black under his cape, the red of the underside a stark contrast. Just looking at his cape, you could tell it was well-made and probably expensive. Given the boy, this probably wasn't the first time he'd used it.

He had rings on almost every finger, a dangly stake-like object hanging from one ear. But his fangs were the best part. They weren’t the plastic ones you bend and shove in your mouth, or comically oversized canines. They were small attachments on either of his own teeth, and were just big and sharp enough to be convincing. Honestly, he looked hot. You'd let him suck your blood.

Gareth laughed in response. It was hearty and sweet, and you hadn’t heard nearly enough of it. “Well, I like the costume. Looks good on you.” Oh shit. You were blushing now, weren’t you? You totally were.

“Thanks. I like yours too. The cape is very nice.” You popped a Dum-Dum into your mouth, and Gareth almost choked on his drink watching it move around in your mouth.

“Really? I’m glad you said so because I spent way too much money on it. I’ve been Dracula for the past like, four years, so I decided to at least make it look like I tried.”

“Well I think it’s very cute. It suits you,” you told him, popping candy in your pockets for later.

“Would you like to play a game? I think someone’s setting up Monopoly and you can see Eddie get mad when he loses.” Gareth grinned at you.

“Sure. I’d like that a lot.” He held out his hand, which you took, trying not to think about how nice the calluses felt against your skin, and lead you down to the basement, which you realized was where everyone else had gone off to.

————

The Monopoly game ended up being much shorter than intended because Eddie got pissed that he was broke ten minutes in and flipped the board with a “I hate this shit!” and laugh.

You were now playing Guess-Who? with Gareth, Max sitting beside you and Dustin sitting beside him, both of whom were finding great joy in the shitty descriptions either of you offered—you trying to make them as vague as possible.

“Do they have red hair?” Gareth asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe more of a chestnut.” You grinned at him and he slapped his hand to his forehead.

“You’re an asshole,” he told you, smiling whilst he did so.

“Yes, they have red hair Mr. Emerson.” You watched him flick down a couple of panels, eyes lingering on his fingers for probably too long. You heard a cough, and turned your head to see Max smirking at you, and then you were blushing again. “Fuck off,” you whispered to her. She shook her head at you.

It was your turn again. “Hmm. Is it Andrew?” You looked up from your board at Gareth, who was already looking at you. He had a look of betrayal on his face. “Yes, Y/N. It’s fucking Andrew.” You clapped your hands in triumph, sitting up on your knees to give Max a high-five.

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” He flicked down all of the panels on both of your boards, putting them back in the box. “‘S not my fault you suck at this game.” He scoffed playfully at you.

“What do I win?” You inquired.

“What do you think? Jack shit.” You rolled your eyes and pulled a 3 Musketeers out of your pocket and tossed it at Dustin. He caught it, thanking you, and then he and Max went off elsewhere.

“I don’t get any candy?”

“Get your own, Emerson.”

“No, I don’t think I will. What’ve you got in there, huh?” You stood, trying to fend off the candy thief.

“Nothing. I ate it all.” You continued to back up as he stood. Nothing about this was serious, though, considering the shit-eating grins on either of your faces.

He was on you in a second, gently pushing you onto the couch, tickling your sides to coerce your hands from your pockets. It worked, and you raised your hands in surrender, ready to give up your candy stash to him. He tickled you for just a minute longer, realizing he’d never heard you laugh like this before, realizing how much he liked it.

He gave up, searching your pockets, pulling free a handful of Kit-Kats and peanut butter cups. “Thanks, princess.” He tickled your side again and planted a kiss on your forehead before plopping down beside you and throwing a leg over yours.

Across the room, Eddie looked at Jeff. “You seein’ this?” Jeff nodded.

“I think our boy’s in deep,” Eddie told him, snubbing out his cigarette.

————

You pulled into the Hawkins High parking lot driving around to park outside of the doors where Dustin usually came out. You pressed the light on above your head so you could see your book, considering Dustin was always late no matter what time he told you to pick him up. A little while later, you heard the doors open, but didn’t look up, knowing he’d find his ride eventually.

Turns out, that was everyone else leaving. Gareth and Dustin had stayed to clean up, and when they finally got outside Dustin followed Gareth to his car so he could pick up some extra dice from him.

Gareth hopped in the driver’s seat, leaning over to open the glove box, but he decided to turn the car on first and let it warm up. And nothing. It wouldn’t start. Dustin asked him if it was something or other, but Gareth stopped him. “No, man. I know exactly what it is. The fuckin’ battery has been on its last leg forever. I guess tonight it decided to depart for good.” Gareth mumbled a “Shit,” under his breath as he grabbed the dice, but when he turned around, Dustin was gone.

The thud of hands on the window startled you and made you jump. Dustin yanked the door open. “Gareth’s car won’t start! You’re the only one left. Think we can give him a ride home?” By that point, the boy in question had made his way over looking for Dustin.

“Dude! Don’t just offer that up to her! She’s probably got shit to do.” He stopped in front of the two of you. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to. I can call Eddie or my mom or something.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s totally fine. I’m right here and there’s no reason for you to do that. I can take you home.”

“You sure?” You told him you were, and told Dustin he had to sit in the back, ignoring his protests.

It really wasn’t a problem, he only lived a little past you and Dustin, and it didn’t bother you to drive an extra five minutes. Not for him. You were about halfway there when Dustin exclaimed, “That son of a bitch! Piece of shit!” from the backseat.

“What?” You asked, confused, but used to his antics.

“We have to stop at Mike’s. He’s got my folder! The one with all the character sheets! I think my math homework is in there too. Can we please? It’s on the way!” It wasn’t. You’d have to take a detour.

Eventually, you stopped the car outside of the Wheeler’s, Dustin hopping out and barreling towards the door, leaving you and Gareth alone in the car. You’d never been properly alone with him before.

When you turned your head to look at him, he was already looking at you. He really had to stop doing that. You grinned at him and he grinned right back, eyes creasing, cheeks reddening.

