#arthur havisham angst

[strangernstranger]

The Deal

Arthur Havisham x Fem Reader

Summary: As a means to pull his family out of poverty, your father arranges a marriage between you and Arthur Havisham. (Enemies to lovers. Controlling character. Mentions of sex and virginity. Something I wrote forever ago for funsies but was too apprehensive to post.)

———

You arrived at the Havisham House, a knot in your stomach pulling tighter than your corset. You weren’t sure which was responsible for your shallow breathing, the garment or the realization you’d soon be face to face with your potential suiter. Nay, buyer. Drowning in unpaid debts, your family stood to lose everything. Your father told you since you were young, to survive in this world, one must be willing to sacrifice. Having nothing else to give, he offered up his only daughter. Your hand in marriage for a price. Arthur Havisham was intrigued by the deal.

He was a beautiful boy from a notable family. A long line of businesses tycoons and wealthy proprietors carried the Havisham name. Money passed from hand to hand from generation to generation. Arthur was to be next in line but under one condition. As his father’s last will stated the inheritance shall be granted only after Arthur sires a son. The only thing more important to the old man than money or the brewery was lineage. The Havisham name should be carried out for generations. That weight now rested on Arthur’s shoulders. Always impatient, the young man couldn’t be bothered to take the proper time to court a woman. And why should he when blessed with expendable money and privilege? Through whispers and murmurs around town, your father had learned of Arthur’s situation and decided to seize the opportunity. After all, who better to look after his little girl than a Havisham?

You hoisted your dress above your ankles, taking a careful step down from the cab. Your father offered his hand to escort you to the sprawling home with well manicured greenery. His smile was remorseful. He hated to give you up, but it would keep your mother and little brother housed and fed. Your father clung to the hope you’d find yourself with a kind-natured, well-to-do man whom you could learn to love. Someone to take care of you and allot you the lavish and ornate life your father always felt you were destined for.

“You’re making your mother and I very proud.” Your father cooed, sensing your anxieties as the door grew closer with every step. You offered only a nod. If you spoke, you might break. “Everything will workout, dearest. Love will find the two of you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But it will” You gave your father a slight smile. Maybe he was right. What if instead of a nightmare, a fairytale life waited for you just beyond that door?

You were greeted and granted entry by a small red haired lady. A hired servent. “Please, come in!” She beamed. “Master Havisham has been expecting you.” She brought you out of the cold and into the foyer. The size of the single room was almost that of your family home. By the stairs stood Arthur, looking very much the Prince Charming archetype. He approached you, a regal air about him. Your heart beat quickened. Up until this moment, the potential arrangement felt bleak and dreadful, but the idea of calling such a beautiful man your husband excited you. You straightened your posture. Your first impression had to be perfect. You hoped you looked satisfactory for the handsome man.

“Mr. L/N, so good to see you again.” Arthur and your father shook hands. Your father seemed every bit as smitten as you were by his natural charm. “And this must be the lovely Miss Y/N.” Gently, he took your hand in his, placing a delicate kiss on the back of yours. The press of his lips on your skin was electric. “She’s even more beautiful than you described.” Arthur’s gaze rested on you, taking notices of all your feature. You blushed.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Master Havisham.” Your voice was silk and received with smile that radiated sweetness and warmth.

“Let me assure you, Miss L/N, the pleasure is all mine.” You were swooning at his words.

“I suppose I should leave you two to get better acquainted.” You father said with a slight nod. The servant woman led him away to another room to allow you more privacy. The minute your father’s presence left, Arthur’s sweet smile turned dry as merlot and soured on you. His brow lowered almost completely altering the soft appearance he presented in front of your father. He seemed much more stern now.

“You’ll do.” He said with an icy demeanor. The butterflies in your stomach were now being suffocated by the lump growing in your throat.

————

“You know, it’s bad luck to see the dress before the wedding?”

“I’ll take bad luck over poor taste.” Arthur retorted as he shuffled through the remaining gowns hanging on the rack. You frowned. This was the fifth dress and your favorite thus far. But nothing seemed to satisfy your husband-to-be. Perhaps you were the problem, not the dress. “Take it off.” His tone was cool but callous.

“Take it off? Arthur, It’s gorgeous! Just look at the-“

“Take it off.” It was every bit a demand which left you little to no room for protest. Arthur grabbed another dress from the garment rack and held it up to your body as if you were a mannequin for him to style. He thought you would look better in something that accentuated your body more. You looked clear over his shoulder to avoid his eyes. As beautiful as he was, at times you couldn’t stand to look at him. It had been a mere three days since Arthur accepted your father’s offer, but in that time Arthur made no attempts to mask the kind of person he was. Cruel with greed. If money wasn’t on the line, you doubted he’d ever marry. A lot of good a wife would do a man incapable of love. You wondered if his mother even held him as a child. “Look at me.” He demanded again, his voice lower, trying to be discrete. Your avoidance irritated him. Before he had the chance to bark another order, you interjected, pushing the gown in his hand away from your body.

“I’d much prefer this one, darling.” You bit back in spite. Stone faced as you stared him in the eye. That’s what he wanted after all? For you to look at him. You saw anger rising within him. How dare you defy him.

“Perhaps I should give you two a minute to decide.” The shop keeper’s tiny voice cracked as she tried to scurry away.

“No! Whatever dearest wants…she shall get.” Arthur bitterly complied. You had won the battle, but could sense the oncoming war. You feared you wouldn’t remain victorious much longer…

———

The cab ride back to the Havisham manor was painfully silent save for the clack of horses’ hooves on the stones below. What had you to say to a man like Arthur. You always imagined you’d be dress shopping with your mother. The two of you teary eyed in delight, anticipating the blessed day you’d walk the isle in your beautiful white gown. Instead, it was a tug of war with a spoiled man you had no choice but to pledge your life to. But as your father always said, life was about sacrifice. You just prayed it wouldn’t be your entire life. But if dress shopping with Arthur was any indication of what was to come, you knew you’d have to fight for every ounce of freedom and autonomy you had left.

“Your dress is hideous.” Arthur finally spoke. You were sure it was only to have the last word on the matter. You saw it as pouting. Pouting in the way a petulant child who doesn’t get their way would. “Seeing as it’s my wedding day as well, I thought it only fitting I at least pick the dress.” Everything else had already been planned for you. Food, flowers, guests.

“Your wedding day?” Arthur chuckled. You refused to acknowledge the fact he had turned to face you in that smug and scathing way of his. “My apologies. I forgot it was your money being spent on the occasion. And that it was your name I would be taking.”

“Last I heard, marriage was an equal partnership.”

“Last I heard your father sold you to me.” Arthur scoffed while you felt something deep inside pinch. “Like a piece of property.” His voice mocking and the words drawn out long, twisting the in wound he was creating. “You forget yourself, darling. I own you now. What I say goes.”

“Stop talking.” You blurted almost out of instinct. Your voice was a whisper but it didn’t go unnoticed. Arthur grabbed your chin with his gloved hand, forcing you to look at him once more.

“What did you say to me?” His expression was stern and frankly, frightening. His face just inches from yours, there was no ignoring the tears that had built and brimmed in your eyes. Arthur stared at you momentarily before he sighed sharply and released you. You turned away immediately, angry, embarrassed. You were sat so close your knees touched which further angered you. You made yourself as small as possible, scooting as close to the cab door as you could to create some kind of distance between you.

“Should I expect such defiance come the wedding night?” Arthur asked dryly. Your head snapped towards him with a shocked expression. The wedding night. You were aware of what that typically entails, but you were so caught up in making it to the alter you hadn’t gave it a second thought. Arthur laughed softly at you reaction. “What? Too crass for the virgin?” He grinned. Virgin? Surely your father wouldn’t have discussed such a thing with another man. Of course he would. It was likely a selling point. A pure woman seemed to hold more value than, well…others. Your cheeks flushed. Heat began to envelop you. Arthur’s laughter increased as he watched you silently squirm. How cute he thought.

“When we return home…I’d like to be alone.” You couldn’t stand a second more of his presence.

“Very well. You may return to your chanmber’s and I to mine. I’ll send Someone to check on you later.” And that was that. No contact for the rest of the evening. You’d say it was exactly what you’d hope for, but it wasn’t. So desperately you wanted closeness with Arthur. Not through proximity but through word’s and actions. You wanted to peel away at him layer by rotten layer until you reached his core. There you thought you might find a decent man. Or perhaps the harden heart of a child. One which was never properly nurtured or even stifled in it’s youth. A heart destined to repeat the cruelties it had to endured. Maybe if shown proper care, his cold nature would seize to exist. So badly you wanted that opportunity, but Arthur seemed rather comfortable keeping you at arms length. Your heart felt heavy knowing you’d never get that chance to be the wife you always wanted to be for someone. Only someone’s property. You journaled these thoughts with others in the silence of your room. There really wasn’t anyone to talk to in the Havisham house. Everyone stayed to themselves. Even the hired-help were brief in their interactions. The spacious and grandiose home felt almost cavernous with it’s quiet and lonesome atmosphere. The peace of the crackling fireplace and scribbles on parchment were interrupted by a knock at your chamber door. Must be one of the servants sent to check up on you, you thought. Before you had a chance to allow the visitor entry, Arthur saw himself in. Dressed darkly from head to toe. It was as if a shadow had crept into your room. You felt it too. You stood at attention as he waltzed in on his own accord, tension trailing his coattails.

“Master Havisham.” You addressed.

“We will be moving ahead with the wedding.” He announced. “Tomorrow.” Tomorrow!? The two of you weren’t supposed to wed for another three days. The sudden change made your head spin. You were still adjusting to your new surroundings and the idea of becoming Mrs. Havisham. It felt entirely too soon, but you were in no position to protest.

“Yes, sir.” You offered a nod and drew your focus on patterns in the hardwood while Arthur paced your room, inspecting.

“All arrangements have been taken care of. Your only concerns should be your dress and walking the isle.” As he spoke, something caught his eye. Your journal which lay open on the floor next to your armchair. Among other words, he noticed his name scrawled in black ink and cursive. Your heart sank. You made the sad attempt to retrieve the book before Arthur but he was too close and too quick to allow you the chance. He pinned his eyes to you as he rose up slowly, book in hand. He could see the nervousness in you. The shame. Your eyes were pleading though you hadn’t said a word.

“I see you’ve kept yourself entertained in my absence.” He began skimming it’s pages.

“Give it back.” You demanded harshly but we’re completely ignored. Your hands trembled at your sides. That book detailed your every fear, complaint and concern since being in the house. You knew once Arthur read it, your fate would be sealed. There would be no reconciliation. No mercy from his bitterness for the rest of your days.

“See to it that you get some rest. The next time we meet shall be at the alter where I will make you my bride. And do remember…it’s a joyous occasion. Look the part.” Not a hint of joy or excitement could be found on his face. He left the room without so much as uttering a goodbye, your journal tucked beneath his arm. You stood in the center of the room defeated. Tomorrow would begin your life sentence.

———

“You look breath taking.” Amelia fawned as she assisted in pinning your curls in place. You tried to smile but the nervousness in you created an unseen obstruction. “I know my brother can be a tad bit…harsh at times, but I promise he’s a good man.” You took a deep breath and put on a brave and somewhat happy veneer to the best of your ability. “I know he is. I can’t wait to be Misses Arthur Havisham.” You lied. The name tasted sour on your tongue. Laced in your dress, you were hurried out the door and into the corridor where your father waited for you. His presence was merely a formality seeing as how he had already given you away. Just something for appearances. As was everything else.

“Darling, you look beautiful.” He hugged you tightly before pulling you away, truly taking in how angelic you were in your white gown. You reminded him so much of your mother. As beautiful as she may have been, it didn’t go without notice that the years of toiling and poverty had left her dull and faded. Your father held the hope that your situation might preserve your vibrancy. But still, your facade was thin enough he could see the fear in you. “I’m sorry my love, I only did what I thought best. For you. Your mother. Your brother.” You forced a wide smile.

“It’s okay, father. I love Master Havisham.” You refused to address him by his first name. It humanized him too much for your liking. He may have been a man, but not one you’d ever have the pleasure to know. He was Master. As if encased in concrete, any indication of decent man would likely stay buried through your miserable years together. Your eyes began to wet the more you thought about it. A solitary tear broke free. Your father lifted his hand to dry the trail on your cheek.

“Oh, Y/N”

“Tears of joy, father.” You said to quell his guilt. “It’s a joyous occasion.”

The double doors parted before you, revealing the chapel filled with white lilies and gold candelabras. While beautiful, it reminded you of a funeral. The guest stood for your entry, a few marveling at you on your “blessed” day. Your father walked you step by step down the isle to the lull of string instruments. Their swells felt foreboding in your circumstance. But no casket waited for you at the end. Instead a priest and Arthur with a smile. It was reminiscent of the look he gave you the day you first met. When you were so naively charmed by him. How his features change so drastically when he smiles, you thought. His style of dress made him look princely. His gorgeous face and deep brown eyes soften on you as he took your hand from your father.

