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soft-for-them · 1 year

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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

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justsomerandomfanfic · 5 months

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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.

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sunnyy3d · 5 months

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Bingley Is the One|Thomas Thorne x Reader

A/N: I hope this is good and people like it cause it took me forever to write… Requests open!

"Thomas, what are you talking about? Bingley is obviously better than Mr. Darcy!" This is so stupid. I can't even believe that we are having this argument, but Thomas just has to be persistent. Of course he would say that Darcy is better; he has been acting just like him!

"Darcy is clearly better! He's much more sophisticated and mysterious than Bingley. Plus, he gets the girl," he argues. Really? That's his point?

"That is so stupid, Thomas. Bingley gets the girl too! You know what? I am done with this conversation, it is pointless," I exclaim before I storm out. I really wish I could slam doors right now. It just makes me so angry! What is wrong with him?! Does he have to be so annoying? I finally reach my room, for once glad that I do not have to change or get ready for bed. With a sigh, I tiredly plop into bed and fall asleep for the night.

I wake up with a yawn and look over to the bedside table. The antique clock on top of it tells me that I overslept. Allison would be having breakfast by now, so I need to hurry because if I do not, I will miss talking to her before she leaves for work.

Allison has been a massive help as of late. She has been listening to me complain about how Thomas has been acting and offering me advice, though it hasn't gotten us anywhere. I smile as I enter the dining room, "Good morning, Allison!" I look around to see no other ghosts bothering Allison this morning. That's perfect. I can talk to her in solitude.

"Good morning," Allison greets, "you're unusually chipper."

"Oh, you know me! A great nights rest after yet another futile argument with Thomas," I retort. Allison sighs and gives me a dejected look as she pours her cup of coffee. "I do not get it, Allison. What ever happened to the old Thomas! That one was just fine! He was nice and considerate. Now this one is trying to say that Darcy is better than Bingley."

She shrugs, "Well everyone is entitled to their own opinion."

"But that is the thing! I heard him talking to Julian about how he liked Bingley more than Darcy. So, why is he lying to me? Is he just trying to start an argument?" I sit in the pulled-out chair with a frown, crossing my legs.

Allison sits across from me with her coffee and breakfast. Oh, how I wish I could eat breakfast. "Hm, that is weird. What's weirder is that he was talking to Julian, of all people, about Pride and Prejudice. I don't know, something is off."

I shake my head, "Is it me? What made him change?"

"No! Of course it's not you. You haven’t done anything but be kind. Well, before he changed… But at the same time, I'm not sure what caused this. Maybe I can ask Julian." She's finished her breakfast now, her chair screeching as she stands up to put her dish in the sink.

I give her a small smile, "Thank you, Allison. You are a big help. I guess you have to go to work now, huh?" She cocks her head with a thin smile and a hum, as if to apologize for having to leave. I walk her to the door, as she makes me promise to update her on the situation when she gets home.

I sigh as I head to the family room. Right before I reach the door, I hear Thomas' voice, which makes me hesitate. Do I really want to deal with another fight this early in the morning? I am already upset about the entire situation. In my moment of hesitation, I realize that Thomas is whispering to Julian. Why is he whispering? There is no harm in listening in, right?

"I don't know, mate, but that's on you. Just go up to her and kiss her or something, everyone knows that you like her," Julian teases. I feel my heart drop. Who are they talking about?

"Are you crazy? Don't say that," Thomas whisper-yells.

"Just talk to her. She doesn't bite," Julian jokes.

"You don't know that, " Thomas replies seriously, "You've clearly never had an argument with her." Oh. They are talking about me. I think I will just go now, maybe to the lake. Thomas may have that window as his sighing place, but the lake is mine. It's so calming to watch the waves.

Why am I disappointed that Thomas does not like me? I should know that by now. I mean, he has been starting arguments with me for over a month now. Do I like Thomas? I cannot; I despise the way he acts. Or at least I do now. I liked him before he changed. I would have considered us at least friends, but he must not have liked me that much. I do not understand what happened though. He acted just fine; he was kind and caring and ever so sweet to me. And then he was not. He started ignoring me and brushing me off. And those are just the tip of the iceberg.

But here I am, sulking because he said he did not like me when he has made it so obvious. How long have I liked him and not realized? Did he ever realize? Is that why he changed? Did he recognize that I had deeper feeling for him that he did not reciprocate?

Before I realize it, the sun is setting. I have been so lost in my thoughts, trying to calm myself by watching the tranquil clouds and rippling waves, but it has not worked. I had no idea that I have been sitting here for hours. To be fair, there's not much else to do when you're dead. Suddenly, I hear a twig snap from behind me. Whipping around, I spot Thomas. Of course. "Not now, Thomas. I'm really not in the mood.” He sits down anyway. "I'm serious," I warn.

"Can I please have just a moment? This is quite important."

"If it is imoportant." I shan’t look at him. I cannot let him see how this is affecting me.

"I have been searching for you all day, you know. I am not sure why I didn't check here first."

"Please, skip the pleasantries and get on with it. I have a feeling I know what this is about anyway." I shake my head, trying not to cry. I had not cried this entire time; but of course, now that he's here, the tears have come. Hopefully, they will fall and blend in with the lake.

"You do?" questions Thomas.

"Yeah, I heard you talking with Julian. I know he was messing with you about liking me. Do not worry, I know it's not true."

Thomas lets out a light scoff. "Then you must not have heard the entire conversation. I do like you."

"I already told you that I am not in the mood for joking."

"I am not joking! I really do like you," Thomas argues.

Thomas ducks his head, trying to put himself in my line of sight. And for the first time since the start of this conversation, I look at Thomas. Tears are rolling down my face. "Then why have you been treating me like this? I do not think there has been a single day where we have not argued."

"I will admit that I made a grave mistake. I listened to Julian's advice.”

"Why would you do that?" I scoff.

"Because I wished to impress you. I was so desperate at the time and I thought you would not like me. So, I tried to be someone that I wasn't. I wish to blame Julian but it is on me. I cannot fathom why I thought that you would like what Julian made me out to be. I apologize for the way I have treated you. I can see how much I have hurt you, and I understand if you do not return my feelings." Thomas reaches his hand to my face to wipe away my tears, and I can't help but lean into his touch.

Holding his hand to my face, I explain, "I will say that the way you have treated me has hurt, but I understand now. You should have just talked to me in the first place." Thomas drops his hand to face me entirely, and I miss the warmth.

"I realize that now. I'm not sure why I ever listened to Julian in the first place. He made me believe that you would like Darcy more than Bingley, and that says a lot."

"How does he even know who Darcy and Bingley are?" I chuckle.

Thomas laughs heartily at that comment, "I had to explain the characters to him. I was trying to explain how I was more of a Bingley than a Darcy."

I look him in the eyes, smiling. "Well, it is a good thing that you now know that Bingley is the one for me."

"Really?" Thomas asks with a broad smile across his face.

"Yes! Thomas, I liked who you were before Julian’s tutalage. If you can go back to being yourself, that would make me more than ecstatic."

Thomas jumps forward, clasping his hands in mine, "Of course, I would do anything for you!"

I laugh, resting my head on his shoulder so that we can watch the sun finish setting together, "That's more like it."

#mathew baynton #x reader #fanfic #thomas thorne #bbc ghosts thomas thorne #thomas thorne x reader #bbc ghosts thomas #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts alison #bbc ghosts julian

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deadpoolsoci3ty · 2 months

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so you're the a (alastor x reader) ch 4

summary: “Not answering my question will definitely upset me more. Alastor, I haven't asked you this question yet because I wasn’t ready to hear the answer, but I am now. So, please tell me.” I didn’t want to seem weak, but I also didn’t want him to give me a chance to second guess myself

word count: 1121

warnings: none

masterlist

Chapter Four: would you?

Alastor and I have finished reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, and a few days ago began reading Pride and Prejudice. I had learned that Alastor had read this novel before, and his favorite character is Mr. Bingley. This, unfortunately, did not make me like him less, it had quite the opposite effect.

Alastor felt like a friend at this point, no longer just a scary voice over a radio. I know that sounds crazy and he’s a demon and all, but he is one of the few constants in my life. He listens to me talk about the books I read to him, and he seems genuinely interested. Today, I had decided I was going to ask him what Hell is like. I had been holding off from asking this question for months because I needed to know I could trust him, well as much as you could trust someone like Alastor. While I'm sure he still wants my soul I don’t think he would lie to me.

I decided to sleep in so I would feel as calm as I could because I was scared of what he was going to tell me. A fear of hell had been instilled in me since I could understand words. I knew that if hell existed it had to be bad. That was the whole point of it, right? To punish sinners, and I wasn’t perfect. So, I made my way to the radio and brought it with me to the couch. Turning the dials and knobs until I found his station with the static I had become accustomed to. “Hello, Alastor,~” I had slowly but surely begun to flirt back with him. We were never vulgar but the way we spoke to each other was definitely not platonic.

“Oh sweetheart, I’ve been waiting to talk to you. I’ve missed your melodic voice,” this man (demon) knew exactly how to butter me up.

“Missed you too,” I replied sweetly.

“Ask away, dear.”

“Okay, this is a big question, Alastor. I want you to be completely honest with me,” Once I asked this question there was no going back. I had spent my whole life wondering what hell is like, and I was about to find out. “What is hell like?” There was a pregnant pause after the question left my mouth.

“Well, dear, it’s not a pleasant place. Violent, it’s had to describe, love,” if he could be caught off guard I think this might have done it. “Are you scared of it?”

“Yes,“ I was quick to answer, “my whole life really.”

“I’m sorry dear,” he seemed genuinely apologetic.

“Are there a lot of people there? Like do most people end up there?” I had a feeling a very few margin of people were perfect enough to end up in heaven. He paused again, and now I was afraid he didn’t want to tell me.

“Darling, I don’t want upset you,”

“Not answering my question will definitely upset me more. Alastor, I haven't asked you this question yet because I wasn’t ready to hear the answer, but I am now. So, please tell me.” I didn’t want to seem weak, but I also didn’t want him to give me a chance to second guess myself.

“Yes, sweetheart, most people come here after their deaths. It takes very little to get into hell and a whole lot to get into heaven. Hell has been overpopulated since its creation. I’ve met many sinners that really didn’t deserve to be here.” This is the answer I expected, but it was still devastating to hear.

“Alastor, I’m scared I’m going to end up there,” I desperately wanted him to comfort me.

“Darling, there is no doubt in my mind that you would be fine if you somehow ended up here.” It seemed like he wasn’t quite used to offering comfort to others, but he was doing a decent job. “It’s not much different than the human world, people just don’t hide the evil aspects of themselves anymore.” I pause because it’s his turn to ask a question, and I also didn’t know what to say in response to that, “Do you think I would let anything happen to you?”