“Okay, I’m gonna tell you this now before he gets back. You’re so pretty. So pretty. I’ve been thinkin’ about you since Halloween.” He started messing with the rips in his jeans, obviously nervous.

“You think that? That’s really sweet. I think you’re pretty too, Gareth.” His head jerked up to you.

“You think I’m pretty?” You nodded at him.

“Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.” He leaned over the center console and smacked a sweet and noisy kiss on your forehead, then another on your cheek.

“Sorry. You deserved that.” You burst out laughing, finding it hard to believe he could feel this way about you, but deciding to welcome it anyhow.

The two of you just looked at each other for a few minutes, and he went to say something, just as Dustin burst back into the car. “Alright! Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

————

Dustin was eating lunch a few days later when Eddie asked him, “Why don’t you invite your sister to sit with us? She hangs around enough, feels weird to have her sit alone.” He was kinda confused at the offer, even though it made sense. Dustin just guessed maybe you liked being alone during lunch, that you wouldn’t be able to concentrate on your book with them. But he took Eddie up on the offer, pattering over to you and presenting the situation at hand.

“Dustin, I’m not going to do that and interrupt you and your friends. You don’t need me in your life like that.” He quirked a brow, realizing that you thought he didn’t want you around like that.

“What? Come on, Y/N. I want you to sit with me and my friends. Let’s go. You can bring Mr. Bingley with you and everything.” He picked up your lunch box and book for you, leading the way.

When you made it to the designated Hellfire table, Eddie pulled out the seat between him and Gareth, bending at the waist. “M’lady.” You snorted and thanked him. Dustin set your lunch down in front of you and then your copy of Pride and Prejudice, fondly patting the cover, before plopping down across from you.

Eddie smirked at himself for getting you over here, having specifically chosen your seat. He was determined to help his boy out.

“What are we reading?” Eddie asked, leaning over to read the cover. He hummed in interest, but you were positive he was just humoring you. “Would you recommend it?” You laughed.

“Only if you’re willing to explore a period romance. But you might like it, you never know.” He grinned at you, smile lines appearing around his mouth. Eddie Munson was too charming for his own good.

“It’s actually pretty good,” the voice to your right said.

You turned to look at Gareth. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Gare, but why do you know that?” He laughed.

“My sister is fond of a bedtime story and wanted me to read it to her. But when I started she had all these questions and I couldn’t answer them, so we put it on pause and then I read it so she could have the full experience.” He shook his hands for emphasis. That was so sweet you felt like you could throw up.

“What?” He was looking at you and you were looking right back, but you realized you must’ve looked how you felt: practically fucking in love.

You straightened. “Nothing. That’s just kind of lovely?” His knee bumped yours under the table, his cheeks getting increasingly more rosy by the minute. You felt like reaching out and brushing your thumb along the spattering of freckles on his nose.

“Okay, now I’m feeling left out. Would you lend it to me?” Eddie asked you, feeling properly scandalized.

“Sure, Edward. You can have it in a few days. I’m almost done anyways, but I’ve read it a hundred times. If there are crumbs in the pages, no there aren’t.”

“I don’t mind. My copy of The Hobbit is missing half of the back cover.”

For the remainder of lunch, you gladly put Jane aside to indulge the boys in all their queries addressing the so-called interests you shared with Dustin.

“Daredevil? Really?” Gareth and you had started to slip into your own conversation, the rest of them arguing over some minuscule campaign detail.

“Yeah, you don’t like him?” You finished off a bag of grapes, offering Gareth your last two.

“No, no I do! Just guess I figured you’d like Captain America or Iron Man. Didn’t have you pegged as a sucker for vigilantes.”

“Oh, I do like Cap and Iron Man. Very much so. I guess I just like the color red.” You looked down at your hands, trying not to make eye contact with him following your attempt at a flirty comment.

Your nail picking was interrupted as Gareth’s hand slipped into yours. You’d been thinking about the warmth of his palm against your own since Halloween. The way his fingers rubbed over your knuckles. How reassuring it was to be in his grasp. You looked up at his gesture. “Is that so?” He squeezed your hand, moving your clasped fingers to rest on his thigh.

“Yeah. The ones in red are always the prettiest.”

————

The noise carrying down the hall was predictable, but starting to annoy you still. You were almost finished with your English essay, but you couldn’t concentrate. Not with the loud voice of the dungeon master or dice clattering or Dustin’s ear-piercing shrieks. You didn’t want to be a dick, but you were going to have to sneak out of your room.

You opened the door, following the sound. You took in the party and all it’s glory as you weaved around the table that had been put up in the living room. They were all too immersed in the game to notice you anyhow. You made it into the kitchen, opening the cabinet and reaching up to grab medicine for the headache you now had. You’d just downed the pills when you glanced over at the table again and met Gareth’s eyes. “You okay?” He mouthed.

You tapped your head in response, finishing the last of the water in your cup before setting it in the sink. You didn’t miss the way his eyes traveled down your bare legs as you escaped back to your room.

Safely back in your place of refuge, you grabbed your keys and slipped on shoes, deciding that maybe a milkshake would help you concentrate on the rest of your homework.

You made it down the hall again, walking to the door. Your hand was on the knob when a voice said, “Where do you think you’re going? You’re supposed to be babysitting me.”

You turned around to face Dustin, everyone’s eyes on you. “None of your business, dusty bun. There are plenty of people to babysit you here anyways.” You flipped him the bird when he rolled his eyes and hurried out the door.

Sitting in your room, milkshake—which you’d snuck back into the house—almost finished, there was a knock at the door. You knew it wasn’t Dustin because he’d never knocked a day in his life—only ever shouting before busting through an entrance. “Yeah?”

The door gently pushed open, and you saw his curls before you saw the rest of Gareth. “Am I interrupting?” You nodded your head. “Yeah, but it’s okay.”

You’d finished your essay and were now doing homework for your science class before you called it a night. Gareth wandered into your room, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the desk next to you. “Need something?”