“You look stunning, Y/N.” You wanted to believe in his kindness, but you knew it to be false. He made that clear in the days prior. You fought the urge to make a snide remark about the dress but this was neither the time or the place. Arthur was playing the role perfectly, you assumed as should you. The guests seated themselves as the priest began to speak.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathering here today-“ You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, drowning the words as he spoke. The day had come. You were living it. In just a few short moments, your life would be forever changed. Arthur tugged at your hand lightly, leaning in close enough, you could feel his breath on your cheek.

“If you want to run, now is your chance.” He pulled back to look you in the eye. You looked at him dumbfounded. It had to be some sort of trick, yet not a hint of malice could be found in his gaze. You turned to see your family sat in the crowd. They looked proud and hopeful. If you ran away now, you would be destroying their chances of a better life. You couldn’t find it in you to do such a thing. Even if that meant suffering a life with Arthur. You would somehow make it work.

“I’m not running.” You whispered. A sense of relief washed over the groom. Likely relieved his plan hadn’t completely derailed in an instant. But if that were the case, why would he even provide you the option to back out? You sucked in a deep breath as it came time for you to recite the words which would bind you to Arthur forever. The words you repeated in the mirror earlier that day. Over and over again until they could be spoken without the presence of tears. You mimicked every word perfectly. You were a marionette in a grand production. Arthur cleared his throat.

“In addition to my vows, I would like to share a few words of my own.” Arthur motioned an usher forward. He carried with him a little, leather bound book. Your journal. The book that exposed you at your most vulnerable. He turned to the back page which held writing not of your own. He reached for your hand once more. Timidly, you obliged. He began reading from the page. “To hold your hand in another’s and pledge your life is not a simple task. Especially when you’ve spent your life valuing only yourself. The prospect of having another’s heart rest in your chest foreign when your own hath remained stationary for so long. To give yourself to another is the ultimate sacrifice. To give up everything to share a name, a home, a family. I am graced to have you stand here before me though I have given you very little reason to.” You stole a quick glance at the guest in their pews, confused and unsure of what Arthur may have been referring too. Majority of them were unaware of your arrangement and all of oblivious to the treatment you had received. You sensed sincerity in his voice. Were you being fooled again or had the callused man truly have had a change of heart overnight? Arthur squeezed your hand tighter as if to pull back your attention. A quiet urgency resting on his face. “I vow to match your strength with selflessness and sorrows with comfort. I vow to treat you with the honor and dignity you so deserve. And with you as my bride and I your husband, I hereby give my life to you.” With the priest’s permission, the declaration was sealed with a kiss. Yours and Arthur’s first kiss. It wasn’t one of passion but one of honesty and understanding. He cupped your face in his hands as he spoke. “Know that I mean this.”

———

The reception was smaller than the ceremony. The guest list divided by more than half. Arthur introduced you to other’s which shared the Havisham name. You were courteous and pleasant to all but were still taken aback by Arthur’s vows. The two of you hadn’t yet had a moment alone to discuss them. You wondered where you journal had gone and if you would ever see it again. You and your husband were sat at a table on display for the rest of your guests. You were served a meal you thought was better suited for royalty. A wide variety with everyone helping themselves to large portions. Is this something you should come to expect? Though awe stricken by the food, you had very little appetite. As you poked and nibbled at your food, Arthur pushed his chair from the table and stood tall, clinking his drinking glass high in the air.

“I would like to propose a toast. To my beautiful wife. May I measure up to even half the man a woman like her deserves. To y/n”

“To y/n!” The guest echoed. You tucked yourself deep into your wine glass, taking a long drink, tired of this play you were roped into. You had half a mind to claim a bottle all to yourself. You’d need it to make it through what was to come. As Arthur sat back down, he placed a hand over yours. A serious look on his face

“Tonight, half past nine. Meet me in my chambers.” It wasn’t a question. He smoothed the napkin in his lap and returned to his meal. Your stomach dropped. You nodded an understanding but said nothing.

————

Arthur’s room was colored deep burgundy and accented in bronze. A warm fire roared in the fireplace, still you shivered. You pulled your robe tighter over your silk, slip-gown. You assumed that was the appropriate things to wear for the occasion. You sat down on the bed, taking deep shaky breaths and twirling the ring which now adorned your finger while you waited for your husband. He stepped in the room, closing the door behind him. The sound sent a shockwave through you. Arthur was still dressed in his wedding garb. He looked handsome, but that in comparison to your own, thin dressings made you feel even more vulnerable. You swallowed hard and began pushing the robe off your shoulders for him, assuming he would spare no time for much else.

“Nononono, that won’t be necessary.” He quickly approached you and pulled the garment back over your skin so you reminded concealed. He slowly sat down next to you on the bed. He could see you were shaking, visibly distraught. Silence fell between you. Arthur reached into the breast of his coat, retrieving your journal. He extended it to you like an olive branch.

“…Thank you.” Your voice was paper thin and wavered as if expecting a recoil of some kind.

“I read it, you know? Every page. Every word.” Arthur’s voice was low and graveled but somehow still soft. Colored with remorse. You offered no reply. You were still unsure what his next move would be. “I know I’m not an easy man, y/n. I know that. I’m selfish…arrogant.” He paused for a brief moment. “And still…you wanted to love me? Even after I degraded you for my own illusions of superiority…you would actively try to love me and justify my mistreatment. Your second night here, you wrote of how you cried over how difficult I was being and how it made you feel as if you were failing. As if it’s somehow up to you to bring the best out in me. As if there were more to me. Like some untapped potential or something lying dormant within me.” You parted your lips to speak but couldn’t find a thing to say. “That’s when I realized…you held more faith in me than I do myself. I have given you every reason to hate me and the opportunity to run, yet you stayed.”

“I stayed for my family.” You told him matter-of-factly.

“Yes, I know. And you we’re noble to do so. But it relieved me you would stay. Not for the sake of my inheritance but-” Arthur moved closer and rested his hands on your upper arms. “You challenge me, y/n. A challenge to be a better man. Better than my father. Better than his father. To break that cycle of cold calculation that only leads a man to misery, only to pass it on to our children. Something my own selfish pride blinded me to. That is until I read your journal. Despite a life of hardship, there is a light in you that refused to be diminished. I envy that about you.” He smiled at you, genuinely. You leaned into his touch, feeling truly connected to him for the first time. Arthur’s guard had finally lowered and slowly so was yours.

“You are not your father, Arthur. You’re more than the things he projected on to you.” Arthur lightly nodded, a choked and pained expression finding him. “I meant every word earlier. And if I should fail you, read them back to me. It’s all there.” He motion to the book which sat in your lap. “And we don’t have to-” You quickly dipped your head low and rubbed at the back of your neck, sensing the words coming next. Arthur’s smile returned, finding your discomfort strange but cute. “Do that until you’re ready.” Shyly, you smiled. Talking about sex still felt taboo to you, even if it was expected of you as a newly wed. “I want to take my time with you y/n” I want to earn your affections. No demands. No persuasion. I want you in an honest way.” You were melting under the warmth of his touch. He searched your face for understanding. Really looking at you for the first time since you met. He admired your beauty and cursed himself for ever making you feel so hopeless.

“With time.” You answered sheepishly. You placed a hand on his cheek. Arthur sighed at your touch, leaning closer and closer til his forehead rested with yours. “I’ll do right by you, y/n.” He breathed before parting his lips around yours, kissing you deep with a quiet and controlled desperation. He kissed you as if trying to find the love he lacked his entire life, pulling you closer to him. With eyes closed, you rode a wave of bliss. Finally receiving what you craved from the man.

“I’ll be good to you, y/n. I swear it.”

[dingusfreakhxrrington]

Please Don't Go, Pt. 2

paring: arthur havisham x m!reader

summary: when he finds out his beloved sister is set to marry a crook, arthur finally asks you for help

warnings: alcohol consumption/alcoholism, mentions of injury, mugging, inferred sex, mentions of depression, suicide attempt, lots of angst with a little fluff along the way

word count: 8.2k

a/n: this isn’t proofread so excuse any mistakes

part 1 | epilogue (coming soon)

friendly reminder that comments and reblogs are just as (if not more than) important as likes!

It had only been a day but the next time you saw Arthur you found yourself bumping into him in the street.

You’d been on your way to the three cripples to see him when you saw him come out of a nearby alley, followed by none other than Mr Compeyson who called after him as he stormed off.

You wasted not a second as you made your way to him, your pace quickening slightly as you hurried to catch up with him.

“Arthur!”

The moment his name fell from your lips he stopped and turned around, his glassy eyes setting on you almost instantly. He was still wearing it: the neckerchief you had gifted to him.

“What’s wrong?” your eyes searched for answers within his own as you stepped closer.

“He’s going to marry her.”

You furrowed your brows together, not quite getting what he was saying. “Who, Arthur? Who’s going to marry?”

You could see the frustration in his features, the pain in his face as he spoke, “Compeyson. Amelia is going to marry Compeyson.”

“What? They’ve hardly known each other long enough to marry.”

“Try telling her that…” The anger in his voice dulled out as he started to walk again, this time with you by his side.

You sighed. “I don’t doubt Amelia’s judgement but I know you and I know there must be a reason you object to their union so much. I saw the two of you a moment ago in that alleyway, is this what you were discussing?”

His eyes widened and he turned back to you, stopping in his tracks once again as he worried you had gotten the wrong idea.

“It’s not like that. I- he… you’re the only one I care for.” His voice was quiet so as not to draw any attention to the two of you.

You reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know, Arthur. I’d never question that. I only meant to ask why you think so poorly of their union. I do not know Mr Compeyson well enough myself. You’ve had more time to get to know him.”

“He… He’s a bad man, y/n. They can’t marry, can’t even get engaged. He will only hurt her.”

“Bad how, Arthur? Is he the one who hurt you? Has he hurt Amelia?”

Arthur shook his head although the look behind his eyes was enough for you to know Compeyson had certainly harmed him in one way or another. “No. He has not hurt Amelia but he will. He only wants her money, I know that much.”

You grabbed hold of his coat, tugging him into a nearby alley just as Compeyson had done only moments before.

The two of you were only inches apart yet he still managed to avoid your eyes when you asked, “You didn’t answer my first question. Has he hurt you?”

There was a fire in your voice that licked at his heart, feeling as if you were squeezing it in your hand. He felt cornered although he knew there was no use in hiding the truth from you any longer.

The nod of his head was so subtle you could have missed it. His eyes never once looked up to meet yours, not until you tapped a finger against the bottom of his chin, raising his face to look at you.

“If he ever lays a hand on you again-”

“He won’t. It was my fault. If I hadn’t said those things to Amelia-”

“No matter what you said to your sister he had no right to beat you, Arthur.”

Again, his head hung low as his eyes cast down, fixating on a button on your coat.

“I know,” he mumbled as he tried to put a little distance between the two of you.

You only stepped closer and, if it hadn’t been for the street that was growing busier by the second, you would have kissed him or even simply just held him in your arms.

Instead, all you could do was stand by him, looking at him with nothing but love in your eyes as you tried to reassure him with your words alone. “You need to have more value for yourself, Arthur. No one, and I mean no one at all, ever has the right to hurt you like that.”

“I know. I just- I was drunk and I didn’t expect it and I… I couldn’t do anything to stop him. I- I-”

His voice was broken, crumbling more with every word. If you were never to see Arthur this way again it would still be too soon. You just wanted him to be happy, wanted him to know he was loved.

“Damn it, damn it all.”

With those words, you jerked forward and encased him in your arms. You no longer cared if anyone saw you or what they might think. You were from one of the most influential families in London — no, in the entire country — and you were not going to let Arthur stand there and break down before you without so much as holding him as he wept.

He melted into your embrace, letting you hold him so tightly in the cold, narrow alley. He too no longer cared, not at that moment at least. He just needed you. He needed to feel your warmth, to have you close.

When he was in your arms it was the only time he ever truly felt safe. Safe from the world. Safe from his debts. Safe from Compeyson.

“Have you spoken to Amelia about this? Does she know? Surely she would not marry a man she knew had harmed you,” you asked as you stepped away, moving to wipe the tears from his eye with the cool pad of your thumb.

“No, she can’t know. She can never know.”

You were only growing more confused as every answer he gave strived to avoid telling you the whole truth. There was so much more to what was going on between him and Mr Comperyson, you were sure of it, but Arthur still wasn’t ready to tell you.

“Why not? Arthur, please tell me. I want to help you, I want to be there for you.”

“You are there for me… more than anyone else ever has been or will be. But this… this I can’t tell you. Not yet. Please, you must understand. It will only worsen my predicament if you get involved.”

He was finally looking at you of his own accord, his big round eyes boring into your own as he pleaded with you.

You released a hum, although you certainly did not like the idea of him facing whatever trouble he was in alone. “I will not press you for answers if you are not ready to give them. Just remember I am here, Arthur. Always. If you need anything, all you need do is knock on my door.”

𓆩♡𓆪

A day later and you were back at his lodgings again. In your haste to see him, rather than knock, you simply opened the door and walked inside.

To your utmost surprise, Arthur was not alone. Mr Compeyson sat with him, talking about something that had abruptly come to a halt the moment you walked inside with a call of Arthur’s name.

“Mr y/l/n, what a surprise.”