“Would you?”

“I hope you don’t want to count this as one of your questions, after all this time are you not sure of my affection for you?” Of course we had been exchanging flirty remarks for the past couple months, but to hear him admit to it out loud like this, was something I was not expecting. In the back of my mind I had been afraid he didn’t actually care about me. That this was all some game to him, but here he was telling me that it wasn’t. He had some sort of adoration for me, whatever much he could give me. I was willing to take whatever he could. “If you found yourself here after your death, nothing could stop me from shielding you from all the horrors in hell. I’ve grown quite attached to you, doll, I wouldn’t want you anywhere but by my side.” I was entirely speechless. He was telling me everything I had ever wanted to hear from someone I have feelings for.

“Alastor, I want to make a deal with you,” I can’t believe I was doing this, “I want to think about it a little more, but you should know I want to.”

“That would be delightful dear, but only if you truly want to. I don’t have a need for a soul that doesn’t need something in return,” I was not expecting him to try and talk me out of it.

“Like I said, I still need to think about it some more. Why don’t we start reading?” I suggested.

“It would be a pleasure, sweets,” I opened up my copy of Pride and Prejudice and got to reading. Normally as we read Alastor would make comments about what’s happening in the book, but he was silent until after I finished the chapter. Out of nowhere like it had been on his mind since we stopped asking our questions he said, “I would protect you even if I didn’t own your soul.” He didn’t give me a moment to respond before he was gone.

“Alastor?” I raised my voice towards the radio, he can’t just say that and leave, “come back!” I cried. I needed to know more. He cared enough about me to offer me protection without anything in return. He left in such a rush it made it seem like he was uncomfortable with what he had said. I could imagine he hadn’t offered this to someone before, and I wanted what he offered so bad. Hell was much less scary when I thought about Alastor at my side for eternity.

#alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotl imagine #alastor fic #hazbin fic #hazbin hotel fic

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krnzysh · 1 year

Text

PRIDE OF A SCRIBE !

SUMMARY You stood there, under the rain, soaking wet, and face to face with the same man whose pride you loathed with every fiber of your being. Yet how come he stood there, eyes so soft for you?

CHARACTER Al-Haitham x gn!reader

WARNINGS major spoilers for pride and prejudice (I used the same dialogue for the confession heaurhisauf)!, OOC alhaitham (I based him off of Mr. darcy’s personality cus why not), arguing, angst no comfort, gender neutral reader, just angst<3, oneshot only. lmk if I missed any!

WORD COUNT 1229

PICTURE CRED Alhaitham's character demo

[💬] LOVE, AIKA I recently rewatched pride and prejudice heisdh and I wanted to write a little come home offering for Alhaitham so uhm yeah🧍 he just fits Mr. Darcy so well ahuehuehue (I actually have another idea for Mr. Bingley ehehsihd lmk if you want it hehehe)

Your idiocy is something you are not proud of. Now because of your decision, you stood there soaking wet, from head to toe.

It was a sunny morning, with no signs of a dark sky, or the feeling of cold droplets of water on your skin that fell from the heavens.

But here you were, running. Desperately seeking shelter from the harsh wind and the heavy downfall of the rain.

Moments before, you were just sitting in the House of Daena where you were reading on scrolls for your research. You were far too engrossed that you didn’t notice the abundance of scholars who left before the downcast of the rain.

As you think back, you make a mental note on making sure that you are more aware of your surroundings.

Exhaustion enveloped your body as soon as you leaned on the wall for support. ‘I need to get home’. Was the only thought that occupied your head.

But before you could stand once more, a certain figure caught your line of sight.

As the figure grew larger and larger, and as a presence drew nearer, there the grand scribe of the Akademiya stood in all his glory.

He was the last person you wanted to see. Especially in this state of yours.

You wanted to avoid him as much as possible, “Alhaitham... What are you-”

“Y/n, please.” He cut your inquiry off, his voice bled and beseech you to listen to him, his eyes scanning you, earnestly trying to make you stay and hear him out.

Deciding to hear him out, you stood in silence, breaking eye contact with the scribe. What could he be thinking?

Noticing your silent response, he took this as a sign to keep talking. Finally, tell you what he was keeping deep in his heart.

He began to speak, in a manner you most certainly never expected him in. His voice was filled with adoration and he spoke as if he cherished and loved you.

“Y/n, I have struggled in vain and I can no longer bear it.” He started, eyes locked on you. You saw how he badly wanted to hold you, yet he refrained from doing so.

You stare at him, awaiting his next words. Your ears perked and were ready to hear every last syllable that came from his mouth.

“These past months have been a torment, I repeatedly came to the House of Daena to see you…” He admits. Alhaitham stopped for a moment before continuing.

“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.” He continued, albeit faster and his demeanor never faltered.

But you? You were confused. Oh so confused.

What was he saying? End his agony? You couldn’t understand. And with confusion in your eyes and in your voice, you questioned him;

“I don’t understand…” You didn’t understand. After he insulted your ranking and your position after he said all those words and after he asked you to end his agony.

‘Just what is this scribe pertaining to?’ You ask yourself

Sensing the confusion, Alhaitham, spoke, with more honesty and love.

“I love you.” He finally confessed, stopping for a second before continuing, “Most ardently. Please do me the honor of accepting my hand.”

The shock was painted all over your face. Eyes blew wide, mouth agape. Your head still hasn’t registered his words.

Alhaitham, the grand scribe of the Akademiya, the prideful man he is, confessed his feelings, to you…?

You had no feelings for the man, atleast that is what your mind wanted to believe.

Minutes felt like hours, the long cruciating silence that took over you both was silent enough that only the pitter-patter of the rain can be heard.

“Sir scribe, I appreciate the struggle you have been through, and I am very sorry to have caused you pain. Believe me, it was unconsciously done.” You finally replied to him after what seemed like ages.

Alhaitham whose face never changed still maintained that poker face, replied to your statement. With a curt “Is that your reply?”

The cold and monotone voice spoke through the never-ending sploshes of water

He maintained eye contact with you as you answer his question.

“Yes, sir scribe.”

“Are you… are you laughing at me?”

“No.”

“Are you rejecting me?”

You so badly wanted to let out a scoff, he still couldn’t let his pride now, even at this moment. Can he?

“I'm sure that the feelings which, as you've told me have hindered your regard, will help you in overcoming it.” You told him, blatantly rejecting him.

“Might I ask why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus repulsed?” He further inquired.

The irony. You thought that maybe he could’ve let his pride lower, even just for this moment. But no, he’s just that prideful, isn’t he?

“And I might as well enquire why, with so evident a design of insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your better judgment.”

“So this is your opinion of me. Thank you for explaining so fully. Perhaps these offenses might have been overlooked had not your pride been hurt by my honesty…”

Looking him in the eye, your rage grew, more and more so.

“My… pride?”

You questioned him, is this how he treats the person he cherishes and adores?

“...in admitting scruples about our relationship. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your circumstances?”

Oh, he just added fuel to the raging fire that you desperately tried to tame.

You knew of your status, you were well aware you were not born into an influential family nor were you raised with so much money. But for him to insult you and rub it into your face?

Hurt, you reply to him “And those are the words of THE GRAND SCRIBE.” emphasizing his title.

“From the first moment, I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others made me realize that you were the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”

No, you know it yourself, you don’t hate him, you don’t loathe him. You adore him. So much so that you just wanted to embrace him and make him yours.

But what he said just hurt you, so much.

You both stood there, eyes filled with rage, but if you look closer, you can see how hurt you were.

Alhaitham wanted to hold you. He wanted to cherish you, to give you all the love that you deserve. But he had to mess up, maybe Kaveh was right.

You saw how he wanted to reach out to you, but he stopped himself.

You saw how he wanted to wipe your tears away and apologize, he wanted to comfort you.

“I… apologize for taking so much of your time. Please stay safe, Y/n”

He finally spoke up, breaking eye contact with you. Turning around to leave.

He gave you one last glance before finally, leaving you and your thoughts alone.

Too much thought ran throughout your head, still not fully understanding the situation. Still in confusion.

But you had one question for yourself. Did you really, not love him?

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shmaptainwrites · 3 months

Note

wait i lied do childhood besties to enemies to lovers PLS

betsie ngl it took me a minute to figure out a good plot for this concept that i could do justice with the length i'm going for so now that i have something i really hope you like it! also atp it isn’t a mini blurb it’s a full on ficlet cause i just kept writing LMAO

Pairings: Fitzwilliam Darcy x GN!Reader

Warnings: Wickham mention (yes that's a valid warning bc he sucks), minor height descriptions (again i'm sorry)

Lost Years

Your least favourite time of year was always the time you visited Pemberley with your siblings. It had been that way for a while now, you probably could have pinpointed the date if you tried hard enough.

But just as every year before it was unavoidable.

It used to be an occasion of good fun. Two of your closest friends lived on the estate and you would savour every chance you got to spend with them both, but as you grew older and responsibilities set in, so did the disputes. Your close friendship had become fragmented along with your heart.

The first few days you tried to make sure you were always with at least one of your siblings, or maybe even Miss Georgiana Darcy which would create a buffer for the tension between you and her older brother.

As the estate was so large, it was always possible that by mere coincidence, one may end up in a room alone with another individual.

That quickly became the case for you, as you walked in the library, perusing the selection of books curated by the late Mr. Darcy and his son.

You went to reach for a book on a shelf you could not reach and before you could even thinking of a further attempt to grab it, someone reached from behind you and brought the book.

When you turned around and saw it was the younger Mr. Darcy you couldn't help the sharp remark that slipped past your lips.

"I could have gotten it myself. There was no need for that."

"And I suppose you would have climbed the shelves to accomplish that," he snapped right back.

"I find myself in a different mood than before. You may keep the book, Mr. Darcy," you said curtly and began to walk away.

"Am I to assume that nothing that comes from my hand will be accepted?" he asked.

You turned around.

"Miss, I have delt with your contempt of me in as amiable of a manner as I thought I was capable, but this has crossed a boundary."

"I have crossed a boundary?" you blinked, pointing to yourself. "I believe maybe you should have thought of that when you refused to give Wickham his portion entitled to him of your father's estate!"

Mr. Darcy stared at you blankly for a moment before his expression hardened.

"If Wickham is where your loyalties lie then perhaps contempt on both sides is justified."

"I disagree," you shook your head. "When he told me I could not believe what I was hearing. That you of all people could be so cold and unloving towards a friend. If you could do something like that to Wickham what was stopping you from doing it to me?"