“Just wanted to see if your head was okay. I know we get loud.” You laughed at him.

“It’s better now. Besides, I’m used to it. Just couldn’t concentrate.” His eyes met your milkshake cup, and he was suddenly aghast.

He looked at you, feigning betrayal, “You snuck out to get a milkshake? I’m hurt.” Shit, his eyes were so pretty. Too pretty.

“You contributed to the headache, Gare. You want to try some? There’s a little left.”

“Sure.” He said. You took another sip and then offered it to him, but he shook his head. “Not like that.”

And then he was leaning down to meet you, fingers lifting your chin. Gareth planted his lips on yours, grinning, obviously proud of himself. His lips were softer than you expected, assuming they’d be a bit like his hands, but either way they were gone much too fast.

“Pretty damn good milkshake.” You knew you were beet red, but you didn’t care. You stood, putting your hands on his cheeks and kissing him again, smiling the whole time. When you pulled away, you ran your thumb along the freckles on his nose, like you’d been wanting to.

“That’s what I was thinking too.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#gareth emerson #gareth stranger things #gareth emerson x you #gareth emerson x female reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader #corroded coffin #gareth emerson fic #dustin henderson #henderson!reader #eddie munson #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth emerson fanfiction #savannah’s fics

[theficcafe]

𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞.  - 05

↳ Genre: Angst, Fluff

↳ Pairing: college!gojo x fem!reader

↳ Warnings: unrequited love

↳ Playlist: (will link here!)

↳ Masterlist: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10

song for this chapter: champagne problems - taylor swift

“I never was ready, so I watch you go Sometimes you just don't know the answer.”

“Have you ever wondered if I ever lied to you, the whole time we were together?

You never asked this question.

I got this question from the night of the senior’s party. Ichika, Toji’s then girlfriend, had been in the hot seat (on purpose) by Suguru and Utahime. They suspected her of cheating, and through the game of truth and dare aided by a discarded bottle of whiskey, they were able to get a (crying) confession out from Ichika. This was the same question they asked Toji; if he wondered if Ichika had been lying.

I thought of it all the way home. Have you ever had thoughts like these when I was out? When I was unreachable for a few hours, partly distant on some days, or when we had big fights? Were you quick to jump to these kind of thoughts?

You never asked, because showed it to me through the smallest details. That you trusted me with your heart. In fact, you never lost the twinkle in your eyes whenever you looked at me after a small argument. Or the kind smile you’d always wear. The sincerity laced in your voice whenever we’d apologize to each other after a big fight. instead of texting me a “Where are you now?”, you’d always settle with “Come home safe to me, love.”

You probably thought of it once. Or twice. Or maybe a lot more. Because you’re human and you get jealous, too.

But you always turned away, and instead, chose the trust that we both have for each other.

And that’s how we lasted for years.

But right now, Aki, I can’t help but wonder: the whole time we were together, was it all a lie to you?

For you to abandon me like this?

It’s been too long. You have been dragging this lie for too long.

Were you ever planning on come back home to me?

Now I can’t tell the lie and the truth apart,

because all I could picture is your bright smile.

One that turned out to be the biggest lie.”

Love was blurry. It was everything and nothing.

You had only been in love by living through the heroine in your favorite novels. The definition of love for you was too complex, too vague; it’s always changing - like clay! Easy to mold in any shape or form; throw in different colors and you’ll end up with a masterpiece. Some though, they prefer it to be left alone.

You have experienced love through the eyes of another; when Shoko had her first boyfriend in high school, you always tagged along (with Shoko forcing you to be a third wheel in case she gets bored of men) and watched your best friend mold her own definition of love each time she got into new connections.

It’s not as if you didn’t have flings here and there, of course you had them - but none of them made sense. None of them fit. It wasn’t the same with Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy; none of them felt the right fit.

Maybe you were contented with yourself, and that’s why finding love was quite challenging — you weren’t looking for it in the first place.

Love was everything and nothing to you: it seemed as though it had always been present, floating everywhere but nowhere near close to you, and you didn’t seem to mind: love wasn’t rare, and you never felt as though it was the right time to touch it; to mold it into something that would fit you.

“To love is to burn, to be on fire.” Jane Austen, your favorite author, wrote that in her novel Sense and Sensibility. It had been engraved in your mind ever since, because if that were true, then you have never been in love - no one had ever left a burn mark. 

And you don’t mind; you wouldn’t trade solo dates and a 4.0 GPA for someone to kiss at night. You wouldn’t trade the time you’d spent browsing through book sales and writing personal book reviews you’d never published for someone to hold your hand. You were doing fine, if you’re being honest. The absence of a romantic partner barely did anything to your life.

Though sometimes, (even though there’s no way you’d admit it), you longed to feel the burn.

The way Gojo loved burned. It was like reading a well—written book, enveloped in despair and longing and love and wisdom; It burned through the letters of his message and for the first time in your life, you felt it. The fire; dancing on your skin, gifting you the power of being able to feel.

But you were only given a spark, not the flame.

Because this bonfire is not lit for you.

You find yourself seated in a train without Shoko. You’d gone home with her after a long day of café hopping, paying no mind to the email to pay respect to your best friend. You internally made a pact with yourself to refrain from being fixated on the situation when Shoko is around, specially when she’s hellbent on showing you around the town she’s staying at. You promised to check the email only when you’re alone.

Shoko had already been home an hour ago. She was confused when you remained seated in your seat at first, but quickly figured that given your independent (more like socially awkward nature), you’d want to explore the wonders of Tokyo alone. She reminded you to text every hour so she’d at least know you’re still alive.

You got off the Kasai Rinkai Koen Station and was immediately greeted by the sounds of chatter; it seemed as though everyone was enveloped in their own worlds to notice a young adult looking like a lost puppy in the middle of a train station, mind rushing with thoughts such as what the hell have i done, and what was i thinking?