As usual, Compeyson spoke with a smile but your eyes only fell to Arthur who was sitting backwards on a chair. His shirt was pulled up revealing his back which was now covered in more wounds than before.

“How dare you lay a hand on him!” You were already moving, cane raised as you came to Arthur’s defence.

Compeyson only backed away with raised arms and furrowed brows, his lips already stringing together excuses.

You almost hadn’t noticed Arthur get up from where he had been sitting, wincing slightly as his shirt fell back down onto his cuts and scrapes.

He stood in front of you now, his hands on your chest as he drew your attention away from Mr Compeyson.

“It is true, y/n. He did not do this. I- I was mugged on the street,” his eyes never once left yours, trying to soothe the anger that resided within them, “I swear it, he did not do this.”

You took a hold of his chin and gently turned his face as your fingers brushed lightly over the fresh bruise on his cheek.

“You were mugged? Out on the street?”

He pulled his face out of your grasp, looking away as he spoke, “Yes. Now, what is it you came here to discuss?”

You glanced at Mr Compeyson, noticing the way he seemed to be sizing up every interaction between the two of you, and chose your words carefully.

“I wanted to tell you I have made the necessary preparations for you to come and live with me until you have sorted things out with Amelia. Seeing you now only confirms that you cannot stay here any longer.”

“I think he is perfectly fine where he is, he should be returning home soon anyway so there is no need for him to go anywhere,” Compeyson butted into your conversation, seemingly determined for Arthur to remain right where he was, where he could succumb to harm again.

You ignored him completely, speaking only to Arthur. “Please, Arthur. This part of town is not safe. You are like a brother to me, let me look after you until you can return home.”

When Arthur turned around it was not to look at you but rather Mr Compeyson. He had a look of unsureness in his eyes but he nodded his head nonetheless.

“Thank you, y/n. I need to attend to some business with Mr Compeyson today but I will collect my things for the morning.”

You dismissed him with a wave of your hand. “No need. I will have your things brought up while you are out. Once you’ve finished your business there will be a carriage waiting for you here to bring you home.”

“Thank you, Mr y/l/n. Arthur is lucky to have a friend like you.”

Although you detested the man and his false smiles, you forced your own onto your face and bid him farewell before you left.

𓆩♡𓆪

“I am like a brother to you?”

His head bobbed slightly with the movement of your chest when you chuckled. “You know I only said that so that he would not suspect anything.”

He hummed, smiling as you lightly tapped each of his fingers before threading yours through them, pulling his hand to your lips.

“Please, tell me, my love. What is bothering you? I know something is on your mind, you’ve been distracted since you arrived.”

Arthur only shook his head, the sheets pooling around his waist as he sat up and ran a hand through his hair.

When he sighed it was a lengthy breath, one weighed down by everything he was still keeping from you.

“He is still going to marry her, even after…” He hesitated for a moment, still undecided of whether he was going to say his next words.

You sat up too now, feeling a slight chill from the winter air that was seeping back in through the cracks in the windowsill. Your hand came to rest on the small of his back, gentle to avoid the cuts and scrapes that still darkened his snow-white skin.

“After what, Arthur? What have you been up to? What business did the two of you have today?”

He sighed again, another long, dark breath from his lips. Finally, he was ready to come clean.

“Mr Compeyson and I… Mr Compeyson was to help me get what was rightfully mine,” he finally admitted, “I employed him to help me get my inheritance from my sister. It… It was never supposed to go this far, I swear it, and today he convinced Amelia to buy my shares in the brewery. She shall buy them at double their price, giving me what I am owed but Compeyson… He-”

“He still intends to marry her, to rob her of all her fortune.”

You could hear him gulp, sweat forming on his forehead as he nodded. “Yes... Yes, and it is all my fault, y/n. Amelia will pay for the mistakes I made. For all of them.”

You pulled him closer, his head resting against your shoulder as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“It is not your fault. Compeyson is a slimy wretch of a man. He is to blame, Arthur. Not you.”

He pulled away from you, out of your embrace as his eyes found themselves looking anywhere but you once again. “But if I had never gotten him involved-”

“You were not to know. No one was. Mr Compeyson played you just as he is playing Amelia. If your father could see the wedge he forced between the two of you he would turn in his grave. He did not wish this for you, Arthur. No matter how much you may think he hated you.”

“He did hate me, is that not obvious?”

His eyes grew darker as he spoke, something akin to both fear and anger settling within the deepest depths.

“Oh, Arthur,” you sighed and reached out for his hand but he only pulled it away, “Your father did not hate you. He hated me. He would never blame you or denounce you. You are his son, Arthur. He loved you no matter what. It was me he hated, me he blamed.”

“But you are not to blame,” he spoke with such sureness now, his eyes fixed on you once again, “As you said before, you did not make me feel the way I do. These things just happen.”

“Indeed they do, my love, and they always work themselves out with time it seems.”

A soft hum fell from his lips and he let you put your arm around him as the two of you lay back down. His head rested atop your bicep as he curled into your side, his arm slung over you while he closed his eyes.

“Indeed they do,” he repeated your words with a gentle smile curling on his lips and slowly began to fall asleep.

You ran your fingers through his hair for a moment before pressing a kiss against his forehead and pulling him closer still. He was so warm, his soft skin like heaven to touch. He was still your Arthur even with the troubles he was now facing and he always would be your Arthur, no matter what the cruel strings of fate had in store for you.

𓆩♡𓆪

Arthur was gone in a hurry, leaving at the crack of dawn to get his money from Amelia and speak with Mr Compeyson. He hadn’t even had time for a proper breakfast, although that may have been in part due to the two of you sleeping in a little longer than intended.

So you sat and ate alone, quietly thanking Emma when she packed a snack for Arthur as he rushed out the door.

You knew he had a plan up his sleeve. Before he left he begged you not to interfere yourself, not directly at least. He did not want anyone to know of his scheme with Mr Compeyson and rightly so. Amelia was nothing if not forgiving but you knew even she would be stricken with anger if she knew what Arthur had done.

There had to be a way to break off their engagement without her ever finding out what Arthur had done or at least a way to lessen the blow when the truth finally came to light. Arthur had made a mistake, a grave one, but that did not mean it would do either of them any good to stray even further apart.

All you and Arthur wanted to do now was protect Amelia. Both her heart and her fortune. Compeyson was after both and he had already won her heart. There was little time before he had her fortune too.

He was gone for most of the day, to your surprise, but had returned by the time you arrived home after a late afternoon business meeting of your own. Although, you were not met with quite the greeting you had been hoping for.

Emma offered you that same soft smile she always did when you arrived home, glancing up at you as you entered the dining room for dinner. Her back straightened as she lifted one of the two empty plates, clearing Arthur’s spot from the table.

“He has gone?” you questioned with a sadness to your voice.

She shook her head. “Master Havisham is in your study, Sir. He seemed to be feeling unwell and asked to be left alone.”

“I see. I shall go and check on him.”

When Arthur left that morning he had been determined, sure of himself. You knew he had every intention to confront Compeyson and convince him to leave Amelia alone and you had every confidence in him to do exactly that. Only, it seemed Compeyson was more troublesome than you would have liked to have believed.

Arthur sat in your dimly lit study as though he were frozen in thought. He did not seem to notice you enter or perhaps he simply did not care. He sat facing away from you holding what looked to be a banker’s draft in his hand.

“Arthur?”

He hummed and turned his head to you ever so slightly but it was hard to make out his expression even under the flicker of dreary candlelight. Then, he sniffled and turned his attention back to the thin piece of paper in his hand.

It was with a sigh that you found yourself standing behind his chair, glancing over his shoulder at the note to find that Amelia had bought his shares for ten thousand pounds, which was much more than they were worth.

“Do you remember when we used to sneak in here as children? We’d sit giggling under this desk, hiding from your mother when she came to take you home,” you reminisced, running your fingers along the rich mahogany.

“I remember,” Arthur spoke with a bitter tone in his voice, pretending as though he were immune to what you were doing.

As you circled the desk, you thought back on your time as children again. This had been your father’s study once and he had been more than happy for you and Arthur to sit alongside him and play at being the businessmen you would one day become.

When you looked at Arthur now you were surprised to see a combination of both the child he once was and the man he could someday become. He sat with a scowl as though he had been throwing a tantrum only moments before, kicking and screaming and begging his mother to let him stay for just a little while longer. Snot glistened under his nose and fresh tears stained his cold cheeks.

“How about when we grew older and used this study as our refuge after my father passed? You held me in your arms as I wept.”

He turned away at this, as though he could not bear to face you for he now sat in your chair, your father’s chair, the very place you had sat and cried in grief all those years ago. He did not deserve his tears nor did he deserve you. This was all his fault, after all. If only he’d been stronger, smarter—

A chuckle tumbled from your throat, jolting him from his racing thoughts. “I remember when we argued, though I can hardly remember what it was about. We yelled at each other so loud that my mother shoved us in here to settle our differences, demanding we talk like men.”

With a roll of his eyes, he put the banker’s draft down and scoffed, “She wanted us to talk, you had other plans as I recall.”

You smiled fondly then, remembering how your heated exchange of words turned into, well, something else entirely. The two of you used to be so playful back then, so full of life. Now Arthur seemed more like a shell of who he used to be and that alone shattered your heart into a thousand pieces.

He sighed. “I know what you are trying to do.”

“And what is that?” you questioned with a smirk as you perched yourself on the side of the desk.

“You’re trying to distract me. To soothe me so that I will open up and tell you why I am sitting here in the dark feeling sorry for myself when I should be celebrating. I finally have what I was owed and should be rejoicing but here I am, drowning in my own sorrows.”

Your smile fell and you reached out, pulling his hand into your own. “Your talk with Compeyson did not go too well, I presume?”

Arthur glanced down at the ground, turning his head from you.

“No. It… He…” He turned mute as his voice trailed off and turned into shaky breaths.

“What is he holding over you? Surely you have more leverage over him than he does you. Talk to me, there must be something I can do.”

“You can do nothing!” Arthur snapped as he pulled his hand from yours and stood to his feet, shoving his banker’s draft into his pocket.

All you wanted was for him to speak to you. To tell you everything, every minute detail. That way you could help him. You knew there must have been something Compeyson was holding against him, preventing him from telling Amelia the truth, and it was not the threat that he, in turn, would tell Amelia of Arthur’s hand in all this. No, Arthur would rather his sister hate him than see her succumb to ruin over some crook.

“Please, Arthur. You are not alone in this. Let me help.” Your voice was calm still as you made your plea, all but begging him to truly let you in.

He may have come back to you — may have even been staying in your very home, your very bed — but he had still been keeping his walls up. They had started to come down one by one but you were still yet to fully break through.

His hand crumpled into a fist at his side, clutching tightly onto his coat as he spoke, “He… He knows. He knows about me, about what I am and if you get more involved he’ll find out about you too. Don’t you see? He’ll bring us both to ruin!”

You closed your eyes with a sigh and stepped closer to him again. “Arthur, I do not care what others say of me. Let him find out, who would believe his word over ours? After we expose him as a fraud he will be forced to leave London and you will finally be rid of him.”

He stood still as he contemplated your words. He knew you were right, you often were, and perhaps he was a fool not to have asked you for help sooner. If only he had come to you instead of Compeyson in the first place, then maybe all of this could have been avoided. If only he had forgiven you sooner. Forgiven himself.

“He has a wife,” Arthur finally spoke, breaking through the thick veil of silence.

Your eyes widened at the revelation. This was something you could use, so long as you could prove it. Mr Compeyson would not be able to marry Amelia if he was already bound to another, after all.

“I don’t know where she is staying but if we can find her, tell her that he plans to marry Amelia, maybe she will help us?”

“Maybe,” you hummed, rubbing your chin with your finger, “For now just try to stay out of Compeyson’s way. I will find out what I can but I do not what him hurting you again.”

The very next day you went off in search of whatever you could find about Meriwether Compeyson. In a few short hours, you had his home address and were promptly on your way there in hopes of finding his dear wife.

You glanced down at the parchment in your hand and checked the address again before raising your knuckles to the door. Just as you knocked, however, you were greeted by what seemed to be a passing stranger.

“Can I help you?”

The woman was pretty, that much you were sure, but she had a somewhat offputting aura about her. Sternly, she eyed you up as though she could see through you entirely.

“Ah, yes. I am looking for the woman who lives here, you wouldn’t happen to know where I could find her, would you?”

The stranger furrowed her brows and placed her hands on her hips. “A woman? No woman lives here. Just that man. Mr Compyeson, I believe he said his name was.”

Now it was your turn to frown as you glanced back at the door with a hum. “Oh, I was led to believe that Mr Compeyson is married. Perhaps I heard wrong.”

The woman smiled at you then but shook her head. “Not married but due to be. I heard he has his eye on a fair, wealthy woman. Miss Havisham, I believe.”

Although you were sure there was more to your encounter than first met the eye, there was little more you could have done to find out the truth at that moment so you bid the woman farewell and began to head home. You already had people looking into Mr Compeyson and you were sure to be alerted the moment anything came up so you supposed it was back to business again for the rest of the day.

By the afternoon Arthur was practically skipping through the door as he hurried to rid himself of his hat and coat and came to sit with you for lunch.