"And what exactly did he tell you?" Mr. Darcy asked and you didn't hesitate to recount Wickham's version of the events.

You could see what almost looked like shock on Mr. Darcy's face as he saw in what light he was being painted, but he allowed you to finish before saying anything.

"I don't suppose you have anything to say for youself," you crossed your arms over your chest.

"That isn't what happened," he said simply.

"T-That isn't what happened? Really Mr. Darcy is that all you can-,"

"I swear it to you," he said. "Ask Mr. Bingley, if you must, but that is not what happened after my father's death."

You loosened your stance, letting your arms fall to your side.

"If not, then what did happen?"

Mr. Darcy took a breath before beginning to explain to you the events following his father's death. He was able to say in great detail what had occured, lining up his story with the timeline of events that had occured in his own life and Wickham's. Even things you had witnessed to your friend's character. Suddenly everything came crashing back down to reality.

When he finished speaking you had to excuse yourself in order to sit down on one of the couches behind you.

"Years," you whispered. "I went on for years believing this."

"You were listening to a friend you thought you could trust," Mr. Darcy even went as far as defending your actions towards him, when all this time he had been innocent of what he was accused. "I understand that this is a lot of information to take in, but may I ask you something?"

"Yes, I suppose," you nodded your head.

"Why didn't you ever ask me about this?"

Of everything he could have asked you, it had to be that. You closed your eyes and swallowed thickly.

"Mr. Darcy I-I'm not sure it would be appropriate to say."

"I have delt with many things much more difficult than this," he assured you. "Please...answer the question."

You chuckled softly to youself,

"We were young, Fitz," you looked over to him and you could see his face soften at the childhood nickname you called him. It was so easy how one word could transport you back in time, maybe a time where things were simpler. "I-," you shook your head and held it in your hands, massaging your temples. The words had become caught in your throat. "I-I-I loved you and if I spoke to you and it was true? It was easier to believe him and spare myself the hurt of hearing it from you directly."

You couldn't sit next to him, quickly standing and moving towards a window instead.

"The thought of finding out someone for which you feel so deeply, might be capable to do something of such an unkindly nature was too much for me to bear I-I'm so sorry."

"You loved me," he whispered softly. "Past tense."

"If I didn't love you, would I care this much about your treatment of Wickham?" you looked back at him, tears glistening in your eyes.

Mr. Darcy stood from his seat and slowly made his way towards you, gingerly reaching for your hand before finally clasping it in his own and bringing it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to its back.

"I have lost money; I have lost trust; I have lost many things because of Wickham," he murmured, your hand still close enough to his lips your could feel them move as he spoke. He lifted his other hand to gently caress your cheek. "But I will never forgive him for making me lose the years I could have spent with you."

"Fitz, I'm so sorry," you apologized as the tears finally spilled from your eyes, "I'm sorry."

You repeated your apologies many times, but they became muffled as he pulled you into him for a tight embrace.

You wrapped your hands tightly around his neck and buried your nose in his shoulder.

When your apologies quieted, he gently moved away, just barely half an arm's length.

"There is no need to apologize, my dear," his countenance calm, at peace. "We will simply have to make up for lost time."

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

@iceman-kazansky

#mimi’s mini blurbs #fitzwilliam darcy #mr darcy #pride and prejudice #pride and prejudice fanfic #pride and prejudice fanfiction #p&p #p&p 1995 #p&p 2005 #pride and prejudice 1995 #bbc pride and prejudice #pride and predjudice 2005 #fitzwilliam darcy x reader #mr darcy x reader #mr darcy fanfiction #fitzwilliam darcy fanfiction #jane austen #jane austen fanfiction

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doetic · 5 months

Text

There's Doodles of Rams in the Margins? (Jschlatt x Reader) - UPCOMING

As a perpetually single relationship columnist living in 21st century Los Angeles where romance seems to be dead and gone, you've always found yourself unable to fully let your guard down around men and believe in love. This trait of yours only grew to be further justified after your lifelong best friend and roommate Shae dragged you along with to an influencer party, resulting in you butting heads with a man known as Jschlatt. Seeming to embody everything you hate about men and social media stars, your prejudice against him and his insufferable pride clash at every given moment. You would love nothing more than to rid your life of him forever. However, much to your chagrin, fate seems intent on keeping the two of you as close together as possible -- LA rent isn't cheap. With Shae's long time plan to move in with Ted and the great difficulties that come with finding a roommate as a mostly-friendless recent immigrant, you'd be a fool not mutually benefit from letting the wealthy man experiencing housing issues stay with you short term. It's not like it'll mean anything, it's just for a few months. Your disdain for each other is mutual anyways, right?

Inspired by Pride and Prejudice (book, movie, and BBC adaptation since I'm obsessed with all), the modern P&P adaptation Bridget Jones' Diary, and hints of Sex and the City.

Main Cast (so far):

Other people will make appearances, this is just the main cast. Other sisters, Mr. Collins, and Lady de Bourgh removed for ease of writing and inability to cast them well without having many oc's.

Y/n -> Elizabeth Bennet

Shae -> Jane Bennet

Jschlatt -> Mr. Darcy

Ted Nivison -> Mr. Bingley

Hasan -> Mr. Wickham (adjacent)

Slimecicle -> (bestie version of) Georgiana Darcy

Let me know if you'd like to join the taglist!

#Writing a pride and prejudice au is like my personal rite of passage in a fandom #i do it for every one I'm in #although usually it stays in my notebook #i just love pride and prejudice so much #jschlatt x reader #alyssia's upcoming #i guess this project deserves it's own tag now!!#there's doodles of rams in the margins news #there's doodles of rams in the margins #ted nivison #slimecicle #I genuinely have a moleskine journal I intended to just jot down fic ideas in while in class that ended up full of just this

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1shot-wonder · 1 year

Text

Not a full fic, but a fun little Spock x reader drabble/imagine

///

Night on the Enterprise. First Officer Spock, off duty aftera trying day, has retreated to his quarters. The room is silent but for the sound of the engines and a soft voice.

Spock lays on the bed, his head in your lap. You are carding one hand through his hair as he looks up at you. In front of you is a reader screen. On it is an old earth book, one you had apparently loved since adolescence.

Pride and Prejudice, you had called it. An illogical title. But he'd held back his insults. The habit of you reading him to sleep was not new. Not really. And the words were not important.

Spock loved listening to you read. The way you rushed through parts that bored you, the way your voice grew soft on your favorite lines. The voices you did to imitate characters.

He was just about to drift off when he heard it. You did a recognizable, if...questionable impression of him. He opened his eyes and squinted up at you.

"Am I in this novel?"

"Shh." You pressed your finger to his lips and continued to read. "You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable."

"A logical man." You glared at him. "Although an unflattering comparison." You laughed.

"I've been in love with Mr. Darcy since I was thirteen-years-old. Who else could he sound like?" You teased. "Don't worry. He gets better on acquaintance." Spock felt the smallest of smiles tig at his lips.

"Then I suppose you should keep reading, shouldn't you?" He asked. You smiled and looked back at your reader. "If I must be Mr. Darcy, perhaps Bingley could be Jim."

"I think that's a wonderful idea."

#spock x reader #spock #start trek #star trek tos #star trek x reader #drabble

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lawrites · 1 year

Text

Chrome & Chemises Part II

Din Djarin x Gender Neutral Plus Size Reader

You find yourself invited to Bingley’s mansion through a strange set of circumstances. With Mando’s impertinence and Caroline’s insistence upon his attention, you fear that you may end up in worse health than Jane.

Part 1

This chapter got away from me, sorry! I cannot take credit for much of the dialogue or story, as it comes from Jane Austen and the writers of P&P 2005. I just add descriptions and the space bits :) I realize that this will be a slow burn but that is pride and prejudice babey

This chapter is safe for all ages. CW: mentions of fatphobic internal thoughts, some self-deprecation, Mando being very blunt, sickness

---------------------------------------------

The last few stragglers, including your family and surprisingly the entire party of one Mr. Bingley, were ushered out of the Lucas residence thankfully before 1 AM. Bigger celebrations, while exciting, can also sometimes go into the early dawn.

While you all load into your landspeeders, you and Jane use the opportunity to lean against each other. You close your eyes and she does as well, comfortable and ready to nap a bit on the way back. It paints a picture of the trust the two of you share as siblings.

This fact isn't lost on Caroline, who is situated next to Mando in their own speeder. She scoffs and gestures towards the two of you. "Well, that is just so indicative of this little port, is it not? Unable to keep propriety. I cannot believe that the two of them cannot keep their posture for the short ride back to their residence." Bingley looks behind him at the two of you and his eyes soften as he sees Jane again. "I think sh-they both look lovely." Caroline rolls her eyes and looks to Mando, "And with how this ball went, I bet I can guess what you are thinking right now, Mandalorian." Her eyes glimmer with what she most likely intends to be mirth, but instead appears more to be desperation.

Bingley tries to insert himself into the conversation again, no doubt ready to defend the ball, but Mando holds up one gloved hand instead. "What am I thinking?"

Caroline smirks. "You must be thinking how terrible it might be to spend even one more evening with such tedious company."

Mando answers her own expression with a smirk of his own, hidden under his helmet. "Oh, you are incorrect. My mind was more agreeably engaged." Mando turns from Caroline and looks directly at you across from him, safe and comfortable in your family's landspeeder. "I've been meditating on the great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes on the face of a pretty person can bestow."

Caroline scoffs, rolling her eyes at what she assumes MUST be a joke, though the worry in her eyes is palpable. Mando stares straight ahead, his helmet betraying nothing to Caroline to further affirm her thoughts as your landspeeder sets out towards home.

----------------------

The ball seemed to leave you energized and exhausted all at once. You feel entirely ready to collapse as soon as your landspeeder brings you back to Longbourn, but after you fall prone across your carefully made bed and position yourself, you find that your mind will not stop thinking.

A gentle knock at the door has you sit up slightly, and you hear the door click open and closed. Jane's hushed voice spears through the darkness, "May I join you? I'm all nerves tonight." You pat the bed next to you, realize she can't see, and respond, "Of course."

Only a few minutes later, a small nightlight has been turned on and adjusted to its dimmest setting, casting a slight glow over you and Jane under the covers. Though you are grown beyond childhood at this point, you feel young again as you both giggle and kick your feet, reminiscing on the night.

"Mr. Bingley is just what a man ought to be." Jane's eyes sparkle even in the low light. "Sensible, good-natured..."

You cut in, "...charming, conveniently rich..."

Jane gives you not even a half-hearted push, "You know perfectly well that I don't think considerations in marriage should be focused only on money."