“Oh, this was taken on the Kasai Rinkai Park when I skipped my battery exam on Biochemistry,” Shoko explained, looking at the old picture she’d sent you months ago. “Why do you ask, though?”

“It just looked pretty.” There’s someone I would like to see.

That’s how you ended up here. In the middle of nowhere. No idea how to get there, or how to go home. You contemplated calling Shoko and confessing how dumb of an idea this was because you were 100% sure she will get there no time to pick you up. But of course, you didn’t want to be questioned, and you were sure that somewhere deep inside Shoko’s mind, she’s already suspicious because of how you’ve been acting.

You looked to the right, and then the left, and then—

“Are you lost?”

A voice coming from behind pulled you out of a possible anxiety attack. Turning around, you were met with kind eyes (with a hint of amusement) staring back at you, and you felt your cheeks getting hotter from embarrassment. I must’ve looked stupid, you thought. And this poor man probably took pity on me.

You cleared your throat as an attempt to gain composure. “Uh — perhaps, yes, but it’s only because I am not from Tokyo.”

The corner of the man’s lips turned upwards in amusement. “You looked like you were going to cry.”

You wanted to die right there and then.

You didn’t really know how to respond; first, you don’t know who he is, second; you couldn’t decipher what he meant by that (was he insulting you?) and third — that was not a good statement to tell someone who does look like she is about to cry.

Looking away, you felt yourself getting small. “Do you know how to get to Kasai Rinkai Park?”

The guy smiled, but this time, it was one that radiated warmth and kindness. He presumed that you really were not from here, and felt bad about making fun of the situation. You really did look like you were going to cry, though. Your nose was already red and eyes teary. Your hand were trembling when he found you standing on the platform looking like a lost kid. 

He nodded, lips still graced with a smile. “Yeah, I know where it is.” He proceeded to tell you the directions, but if you were being blunt, you wanted to admit that you had no idea what taking the next right and the next left meant because you were not familiar at all with Tokyo.

He seemed to notice, though, with the way your eyes blanked out and how you would subconsciously nod at what he says. Somewhere between explaining the directions to you, he asked “do you wanna build a snowman?” to see if you were really listening, only for you to nod as if you understood it.

He thought you looked cute.

“Alright, I can take you there, if that’s fine with ‘ya.” The man stated, adjusting the straps of his bag. You were about to object, but then again, you had 0 knowledge about how to get anywhere and he was probably your only chance of surviving here (Shoko included, but you’re stubborn.)

But what if he’s a bad guy..

As if sensing your doubts, the guy cracked a grin and you couldn’t help but blush more at how adorable his eyes smiled in sync with his lips. If the circumstances were different, maybe you’d actually find the guy a little bit....cute.

This is not the time, you thought. Also, that sounded so creepy.

“I’m Toji.” He spoke, extending his hand for a handshake. Toji. Cute name. 

You took it with an awkward smile. “I’m Y/N.”

Y/N. Cute name. “Come on Y/N, walk with me there. I’ll introduce myself along the way, and maybe give you reasons as to why I cannot be a serial killer, and how you are safe with me.”

Toji’s a medical student like Shoko.

He was in Edogawa City for his father’s business meeting, but he’s originally from Shibuya. He lives alone in his apartment, has one dog named Venti, a nickname he made up from Ventriculus cordis, his favorite anatomical terminology.

“Why would you name a dog after ventricles?” You asked, stifling a laugh. He laughed along with you, glad that you had finally loosened up. “Wouldn’t you prefer using Brownie or something.”

He shrugged. “The left ventricle is the most powerful part of the heart,” he stated. “If it stops pumping blood out to our entire body, we’re doomed.”

Huh, you thought. So that’s the most powerful part of the heart. You went back to you and Shoko’s playful debate, back in your freshmen year in college, arguing whether it was the brain or the heart that was most important.

You were the face of the debate team when you were in high school, so of course it was you who won.

But right now, you were to thinking about the whole ordeal again: which is the most significant? Or brain, or our hearts? Which should we follow more? Which holds the power? What keeps us alive?

Out of curiosity, you asked Toji the question.

He laughed.

“That’s such a high-school question,” he teased, making you roll your eyes. “But to answer your question, they’re both important. However, medically speaking, the heart can beat without the brain, while the brain can not function without the heart. The brain is dependent on the heart; but the heart continues to work even when the brain’s activity is least. “

“So take good care of it,” he gestured to your heart. “It’s life’s core.”

After a few minutes, he stopped. You followed suit. He sent you a warm smile and nodded off to the direction of the park.

“We’re here.”

You bid your goodbye and sincere thanks to Toji, who sends you a grin and a “Go home safe!”. Of course, he did not forget to give you specific directions (that you’d written on your phone) on how to get home to Shoko’s apartment.

The universe was kind: you were actually five minutes early before the sun began to set. It waited for you to witness the beauty of Tokyo.

You thought back to Toji’s explanation just as the sun welcomed you in its warmth.

It’s the heart that matters the most. Without it, our body would stop working.

You closed your eyes.

“So take good care of it,” he gestured to your heart. “It’s life’s core.”

When you open them, you think of a certain Gojo Satoru.

What you failed to ask though, 

is that if your heart broke into a billion pieces, 

which piece should you follow?

↳  𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓪𝓸'𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓻!

hi everyone, it’s kao! (✿◠‿◠)

just a disclaimer: please know that i am not a professional medical practitioner! i have based the dialogues (that contained medical terminologies and what not) from what i know! though i am a medical student, i want to emphasize that i am in no way an expert.

tada! toji made an appearance [bet y’all were expecting gojo ;)] i loved writing toji and y/n’s interaction because it seemed pure :”)

also, shoutout to @trashyart-y,  @nubivagant0, and @legbouk​ for their lovely comments in my previous chapters!! y’all are the kindest ever :”)

as always, a feedback/reblog would me a lot to me! thank you for the smol appreciation you guys have shown!  ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

see u guys in chapter 06!! <3

kao, out! ʚ♡ɞ

p.s: feel free to send in messages/asks because i’d love to talk to everyone on here!