“I know I am a delight to spend time with but you’ve never looked this excited for lunch before. Not since we were children at least,” you chuckled, “What has got you in such a good mood?”

“She knows. Amelia knows that Compeyson is already married. I do not know how she found out but she did. She must have seen them together, she was so infatuated she would not have believed it if it came from someone else.”

You chuckled again, relieved that it was finally over and gestured to the large fruit he had placed down on the table beside him. “That explains the pineapple then. A present for Amelia, I presume?”

Arthur’s smile only widened when he nodded and reached across the table for some sandwiches, loading his plate for the first time in a long time. Since he’d left home he hadn’t been eating well. You had noticed as much. He was drinking more often than not and only ate in small portions so it was good to see him sober and stuffing his smiling face full of all the food you had prepared for the two of you that afternoon.

“So you are returning home then?” He hummed which prompted you to continue, “I can’t say I won’t miss having you here but I am glad the two of you will be by one another’s side again, as things should be.”

He grinned and spoke through a mouthful of food, “Try not to miss me too much. I am sure I’ll find plenty of excuses to come and see you. Perhaps we will embark on a business partnership and hold meetings that run late into the night.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again with cheeks full of life. It was the first time in a long while that you had felt truly happy. Reconciling with Arthur had just been the beginning and now that the stain of Meriwether Compeyson had been removed things would only continue to get better.

Or so you had hoped.

“Arthur?”

He stumbled through the door the next night. The stench of alcohol floated around him like a dark cloud when he flopped into bed beside you.

You hadn’t been expecting him to come home to you, not after he had gone back home, and rolled over to find him facing away from you. His shoulders shook slightly as he began to laugh but you knew tears already stained his face.

Instinctively, you threw your arm around him and curled up close to his side, nuzzling your head into the back of his neck, and his laughter soon turned to quiet sobs.

You needn’t ask what was wrong, not until morning, and decided it would be better to just hold him until finally, he fell asleep.

𓆩♡𓆪

“I will kill him!” he cried through gritted teeth, “First he worms his way into her life with lies and empty promises and now he defiles her. He will not live to see the next sunrise!”

Arthur paced up and down the room, ignoring the breakfast you had prepared for him. He looked about ready to kill someone and you supposed that was true, although you and he both knew that would do no one any good.

“Breathe, my love. Just breathe.” You tried to calm him down but little seemed to be working.

He was fuming, face red and contorted with anger. Though, you could not blame him. It had turned out that Arthur had returned home only to find his sister in bed with the very man the two of you were sure never to see again. Compeyson had worked his charm and spun his lies, convincing her yet again of his devout devotion to her. Arthur had returned to the three cripples after that and only come back to you once one entire day and night had passed.

“Mr Jaggers was snooping around and if he were to find anything on Compeyson he would… I had to…”

Your heart sank. “Arthur, what have you done?”

He could not meet your eyes, he was too ashamed to. He turned from you, picking up another bottle as he poured himself a glass of brandy.

“Arthur!” his eyes widened as you turned him to you in your frustration, spilling the contents of the glass out over the floor, and you were quick to release him when you realised just how scared he looked.

Now it was you who turned as you smoothed your fingers over the creases between your brows. “I’m sorry, Arthur, but you are a fool if you have prevented Mr Jaggers from finding anything on Compeyson.”

He slumped down into a dining room chair, eyes trained firmly on the ground once again. “I know… I know but he will tell him. Compeyson will tell Jaggers about me, about you. I think… I think he knows about us. If Jaggers finds out—”

“I don’t care, Arthur. Have I not made that perfectly clear? To hell with it, if people know about us, at least the lies will finally end!”

He was shocked to find that you were willing to risk so much for him but he could not bear it. He could not bear bringing harm to you or your good name. He had already ruined himself, he would not bring scandal to you as well.

“Then it is not I who is the fool.”

He spoke under his breath but the words were still a sharp stab through your heart.

“Arthur…”

“I shall return to my lodgings and deal with this myself. Forget I ever came to you. This is my problem, I will solve it.”

He was standing before you had time to protest, already collecting his things as he hurried out the door. You chased after him, of course, but he was a stubborn man and there was nothing you could do but watch after him as he fled down the street.

In the days leading up to the wedding, you searched for Arthur. You even stood outside his lodgings banging on his door despite knowing he would not open it to you. Every time he saw you in the street he was quick to turn away.

He was avoiding you, that much was clear. He had made a split-second decision the night he left. A decision to protect you from him because he truly thought he was an obstruction to your happiness. If only he could realise he was the very object of it.

When there was no getting through to Arthur, let alone even being able to speak with him, you turned to Mr Jaggers.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention Mr y/l/n. I knew Mr Compeyson was nothing but trouble, I only wish I had seen Arthur’s hand in all this sooner.”

You were quick to jump in, quick to defend. “He made a mistake. He was angry and bitter but he never meant to hurt Amelia like this.”

Jaggers nodded his head slowly. “I know, Mr y/l/n. Believe me, as much as I may despise Arthur at times I know his love for his sister is as true as his love for you.”

It was no secret to you that Jaggers already knew about you and Arthur. He’d known since before even Arthur’s late father found out. Not that you had ever told Arthur that, he would only worry after all.

When Jaggers came to know about the two of you, rather than come to you with threats, he simply asked you to keep your business with Arthur private, for the sake of the Havisham name and your own. It was a sentiment you were as grateful for then as you are now.

“There must be something we can do. The wedding is tomorrow but Arthur will not even speak to me.”

“I will talk to him but if you hear nothing by tomorrow; please, go to the wedding. Amelia deserves to have at least one of you by her side.”

Although the last thing you wanted to do was see Amelia married to a con man, you knew that without proof there was little you could do to stop her. If all else failed, you would be by her side every step of the way and you would find some way to make sure Mr Compeyson did right by Amelia, even after securing her fortune.

“I would not miss it for the world.”

𓆩♡𓆪

“Y/n?” Amelia smiled the moment she saw you come through the door, although you could tell she was surprised to see you. She had been expecting you to be at the church, of course, but it was unexpected for you to show up at her home before the carriage had even arrived.

You smiled as you took her in. She looked beautiful, as always, but there was a radiance unlike any other as she stood there in her wedding dress. She looked so happy, so excited, but it only caused a pit to burrow its way into your stomach.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced. I just- I wanted to ask to walk you down the aisle, if you would allow me? Only if Arthur does not come, of course. I just thought that it should at least be one of us who gave you away.”

She beamed ever brighter and placed a gentle hand on your arm, squeezing gently. “I would love nothing more. Thank you.”

There was little else you could do. She was completely set in her ways, her heart belonged to Compeyson whether you approved of it or not. Still, if the con man wished to marry Amelia then he would do just that, you only hoped he was prepared to keep up the act for as long as he lived. Even if it was fake at least she would be happy, that was all that mattered now. You did not know if you could bear to see the agony it would bring if he left her after the wedding, fleeing with her fortune. You could not bear to see her left behind.

With no sign of Arthur or Mr Jaggers, you walked alongside Honoria as the two of you followed Amelia through the house on your way to the carriage. Before you could even reach the end of the hallway, however, you came face-to-face with the very person you had been searching for.

“Arthur?” you questioned, wondering what he and Jaggers had up their sleeve, and as you did so, you drew Amelia’s attention from her caught stocking and she looked up to the door.

“Meriwether?”

It was as though all air in the room was completely sucked out as you all stood there gaping, waiting for what was to happen next.

Compeyson looked beaten, his head hanging low with his eyes trained on the ground. He seemed completely and utterly defeated. Too embarrassed to even look Amelia in the eye as he muttered out a quiet ‘sorry’.

Jaggers was quick to step forward and dismiss the staff, locking eyes with you for only a second as you found yourselves alone in the ever-darkening atmosphere.

You furrowed your brows, turning your gaze to Arthur as he instructed Compeyson, “Give it to her.”

He was hesitant but then quickly walked up to Amelia, passing her what seemed to be a letter.

Honoria was quick to turn to you, her eyes silently communicating as if she were asking you if you knew what was going on. You shrugged slightly as you did not but that was not to say you had little idea of what was happening. They’d finally cornered him, most likely, and now Compeyson was to reveal everything he had done before finally walking out of everyone’s lives for good.

When Arthur urged her to read the note, Amelia did exactly that as she made her way into the dining room, taking a seat at the head of the table.

She sat and read for what felt like years as the rest of you stood waiting patiently — the closest people to her, her family, watching as she came undone.

“All a lie?” she finally spoke as she glanced up at Compeyson, “For my money?”

Compeyson turned to the rest of you then, addressing Arthur directly, “Leave us, please.”

“I will never leave you alone with my sister again,” he spoke snidely, expression smug yet sour as he stood firm.

All you could do was watch as Amelia stood from her chair and accused both Jaggers and Arthur of forcing him to write such lies. She was still infatuated, even now, and refused to believe the truth which had finally been handed to her.

The bickering only continued as Compeyson admitted his guilt, assuring Amelia that everything in the letter was the truth. He was only after her money, her fortune. That was all it ever had been, or so you all thought. It was only when Compeyson did something almost entirely unexpected that even you began to doubt his motives.

He offered to leave the money Arthur had offered him. The entire ten thousand pounds Amelia had bought his shares of the brewery with. More money than he would ever truly need, enough for him to start a business of his own and begin life anew. A small fortune he could use to live a life of luxury if he so wished, yet he was willing to leave it behind if only he could speak with Amelia.

To spin more lies, you tried to convince yourself, but you had seen love. You had felt it in your every fibre of being. You knew what it looked like and you recognised those eyes, knew the way in which he was now looking at Amelia.

“I am not to be bought!” she cried, her anger boiling over. She was not some price or precious porcelain doll, she was a woman who was capable of making her own decisions and thinking her own, independent thoughts.

Compeyson took the outburst as a direct attack and moved to take the money, seemingly giving up and simply wishing to be gone, but she ran after him. She hit him over and over in her pain, only stopping when she began to cry.

Honira was by her side in an instant, helping her to sit back at the head of the table, and all you could do was watch still as Compeyson stood frozen in place.

“Get out,” Arthur demanded.

“Everything in that letter is true,” Compeyson began as he approached her once again, “It is as cold and as spiteful as you believe it to be. Every moment, every second was contrived, bent to one purpose. To relieve you of the Havisham fortune.”

You moved to stand with Arthur, wishing to at least remind him you were there as everything continued to unfold. He moved to step away from you but you took his hand, keeping you by his side as Compeyson began to pour his heart out.

He confessed his love for Amelia then and there and, although you knew the man to be adept at spinning lies, every bone in your body was beginning to scream that he was speaking the truth.

Arthur tore his hand from yours and stepped forwards, folding his arms behind his back. “You’re already married.”

Then, Compeyson finally turned from Amelia and looked between both you and Arthur as he explained, “It was a marriage of convenience, nothing more. I would have freed myself from it.”

Amelia continued to cry, though she made a feeble attempt to stifle them, and it crushed your heart. You hated this, every moment of it, but she deserved to at least know the truth. She would have found out one way or another, after all.

“Fate throws people together in different ways.”

As he continued to express his feelings, you couldn’t help but look at Arthur, who was too busy watching with a stern scowl to notice your eyes were on him. For the first time, you felt yourself sympathising with Mr Compeyson for he was right, fate was often tricky like that.

No one gets to choose who they fall in love with, it is simply something that happens. It often comes as naturally as the rain or as quickly as lightning. Sometimes it takes time and sometimes it’s expected. More often than not, however, it is found in the places you least expect it.

And then it was Amelia who began to speak through her tears. She spoke of how she loved Compyson and how he once made her feel safe and warm and happy. How she trusted him fully and how he had now forsaken that trust and torn her heart in two.

He continued to beg and grovel but there was nothing more to be done and she told him to leave, wishing he would never return. The final blow, however, came when despite everything he had said, he still picked up the briefcase of money as he left.

Arthur and Jaggers followed behind to ensure he would leave but you remained with Amelia, refusing to step away from her side for even a second as she continued to crumble. You did not know what to say so you left the comforting to Honoria and hoped your presence was enough alone to bring her some comfort.

When Arthur returned, it was with a smile and a bottle of champagne as he exclaimed with arms open wide, “He’s gone, finally!”

You frowned, cursing him silently for being such a fool. Now was not time for a celebration, how could he not see that?

“You hated me that much?” Amelia asked with tear-filled eyes and Arthur suddenly seemed to shrink.

He lowered the bottle along with his head before looking up into his sister’s eyes. “I never meant for it to go this far, I swear it. I was just so angry… and I wanted to get back at you. When he came, he just twisted everything.”

You could hear the tremble in his voice, as though he realised now that things could not go back to how they had once been. Not now, not so soon.

Amelia huffed, “You all knew? Everybody knew.”

Jaggers shook his head, hoping to bring her some comfort when he corrected, “No. Not until today.”

Instinctively you moved closer to Arthur when he stepped towards his sister, eyes pleading as he spoke, “Don’t you see? He’s gone now. We can be together again, I can help you. We can do it together. Everything together as it should be.”

He was on his knees now, looking up at his elder sister with such devotion in his eyes. All he wanted was to make things right, to fix what he had broken.