You nod, you mouth set in a straight line to show your seriousness even as your eyes continue to hold a glint of humor, "Oh I agree entirely. Only the deepest love could persuade me to matrimony, and with my body and the way society is...I will end an old maid." You make sure to insert a laugh at the end of your sentence that was less than convincing to anyone who knows you well, and Jane knows you better than anyone.

You disguise your own insecurities with humor, as usual. You may be comfortable in your own body, but you've built armor against the worst voices in the world. If you acknowledge what they say about you first, it takes the moment away from them. Your self-confidence is usually great, but since you have to see yourself at your worst to predict what others will say, you can never forget what you consider to be flaws.

Jane bristles, as she usually does at your worst comments about yourself, and gently grips your arm, "Y/N, do not say that about yourself. While I agree that you need not settle for anything besides the deepest love, I want you to consider that there is someone out there who will love you for your heart, mind, and body."

You scoff and roll your eyes. "Well that is much easier for you to say, dear sister. Every person who looks at you falls in love with you."

Jane grips harder, and you can almost feel her impatience at you. "Y/N. Do not patronize me, I see the world for what it is just as you do. But I've also grown up with you as a wonderful sibling for all these years. Do you think that I do not see the best in you as you do in me?"

You try to search for an answer, and finding none, you instead make an attempt to change the subject. "Well, I certainly know who sees the best in you..."

Jane rolls her eyes, but sensing your discomfort, she continues along your train of thought. Thoughts of Bingley cause her eyes and grip to soften as she sighs. "Do you really think he liked me?"

"Jane, he danced with you at every opportunity propriety could give."

Jane releases your arm entirely, her hands occupied with curling a strand of her hair repeatedly. "I cannot say I expected such a compliment."

You try to break the awkward moment from before entirely by using your humor once more. Teasingly, you remark, "Well, Mr. Bingley certainly IS very amiable, so I give you leave to like him. You've liked many a stupider person."

Jane pushes you once more. "Y/N!"

You laugh quietly and continue. "You're a great deal too apt to like people in general, you know. All-" you pause and think on her previous statements, "-most of the world is good and agreeable in your eyes."

Jane turns to you, "Not his friend! Oh! I can't even believe what he said about you!"

You are reminded, painfully, of what Mando had said about you earlier. You take a deep breath and smile, "Oh? Mando? Well...I could more easily forgive his vanity had he not wounded mine, of course." You look to the nightlight and feel a tiredness fall over you all of a sudden. As you reach for it, you continue. "It's no matter, I doubt we shall even speak again." And with a click, you are plunged into darkness, the both of you finally ready to sleep.

----------------------

At breakfast the next morning, you are blearily trying to butter some toast while your mother prattles on and on about the ball.

"...and then he could not dance the second with Jane and had to find another, but then the third dance was with Jane. Then a fourth with Miss King of little standing, returning again to Jane for the fifth."

Your mother appears ready to continue until your father interjects, "If he had any compassion for me he would have sprained his ankle on the first."

Your mother's eyes become hard, meeting your father's across the table. "Oh Mr. Bennet, the way you go on it seems like you expect our children to have a grand inheritance."

Your father ignores her and asks you to pass the butter, but she continues anyway. "As you very well know, Mr. Bennet. When you die, which could be any day, our children will be left without a roof overhead or a penny to their name. You know that you do not make enough to keep us all in this house, and it will pass to whoever along the line DOES at the first sign of our misfortune."

You roll your eyes and step in, "Mama, my goodness, it's ten in the morning!"

Your mother turns to you, appearing ready to continue her lecture, whether it would be focused on your duties as heirs to Longbourn or your own insolence, you cannot predict. Luckily you are saved from a lecture about insolence from your mother by an entrance from Mrs. Hill. "A message, Ma'am, on the communicator. Addressed to Miss Jane Bennet from Netherfield Hall."

Your mother and Jane both light up, and Jane reaches for the communicating tablet as your Mother squeals. "Oh thank the Lord, we are saved!"

Your sister hurries to click through the screen and open the message, the entire room falling in a hush as her eyes quickly scan over it. "It is from Miss Bingley, Caroline." She pauses as she reads more. "She has invited me to dine with her!" Her smile drops a bit as she scrolls and sees the rest. "Oh, her brother will be dining out."

Your mother retreats into herself, her face appearing introspective as she thinks. "Well...that certainly won't do..."

Lydia chimes in. "I didn't think he was that handsome anyway."

You elbow her sharply, making her cry out and glare at you as she rubs her arm.

Jane speaks up, "May I take the landspeeder? To Netherfield?"

Your mother continues to mumble to herself, looking up at the sky.

You interrupt her thoughts. "Mama! The landspeeder! For Jane??"

Your mother looks lost in thought. "Oh...certainly not. She will go on our Kybuck."

You and Jane both yell "Kybuck??" in sync, in disbelief at your mother's decision. She just smiles slightly as she hears slight thunder from outside.

----------------------

You are trying to help Mrs. Hill bring in the clothes that were set to dry as a downpour is starting around you. As you run in, your mother is staring at the window, pleased.

"Just as I predicted. She will have to stay the night now."

You are at this point amused by your mother's actions. "I don't know if you can take credit for making it rain, Mama. Let us hope that Jane is safe."

-----------------------

A knock on Netherfield's door causes a servant to leave the lunch set up and open it. Outside, dressed in blue and looking beautiful, if not soaked due to the thunderstorm, is Jane. She smiles at the servant and starts a greeting, but instead she turns a bit to sneeze. The servant looks worried and gestures for her to come in, the door sliding shut automatically behind her.

------------------------

You are clutching a communication from Jane in your hands, the family tablet seeming to give far too little information for your tastes. "...and my kind friends will not hear of me returning until I am better. But do not be alarmed. Excepting a sore throat, fever, and headache, I am fine."

As you finish reading it aloud you glare at your mother. "This is ridiculous."

Your father agrees. "Well, my dear, if your daughter dies let it be a comfort that it was in the house of Mr. Bingley."

You mother brushes off his comment easily. "People do not die of colds."

You roll your eyes. "But she might well perish from the shame of having such a mother." You try to reason with her. "We are isolated! What if it worsens? We would have to wait days to receive the shipment of medication we might need from other ports!" You stop, considering your options. "I must go see her."

You mother turns to you suddenly. "You cannot! The Kybuck is with Jane and I cannot spare the landspeeder." You look outside, "No matter, the rain has stopped and I can walk now."

She strictly replies, almost yelling now "You will be covered in mud from your walk! You won't be fit to see anyone!"

You respond as you leave the room to prepare, "I will be fit enough to see Jane, which is all that matters."

------------------

You've always enjoyed a nice brisk walk. Mr. Bingley's estate is further out of your settlement than seems reasonable, but the slight breeze causing the leaves on the trees to rustle makes you smile. At the insistence of your mother, you did end up wearing a dress, though you covered it with an old, heavier cloak of your father's that would keep you warm. You feel a blaster in the pocket hitting your hip every once in a while, his own insistence that you protect yourself in the country fresh in your mind.

A smile covers your face as you continue to march, needing this quiet moment of solitude before you enter the lion's den. Just at the moment when you consider the true ramifications of showing up as you are, a step leads you directly into a puddle of soft mud. You see your shoe almost entirely covered and the hem of your dress sinking into it as well.

Shrugging, you pull your foot and dress out and laugh as the breeze picks up again. The only thing now on your mind is Jane, even though you do dread the reactions of the Bingley's and Mando when they see your haggard appearance.

You initially walk up the steps to Bingley's Manor in confidence. Knocking soundly, you take the time to do a last minute check. Dress? Dirty. Hair? Frazzled. Shoes? Covered entirely in mud. You try to run your hands over your garments but the door opens. You tell yourself it would have been useless anyway as you inform the doorman about your purpose.

Hoping that you are just brought up to see Jane, you instead have the displeasure of being told to wait outside a room until you are announced. You hear your title and step into the room with as much grace as you can manage given your appearance.

You see Mando and Caroline sitting down for what is most likely their lunch, looking as pretty as a painting. Caroline is in a silky, stylish dress with her hair perfectly managed, and her eyes widen at the vision of you against the white stone of their home. Yes, you feel quite out of place in a home that was lavish enough to be carved out of stone instead of assembled by metal.

You hear a scraping sound and look over to see Mando has stood up straight, presumably in welcome, his posture seeming very awkward and stiff. He bows to you slightly, and you return that with a slight curtsey.

The tense silence is broken by Caroline's voice, "Good lord, did you really walk all the way here?"

You nod tersely, your mind now primarily focused on getting out of this room and to Jane. "I'm so sorry, but how is my sister?"

Mando, surprisingly, is the one to interject. It is difficult to tell with his vocal modulation, but you believe he sounds a bit softer, "She is upstairs."

To the point as usual, then. You nod in thanks and turn to the steward, who brings you out of the room.

As soon as you are out of earshot, Caroline sputters as Mando carefully sits down again. "Goodness! Did you see their petticoat? Six inches deep in mud. Dreadfully incapable of..."

She is cut off by Mando. "I thought their concern for their sister does them credit."

Caroline blinks, but recovers quickly. "Well, their hair certainly does not. I wonder if their appearance after this has..." She glances pointedly at Mando, "...possibly lessened your enjoyment of their 'fine eyes?"

Mando casually responds as he continues reading the paper in front of him, "Not at all, they were brightened by the exercise." He tries to read the words in front of him, but only can truly focus on the fact that his helmet informed him of the presence of your blaster. Could you truly use it?

---------------------

You first know that you are approaching Jane's room by the vision of Mr. Bingley sitting in a chair outside of a set of doors, looking worried. He brightens when he sees you.

"Mx. Bennet! Oh I am so glad to see you. The doctor is tending to your sister now."

Your heart melts a bit. "It is nice to see you as well Mr. Bingley. Thank you for fetching a doctor for my sister."

The doctor exits the room just a few moments later, and during your discussion she mentions that your sister has a nasty cold, but should recover nicely in a few days. With the news that she will be okay, you rush into the room to see your sister.

You almost feel like rolling your eyes upon seeing her. While you are worried about her looking feverish, languid, and exhausted, of course her complexion and hair is still perfect. In fact, her rosy cheeks and the slight glow of sweat make her glow. It honestly just makes you smile as you see her, your beautiful sister cannot be taken down even by this.

"Jane!"

She turns to you, "Oh! Y/N!" You approach and give her forehead a kiss, trying to tell her temperature with your lips. It is still slightly high, as the doctor said. "Oh, your face is cold!" She laughs a bit and then leans away from you to cough, her face hidden in the crook of her arm.