#angst #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru angst #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader angst #jjk x reader #gojo satoru unrequited #jjk angst #satoru gojo angst #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Can u write Mr Darcy ( Mathew mcfayden or Colin Firth version ;) ) x chubby female reader x snape please I wonder what be like both falling for reader

Hello dear💖, thanks for your request.

Mr Darcy x plus size female reader x Severus Snape🦇👧🌹

Of dukes and bats🌹🦇

Night struck at the ball, all the higher social parties had arrived and gathered to have their dance. Many young ladies and gentlemen have travelled far and wide to settle down with a suitor of their choosing. The dance floor was soon covered with many young ladies dancing with their chosen suitors, all the gentlemen smiled as they danced. Many of the young ladies' dresses were quite colourful; pink, white, blue, and purple shining through as they waltzed. The crowd that weren’t dancing were all drinking and laughing, most of the gents had stepped to the side to discuss important things such as politics or business. The women on the other hand had all gathered to try and spot a man with such dashing looks alongside his rich wealth. The ladies had heard of the aristocratic landowner of Pemberley, he was seeking a social outing. “Where’s Mr Darcy, I’ve heard of such high things for him” one woman muttered fanning herself, “oh he is so dashing, I hope he comes soon” another replied holding a glass of wine.

Many were gathering at the door, however one woman sat in the back of the ball room. The dress she wore sat to her ankles and her silky gloves reached her elbow. The girl was of a middle-class status, she wasn’t deemed as highly as “Mr Darcy” however her personality was certainly different. The ladies didn’t bother to talk to the middle-class woman, they all thought she was ordinary with no style of wealth. This woman happened to be y/n l/n, a friendly yet quirky girl that often dreams of travelling and meeting the man of her dreams.

Mr Darcy had arrived; he got out of the carriage and entered the ballroom with an upright glance. One would assume many of his stature would be after a queen or quite literally a duchess, Mr Darcy had such high standards no woman could seem to fit within his ideals. “Mr Darcy a pleasure, my daughter has been awaiting your hand in a dance” one woman tried to announce. “Mr Darcy, my family have recently been to France” another tried to interrupt, “Mr Darcy, we have such high honor-“.

Fitzwilliam had started to blur the ladies words from his mind, all they wanted is for their daughter’s to be betrothed with someone of higher wealth and status. Fitzwilliam walked by with his head held high, he acted cold toward the other women as they weren’t to his liking. Mr Darcy wasn’t necessarily cold on purpose but rather he wasn’t the best with social situations. The women had higher expectations since he was a wealthy landowner. “Aren’t you going to dance with any of them” a gentleman asked, “any savage can dance” Mr Darcy replied in return.

As the gentleman were gawking amongst themselves, Mr Darcy spotted a woman sitting by herself. She had no gentleman chaperoning, it seemed quite un-lady like for such an act. Out of politeness, Mr Darcy approached the lonely lady “excuse me, for it may sound unkindly of me to ask, why have you no gent attending to you”. Y/n lifted her head slightly to see Mr Darcy ask her a question “why must I need one, I’m quite happily joyful watching the people dance” y/n smiled. Mr Darcy pondered for a moment, a lady who isn’t interested in dancing with any of the suitors, why come to a ball unless she had planned to accompany friends. “You are quite a strange lady” Mr Darcy noted, “indeed, but is that a bad thing, to be strange is to be unique and being unique is quite extraordinary is it not” y/n replied to Mr Darcy’s comment. Fitzwilliam raised an eyebrow, however in accord to the ladies odd tone he thought of being polite asking for a dance. “Miss y/n, may I ask you in having a dance with me” Mr Darcy politely bowed “but of course Mr Darcy”. Y/n had held Darcy’s hand with a gentle touch, through her silk gloves she could feel the man’s gentle squeeze. The two stood in the middle of the dancefloor, many envious eyes were staring upon them. The song soon started to play, y/n moved her feet to slowly follow Mr Darcy’s movements, the two were in sync. After a twirl, dip and a bow Mr Darcy had finished the movements toward his waltz.

Y/n smiled as Mr Darcy’s eyes light up with amusement, never in all his lifetime did he see a woman dance with elegance. Amid it all, in the shadows of the ball stood a man, watching and observing as the scene unfolded. The glare he gave upon his cold expression was one no woman would dare to go near. Y/n thanked Mr Darcy and bid him a hopeful thank you.

“I do hope to see you later this evening, I wish to ask you a question” Mr Darcy asked, he kissed y/n’s hands out of politeness.

 “Of course, mind you I must have a breather, I shall return” Y/n curtsied to excuse herself.

Y/n left the dancefloor in which it left Mr Darcy feel amazed by y/n’s gesture, for once he had found an incredible young lady that fit his standards. It was no secret that the man had an attraction toward y/n even if they had just met. Mr Darcy observed y/n from afar as he awaited to ask y/n to attend to his home estate, in which his future action would be ask for y/n’s hand in marriage.

Y/n had wandered her way toward the back to grab a drink, that was until she tripped on a man’s shoe. “Oh, pardon me” y/n excused herself, “could you be anymore clumsy” the man snidely remarked. “Sir, I do apologise toward my fall” Y/n couldn’t believe the nerves of this gent.The man was certainly not in the dashing description of appearances, his eyes glazed in a cold manner and his hair sat upon his cheek bones. “May I at least help you up” the man asked, he grasped y/n’s hand. Y/n had noticed how slimmer his fingers were compared to Mr Darcy’s. “You may call me Severus Snape” he announced to y/n, within his sight the girl curtsied.

“y/n l/n, sir” y/n smiled, one thing that caught off guard were her eyes.

Snape took a minuet to catch himself staring directly into the girl’s dashing eyes, they reminded him of someone he once knew in his youth. Severus gathered himself together, his cold demeanour had returned with snide remark.

“For your apology, may I ask for a dance miss y/n” Severus offered his hand.