“I’m your brother.” He smiled, hoping to show her he was being sincere.

The silence only lasted a moment as he looked down at him with nothing but sorrow in her eyes.

“I don’t have a brother.”

Just like that, his entire world came crashing back down and she looked away from him, asking us all to leave.

“Amelia…”

The moment her name fell so softly from his lips, she began to yell out in a fury, “Get him away from me! Get out! Get out!”

He backed up as she continued to scream, chasing all four of you out of the room as she began to weep again.

You all stopped outside where her screams continued to echo down the street. She was wailing now, you had never heard anything like it. You’d never seen such agony before.

When you touched a hand to Arthur’s back he flinched away. His wide, startled eyes bore into your own and then he was gone, rushing off down the street.

“Did you know?” Honoria questioned, “Did you know they were coming?”

Your head snapped to her, a pang of newfound guilt beginning to settle in. The look she gave you was one of such disgust, such disappointment. You did not know, not that they were going to come today and do… this. But you had known about Compeyson and that alone was enough to warrant the way she looked at you now.

“I- No. I… I knew Compyeson was… I’m sorry,” was all you could manage to say before you too were fleeing the scene. There was nothing more for you to do, not now. You’d return in a few days, allow Amelia some time to herself.

You did not know what to do so you walked. You walked for hours, until long after the sun had set — until you found yourself outside of the three cripples once again.

“Arthur?” you questioned as you looked up at the figure on the roof, coming to the dreadful realisation that it was the man you held most dear, “Arthur!”

He looked down at you and he stepped closer to the edge. He had been drinking, as you’d expected, but the last thing you had anticipated was to find him up there.

“Go away, y/n. It’s over. It’s all… It’s all over. She… She hates me, Amelia will never forgive me.”

Although you raised your voice, you tried to sound calm. You needed to keep him calm, to show him it was going to be okay. “She will Arthur, you just have to give her some time. Please, come down from there.”

He shut his eyes tight and shook his head and you could see the glistening of fresh tears against his cheeks. “I… I have nothing left…”

“You have me, Arthur. You’ll always have me. Always. Please, come down.”

You were growing more desperate now as the fear truly began to settle in. In truth, you did not know if Amelia would ever forgive him — if she’d ever forgive either of you — but you knew one thing. You knew that no matter what, you would love him. You would love him until the day you died. You couldn’t lose him, not now. Not like this.

His tears continued to fall but he moved back from the edge ever so slightly. “But—”

“No buts, Arthur. I will always be here. I’ll always love you so please, just come back down.”

Tears of your own threatened to spill as you watched on from below. If he decided to jump there would truly be nothing you could do.

He gulped and backed up again, moving closer to the window he had climbed out of. The breath you released when he finally began to climb back inside was so thick and heavy that you thought for a moment you had exhaled your entire soul.

Without a second to lose you ran inside and up the stairs, barging into his old lodgings within moments, and there he stood still in a daze. Even as you threw yourself at him, grabbing hold of him as if you were afraid to ever let go again.

Only then did you cry, once he was safely back in your arms. Your shoulders shook and you held him even tighter until, finally, he hugged you back.

feel free to let me know if you want to be added to or removed from my taglist!

taglist: @soundofkazoo @male-reader-reblogs

[yourlovejohnny]

You, lovelies, get sneak peeks of my edits before they go out on TikTok! <33

[stardancerluv]

Can the Past Save the Future

Part 3

Summary: Arthur is reunited with his childhood friend.

Notes/Warning: Mutual pining, drinking to access (do not drink this much!) Flashback in italics! Old school, dated views of women…

Dilberry maker - foolish person (old English slang)

“It’s ok poppet that’s long behind the two of us now.” You gently urged your twin, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“You’re right, you’re right.” Your twin pressed her lips together, and nodded. Finally, you looked up. It cut him deep to know it all still hurt you even though now, things were were worlds better. “Arthur, dear friend this is my twin brother, Y/N.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Twin brother?”

You nodded, meeting your sister’s eye and sharing a nod, you picked up the story.

“Yes, I’m her twin.” You gave Arthur your most charming smile. Just looking at him fueled that smile.

“One spring when we were terribly young, I came down with scarlet fever.” You gave your twin’s shoulder a squeeze. “How she didn’t get it is beyond me, us. Because she kept on sneaking me sweets and her company.” Looking past those wondrous brown curls for a moment, he could practically feel how stifling that room had been. “I got it bad. But then one day, after a few very harsh days I finally recovered.”

“But, how…” Arthur’s brown eyes moved from you to your twin and back at you.

“Once I recovered mum and father sent me off to several places in the summer to grow physically and up here.” You tapped your temple. “Emily, got to let her imaginations run wild each summer while I grew into a little gentlemen.”

Arther nodded then. “So that is why I only ever ran around the county-side with Emily.”

“Yes. It got my mind off of almost losing my twin, my best friend.” You added quickly added. “I met you and it was almost like having him there. I’d write him and tell him all about you.” She shot you a look and smile.

A small smile curled his lips. “We did have some awfully good adventures.”

She nodded. “We did.”

Inhaling, this was certainly interesting. “I know my twin, is incredibly happy to have me back,” You gestured with your hand. “Which is another story entirely but the history you two share is great, why don’t you join us for our dinner.”

You watched as there was a small possibly polite waver in how Arthur stood.

“Yes, Arthur join us. I’ve missed you, our friendship.”

You could still see a possible wavering. “Arthur.” You smirked, remembering your earlier exchange how his carefree confidence had reeled you in when you walked up. “I’ll order the second best brandy.” You rose your eyebrows. “Since you already ordered the best.”

A chuckle, you could practically feel came from him, as he gave you that smile with the twist to it. “How can I say no to either offers.”

*******

His heart was thudding hard in his chest as he pulled off his hat, then slipped free of his coat. “Do you mind terribly if I lay my coat over yours?”

“Not at all.”

Quickly he placed his coat there and placed his hat on top. He soon the took a seat besides his childhood friend. Glancing across the table at you he marveled at the thought. You were her twin. How what an interesting twist to things.

Sitting across from you, he was able to enjoy glancing at you.

The barmaid came back promptly.

“Prepare a plate for our friend with the foods, I ordered. He had joined us.” Emily spoke first before smiling his way.

“It will be more.”

“That is not a problem. I would hope so.”

“Thank you.” Arthur nodded. “Emily, you have always been too kind.”

You returned his smile. “Only for friends.”

“And a bottle of your second best brandy.” He watched as you spoke. When you glanced over at him with an arched eyebrow, it caused a knot to form in his stomach. The touch of your fingertips till lingered, he mused in the fuzzy warmth of his head.

“Arthur,” Emily whispered like years gone past. “sitting here like this reminds me of when the cook would call us in and give us fresh goodies. Like warm rolls.” She nudged you, her eyes were bright. He smiled.

“Arthur! Emily! Come here!”

It had been a terribly drizzly day, but sitting under the willow watching some frogs jump in and out of the pond had been fun.

Hearing the kind voice of her cook, Emily jumped to her feet and dusted herself off. She then held out a hand to you. You did the same as her.

“Oh wait!” Her eyes were bright as she leaned in close. “Let me.” He nodded and then he felt as something gave from your hair.

He made a face, taking a step back. “Tell me it wasn’t another beetle.”

She giggled into her hand. “No! Just this. A large leaf!” You held it up.

“Don’t make call you two again.” A hearty laugh came from the cook.

“We’re coming.” Emily called back, she dropped the leaf and took his hand again. “Alright, let’s run for it.”

“Yes!”

Together running across the large field, panting you both reached the door.

She wiped her hands on her apron. “Wipe those shoes, you little rascals and come in.”

He chuckled. Emily’s cook was so much nicer then his. You both knew to then go and sit at the small tucked away in the corner.

“What do you think she has for us?” He whispered.

“Maybe a tart.” Emily had whispered back.

“Fresh rolls and butter.” She smiled, placing a plate in front of the two of you. “The tarts are for after dinner.” She winked. “Yes, Arthur your mum is having you and Amelia come over for dinner while adults will be playing cards and some such thing.”

“Tarts!” You both gave a cheer before tearing the rolls open and smothering it with the soft butter.

“Your fresh bread and butter sir.” The barmaid, startled him away from the past, he sat back.

He looked up at the barmaid, her expression was blank. “Thank you.” He replied flatly.

******

The bottle and glasses clinked when the barmaid placed them beside in front of him. Lining up the glasses, glanced over at his twin’s friend.

He may not have the air that had surrounded him earlier, but he was still quite a delight on the eyes. “I still have to finish what you gave me but I am interested to see what this tastes like.”

“Oh, is he who you went over to?”

Inwardly, you groaned. Your twin was well your twin and sure she went well but now she may make you look like a fool.

“Yes, poppet it is.” You gave her a sidelong glance as you poured.

“Ahh ok.” She then happily nibbled away at her toast.

“This is pretty good Emily.” Arthur added. “Though not as good as the hot rolls or tarts your cook made us.”

“Mrs. Cratchit makes the best stuff.” She pressed her lips together and nodded. “She was a good chef. She was so kind to us.”

He smiled and nodded. “She was, remember when she saved my dignity the day I slipped in the mud?”

Emily rolled her eyes, “Do I? Luckily we had some of pupper’s clothes for the few days he had come to the country estate before going on to Dublin.” She reached over and squeezed your arm.

“Pupper, I can’t.” She put a hand out. “Really, I couldn’t possibly.” Your twin leaned in, “It would be scandalous for me to be seen drinking with two men. One my brother and one that is close to my age.” She whispered.

“Ignore their looks and thoughts. Arthur, won’t think less of you and of course nor will I.”

She made a face. “Pupper, seriously.” You shifted.

“They are all dilbery makers.”

You giggled into your hand. “Oh Poppet, ok but one drink.” She finally relented.

*****

“Oh!” You chuckled easily. “It really decided to come down didn’t it?” You struggled to slip on your coat, while looking at the heavy snowflakes that fell from the sky. A smile played on your lips. You could see why your sister had become friends with him.

You had not had that much of the brandy; had you? The struggle of getting into the coat became stronger. Then looking over at Arthur, you realized what happened. Now it all made sense.

“I will get us a coach.” Your twin announced.

There were a few nearby so you kept an eye on her, while you walked the short distance over to Arthur. Who was trying to straighten his hat.

“Tell me Arthur, are you still comfortable in my clothes?” He came and stood close to him.

The look he gave him was of confusion and then he really looked at what he had slipped into.

“Oh! It did feel a bit big.” He chuckled as he weaved towards you.

“Looks not terrible on you. But I had been worried..” Your voice trailed off as your twin called attention to the coach.

You giggled as you came over. “I got us a coach, come along you two.”

Arthur held up a hand. “I’ll find my own.”

“Nonesense. It is terribly late and if I remember the house you share with your sister is across the city.”

Arthur shrugged.

“We’re not terribly far and have plenty of rooms.” Your twin reasoned.

She did the unthinkable. Honestly, you were not sure if it was the brandy in her, the nostalgia or a bit of both. But she looped her arms with both of you. You grew completely mortified. Yet, another part of you hoped it swayed Arthur. You were very warm and fuzzy, despite the heavy snow falling around you. And at this moment, you truly didn’t want to part from him just yet. “No arguing Arthur.” You chimed in.

“Really, I mustn’t.” Though as he spoke a crooked smile spread across his face. “Unless you insist.” He glanced at you.

“I do.” You replied with your own smirk.

[foundtherightwords]

(most of my fics are CC x OFC unless otherwise stated)

Tom Grant (Make Up)

Winter Light (AO3): angst, slow burn, sickfic, post-canon, non-explicit smut | 5 chapters + optional epilogue, 14.8k

Arthur Havisham (Dickensian)

The Road Forgotten (AO3): angst, slow burn, fix-it, post-canon, revenge, non-explicit smut | 14 chapters, 42.7k

Irresistibly Contagious (AO3): sequel to "The Road Forgotten", Christmas fic, fluff, found family | One-shot, 7k

Billy Knight (Lethal White/Strike)

The Quiet Chaos (AO3): angst, slow burn, developing relationship, post-canon, non-explicit smut | 10 chapters, 36.2K

The Simple Thought of You (AO3): sequel to "The Quiet Chaos", angst, childfree, proposal, non-explicit smut | 3 chapters, 9.2k

Ralph (Timewasters)

All Our Yesterdays (AO3): friends-to-lovers, slow burn, a bit of angst, time travel, post-canon, non-explicit smut | 14 chapters, 53.8k

Come, You Spirits (AO3): sort-of-sequel to "All Our Yesterdays", fluff, funny, spooky, established relationship | One-shot, 4.6k

Time Out in the Upside Down (AO3): "Stranger Things" x "Timewasters" crossover, funny | One-shot, 1.8k

Leonard Bast (Howards End)

Through the World's Far Ends (AO3): Leonard x Helen fix-it, World War I, angst, hurt/comfort | One-shot, 7.2k

Prince Paul (Catherine the Great)

The Firebird (AO3): fairytale AU, magic, adventure, slow burn, non-explicit smut | 16 chapters, 66.7k

Michael (Hoard)

Love, If You're Near (AO3): angst, hurt/comfort | One-shot, 6.8k

Derwin Grunauer (Overlord)

As the Sun Will Rise (WIP): post-WWII, Beauty and the Beast retelling | 21 chapters, ~82k

Hellcheer Masterlist

[over--and-out]

YOU ASKED FOR ARTHUR REQUESTS SO HERE I AM

yup, kinda angsty but i saw a tiktok with the audio "i wish you were a girl" and i rlly thought it would fit arthur.

imagine this, arthur and his friend (he/him obvi) are in love but they're both too afraid to say anything even tho they know the feeling is mutual. One night they're both together just talking and reader is curing arthur's wounds bc he got beaten up, they're so vulnerable that for one and all they kiss in tears, they need each other so they just let it go until arthur just spits "i wish you were a girl"

u can give it the ending u want tbh, up to you. if i come up with another idea then i'll write it. bye bye! ♡

Maybe Someday

Arthur Havisham x Male!Reader

Summary: You figured Arthur had learned his lesson, realized what he did was wrong. Yeah what he did was wrong,, but not wrong enough to deserve this...