She collapses a bit after, looking slightly past you to the hallway where Mr. Bingley is discussing something with the doctor. "Oh I just feel awful. They are being so kind to me and I feel like such a terrible imposition."

You shake your head and smile, wanting to give her some better news. "Oh do not worry. I don't know who is more pleased at you being here, Mama or Mr. Bingley."

Jane chuckles and coughs a bit more as Mr. Bingley finishes up his conversation with the doctor. You turn to him, "I cannot thank you enough for taking such diligent care of Jane. I am ashamed to say she may actually be more comfortable here than in our own home."

Bingley smiles and his eyes look to Jane, not even slightly fazed by her appearance. In fact, his eyes shine as they take her in. "It is a pleasure to have her here." He pauses. "Well...not a pleasure to see her so ill...rather it is a pleasure that she is here...being ill." He trails off slightly awkwardly, unable to express that he is glad to see Jane in his house no matter the circumstances. He straightens up a bit and continues, "But you must join us as a guest, at least until your sister recovers."

You try to argue but he won't hear it. "We shall send a speeder for some things for you, it is no worry. I wouldn't have you separated from her during this time."

As he leaves, you are nervous at the thought of staying, but relieved that Bingley is truly one of the kindest suitors your sister has had. Truly, he is well suited to her. You smile at Jane and wiggle your eyebrows a bit, and though her slight push has less force behind it, you cannot help but see the absolute joy in her eyes as well.

--------------------------------------

Jane has made wonderful progress on her recovery. You have spent nearly every second you can in this unfamiliar house with her, your discomfort only second to your devotion to your sister. But, as she is getting better she is able to rest without as many coughing fits as before, and has asked you to leave her be for the time being.

Therefore, you find yourself in a sprawling room in Bingley's home. There are rows upon rows of shelves lined with actual books, desks and chairs, and a lounge area that sits in front of a chrome fireplace. More than often you find yourself settling on a comfortable couch to read, trying not to think about how much everything in the room costs as the fire crackles in front of you. You cannot keep yourself from bringing the books up and sniffing them every few minutes, the smell of old pages mixed with the burning fire making you feel content.

You are so absorbed in your current book outlining a few lesser known stories about the Jedi that you almost fail to hear the voices and footsteps approaching the room. Having only a few moments, you sit up straight, brush your outfit a bit, and place your book in your lap, leaning over it and appearing to be lost in thought.

The doors slide open, causing you to look up in their direction and see Caroline, Bingley, and Mando. Bingley smiles upon seeing you, exclaiming that it is so good to see you out of your sister's room. He approaches and you stand up to greet him as he further mentions that he is impressed at your fortitude and love for your sister. You smile and thank him, seeing that Mando has settled at a desk near you and Caroline has decided to sit in a chair between. She is purposefully not glancing in your way at all, a fact that you are glad to allow.

Mando touches the glass top of the desk and it lights up, surprising you. He pulls up something and begins to type. The low sounding keystrokes aren't enough to keep you from reading, and so you return to your stories. Unfortunately, Caroline, who had been looking casually at her own personal communicator, decides that the sounds are enough to distract her. "You type so quickly, Mandalorian."

Mando responds, rather bluntly, "You are mistaken, I type rather slowly."

Caroline, determined as ever, decides to lean over and spy on what the Mandalorian is writing. "Oh, I cannot imagine how many terrible communications your people must need to send." You look up in shock at her tone. "To talk of violence so often...it makes me ill."

You cannot possibly consider what angle she was using to gain Mando's interest, but it seems that there was no matter. She fails as Mando soon replies, "It is fortunate that they fall to my lot instead of yours, then." His final tone makes you assume that she would end their conversation there, so you return once more to the pages in front of you.

"Oh! You must be writing to your ward or his keeper. Tell him that he is just...the most talented little thing." Caroline tries to take on a jovial tone, but the slight desperation once again seeps through. Ward? The Mandalorian has a ward?

The Mandalorian makes the tab he was working on disappear and turns to Caroline. "He is to be protected and kept a secret as a foundling, Miss Bingley." His tone sends ice into your veins. But your are surprised to learn of his foundling. They are usually children taken into Mandalorian protection...so Mando has enough of a heart to care about a child? He honestly could have made you into a fool for thinking the opposite.

He turns to you. "I trust you can keep him a secret, Mx. Bennet." You nod. "Of course. I have read of foundlings before. They are to be protected as you have said." You smile softly in reassurance. "I would never put a child at risk, you have my word."

The Mandalorian seems to loosen a bit, "You have my gratitude." He moves to turn back to his communicator desk once more, but instead brings the T of his visor back to face you. "You have read of Mandalorian culture? Our foundlings?"

You force yourself not to shrink under his gaze and nod. "Only a little, admittedly." You glance to the shelves of books off to your right, trying to escape his focus. "My father has many books in our communicator, and a few in print. But as the communicator is shared...I have not had as much of an opportunity to research more."

You turn back to see that he is still staring straight at you. Or at least you think he is. Trying to appease him and find some middle ground with which you might start a friendship, you continue. "Though I would of course be happy to learn of anything through your own stories, if you would be willing to speak of them."

Mando pauses for a moment, but instead of telling a story he instead asks, "So, you and your siblings...you are not as accomplished due to your lack of resources?" It is difficult to interpret his tone due to his modulator, but you insist that you can tell his intent from his words alone. You have to keep your mouth from dropping open.

You decided to extend an olive branch and he decides to rudely comment on your family's lack of resources. It may have been true but it was certainly not polite to say. Mr. Bingley seems to sense this, and he cuts in quickly. "I would not say that Mando."

He smiles at you agreeably. "I would say from what we have seen of Mx. Bennet and their sister that both are accomplished in my book." His face scrunches a bit in confusion. "Though...the word accomplished does confuse me a bit. I have heard of many of marriageable age being touted as accomplished with little understanding of the word."

Caroline snorts, surprising herself, but seems to recover quickly. Mando turns to Bingley. "The word is applied too liberally, I agree. I only know around a dozen whom I would say are accomplished."

Caroline adds little, agreeing with Mando as usual. "Yes, I agree as well."

You must look astonished as you respond. "Goodness. You must comprehend a great deal in the idea."

Mando turns back to you. "I do."

Caroline cuts in, "Absolutely. One must have knowledge of planetary music, multiple languages, dances, and art, along with that same knowledge of the major planetary systems beyond" She gets up and walks, trying her best to glide. "And something needs to be present in the way they present themselves."

Mando adds, "My own requirements are the ability to shoot well and..." His visor looks to the book in your lap, "...read on Mandalorian culture."

You snap the book shut and look directly at him. "I am no longer surprised at you knowing only a dozen who are accomplished. I know none who hold all of the qualities you both require."

Mando meets your gaze. "Are you so severe on those who you consider competition?"

You roll your eyes, "I have never met a person who knows everything you have described. Even off-world visitors do not hold such knowledge. That person would be fearsome to behold."

Mando nods after a tense moment, almost in agreement, as Bingley chuckles a bit. He gazes at you with eyes full of mirth. You smile back at him before returning to your own stories once more.

--------------

Some time passes, and Caroline approaches you. “Let us take a turn about the room.” You are not fond of her after your interactions, but you agree that walking after sitting for so long might do you some good. As you stand, Caroline forces your arm to link with hers, and starts to guide you about. “It is refreshing, after sitting so long in one place, is it not?”

You hesitantly reply, “It is a small kind of accomplishment I suppose.” Mando looks up from his typing, and the T of his visor looks squarely at you for a brief moment before focusing once more on his communication. Caronline interupts his focus by interjecting, “Oh Mando, won’t you join us?”

Mando shakes his head and responds, “You can have only two motives for arranging this, and I will not interfere with either.”

Caroline arranges her face to appear confused, looking to you. “Now what can he mean?”

You want to roll your eyes but refrain. “Our best way of disappointing him would be to ask nothing about it.”

Caroline leans towards Mando, ignoring you. “Please, tell us!”

Mando forgoes typing entirely and sighs a bit before looking up. “Either you are in each other’s confidence and have secret plots to discuss, or you are aware that your figures appear to the best advantage by walking.” Caroline giggles and you, again, refrain from rolling your eyes. He continues, “If the first, I would get in your way. If the second...I can admire you both much better from here.”

You pause. Both? Mando would admire your figure? No. It must be a jest, one of his more cruel taunts once more. Caroline almost poses as she stops directly in front of Mando. “Oh, shocking! How shall we punish him for such a speech?”

Looking at the serious Mandalorian, his T looking directly back at you, you bring one hand under your chin in feigned concentration. The best way to get back at a man like him would be to undermime his pride. “We could always tease him, of course.” You smile widely and slightly mockingly.

Caroline opposes, “Oh no! Mando is not to be laughed at.”

You snort, almost feeling sorry for Caroline as she took you so seriously. “Oh! Are you too proud, Mandalorian? I wonder if you consider that to be a fault or a virtue.”

Mando looks back down at his work. “That I could not say.”

You do your best to smile sweetly, making sure your words appear as a jest, “Well, we are trying to find a fault in you.”

The Mandalorian looks up suddenly, his visage directed towards you once more, and he says in a rather serious manner, “Maybe it is that I find it hard to forgive those that have done me and the ones that I love wrong. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.”

You hold his gaze, your smile never waning. “Oh...dear. Well, I cannot tease you for that reasonable answer. What a shame...for I do dearly love to laugh.”

Caroline’s eyes shine as she cuts in, “Silliness does seem to be a family trait.”

Continuing to smile sweetly to show Caroline that she cannot get to you, you nod to the Mandalorian and return to your couch. Picking up the book, you curtsy slightly to the room. “If you do not mind, I would like to check on my sister and spend some time with her.”

As you leave, you of course cannot see that the Mandalorian has not resumed his work. In fact, his helmet seems to follow your retreating form and then stay glued to the door from which you left. Eventually, with a small sigh, he looks down to the datapad and keystrokes can be heard as he sends out another communication.

------------------------------------------

Once more, I apologize for the length and possibly dry-ness of this chapter. I just love the dialogue in these scenes and didn’t find a good cut-off point. I hope to get the next part out sooner! :)

#pride and prejudice #mandalorian x plus size reader #mandalorian x reader #Din Djarin x plus size reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #Mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #pride and prejudice fanfic #plus size fic #plus size reader #lawrites

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onevolon · 5 months

Text

my love for you is infinite - part15

Santiago Garcia x afab!reader(Darcy)

note: pride and prejudice (2005) but with triple frontier boys because why not lol

word count: 1218

warnings: finally the funny scene happens

you can also read it on ao3.

part14 - part16 - masterlist

Santiago and Francisco are out shopping with their mother and brothers. Their housekeeper, Mrs. Hill, comes out of the butcher’s shop.