“Oh, of course Mr Snape” y/n smiled, she gently placed her fingers in Snapes.

For a moment everything seemed perfect that was until Mr Darcy had interrupted “Pardon the intrusion for you see, miss y/n was actually attending in presence”. Severus raised an eyebrow while narrowing his eyes “clearly, for I see miss y/n approached me instead”.

Mr Darcy had no tolerance for this man’s sarcastic tone, he had met quite a few cold people in his life but never to this extent. “I see you are of lower status, miss y/n quite clearly values someone of higher regard” Mr Darcy remarked, “and yet I see someone of lower knowledge, perhaps your sloth brain must be lurking around I’m sure” Snape jabbed back.

Y/n interrupted the two gents before they were too fight, she grabbed both their hands and asked “Mr Snape, Mr Darcy if one must choose then I do not wish to be a part of a fight”. Y/n didn’t want to be the subject of an argument, she would much as rather choose one and spend the rest of her life with them.

However, before anything else could occur, y/n’s mother called out “Pardon for I must go, Mr Darcy and Mr Snape I do hope to see you in the future”. Y/n quickly scrambled to find her mother, she hoped she wasn’t late. Mr Darcy had wondered to follow; he could introduce himself to y/n’s mother and use his status to win her hand. Severus, on the other hand just watched as y/n left, he found someone who brought back his memories of which he had in his youth.

One day he hoped to find y/n once more as Mr Darcy longed to marry the girl he waltzed with.

anyways that's all I have for now:

Ta Ta ✨

#Harry potter x reader #severus x reader #harry potter oneshot #Severus oneshot #Mr Darcy x reader #Mr Darcy #Severus snape crossover #Harry potter crossover

[justsomerandomfanfic]

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#cute #fluff #slight angst #x reader #x female reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic friday #stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #pride and prejudice #fitzwilliam darcy #fitzwilliam darcy x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker noir x reader #peter parker noir #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf movie

[shmaptainwrites]

Hiiiiii againnn its meee coming back to annoy you again :D

I saw you extended your accepting date until the 9th, and I know I literally just requested something, but would you be down to write a blurb for an angry love confession in the pouring rain? I'm a sucker for that cliché trope, and I love your writing so so much <3

Once again a female reader if you don't mind 😭

bestie you've freaking GOT IT and sometimes cliché tropes are the best, really who are we to judge btw i also put carl davis' pride and prejudice suite iii on repeat while writing this for ~vibes~

Pairing: Fitzwilliam Darcy x fem!Reader

Warnings: scandalous behaviour for the 1800s i guess, minor height description (shorter than Colin Firth and Matthew MacFayden, they're both like 6'2)

The Truth

Normally when the rain was pouring down from above you'd make it a point to look for cover, but what was the point in that anymore. You let the cold water from the sky envelope you, absorb into your skin, soak your clothes. If you just focused on the rain you wouldn't have to focus on anything else.

If it were just you, alone in the world perhaps that would be the case, and although it felt like it sometimes, that didn't mean you'd get peace when you wanted it.

His voice was muffled at first, but you supposed that was your own fault, too focused on other things to bring your mind to hear what he was saying, but as he approached closer you could hear him clearer.

"What are you doing?! It's pouring outside!"

You could hear the urgency in his tone, but couldn't bring yourself to feel it.

"I'm well aware of that," you called back.

"Then why in God's name are you out here?"

He was behind you now, you could tell, his voice so close you could just about feel his warm breath cut past the cold air surrounding you.

You turned around and shook your head with a slight shrug of your shoulders.

"I don't know," you admitted.

"Well come inside then," he insisted, offering an arm to you. "We'll both get sick if we stay out here any longer."

"I don't care."

"You don't care?" he frowned. "What is going on? You don't seem like yourself."

"Lying can do that to a person," you said simply and turned away.

"Lying?" you could almost hear the exasperation in his voice. "Please, I don't understand."

"Of course you don't, why would you? You don't feel the same," you mumbled to yourself.

"I really must insist you explain what is going on," he said quite firmly.

"I can't!" you shook your head and wrapped an arm around your waist, the other covering your mouth. "Please, Mr. Darcy, just...just leave me."

There was silence for a moment and you thought maybe he head left, the downpour masking the sound of his footsteps, but then a voice spoke up.

"No. I will not leave you."

"What is it you want from me?" you turned back to him again and asked angirly.

"I want the truth."

"The truth is that I love you!" you looked down at your feet, knowing you wouldn't be able to meet his gaze. "I love you and I don't think you feel the slightest ounce of that towards me."

"And what would give you that impression?" you heard the squish of wet grass and mud beneath his feet as he came closer to you. "Because if I, in any way, have made you feel like that, it must be rectified."

You finally looked up at him, tears mixed with raindrops runnig down your face.

"Fitzwilliam, please, I-I can't bear to have my heart broken," you whispered. "If this is just kindness I-I-"

You weren't given a chance to finish your sentence as he lifted your face to look up at him, his hands were warm against your cold skin and out of instinct your eyes fluttered shut, just as he pressed his lips on yours.

You gripped tightly onto his forearms, bringing him as close as you could, wishing nothing more in the world than for that moment to last forever.

When you pulled apart, his forehead still resting on your own, you let out a small breathy chuckle, letting one of your hands come up and hold his cheek.

"You never said anything," you whispered, "and with all this-this talk of suitresses...I-I thought I was being foolish."

"I must be the fool for not saying anything earlier," he lifted his head only to kiss your forehead, and bring you in for a proper embrace. It felt as if you were meant to be joined and knit together as one and it reminded you that in the end, it was always important to tell the truth.