Warnings: abuse, mentions of abuse, violence, blood, wounds, alcohol consumption, drunk Arthur, treating of wounds, internalized homophobia, ANGST, spoilers ahead, crying, I mean absolute sobbing, mentions of nausea, Compeyson (he's one of those that needs his own warning,) Arthur is kind of a dick, intense emotions, don't take the warnings lightly please

Author's Note: I am LIVING for this request and all the angst involved in it, please- and guys if anything is triggering for you then please don't force yourself to keep reading. I am once again saying, please don't take the warnings lightly. Take care <3

Arthur was exhausted. All he'd done was drink, but the bed underneath him felt like heaven. He let out a giddy smile, his face pressed to the sheets and his fingers fisted into the blanket. Sleep was about to take him, and he wasn't about to fight it.

He couldn't tell when it started, or even when it ended. He could just feel the snap of the leather on his back ripping his shirt and breaking skin. His body frozen, unable to move as tears quickly sprung to his eyes. His fingers tightened their grip on the blanket, knuckles turning white and he lost the breath in his lungs at each crack against his back.

Arthur didn't know how long he was laying there, his blood thin from the alcohol and soaking the back of his shirt. His tears soaked the sheets below him, Compeyson long gone and Arthur was at least thankful for that.

He could barely move when he did finally decide to get up, a hiss leaving his lips at the sting on his skin and immediately the blood pooled on his back flooded downwards and onto the floor while he stumbled to the window. He stood as he picked up a quill, scrawling some messy handwriting onto a piece of paper and he folded it up with blood smudged hands. He picked up a lit candle, not even caring if it was the proper wax stick he needed, he needed this note done fast damn it. He let the crimson wax drip off of the candle, onto the paper before he pressed the sigil stamp to it and held it there till the wax was dry.

Arthur's vision was blurry beyond compare, his steps wavering as he made his way to the front door. Before he knew it he was out on the street hailing over a small boy.

He didn't even notice the looks he got, the nobleman Arthur Havisham standing on the street in his undergarments with blood all over him.

The boy ran over to him, hesitant until Arthur pushed a few pennies into his hand. "Take this to the (L/n) manner, tell them it's urgent... bring him here." Arthur's words were slurred, cut off as he abruptly turned and walked back inside. He barely made it inside his room before he collapsed.

"Mi'lord, there's a ring for you."

You looked up with furrowed brows. "Who is it?"

"Didn't say, sir. Just a boy with a note for you, says it's urgent."

You gave a wave of your hand. "Go ahead and send him in, and can we get some tea and a sweet for the boy?" She nodded to your words, giving a small curtsy.

A few minutes later, she let the young boy in and you smiled softly as you gestured to the tea and sweets. The young boy looked around and rushed to the sweets, grabbing a handful before quickly setting the letter on your desk. "He said it's urgent." He picked up the tea and began to drink.

Your brows furrowed as you stared at the wax for a moment, trying to place where you knew the stamp from.

Finally you just ripped open the note and read it.

"Follow the boy.

-Arthur"

Your heart dropped.

"You said I needed to follow you?"

"Yes, Mi'lord."

"Lead the way."

When you got to the run down house, you Immediately walked inside to look for Arthur. When you bursted into his room, he was hunched over the side of his bed. You could see the way he flinched harshly, his head whipping around to gaze at you. He was terrified that Compeyson had arrived before you could. When he noticed that it was just you, his lips pressed into a thin line and a scoff escaped him as he turned back around.

"Oh my God, Arthur..." Your voice trailed off and you dropped the blood stained note that he sent you, your steps quick as you rushed to him. "What happened?" You set your hand on his shoulder, gently pushing it so he could turn and give you a better look at his injuries.

"I..." He stopped. "Compeyson, he..." his brown eyes flicked up to look into your (e/c) eyes. His body wavered and he flopped into you, leaning into your stomach. "Can you help?" His words were slurred, slow with his voice scratchy.

"Of course I can help, Arthur. Just... I need you to take your shirt off for me okay? I can't fix it if your shirt is in the way." Arthur nodded along to your words, laughing softly. He smushed his face into your shirt, reaching up so that his fingers clenched into the back of it.

"Of course, of course." He pulled away, taking the bottom of his shirt and lifting it off. You could see a bruise on his stomach, fresh and trailing up the left side of his chest. "That good enough?" His head tilted, almost flopped to one side and his blonde curls stuck to his forehead.

"Yeah that's good, Art." He made a face at the nickname, his nose scrunched up in distaste. "Don't call me that."

"I've always called you that, what's so different about it now?" You rummaged around the room and looked for some medical supplies, finally finding some towels and a bowl to fill with water. You found some bandages and trudged back to Arthur who was trying to pour himself another drink.

"Nuh uh, no you don't." You took the glass, pulling it out of his reach and he scoffed.

"What the hell?"

"Drinking isn't good when you have open injuries." You gently touched his back, drawing a wince out of him and you quickly apologized.

You began to wipe the blood off of his skin to try and see the wounds more clearly. The thin crimson liquid smeared and stained his skin but you were finally able to see the split flesh.

Without missing a beat you began cleaning, drawing winces and hisses from Arthur's lips. "Do you want to talk about what happened?" Your voice was soft, not pushy. You noticed the way Arthur's shoulders tensed.

After a long moment, when you'd reached the point of thinking he wasn't going to talk, he finally said something. "If you must know, Compeyson took advantage of the condition I was in at the time." You pulled the towel away from his skin, brows furrowed in worry at what he was insinuating. "I must have said too much for his liking so he... he beat me." His voice cracked on the last sentence, eyes going watery.

You didn't know what to say for the longest moment. You settled on wiping the remainder of the blood off of his back, grabbing the bandages to wrap him up. When you'd drawn a blank on what to say, Arthur continued and his voice was wavering. "I was drunk and vulnerable so he ripped the leather strap off of my luggage and he beat me with it." A small sob escaped him and you rushed to comfort him, rubbing his shoulders and moving in front of him where your hands cupped his jaw and your thumbs wiped away tears. "And all because I said something to Amelia that he didn't approve of. I said too much." He avoided looking at you, kept those dull and sad sunken in brown eyes glued to the ground out of shame; shame that you were seeing him so vulnerable when he was the great Arthur Havisham.

You used your pointer finger to tilt his head up to look at you, your thumb rubbing across his chin where the smallest bit of blonde stubble was beginning to grow. Immediately his eyes met yours, your free hand pulling a chair close for you to sit down. Once you were eye level with him, your hands went back to their place on his jaw.

"You didn't deserve that." You tilted your head to capture his gaze when he tried looking away again. "You don't deserve this, Arthur. Whatever is going on, let me help. I'll go with you to talk to Amelia, we can-"

You didn't get to finish your words.

Because his lips were now firmly pressed against yours.

A small noise escaped you and Arthur didn't hesitate to tangle his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck. You quickly recovered from your shock, leaning into his touch and melting into him when he pulled you closer. He jerked you forward, pulling you out of your chair and your hands rested on either side of his hips on the bed. Your eyes began to water from the emotions bubbling up and escaping you and you could tell the same was happening to him.

A drunken confession that sober Arthur Havisham wouldn't have the bravery to do.

All the frustration inside of the Havisham was bleeding out, seeping from every limb while he clinged to you as if you were the lifeline keeping him safe. And you were.

Ever since you had both shared that kiss in the Havisham courtyard as young boys, you knew everything would be different. It was different, Arthur's father had begun to treat him differently you noticed. You weren't allowed around as often and Arthur was due to be wed to the Madame Dorey who was way too old for him. He refused, pitched a fit over it and stormed out until the next morning. Now it was quite obvious why he did so.

He had fallen for you, and he had fallen hard. As if he had flung himself face first into a well containing nothing but you and you alone, and he had doomed himself from that moment forth.

Kissing you that day in the courtyard was the greatest mistake he'd ever made in his life.

It made him different.

It made him a freak.

It made his father hate him.

It made his father push him out of the will, forced him to be only a fraction of the Havisham he once was.

Arthur hated you for it.

Arthur Havisham hated you almost as much as he loved you, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to love you. As so, he retracted his bravery and the cowering lion bared it's face once more in place of Arthur's. His spine slackened as the alcohol took it's toll on his body and overworked his mind into a drunken haze.

He could feel bile travel up his throat before your lips chased the feeling away, the one sole medicine to every ailment imaginable. His deep brown eyes met yours, yours that were filled to the brim with unspoken words and yet praises upon praises of love. Arthur wanted to soak up the praise all day long, lay in it and bathe in it as if it was the sun and God knows your love was worth miles more than the sun. Your smile could outshine the ball of fire in the sky and your presence transformed Arthur into Icarus the moment your gaze met his. Like Icarus, Arthur felt wax burning his skin to the bone and soaking into his flesh in the form of shame for who he was. He wished he could preach tales about what he felt for you, preach it to the world as if you were a Bible in which he dreamed of spreading open the pages to memorize every word. He'd commit sacrilege and march himself to the ends of every continent ten times over if only he could bring himself to say what was on his mind and as if you could read his thoughts, you smiled at him so sweetly and so full of love that any train of thought going on in his pretty little head was quickly thrown off the rails.

He was going to tell you, he had to. He could no longer be that scared little boy that his from the crack of his father's belt, the boy who disappointed his father with how overgrown his ego was.

Arthur's voice was gravelly and slurred, feverish with the pain and the drink burning him to his bones and when he spoke his words were spat out with a venomous poison. "I wish you were a girl." With those words, cold as ice, he flopped the rest of the way onto the bed, as dead to the world as your heart now was, ripped out of your chest and into a million multifaceted pieces until it was ruthlessly shoved back in. The most immense pain you'd ever felt.

In the end you'd realized this was the most you'd get out of Arthur Havisham.

A stupid, silly little confession.

One that his behind the cowering lion that shoved Arthur down until he'd eventually reach his breaking point.

Sadly that breaking point was not to come today, and Arthur remained the coward he'd been.

You'd hoped you'd be able to see the day he was able to free himself of the shackles of his own doings. While he spoke those words that destroyed you in many ways, much in which you couldn't even be able to describe, the words in his eyes were clear as day.

Arthur was always good at lying.

You'd just hoped that some day you could hear the words spoken out loud, no longer a mirror of the emotions you carried reflected in his beautiful sunflower eyes.

Maybe someday.

Maybe someday.

This came out a lot shorter than I'd imagined but a lot more poetic- I'm also sick so I'm terribly sorry if this doesn't make a lot of sense. I hope you all enjoyed it!!

[writing-fanics]

currently working on Prince Paul and a Leonard Bast requests if you’ve got any requests for theses characters below

Tom Grant (Make Up)

Arthur Havisham (Gender-Neutral!Reader Only)

Leonard Bast

Enjolras (PBS Masterpiece)

Prince Paul

Eddie Munson

Plz send them in

[lex-drinks-blood]

What Will I Write?

I write exclusively for male and masculine nonbinary readers. My content is targeted for the masculine queer audience that seems overlooked in much of the fanfiction community (yes!! this includes trans readers, as I am also trans). I will not write x fem reader !!

arthur havisham (dickensian)

- fluff, sensual, romance, siblings, angst, friends with benefits, best friends, smut

ian gallagher

- fluff, sensual, romance, siblings, angst, friends with benefits, best friends, smut

mickey milkovich

- fluff, sensual, romance, siblings, angst, friends with benefits, best friends, smut

eddie munson (stranger things)

- fluff, sensual, romance, siblings, angst, friends with benefits, best friends, smut

steve harrington (stranger things)

- fluff, sensual, romance, siblings, angst, friends with benefits, best friends, smut

jonathan byers (stranger things)

- fluff, sensual, romance, siblings, angst, friends with benefits, best friends, smut

dustin henderson (stranger things)

- fluff, siblings, best friends

kurt kunkle (spree)

- fluff, sensual, romance, angst, friends with benefits, best friends, smut

bruce wayne (the batman)

- fluff, sensual, romance, angst, smut

edward cullen (twilight)

- fluff, romance, siblings, angst, best friends

jacob black (twilight)

- fluff, romance, siblings, angst, best friends

oswald cobblepot (gotham)

- fluff, sensual, romance, angst, friends with benefits, smut

simpbur (various wilbur soot mvs)

-fluff, sensual, romance, smut

tyler galpin (wednesday)

- fluff, sensual, romance, siblings, angst, friends with benefits, best friends, smut

it is very likely that I update this list as I continue to consume content and remember more characters I love, but for now this is all I can think of. Feel free to comment requests or send them in asks, as I'd love to work off of some prompts from you guys!! also, feel free to request fics for characters that arent listed, I definitely forgot some characters that I like!! I will only write for characters I am familiar with tho, so there is a chance that I may not be able to write for your favorite character :(

stick around if you want, or dont. it's your life. :P

[lvlycheri]

❀˳ ⁺ 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭

pairings: arthur havisham x male!reader (male bodied, he/him pronouns)

summary: after the testament of the patriarch of the havisham family, arthur is devastated. luckily, he has his childhood bestfriend who will do anything to make him happy

includes: internalized homophobia, angst

word count: 2,8k

author's note: thanks to @omniac who requested this! it gave me so much inspiration, its such a good concept! hope you guys enjoy it

"Y/N, you have to help me!"