“Did you hear the news, madam? Mr. Bingley is returning to Netherfield.”

Santiago glances at Francisco. He drops his eyes.

“ Mr. Bingley?”

Mrs. Hill indicates a woman in the butcher's shop.

“ Mrs. Nichols is ordering a haunch of pork, for she expects him tomorrow.”

“ Tomorrow?”Mrs. Bennet says “Not that I care about it. Mr. Bingley is nothing to us and I'm sure I never want to see him again. No, we shall not mention a word about it. Is it quite certain he is coming?”

“ Yes, madam. I believe he is alone, his sister remains in town.”

“ Hm. Why he thinks we should be interested, I have no idea. Come along, boys.”

Their mother goes into the draper's shop. Francisco pauses at the threshold.

“ It's all right, Santiago. I'm just glad that he comes alone, because then we shall see less of him. Not that I'm afraid of myself, but I dread other people's remarks.”

He gives a brave smile but Santiago is not convinced. They go into the shop.

***

Tom is practicing his scales. Francisco and Santiago are sitting at their work with their mother. William rushes in.

“ He is here! He is here, he's at the door! Mr. Bingley!”

“ Oh my goodness! Everybody behave naturally.”

Francisco completely freezes. Everybody else goes into a fluster.

“ Whatever you do, do not appear -overbearing.”

William looks out through a window.

“ Look. There's someone with him. Miss… what's-her-name. The pompous one from before.”

Santiago looks through the window at Darcy, his heart leaps to his mouth.

“ Miss Darcy indeed! The very insolence of it. What does he think of coming here?”

Santiago returns to his seat, Mrs. Bennet hurries over to Francisco and pinches his cheeks.

“ Mama!”

“ Stop that racket Tom and sit down! Find yourself some work! Oh Lord. I shall have a seizure, I'm sure I shall.”

They sit there, frozen, pretending to sew. The drawing room door opens and Mrs. Hill shows in the two. They bow. Bingley smiles warmly at Francisco, who blushes. Santiago glances at Darcy. Her face is strained. Mrs. Bennet is all smiles for Bingley. She ignores Darcy.

“ How very glad we are to see you, Mr. Bingley! There are a great many changes since you went away. Miss Lucas is married and settled. And one of my own sons too, you will have seen it in the papers though it was not put in as it ought to have been. Very short, nothing about his family.”

“ I did hear of it, and offer my congratulations.”

“ - but it's very hard to have my Ben taken away from me. Mr. Wickham has been transferred to Newcastle, where ever that is. Thank heaven he has some friends.”

Mrs. Bennet shoots a frosty glance at Miss Darcy. This is more than Santiago can bear so “ Do you hope to stay long in the country, Mr. Bingley?” He says.

“ Just a few weeks. For the shooting.”

“ When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley, I beg you will come here and shoot as many as you please.” Mrs. Bennet adds.

“ Thank you”

“ - Mr. Bennet will be vastly happy to oblige you, and will save all the best of the coveys for you.”

“ Excellent.”

“ Are you well, Miss Darcy?” Santiago asks.

“ Quite well, thank you.”

“ Well, I hope the weather stays fine, for your sport.”

“ I return to town tomorrow.”

“ So soon? “

“ My Francisco looks well, does he not?” Mrs. Bennet interferes.

Mr. Bingley stands up abruptly.

“He does indeed. Well, I must be going, I suppose. Darcy…”

Darcy cannot quite believe it. He gives Bingley a harsh stare, Bingley has not completed his task.

“ It was very pleasant to see you all again. Santiago, Francisco…”

Bingley can almost not bear to look Francisco in the eye as he acknowledges them all very briefly and bolts for the door. Mrs. Bennet fusses around him.

“ You must come again. For when you were in town last winter you promised to take a family dinner with us. I have not forgot you see. At least three courses.”

Bingley and Darcy take their leave, leaving the Bennets sitting in silence all looking at once another. William is fit to burst out laughing, Santiago and Francisco horrified by the awkward visit.

***

Bingley is pacing backwards and forwards in despair muttering to himself. Darcy looks at him in extreme frustration.

“ What were you thinking of?”

It's as if Bingley has not heard. He keeps pacing up and down.

***

The family is now spread around the room. William's at the window. Francisco and Santiago are sat close on a sofa. Mrs. Bennett muttering things like "most peculiar" to anyone who'll listen. Tom plinking out a dreary arpeggio or two.

“ Well, I'm glad that's over. We can now meet as indifferent acquaintances.” Francisco says.

“ Oh yes?” Santiago adds, laughing.

“ You cannot think me so weak as to be in danger now.”

“ I think you are in great danger of making him as much in love with you as ever.”

“ I'm sorry, though, that he came with Miss Darcy.”

“ Don't say that.”

“ Why ever not?”

Santiago looks at his brother in anguish.

“ Oh Francisco, I have been so blind.”

“ What do you mean?”

The doorbell rings.

“ It is him! He's back. He's come again.” William exclaims.

***

Everyone has regained the same positions. They hear Bingley's voice at the door and he comes, for once, absolutely in control of his facial coloring.

“ I know this is all very untoward, but I would like to request the privilege of speaking to Mr. Francisco.”

They all look at him. He stands his ground, takes another deep breath and continues steadily.

“ -alone.”

“ Everybody to the kitchen. Immediately. Except you, Francisco, of course. Oh, Mr. Bingley. It is so good to see you again so soon.”

She ushers everyone out, not before squeezing Francisco's hand. Now Francisco and Bingley are alone.

“ First. I have to tell you that I have been an unmitigated and comprehensive ass.”

Francisco starts to speak but Bingley steps towards him and he stops.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Bennet, William, Tom and Mr. Bennet are all jostling for a position at the door in order to overhear events inside.

“ Ssssshhh!”

Santiago is apart from his family. He cannot bear to be there. He walks down the corridor and out of the house into the garden. Through a window he sees Bingley on one knee. He walks away from the house.

Bingley looks at Francisco, desperately worried. A pause.

“ Yes. A hundred times - yes.”

Mrs. Bennet and the boys throw open the double doors to the drawing room and come crashing in. Bingley and Francisco beam at them.

“ Thank the Lord for that. I thought it would never happen.”

Santiago is sits under a tree. It seems the only sensible thing to do.

Darcy looks down at Longbourn to their house.

#santiago garcia #triple frontier #frankie morales #ben miller #santiago garcia x reader #tom davis #will miller #triple frontier fanfic #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac fic #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac #onevolon fic #oscar isaac hernandez estrada

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frost-queen · 7 months

Note

hii I have an idea for your continuation of the Tewksbury x Bridgeton reader fic "the moment I knew" the idea was that after the reader got back she gets to a ball but she sees Tewksbury completely smitten over enola and the readers hearts break so she starts going out with another young suitor that she thought she had a connection with but on her mind is nothing but Tewksbury and Tewksbury is completely in love with the reader but hes scared to admit his feelings for her

Oh interesting, I was thinking off him clinging to her like a lost puppy, but perhaps I can mix this idea in with what I had in mind. I don't know if you know, but the scene in P&P where Mr. Bingley held onto Jane's dress felt like something worth putting in & something so fitting for him ^^

Thank you for the idea. I'm so going to use bits and pieces of it

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skzsauce01 · 2 years

Text

The First Step

Synopsis: To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love. Or, a dance with the object of your disdain is more appealing than a conversation with the object of your displeasure. Regency AU/Pride and Prejudice AU inspired by @/mocimori’s art of Chan as Darcy.

Warning: one mention of gin

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Elizabeth Bennet!reader x Darcy!Bang Chan featuring Bingley!Felix and Jane Bennet!Yeji

The greatest mistake you have made in your life is believing that your mother had your best interests at heart. If she truly did, you would not be listening to Mr. Hwang regale you with tales of his esteemed patroness, the good, gracious Lady Suzy Bae. After your mother gifted your hand to him for the first two dances, you feigned exhaustion when you arrived at Netherfield Park. The ball barely began, but your dear sister fortunately explained your fatigue from too much sun during last afternoon’s long walk. And being the gentleman he is, Mr. Hwang offered to wait until you found yourself better rested, never mind that there were other ladies he could have danced with.

Now you solemnly nod at her ladyship’s latest act of charity. You have never wished ill upon another person, but you dare hope that a lady catches his gaze, and he finds himself enchanted by her. Then you shall be free for at least half an hour before he inevitably returns. The only benefit to this conversation is that you are in perfect view of the dance floor. Yeji and Mr. Lee look absolutely enamored with each other.

The music ends with a dreadful finality as the couples cheer, then part ways. Mr. Lee asks Yeji for a second dance, and beneath her composure, you sense her delight. Mr. Hwang notes this as well, and before he can do the same, you declare that you shall like some punch.

You slip into the eddying crowd around the refreshment room and out the other entrance where you find a moment of respite. Your neighboring friend, Ryujin Shin, nearly leaps up from her chair when she spots you.

“I have scarcely seen you all week. Where have you been all evening? Your sisters are dancing, and you are nowhere to be seen!”

You inform of your cousin’s generosity, and she sympathetically smiles. While the two of you walk around the hall, recounting the latest news about the soldiers staying in Meryton, you nearly forget about Mr. Hwang, awkward and solemn even among merry guests, until he appears at the opposite end of the room. You grab Ryujin’s arm and make to turn in the opposite direction before he notices you. But you are unfortunate and have to wait in mortification as Mr. Hwang takes stiff, measured steps towards you. Ryujin has the kindness to voice her condolences.

“I do believe I have run out of excuses,” you murmur to your friend. “Do you have any suitable ones?”

She quickly glances at the approaching Mr. Hwang while you keep your own eyes averted. “Surely he is not as disagreeable as you say.”

“He is to inherit the estate when my father passes, so you must understand my feelings. Aside from my future in the poorhouse, when I introduce you to him, you will understand. He is quite an odd man.”

She chides, “You must not speak like that! Mr. Lee seems to very much like Yeji, so the poorhouse may not house you and your sisters, after all. But very well, I shall try to see from your point of view.” She then leans in conspiratorially and says, “I hate to alarm you, but a certain gentleman from Derbyshire is coming our way.”

The sound of a set of approaching footsteps captures your attention, and you pretend to laugh at something Ryujin has said. The gentleman from Derbyshire, otherwise known as Mr. Bang to his contemporaries and to you as the most arrogant man you have ever had the pleasure of meeting, is a great source of resentment for not only you but your mother. Having insulted you and having the coldest manners, there is no lost sentiment between you and Mr. Bang.