#mimi's mini blurbs #fitzwilliam darcy #mr darcy #fitzwilliam darcy x reader #mr darcy x reader #pride and prejudice fanfic #pride and prejudice fanfiction #p&p #bbc pride and prejudice #pride and prejudice 1995 #pride and prejudice 2005 #pride and prejudice #jane austen #jane austen fanfiction

[profeyandere]

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐉𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐄 (𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟓) 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Click if you want to go to the main Masterlist

ꜰɪᴛᴢᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍ ᴅᴀʀᴄʏ │ •➤ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀꜰᴜʟ ᴅᴀʏ ╰─────────────

ᴇʟɪᴢᴀʙᴇᴛʜ ʙᴇɴɴᴇᴛ │ •➤ ᴇɴᴄʜᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ╰─────────────

ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍ ᴄᴏʟʟɪɴꜱ │ •➤ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴇ │ •➤ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴇɴᴛɪᴄ: ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ ╰─────────────

#pride and prejudice #pride and prejudice 2005 #reader #imagines #one shot #william collins #william collins x reader #elizabeth bennet #elizabeth bennet x reader #fitzwilliam darcy #fitzwilliam darcy x reader

[downton-musings]

Masterlist

Will write any genre - smut, angst (my personal fav), and fluff.. or whatever else you can come up with.

~ My style is character x female reader only

~ Requests are closed

Downton Abbey

- Thomas Barrow

- Tom Branson

- Matthew Crawley

Emma

- Mr. (George) Knightley

Pride and Prejudice

- Mr. (Fitzwilliam) Darcy

#requests #character list #downton abbey #masterlist #work in progress #tom branson #matthew crawley #thomas barrow #downton abbey fanfiction #period drama #1920s fiction #emma #pride and prejudice

[onevolon]

my love for you is infinite - part9

Santiago Garcia x afab!reader(Darcy)

note: pride and prejudice (2005) but with triple frontier boys because why not lol

word count: 1859

warnings: things are getting a lttle heated

you can also read it on ao3.

part8 - part10 - masterlist

Santiago's carriage arrives at a smallish but charming rectory in Kent. This is Hunsford, Charlotte's new home. She rushes out and greets Santiago, kissing his cheek nervously.

Mr. Collins bows and ushers him in.

“Welcome to our humble abode.” He starts and continues to talk but Charlotte cuts him.

“My dear, I think our guest is tired after his journey.”

“Ah, yes… My wife encourages me to spend as much time in the garden as possible, for the sake of my health.”

A beat. Santiago glances at Charlotte, who remains impassive.

“I plan many improvements, of course. I intend to throw out a bow and plant a lime walk. Oh yes, I flatter myself that any young lady would be happy to be the mistress of such a house.”

A tiny nod from Santiago. Charlotte takes his arm and starts to walk to another room.

They are at last alone. They sit down in a charming little parlor that faces the front of the house. Charlotte pours out tea.

“We shall not be disturbed here, this parlour is for my own particular use. Oh Santiago, it's such a pleasure, to run my own home!”

Santiago nods uncomfortably.

“Charlotte! Come here!” Mr. Collins yells.

Charlotte jumps up and rushes to the window.

“What's happened?” says Santiago, alarmed.

“Charlotte!”

“Has the pig escaped again?”

Outside in the lane, Mr. Collins stands, bowing: at a carriage.

“Oh! It's Lady Catherine. Come and see, Santiago!”

Santiago goes to the window, unnerved by his friend’s enthusiasm. Mr. Collins rushes back towards the house and talks to them through an open window.

“Great news! Great news! We have an invitation to visit Rosings this evening from Lady Catherine de Bourg.”

“How wonderful!”

Santiago tries to feign pleasure.

“Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your apparel.”

“Just put on whatever you've brought that's best.”

“Lady Catherine has never been averse to the truly humble.”

Santiago stares at them both in disbelief.

***

Santiago, Charlotte and Mr. Collins walk hurriedly across a bridge towards the great house. The grey building looms ominously above them. It is grand without being elegant.

“One of the most extraordinary sights in all Europe, is it not. The glazing alone cost upwards of twenty thousand pounds.” Mr. Collins bragged.

The salon at Rosings is spectacularly grand; hideously so. Heavy furniture, rows of servants. The three guests are shown in by the footman. Again, Mr. Collins scrapes the floor with his bow.

“Your Ladyship. Miss de Bourg.”

Lady Catherine ignores him.

“So, you are Santiago Garcia Bennet.

“I am, your ladyship.”

“Hmm. This is my daughter.”

“It' s very kind of you to ask us to dine, Lady Catherine.” Charlotte interferes.

Lady Catherine ignores her, too.

“The chimneypiece alone cost 400 pounds.” Mr. Collins whispers to Santiago.

But Santiago doesn't hear. Miss Darcy walks into the room. freezes. Another man is with him.

“Miss Darcy! What are you doing here?”

“Oh, Miss Darcy. I had no idea we would have the honour...”

A stiff bow from Darcy, who looks at Mr Collins as if he's something brought in by the dog. She turns to Santiago, trying to collect herself.

“Mr. Santiago... I'm a guest here.”

“You know my niece?” Lady Catherine says, not pleased.

“Yes, madam, I had the pleasure of meeting your niece in Hertfordshire.”

Fitzwilliam, a much more easy-going chap, introduces himself.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam. How do you do?”

He bows. Santiago returns his smile gratefully. They move towards the dining room. Mr. Collins leans towards Santiago.

“You know Miss Darcy is as good as engaged to Miss de Bourg?”

“Really? Caroline will be disappointed to hear that.” He looks at the girl, and whispers to Charlotte “What a miserable little thing! They should suit each other perfectly.”

But Charlotte's uneasy smile confirms to Santiago that she has lost his friend in more ways than one.

***

The dining room is laid for a very grand dinner - footmen waiting, thousands of candles. Lady Catherine seats herself at the he and of the table.

“Mr. Collins! You can't sit next to your wife, get up. Move over there.”

After an awkward shuffle, Santiago finds himself sitting next to Darcy. Only his own discomfort prevents him from noticing Darcy is by no means master of her responses.

“I trust your family is in good health, Mr. Santiago?”

“They are, thank you. My eldest brother is currently in London, perhaps you happened to see him there?”