Amelia's voice echoed through your studying room, her black dress that swallowed her small body being the second thing that caught your attention. The first being how her face was more pale than normal, which made you think about how she might have seen a spirit and had come to you to ask for help

"Miss Havisham, what happened?" You got up from where you were sitting, putting your book down without even bothering to mark the page you last read

"Please, no last names needed, you can call me Amelia like when we were small children" She replied, more worried about repressing your manners – or therefore, too much of them – than answering your question "Anyhow, my nervousness is because of Arthur..."

"What happened to Arthur?" Your worrying got the best of you at the mention of Arthur's name, even making you interrupt the younger woman

"Don't interrupt me, I will get there"

"My apologies. Please go on. And quickly."

"Arthur's been locked up in his room since the testament was decided. He does not want to see me, but I can hear his loud cry from outside and-"

Trying to open it, you noticed he had locked it. Pressing your ears agains the wood surface made possible for you to hear small cries coming from inside

You didn't let Amelia finish for the second time, walking quickly towards the door and making the known way from your study room towards Arthur's room. The nostalgic feelings of walking down the corridors where you and Arthur used to run and play together were kept from emerging when you reached his room

"Arthur? It's me, Y/N. Amelia sent me here to–"

"Go away!" A small voice, that would go unnoticeable had you not been paying attention, answered your call. You quickly recognized as it being Arthur's fragile voice

"Arthur, your sister is worried about you" You tried again, hoping that he would feel the worry in your voice

"If she is so worried, why she won't do what I say?" Arthur's voice got a little louder, signaling that he was coming closer to the door

"And what do you say?"

"Nothing that matters anymore, since she won't listen to me..."

You tried to think what would make Arthur open the door, since he was clearly in a very bad mood, one you hadn't seen him have since he was a child and his dad wouldn't want to spoil him like he did with his sister

"Arthur, come out to drink some tea with us and then we can talk about the subject with a more clear head"

"I am not coming out of this room. Soon, it won't even be mine anymore, so let me enjoy this space one last time"

A old memory came to your mind after hearing Arthur's response

"Come on Arthur, open the door, your father will be mad if you skip the feast" You saw in your memories your younger self in front of the same door you were now standing, talking to younger Arthur who was sad just like he was in the present

"Maybe that's what father wishes for, since I am just a shame to this family"

"Arthur, you know this isn't the truth"

The door opened slightly and you saw Arthur's brown eyes peeking from behind

"Do you think that?"

"Think what?"

"That I am a shame. A dirty stain on the perfect Havisham family?"

You tried to force the door open, but Arthur was holding it with all his strenght, not wanting you to see him fully at his vulnerable state

"Never, Arthur. You are my best friend, almost like a brother to me. I would do anything in my power to make you feel happy" You answered honestly, and you saw how the door opened a little bit more, like Arthur was slowly warming up to the thought of you entering his room to console him

"Anything?"

"Anything"

"Hey, remember how I told you I would do anything to see you happy?" You started, coming back to the present. There was no answer from the other side, but that didn't discouraged you "You still trust me on this, right?"

The silence was making you think that maybe Arthur was feeling so weak from crying that he couldn't even be bothered to answer. So, you tried the next thing that came to your mind in the moment of quietude that followed

Arthur heard your footsteps walking away quickly, and he thought that maybe he had lost the only person that he trusted enough to see him in this state. But Arthur was too emotionally weak to talk, feeling so tired and so numb after the tears stopped running down his face, and the only thing that stayed in his heart was the feeling of rejection. His mother, then his father, then his sister, and now the only person he cared enough to call a friend, even though he knew that deep down in his heart he couldn't deny that there was something more between you two, at least coming from him. An old memory reached his mind at the though of his feelings towards you

"I heard that you are pretending to start to court miss Wright, is that the truth?" Arthur entered the living room where you sat, watching the flames of the fireplace with a book in your hands

"Who told you this, Arthur?" You looked up to see his expression morph into a distant one

"No one that matters. You have not answered me yet"

"I thought that this didn't needed an answer. We both are close to becoming grown mans with responsibilities like forming a family. We must start doing this as soon as possible" You answered, feeling like this was something simple to understand for both of you, since you, like Arthur, was the only son of your family and had to carry the weight of supporting your family just like Arthur had to

"But this woman will ruin our friendship! She is just after your money, my friend. Hear me when I say that she is no good" Arthur came closer, kneeling down next to your seat in a pleading manner "Do not start to court this woman, her last name is already an indication of her reputation"

"Arthur, what has gotten into you?" You were surprised to see your best friend speak so poorly of a woman he barely knew "Miss Wright has been nothing but kind to me, I do not know what those rumors you are talking about mean, but they are extremely further from the truth"

"So you are already courting her?" It seemed that everything you just said couldn't be able to reach Arthur's mind. You put your book in your lap and stared down at the man who was waiting for your answer. You took a hold of his hands that were on top of the armrest of your seat and started to talk

"Arthur, I am not courting miss Wright. I see her as nothing but a friend, and it hurts me deeply to see you talk so lowly about the poor woman"

You noticed the change in Arthur's expression, how they seemed to go softer at the mention of you not having any romantic feelings for the woman

"I promised to stay with you until you find a wife for yourself, and then I will be off to make a family of my own. But until that day, I will stay by your side, Arthur"

That seemed to make the atmosphere slightly lighter, but you observed how your answer has still not satisfied Arthur enough

"I am truly sorry, my friend. I do not know what came over me" Arthur looked down, seemingly ashamed of his reaction

"Do not worry, Arthur. You are my priority until I know that you are happy enough on your own"

The door opened quickly, and you entered with your back turned to Arthur, holding something in your arms

"I am sorry for taking so long, Arthur. I couldn't find your favorite biscuits and your sister was still stressed about the situation, so she was of no help" You turned to face Arthur and he saw that you were holding a wooden tray with two cups of what he assumed to be tea, a plate full of biscuits and what seemed to be a wet cloth

"How you got in? I..."

"Locked the door? Well, your father kept the keys for every room in his office. So a quick trip there already got me what I wanted. I just invaded a dead man office for you, does that make you feel good?" You joked, offering a small smile that was not returned

"I am not hungry. Go away"

"After crying for so long? I highly doubt your statement, my friend"

Not waiting for an answer, you put the tray down the table of Arthur's room, taking the wet piece of cloth out of the tray and coming closer to the man sitting on the edge of the bed

"What is that for?"

"Cleaning your face. And is also warm, so it will help you relax a little"

You sat down at Arthur's side and held his chin, turning his face towards your direction. You couldn't notice the slight blush that painted Arthur's face. Your focus shifted to cleaning the man's face and making him feel that he could trust you with what he was feeling right now

"When we were kids, you always got so red after crying. It seems you have grown up from that phase" You tried to break the silence that had installed itself in the small bedroom

"Of crying?"

"Of looking like a tomato plant after crying. The crying never stopped. You have always been a cry baby, haven't you?"

That earned a laugh from Arthur, who finally looked in your eyes. You stopped touching his skin with the piece of fabric, but that didn't made you stop touching his chin with your fingers

"Do you know why my dad took me out of his testament?"

"Arthur, he didn't took you out. From what I've heard, you still got a large amount to live comfortably" You tried to reason, only to get interrupted

"Do you know..." He kept saying, narrowing his eyes and ignoring your statement "Why my dad did this to me?"

"No Arthur, I do not"

Silence followed after, and you tried to pick up the fabric again to keep on your task of cleaning his face, only to Arthur to hold your wrist with his fragile hands. You stared at him, surprised at the sudden touch. It seemed that Arthur was thinking deeply about something

"Remember how I told you I was a stain on the perfect Havisham family?"

"Arthur..."

"Please, let me finish" He pleaded, and you nodded with your head "When I was younger, I thought that it was because of my upbringing, being the son of a cooker"

Arthur stared at the wall behind you, and you felt the air of the room changing, getting heavir and more tense

"Y/N, would you still be my friend if I told you the truth?"

"Of course, Arthur. I would never dare to ruin this friendship over any statement you might say. Even a murder confession wouldn't be able to separate me from you"

Arthur looked even worse after what you said, making your posture shift slightly "Dear God, you didn't murder anyone, did you?"

"I did worse"

"Did you corrupt a young woman?" Your voice was loud, scared of what your friend might had done. Nervous of your reaction, Arthur put a hand over your mouth and started to talk over you

"No, that's the problem! The problem is not that I didn't corrupt an young woman..." He started to ramble, an habit you noticed he had ever since you both were young "...The problem is even bigger to me because that ruined the family I thought would protect me from it, but that is not the case" You could only convey your emotions through your eyes, since Arthur still had his hand covering your mouth

"The problem is I am not able to feel any attraction towards a woman" Arthur finally blurted out

You couldn't hide the shock that went through your eyes, widening them. What did he mean by that? Slowly, Arthur lowered his hand, nervous about what your reaction would be now that you could answer his confession

It took you a few seconds to collect your mind and think about the best answer to this situation, but you finally were able to form a comprehensive thought

"Arthur, this does not equals a big problem to me. You can just be like mr. Davis and live alone, scaring kids that step on your garden and things similar to what he did"

"You don't understand, do you? I may not feel an attraction towards woman, but that doesn't mean I don't feel attracted to..." Arthur stopped himself

"To whom, Arthur?"

No answer. You felt that you had gone all the way back from the progress you were making

"Arthur, who are you attracted to? You can talk to me, you know this"

Still no answers. Your hands touched Arthur's shoulder, and you could feel his tension under your fingers

"Arthur, you know you can..."

You were interrupted. Not by words, but by a touch. Arthur had pressed his lips together with yours, closing the distance between you both. You stayed with your eyes open, surprised by his actions, and even more surprised at the eletricity that was running inside your body. As quickly as he kissed you, Arthur pulled back

"I am so sorry, I do not know what came over me, please forgive me. Please do not tell anyone, I do not know what my reputation would become if..." Arthur was rambling again, his eyes looking everywhere but at you

"Arthur, are you attracted to me?" Your hands hadn't left his shoulder, and you were able to put them higher, resting them in Arthur's neck, in a caring manner "Be honest, my dear friend"

It took him a few moments to answer you "Yes, I am. Will you tell anyone?"

You took a moment to think, losing yourself inside Arthur's eyes. How many times, since you were a kid, you caught yourself admiring his beauty? Arthur truly was a beautiful mean, and you couldn't understand why he rejected every woman who came to him. But now everything made sense. He was rejecting them because the only person who could had his heart was you. And now you could say that every pull you felt at your heart when looking at him interacting with other woman, every shiver that run on your body when your hands touched, every moment you wished to just pull him in a thight embrace, meant that you were sharing the same feeling that Arthur had kept hidden from you

"Y/N?" The small voice coming from Arthur pulled you out of your thoughts, and seeing his eyes, so scared, and his lips trembling from nervousness, was enough to make you pull him in a hug

"Arthur, I now realised that I feel the same for you" You spoke, feeling Arthur hiding his head in the space between your head and shoulder. You couldn't contain the smile that you were sure Arthur could feel in your voice "I must be the one apologizing for making you feel miserable all those years. Please, let me make this work between us?"

Arthur pulled his head back, his eyes shining with a happiness you never saw possess his body

"How can we make it work?"

"We will live together. You can say that is because your father didn't leave you with a home" You said, without thinking

"And we can open the little bookstore you were dreaming of" Arthur continued

"And people will think we are just friends helping each other, because no one will dare to rumor anything since we have always been seen together"

Arthur stopped smiling suddenly, and you feared that you had said something wrong

"This is what I thought about every night before going to sleep. It is a dream come true" He spoke, slowly "Do you think we can make it work?"

You couldn't resist the look in his eyes. This time, you pulled his lips towards yours, already missing the feeling you had experienced just few moments ago. Arthur opened his mouth slightly and you took the opportunity to explore his mouth with your tongue, wanting to be able to taste everything his body had to offer for you. It was an new experience for both of you, neither having the chance to kiss someone before, but you were eager to learn with your new lover

"With you by my side, I promise I will make sure it works, sunshine"

Arthur opened his eyes slowly, like he was scared that it was all a dream his mind had created it. But you were there, looking at him deeply, and with love in your eyes, Arthur couldn't help but smile sincerely. That made you feel sure that you would never break this promise, just so you could be able to see the happiness in his body everyday until your last breath.