Ryujin curtsies to Mr. Bang as he now stands imposingly at your side. Before you can do the same, to your complete shock, he asks you for your hand in the next dance, and in your state, you accept and thank him for the offer. In the happiest of moments, Mr. Bang departs and Mr. Hwang has finally made his way to you. You prepare to inform him that you are engaged for the next dance, but instead, he passes by you entirely! Your joy turns into horror when you realize that he is heading for Mr. Bang.

“Surely you are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Bang,” you say.

“He is the nephew of Lady Suzy Bae, and I must inform him about how well his aunt has been faring. I did not think I would see a man of his standing at this assembly.”

“He will think of you impertinent! Mr. Hwang, I recognize that you have your duties to your patroness, but this is improper, and I assure you that he will take it unkindly. Please, I am certain that he will be willing to introduce himself to you once he learns of your devotion to his aunt.”

Your dissuasion is unsuccessful, and you watch with unprecedented embarrassment as Mr. Bang replies with civil contempt for your cousin’s follies. Mr. Hwang believes himself to be held in the highest regard now that Mr. Bang received him, and he struts away like a peacock. The music for the next dance begins, and he again asks your hand. When you inform him that you have been spoken for by someone else, his disappointment is clear. Ryujin, the compassionate woman she is, offers her hand instead. She does not need to be kind to that miserable man, but you suppose that she can learn of his oddities throughout the number.

During the beginning of the dance, Mr. Bang seems content to not speak, and you yourself are satisfied by the silence until it becomes too tiresome to bear. To not have conversation for a whole dance is a punishment in itself, but for your prideful partner, it is most likely a delight. You still vividly remember how cold he was during his first ball at Hertfordshire. In your own insolence and perhaps in defense of your cousin, you ask about the Lady Suzy you have been hearing about. He makes a noncommittal answer and becomes quiet again, though you are certain he is vexed by the question.

After another moment of nothingness, you ask, “Is there something occupying your thoughts, Mr. Bang? Most couples talk at least a little bit during a dance. It would be strange, otherwise. But if you are not confident in your words, I understand completely.”

You have offended him, but Mr. Bang’s good opinion matters less the more you are in his presence. He is either unskilled at conversing while dancing or rude, and you have firmly decided that he is simply rude.

“What occupies your thoughts?” he says.

“Usually my books or my sisters. Now it is your turn to share.”

“You enjoy reading then?”

“I am fond of a great deal of things, reading books being one of them and socializing another. I imagine you prefer reading more, considering your reluctance to be in the company of anyone but your own circle. You have deprived us all the honor of knowing such a fine gentleman.”

“As you stated in our last meeting, a fine gentleman ought to have happy manners and a good heart. Do you declare me one then?”

“Yes, even if you are lacking, but I will not fault you for that. It is difficult to be everything all at once.”

“I wonder where you get your audaciousness from.”

You archly reply, “My mother. It is a family trait. Do you take after your aunt?”

At the mention of Lady Suzy, his face loses what little cheer it had. “Do all Hwangs desire to know about my aunt?”

“We are disposed to be in awe of anyone of such gracious character. My cousin speaks so favorably of her, so it is only natural that I want to learn more.”

After a moment, he answers, “No, I do not believe I take after her.”

Having only heard of her ladyship, you cannot confirm or deny whether that is a fine thing or not. The dance continues in silence once more, and you have resolved to not speak to Mr. Bang anymore. His sullenness is beginning to affect you, and you refuse to let him ruin the rest of the night. As you pass Ryujin who is directing Mr. Hwang to the correct position, you exchange a look of sympathy with her. There are more miserable partners than yours, however strange that may sound.

“What would you give a sister for her birthday?” he suddenly asks. “You have four, and I seek advice for what to give my own.”

The thought of Mr. Bang having a sister flummoxes you, but even more astonishing is the warmth in his voice. You have never heard him speak to or of anyone in such a manner, not even Mr. Lee who seems to be his closest friend. He adores her very much, you realize.

“It depends on which sister.” You do not know if Mr. Bang knows all your sisters’ names, but that does not prevent you from listing them all. “For Yeji since she is the eldest and my favorite, the embroidered handkerchief I have been working on. Lia sings often, so new sheet music for her. Chaeryeong would want a book of poetry, and I saw Yuna admiring a bonnet in one of the shops in town, so a new bonnet for her. How old is your sister?”

“Ten years my junior. She will be sixteen.”

“Yuna is nearly sixteen, so perhaps your sister would like a new bonnet.”

“Thank you. I shall consider it.”

His haughty tone belies his gratitude, and your cheeks flush with indignation. However, you nod back, wondering why you initially answered so goodnaturedly. You could have misguided him completely or at least teased him for being unaware of his sister’s taste, but instead you were perfectly cordial. He is the one who misled you.

He does not attempt to strike up another short conversation, and you do not either. It is a waste to spend your words on him. You dare believe that he scoffed when Mr. Hwang knocked against his shoulder. While you normally would be the one to do the same since your cousin declares himself an uncannily excellent dancer when the opposite is true, you can hardly stand anymore of Mr. Bang’s pomposity.

With as much cheer as you can muster, you finish the dance in good spirits and try to not to seem too eager to leave Mr. Bang. You curtsy and thank him for the incomparable honor of being his partner, but before you can separate from his presence, he asks if you may accompany you for a refreshment. He is determined to provoke you.

“My friend requires me, sir,” you say with faux disappointment. “I beg your pardon.”

You hurry away to Ryujin who is entertaining Mr. Hwang’s demonstration of a one-person cotillion by clapping rhythmically. When she sees you, she says something to Mr. Hwang and walks over to you. As the two of you take a turn about the ballroom, you exchange recountings of your own partners.

“He is a suitable partner,” Ryujin remarks, “not nearly as disagreeable as you described. You ought to give him a chance. The poor gentleman is so nervous, all he can talk about is his patroness.”

It is indiscernible whether she is serious or not. “I would rather dance with Mr. Bang a second time. Long-winded speech is more insufferable than an awkward air.”

“Be careful unless you want him to overhear. He stares at you a great deal, you know. Far more than he should if he truly disliked you.”

“He finds me barely tolerable. He is watching me because he truly dislikes me. Come now, let us forget about our horrible partners and find someone else to dance with. I refuse to let them occupy my mind at such a merry ball.”

But they cannot escape your mind, for you still owe two dances to your cousin, and he will only stop pursuing you once you have fulfilled your mother’s promises. After the first one with Mr. Hwang, you declare that you need a refreshment, and this time, you truly do. The punch is strong, remedied with gin to keep its enjoyer lively for the duration of the ball.

“How are you faring?”

You swallow one last mouthful of punch and set your cup down. “Mr. Bang. Perfectly well, thank you. If you have come to me for more birthday gift ideas, then you will find me unsatisfactory. I am afraid that a lavishly trimmed bonnet is the best that I can suggest.”

“Do you not think that it is too frivolous, especially for a girl of her age?”

“Frivolous!” you cried. “Please tell that to my mother. What is less frivolous than protecting your face and neck from the sun? So long as she uses it, I see not how it would be. Yuna certainly wears every bonnet she owns.”

“And what of Miss Hwang? What is she like?”

His eyes land where Yeji and Mr. Lee are, smiling as they chat with each other. She danced with him twice, you remember. Twice! For a brief moment, you forget about your anger as you take in her joy.

“Yeji is the kindest, most wonderful person I know. She is generous and sweet, with hardly any malice in her. What is your design?”

“If I recall, you once said it was difficult to be everything at once.”

“Difficult, not impossible. Some are more blessed than others, and some more unfortunate. It is our family’s great fortune to have a dearest daughter and sister like her. I do not pretend to understand why she is so lucky, but I will not tolerate anyone who has such objections. Would you not feel the same about your own sister if someone had suggested something deplorable about her?”

“I would.”

“Then we are in agreement. A rare instance, so let us delight in this moment.”

You hope that it will be enough to deter him from talking to you further, but Mr. Bang is resolved to have the last word. “If we are truly in agreement, will you accept if I ask for the next dance?”

“You intend to prove me wrong, but I also have a game: I shall accept only if we have a proper conversation, and from our last acquaintance, that has shown to be your weakness. If you wish to withdraw, I shall harbor no ill feelings.”

“Then let us delight.”

You fully expect to tease him mercilessly, but it is quite a shock to you and the rest of the attendees when Mr. Bang begins to share his favorite books with you, unprompted. His taste and yours do not differ much, and you no longer know what to make of him.

Evidently, neither does the rest of Hertfordshire because the word the following day is that the two eldest Hwang sisters have caught the fancy of two of the county’s most eligible gentlemen when surely only one has.

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profeyandere · 2 years

Text

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐂. ─── ☾ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂

Masterlist || Pride and Prejudice Masterlist || Wattpad

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: William Collins x 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

With a deep sigh, trying to calm the dizziness from the great heat that had anguished you most of the night, you opened the doors of Mr. Bingley's enormous mansion to get some fresh air, feeling a soft blow coming from the outside that made you smile softly; that had been the only sign of happiness that you had shown to the world since the moment you had arrived at the party, having had to endure the mundane talks to which you had been invited and in which you had not participated due to your lack of interest in the topics covered in each of them.

It was true that being a Darcy, they had expected you to have an attitude similar to that of your little sister, appearing more lively and cheerful than William, but they found a version of the male in an equally beautiful but distant woman. You did not enjoy the overwhelming parties where the crowds were assured but preferred the quieter intimate gatherings where you could chat with the people closest to your social circle and with whom you could enjoy more than just gossip about future weddings or the ridicule that certain guests made for how badly they played the piano or for having interrupted certain conversations that were none of their business.

Just remembering how you had to be present during William's conversation with a clergyman and how you had to calm down a young girl because she wasn't allowed to demonstrate her playing on the instrument of her dreams made you think you've had more bad luck in your entire life.

The evening was rewarding, you greeted a couple of guests and quickly settled into the farthest corner of the crowd, but it was Caroline Bingley's testy presence that made you seek refuge with your brother, his friend, and the friendly stranger who introduced herself as Jane Bennet. You found it curious how the gossip of certain guests was so inconsistent with reality because, even though you had heard that the peasant family that had been invited to the party lacked common sense and shame, you found in the young blonde an affable friend who quickly held out his hand to you as a lifeline in case you wanted to run away from certain conversations that were irritating you.

"Miss Darcy, are you all right?"

The slightly gravelly, obviously masculine voice snapped you out of your thoughts, causing you to suddenly step away from the balcony entrance and turn around so you could witness the same man you'd found so pedantic.