“I haven't been fortunate enough, no.”

Santiago looks at her. She colors slightly. Lady Catherine addresses Santiago in a loud voice, from the head of the table.

“Do you play the pianoforte, Mr. Bennet?”

“A little, ma'am, and very poorly.”

“Oh. Do you draw?”

“No, not at all.”

“Your siblings, do they draw?”

“Not one.”

“Has your governess left you?”

“We never had a governess.”

Mr. Collins squirms in embarrassment. Darcy watches Santiago, keenly.

“No governess? Five siblings brought up at home without a governess, I never heard such a thing! Your mother must have been quite a slave to your education.”

“Not at all, Lady Catherine.”

“Mmmm. Are any of your younger brothers out in society?”

“Yes, ma'am. All.”

“All! What, five out at once? Very odd! And you only the second the younger ones out before the elders are married! Your youngest must be very young.”

“Yes, my youngest is not sixteen. But I think it would be very hard on younger brothers, not to have their share of amusement because the elder is still unmarried. And to be kept back on such a motive! It would hardly encourage brotherly affection.”

“Upon my word, you give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person. Pray, what is your age?”

“With three younger brothers grown up, your Ladyship can hardly expect me to own to it.”

Lady Catherine looks astonished. Mr. Collins shifts in his seat, Santiago's enjoying himself and Darcy's having great difficulty concealing her admiration.

***

Dinner is over and they are drinking coffee. Darcy moves towards Santiago but Lady Catherine interrupts, by shouting from her seat.

“Come, Miss Bennet, and play for us!”

“No, I beg you-”

“Music is my delight. In fact, there are few people in England who have more true enjoyment of music than myself, or better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, I should have been a prodigy. So would Anne, if her health would have allowed her.”

“Lady Catherine, I am not afflicted with false modesty and when I say I play poorly ...”

“Come come, Santiago, her ladyship demands it!” Mr. Collins insists.

Santiago reluctantly sits down at the piano and starts to play. Lady Catherine takes no notice and talks loudly over the music.

“How does Georgiana get along, Darcy?”

“She plays very well.”

“I hope she practices. No excellence can be acquired without constant practice. I have told Mrs. Collins this. (Turns to Charlotte) Though you have no instrument of your own you are very welcome to come to Rosings and play on the piano in the housekeeper's room.”

“Thank you, your ladyship.”

“You would be in nobody's way, you know, in that part of the house.”

Darcy flinches at her bad manners. He moves away to the piano where Santiago is playing - not that terribly well, it must be said. He's nervous, plays a wrong chord and then gets angry with himself and focusses.

“You mean to frighten me, Miss Darcy, by coming in all your state to hear me, but I won't be alarmed even though your sister does play so well.”

“I am well enough acquainted with you, Mr. Santiago, to know I cannot alarm you even should I wish it.”

A beat. They eye each other warily. Colonel Fitzwilliam joins them.

“What was my friend like, in Hertfordshire?”

“You really care to know?”

The colonel nods.

“Prepare yourself for something very dreadful. The first time I saw her, at the Assembly, she danced with nobody at all “

“I knew nobody beyond my own party.”

“True, and nobody can be introduced in a ballroom.”

“Fitzwilliam! I need you!” Lady Catherine calls.

He moves away. Darcy and Santiago are alone. Darcy's struggling with her pride which suddenly gives way.

“I do not have the talent of conversing easily with people I have never met before.”

“Perhaps you should take your aunt's advice and practice.”

Darcy flinches. Santiago turns away from her and carries on playing. Darcy gazes at the curve of his neck.

***

Santiago is writing a letter in the drawing room. He starts "Dear Francisco..." The doorbell rings in the background, he thinks nothing of it and continues. The maid opens the door to the drawing room and Miss Darcy enters.

“Miss Darcy!”

An awkward pause.

“Please, do be seated. I'm afraid Mr. and Mrs. Collins are gone on business to the village.”

A pause. What on earth does Miss Darcy want? She paces up and down.

“This is a charming house. I believe my aunt did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first arrived.”

“I believe so - and she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful subject.”

Another pause.

“Mr. Collins seems very fortunate in his choice of wife.”

“He is indeed lucky to have found one of the few sensible women who would have accepted him.”

Darcy sits down.

“Shall I call for some tea?”

“No. Thank you.”

The sound of the front door, and voices. Darcy jumps up.

“Good day, Mr. Santiago. It's been a pleasure.”

He bows to her and leaves. Santiago sits there, bemused and intrigued.

Charlotte, in the hallway, taking off her bonnet. Darcy hurries past her, with a swift bow, and leaves abruptly. Charlotte gazes after her in surprise. She heads to the drawing room where she finds Santiago still sitting thinking.

“What on earth have you done to poor Miss Darcy?”

“I have no idea.”

Truly, she doesn't.

***

Mr. Collins, in his vestments, stands in the pulpit delivering his sermon. Lady Catherine sits in the front row with her daughter.

Santiago sits a little way behind with Colonel Fitzwilliam. They talk in whispers.

“How long do you plan to stay in Kent, Colonel?”

“As long as Darcy chooses. I am at her disposal.”

“Everyone appears to be at her disposal. I wonder she does not marry and secure a lasting convenience of that kind.”

Fitzwilliam looks at Santiago, curious about his brittle tone.

“They would be lucky.”

“Really?”

“Darcy is a most loyal companion. From what I heard, on our journey here, she recently came to the rescue of one of her friends just in time.”

Darcy glances across from the adjacent pew.

“What happened?”

“She saved the man from an imprudent marriage.”

“Who was the man?”

“Her closest friend. Charles Bingley.”

A silence.

“Did Miss Darcy give you her reasons for this interference?”

“There were apparently strong objections to the lady.”

“What kind of objections? His lack of fortune?”

“I think it was his family that was considered unsuitable.

“So she separated them?”

“I believe so. I know nothing else.”

Santiago grows pale. He turns to look at Darcy.

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