In front of your eyes was the unmistakable Mr. Collins, the clergyman of the parish that your aunt had kept under her protection and who had given her in exchange for certain favours that he boasted about as if he were the greatest pride in the world. You had barely listened to the man when he began to talk to your older brother because the mere fact that he praised the decoration of the mansion too much and mentioned your surname on several occasions made you understand that he was simply an innate sycophant and that his intention was none other than for you to feel comfortable with his presence while he treated you in such a delicate and pleasant way, even if those acts were not to your liking.

"For God's sake, Mr. Collins, how dare you to speak without first warning of your presence?" You questioned with a slightly higher tone than you had expected, clearing your throat later as you tried to calm the strong beats that your heart had produced due to the great scare that it had caused you. "What do you need? Shouldn't I be talking to my brother or another guest of interest?"

"Sorry for the intrusion. I didn't mean to disturb you," he murmured, lowering his gaze so as not to meet your sharp eyes that were looking at him accusingly. "I intended to go out on the balcony, just like you, and, seeing that you did not move from your position, I wanted to know if you were alright since you did not respond to my calls."

Your stoic, serious and annoyed face suddenly relaxed when you heard him speak.

You were aware that he was not to blame for your bad mood. The heat and the people who almost demanded your presence had caused the vein on your forehead to become noticeable, and you felt more bothered as time passed. That environment was not your favourite, you preferred to stay at home with Georgiana than attend a party, but with the letter that Mr. Bingley had sent you, you did not have the heart to deny him your presence.

"Excuse me in that case," you spoke, bowing slightly to show your respects before returning to your task and placing yourself at the edge of the balcony, resting your forearms on the long rocky structure that marked the limit with the void.

Although you expected to hear how the door closed so that you could wrap yourself in solitude, you were surprised to hear how several steps gradually approached your position, and the figure of the man placed himself next to you. You might not give him a second glance, but you could tell how anxious and hesitant he seemed.

"I don't think I've talked to you before," he mentioned, pulling you out of your thoughts again and making you frown as you imagine where he wanted to take the conversation. "We have introduced ourselves, I do not doubt that, but I have not had the pleasure of having a formal talk with you as I have with his brother, Mr. Darcy."

A snort escaped your lips as you remembered the talk he was mentioning.

"I want to be condescending and tell you that if you want to give me the same practised compliments that you have done to my relative, I suggest that you not waste your breath doing it, because they seem as stupid to me as the person who recites them," you murmured, watching out of the corner of your eye how his face twisted into a grimace of discomfort. "I prefer silence if you wish to content me."

To your surprise, he perfectly understood your order and did not attempt to speak to you again.

Mr. Collins, who was at your side playing with the small wildflower he had picked from the large back garden of the mansion, was confused as he did not understand how it was possible that a young woman of your age, with the great wealth that you possessed, did not like the attention that others provided them. He had seen you enter the house in Netherfield quickly, greeting both Bingley brothers before you plunged into the large crowd of guests who had attended the party, only to find you suddenly chatting with your brother. He had been able to observe that you did not enjoy the company of strangers, and yet he had ignored that innate distaste you possessed to find out if that assumption was true or not.

"I would like to mention, before beginning the perpetual silence that you so desire, that it is a pleasure to meet you in person," he spoke. "Lady Catherine's arduous descriptions do not do justice to reality, I would add."

"Do you think that it has been a pleasure to have known me when I have spoken to you with a certain sarcasm and, allow me to add, dryness?" You questioned, turning your head towards him and arching one of your eyebrows slightly. "I don't need to be flattered, and if you are going to talk to me, refrain from mentioning my dear aunt and repeating more than a parrot that she is a wonderful landlady. I've heard her say those same words too many times, and honestly, I'm beginning to think that she has paid him simply to fawn over her and make her feel important at events she doesn't attend."

Mr. Collins's face showed the purest expression of surprise.

"But, from what I understand, it is favourable for women like you to listen to the sincere words and gallantries of a man, because that makes them feel even more complete and satisfied with themselves," he murmured, avoiding your gaze even though you tried to find his dull grey eyes.

"And haven't you thought for a moment that maybe all a woman wants is to have a nice, honest talk with a man?" you asked, gently tilting your head. "From what I can see in you, despite not having the required or expected physique, you try to mitigate it with an excellent education and a series of compliments that, previously learned and rehearsed ad nauseam, you direct towards women in search of your approval and, judging by the small wildflower in your hand, I can tell that it has served you well."

Collins, at your appointment of the small plant he still had, couldn't help but clear his throat.

"I am planning to propose to a beautiful lady I met recently," he explained. "I have absented myself from my home, the parish house that Lady Catherine entrusted to me, to find my future wife among my cousins."

Those words surprised you and, although it was true that you were more than used to hearing from various acquaintances that many people belonging to the English aristocracy married very close relatives, you always found abhorrent how money had a much stronger power than love itself. You hoped to get married, but you were quite clear that you would be engaged to a man you loved, and whose feelings were reciprocated, or you would be the only spinster in the Darcy family because of your refusal to marry someone from your own family.

"For the money, I suppose," you murmured. "How much money do they have? From what little I have heard about the Bennet family, I can mention that they are not the wealthiest family in the world, but they are not the poorest either."

"Oh no," she denied with a short laugh. "The fact that I have to marry one of my cousins is for a matter that has to do with the house they own and, in addition, the desire of Lady Catherine for me to marry as soon as possible and thus have a family of my own."

"Then it is not your personal wish to be engaged to one of your relatives," you surmised, watching as he shrugged gently. "I would be very grateful if you could explain the situation to me if it is possible."

"My cousin, Mr. Bennet, has a lovely house in Longbourn, and as none of his heirs is male, the house will belong to me as soon as he dies, and neither the mother nor the five daughters will be able to take it from me," he explained succinctly. "If I marry one of them, specifically Elizabeth, I will free them from the anguish they feel about living outside their home in the future, as well as the desire of my employer."

"Elizabeth is the second oldest and surely you are not going to propose to Jane because of the rumours about her getting engaged to Mr. Bingley," you commented, turning to look at the door that separated you from the huge crowd that was still dancing and chatting in huge clusters. "Honestly, I don't recommend proposing to her if you don't want your ego or your pride to be hurt," you advised, glancing at the man next to you who was looking at you with a sorrowful and confused face. "I do not know Miss Bennet, but I can point out that she is not at all interested in you and, if you have a little mercy, she will reject you most naturally and kindly possible so that you do not get hurt by the encounter and that, the mistake you would make, will not be spread by the mouths of other aristocrats."

Slowly, you turned your body to come face to face with the cleric who seemed so embarrassed.

"In that case, if what you say is true, I should retire as soon as possible and return to my home," he murmured. "Although, I could also try it with some of my other cousins."

"The three youngest are not prepared to be any man's wife," you interrupted. "Surely you would treat them with the greatest delicacy in the world, I have no doubt, but they have not yet acquired sufficient maturity and, if they accept your proposal, what will their life be like? Misses Kitty and Lydia are still at that age where it's best not to be around because of their sarcastic and biting comments, plus they seem to be the most childish of the three, and Miss Mary seems the sanest, but it's better to give her a little time to settle down as a woman before making such an offer,” you reported. "I don't know your family, and obviously, I don't mean to insult them if it seems like I do, but you don't have to make these kinds of decisions lightly."

"Your reflection is interesting, and I will keep it in mind for my early future," the cleric flattered, watching how you gently tilted your head forward. "What do you think in this case? I doubt Lady Catherine will like the news that I am not engaged to any woman."

"I can speak well of you to my aunt, I can easily make her forget certain matters if I mention specific topics, so that's why she shouldn't worry," you murmured, gently licking your lips, seeing how Collins' face had the colour again that characterized him.

The man, surprised by the proposal you had made to him, could not help but feel a strong pinch in his chest, at the level of his heart, and the fact that several tingles ran through his belly and settled permanently in it, combining with all his face burned from the blush that had settled on his pale cheeks.

"I'd appreciate it if it's not a cause of any inconvenience," he added quickly, watching how you shrugged and gave a small hint of a smile.

"I don't suppose any," you affirmed. "Now, if you'd be so kind, as to tell me a little about yourself and maybe I can play a little matchmaker and match you upright with someone I know who would be thrilled to marry someone like you, and by the way, avoid mentioning my aunt as much as possible," you corrected quickly, leaning slightly forward to be closer to him. "I need you to be authentic with me, completely honest and genuine."

Mr. Collins, even though he did not expect that little help that you had proposed to him, began to mention several of the pleasant qualities that he possessed, as well as some other flaws that, as a human, he had, focusing on the aspects that his parish house, the amount of money he raised per year and some other extra detail that would help you find his ideal partner.

Neither of you was aware of the amount of time you spent in each other's company, exchanging information about your respective lives and entertaining each other with some little game that occurred to you, returning from time to time to the party to collect drinks or a canapé. The night was cool, the moon seemed to remain in its best position throughout the evening and the set of stars that decorated the sky made your views one of the most beautiful that you had ever been able to imagine, almost ignoring the large number of people who left the party until the sun began to rise again.

"Mr. Collins!" Exclaimed the slightly cracked voice of Mrs. Bennet, who was in front of the entrance of the great mansion with the rest of her family.

Both you and the name directed your gaze downwards, meeting the surprised looks of all the daughters of the family.

"I'm going right now!"

That exclamation, as much as it annoyed you, meant that it was time to say goodbye, at least until you met again at a party, and the thought of the same thing irritated you greatly.

When you turned your body towards the cleric, the only thing you saw in him was disappointment, and you understood perfectly.

"This won't be a goodbye, Mr. Collins, it's just a long see you later," you joked, shrugging your shoulders. "It has been a pleasure spending the evening with you, and if you ever walk near Pemberley please do not hesitate to visit me."

That invitation caused the man's greyish eyes to become bright and, as a gift, he handed you the small wildflower with which he had been playing during the hours that you had been talking.

"I thank you and, in the same way, I will wait impatiently for you in my parsonage in Hunsford."

With a slight bow on the part of both, and after having accepted the violet, you watched how little by little he moved away from you to be able to go towards the door that had joined you in that party, noticing how she turned to look at you one last time. It was then that you gave him your sweetest smile, and he managed to reciprocate in the same way.

His expression, like yours, was genuine, and even as the minutes passed after he said goodbye to you as the wagon that had brought him pulled away from Mr. Bingley's house, your big smile didn't fade, and you hoped it wouldn't soon.

#william collins #william #collins #william collins x reader #william collins x you #william collins x oc #reader #you #oc #tom hollander #william collins imagine #tom hollander imagine #pride and prejudice #pride and prejudice 2005

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