[eddiemunsonboyf]

FUCK IT SEND ME IN EDDIE X MALE READER REQUESTS. IM GONNA FEED US

Update I am also taking Arthur havisham and Joseph requests

(Fluff ,smut,slight angst)

[gaywizardracoon]

Hello, my name is Elliot and I'm new to tumblr! I'm a transmasc boy and I like to write, read and draw :)

Things I will write about:

Fluff ☁️❤

Angst💔

Ships 💭(depending on the people)

Things I will NOT write about:

Smut (I'm a minor)

Pa3d0philia

Toxic ships (unhealthy relationships)

R3pe (non-con)

Minor shipping (all these characters are teens or over but not to old)

I might add some more if I think of any lol

Here are the fandoms/people I will write for :)

Stranger things

-Steve Harrington

-Eddie Munson

-Nancy Wheeler

-Robin Buckley (x fem reader cuz she's lesbian)

-Jonathan Byers

-Argyle

-Chrissy Cunningham

-Eleven/Jane

-Mike Wheeler

-Will Byers

-Dustin Henderson

-Lucas Sinclair

-Max Mayfield

-(i don't wrote for Billy hargrove so don't ask)

Dickensian

-Arthur Havisham

Spree

-Kurt Kunkle

The Outsiders

-Darry Curtis

-Sodapop Curtis

-Ponyboy Curtis

-Johnny Cade

-Dallas Winston

-Two-Bit Mathews

-Steve Randle

Umbrella academy

-Klaus Hargreeves

-Diego Hargreeves

-Viktor Har

The Owl House

-Hunter

-Willow

Fnaf

-William Afton

-Michael Afton

-Jeremy Fitzgerald

Helluva Boss

-Blitzø

-Stolas

-Luna

-Moxxie

-Millie

Hazbin Hotel

-Angel Dust

-Alastor?

-Charlie

-Husker

Mha

-Present Mic

-Aizawa

-All Might

-Izuku Midoryia

-Katsuki Bakugou

-Shoto Todoroki

-Ejiro Kirishima

-Denki Kaminari

-Sero

-Mina Ashido

-Ochako

-Shinsou

-Himiko Toga

-Dabi

-Shigaraki

-Twice

Encanto

-Dolores Madrigal

-Camilo Madrigal

-Luisa Madrigal

-Isebella Madrigal

-Mirabel Madrigal

Sally face

-Sal Fisher

-Larry Johnson

-Ashley Campbell

-Todd Morrison

-Travis Phelps

-Niel

These arent all of them but they are the ones I could think of rn. You can request other characters as long as it doesn't have the things I will not write in it but don't be upset if I decline and/or it takes long for me to write it remember I am human :) Love you all be safe <33

[ladyfogg]

Alright, since it's actually happening I can say it: working on an Arthur Havisham/Male Reader oneshot. Prepare for angst, pining, and all kinds of goodies.

[dingusfreakhxrrington]

Please Don’t Go

paring: arthur havisham x m!reader

summary: when arthur thinks he has lost everything important to him, a past love comes back to show him there is still much to live for.

warnings: internalised homophobia, kind of a slow-burn, mentions of death, alcohol consumption, alcoholism, mutual pining, kissing, indications of sexual activity, mentions of injury, mentions of violence, mentions of abuse, mostly angst with some sprinkles of fluff along the way, don’t worry there is a happy ending (kind of)

word count: 8.5k

a/n: this isn’t proofread and i’m ill so excuse any mistakes (or point them out so i can fix them 😉)

part 2 | epilogue (coming soon)

friendly reminder that comments and reblogs are just as (if not more than) important as likes!

Arthur Havisham was a conundrum of a man. He had been the entire time you had known him, even back when you were boys. No one ever quite understood him, no one other than you and his dear sister Amelia.

The three of you had been close friends almost all your lives. You’d been introduced around the ages of five and six. Amelia was a little older, perhaps eight or nine.

When your fathers were in the study discussing business and your mothers gossiping in the drawing room, the three of you often found yourselves getting into ample trouble around the house.

Whether you were visiting the Havisham house or if they were visiting you, there was always fun to be had. Amelia had taken you in under her wing, becoming the older sibling you’d always needed. Having them around so much filled the gap that was left behind from the siblings you’d never had yourself.

You never felt lonely with the two of them by your side but things started to change as you grew older.

When childhood started to make its transition into adulthood you started to experience and feel things that you were not supposed to feel.

All your life you had grown up with the expectation that you would one day marry Amelia. Your parents wanted it and so did hers. Even family friends used to joke about it, telling you that you were far too young to already be courting such a fine young woman.

That was all it would ever be though. Jokes and wishes. You realised that pretty early on in your youth, as had Amelia. She had no intention of marrying you and she knew you had no intention of marrying her.

She wanted to find her own way in life. She didn’t want to marry the first man presented to her. For you, it was a little bit different.

Not once had you ever harboured romantic feelings toward Amelia. She had always been a sister to you and nothing more. Much like how she simply saw you as another younger brother.

You were content with that. No, happy with it. For it wasn’t Amelia you had feelings for but rather her brother, Arthur.

Arthur had always been your closest friend, a companion you knew you wanted by your side until the day you died. You hadn’t realised quite how far your feelings went until you reached around fifteen. That was a common age for boys to start feeling those types of things. Or so you had been told. For one man to feel those types of feelings for another was forbidden, a sin in the eyes of the lord.

Or so you had been told.

At first, it had felt like a sin. You had never seen Arthur in love, you didn’t know what it looked like. If only you had loved before you loved him, then maybe he would have recognised the look in your eye every time the two of you were together.

It would have all happened so much quicker rather than being drawn out into agonising years of your life. Knowing he was so near, yet so far away.

Not until you turned eighteen did you know that he harboured the same feelings for you. He too felt had felt it to be a sin all those years, hiding it from all but himself until one day he simply couldn’t hide it any longer.

The two of you had been on a walk around your garden, long out of sight by the time it started to rain. You lived just out of the city, surrounded by acres of fields and meadows and woodland. At the furthest edge of your family’s property was a tree — your tree. It had always been yours, a secret place for you and him, one you hadn’t even shared with your dear Amelia.

That day, you were standing under that tree. Laughing as the heavens opened up and poured down on you. Arthur’s curls were soaked through, clinging to his face as he tried to take shelter under the largest branch on the tree.

You stood beside him, like-minded in your pursuit for shelter. Although, perhaps it wasn’t shelter you had been seeking that day. It certainly hadn’t been shelter you were seeking when his lips finally fell onto yours, throwing caution to the wind as you held tightly onto his coat.

His lips were wet with rain water but they didn’t slip one inch out of place, slotting against yours as if they had supposed to have been there all along. He held you back, his hands cupping each side of your face as he kissed you.

When reason finally returned to him and he pulled away, you were breathless. His bambi eyes were open wide, shocked at what he had done.

You chuckled, your hands never once moving from where they held onto his coat. When he tried to move away, your fingers held on tighter and you yanked him forward, kissing him again.

It could not have been a sin, not when it felt like that. Not when it felt so right. Something so sweet and heavenly could only come from the hands of God himself.

Arthur Havisham was not a trick planted by the devil to taint your soul. He was not to be the cause of your damnation. No, he was a gift from the angels. He was a piece of your very soul.

“Arthur…”

He shushed you, breath against your lips as he gently pushed you back into the trunk of the tree. It was rough against your back, even through the fabric of your clothes. A stark contrast to the tenderness of his lips against your own.

You pushed back against him, curling your fingers into his hair.

It was a passion you’d never experienced before. Years of longing fading away into nothing now that you finally had him in your arms.

𓆩♡𓆪

For a few more years you continued with your romantic liaisons, keeping your relationship a secret from the rest of the world.

When you were apart it was insufferable. When you were together but could not be together under the watchful eye of others, it was excruciating. But when you were alone, whether out in the gardens or hiding in a dimly lit room, it was bliss. Complete and utter bliss.

Until the day you were caught.

It was foolish, you supposed, to think that you could hide away forever. To think that what you had could last until the end of time.

You did not know if it was worse or better that it was his father who had caught you in Arthur’s bed or if you’d rather it had been one of the servants. No, servants talked. The head of the Havisham estate would take his son’s secret to his grave.

And that was exactly what he did.

Not a single soul heard even a fleeting rumour about the night you were caught. Not a soul saw you leave that night, Mr Havisham made sure of that. He escorted you out personally, after giving you a moment to get dressed.

He had addressed you directly, not once daring to utter a word to Arthur. You had been bold, squeezing Arthur’s hand tight as tears pricked at his eyes. He only pushed you away, muttering quietly for you to leave.

Just leave. His voice had been transient, fading as he all but whispered the final word. He did not really want you to leave. He knew you could never come back once you had.

You didn’t see much of him after that.

His father hadn’t been mad at you. He hadn’t even raised his voice, opting for silence as he shut the gate behind you on your way out. Even in his eyes, you could glimpse no anger.

Still, you didn’t return to the Havisham home after that day, although you wanted to. More than anything you wanted to go back. You wanted to see Arthur, to tell him everything was okay. But you knew you could not.

It was as if you’d made a silent promise that night. You would not return, you’d leave Arthur be, and in return, both of your secrets would be safe.

You saw him briefly in passing, his frame catching your eye at parties and dinners. He always seemed to have a glass in his hand, that you noticed. His eyes lacked the sparkle they had before as he drank his troubles away.

For a while he and his father scarcely spoke but, soon enough things returned to normal again. Back to how they should have been.

𓆩♡𓆪

You stood outside the Havisham home as the carriage arrived. You watched as it pulled up outside, an elegantly decorated coffin inside.

Snow fell all around, covering everything in a deathly white. It was pretty, beautiful even, but not as beautiful as him.

Even in mourning, you yearned for him. Yearned to be by his side, yearned to ease his pain.

His eyes flickered over to you but they only remained for a moment before they were gone again. He knew you would be there because in many ways his father had become a father to you.

Your father had died years ago before the two of you were forced apart. Mr Havisham had taken it upon himself to ensure you and your mother were looked after. He’d come to you, helping show you the ropes of running your family business. He had been nothing but kind to you up until the night he drove you away.

When your father died Arthur had been there to comfort you, to lend you a shoulder to cry on. Now you wanted to be that for him. Even if you could only be there as a friend.

You still loved him and you knew he still loved you, but he was Arthur Havisham, an enigma of a man and, at times, a fool.

Rather than let you back in, he was going to push you further away.

Amelia smiled as they passed you. There was an indescribable sadness to it but she was trying to reassure you that she was well — that she was okay.

You smiled back, hoping to show her that you too were being strong.

When the carriage began to move again, you took your place and walked behind it. You followed it all the way to the end, standing only a short distance from Arthur and Amelia as they buried him.

Still, not once did Arthur so much as look your way.

When the crowd began to disperse, you moved to his side, following along behind him even when he turned away from you.

“Arthur.”

He ignored you, walking on as if he simply hadn’t heard you but he had. You saw the way his grip tightened around the top of his cane at the sound of his name on your lips.

“Arthur!” you called again, this time grabbing onto his wrist to stop him from leaving.

He turned to you with already teary eyes. “Let go.”

“Arthur.”

Your voice was so soft and inviting, and when you said his name for the third time, he finally released some of the weight that had been sitting on his chest with a long, deep breath.

He let you slip your hand down from his wrist and wrap around his own, holding it as if it were the most delicate thing in the world.

It only lasted a moment for he was soon pulling away from you again. “I cannot do this.”

Just like that, he was rushing away again.

“Arthur!” you raised your voice now as you called after him, pulling your hat off in frustration as you watched him leave, now nothing but a trail of footprints in the snow.

𓆩♡𓆪

It had been a few days since the funeral — a few days since you’d last seen Arthur — when you showed up at the Havisham home.

You recognised the servant who answered and it seemed she still recognised you despite it being so long since she’d last seen you at the door. Almost immediately she was ushering you in out of the cold, seeing you into the drawing room before rushing off to inform Arthur of your visit.

Although to your dismay it wasn’t Arthur who came to greet you.

“Y/n, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?”

“I, uh, I came to see Arthur. Is he here?”

She seemed almost upset at the mention of his name, her smile quickly falling, and you already knew something must have happened since you last saw them.

“No. He’s, um, he’s left home.”

“Left home?” you asked, voice thick with worry.

She nodded. “Yes. We had a disagreement over father’s will and he left. He said he no longer has a home, y/n.”

You pulled her into your arms, hugging her tight as she began to cry. She had just lost her father, she didn’t need to lose a brother as well.

“I will go find him,” you reassured when you finally let go and grabbed your coat.

She called after you and you turned back, listening as she asked you to bring him back. There was an urgency in her tone, she clearly felt as though she had done him wrong. She just wanted him home.

You knew how Arthur was. He was stubborn and could be so full of spite sometimes. Most of all, however, he was easily hurt. He always had been. He was strong, stronger than even he believed, but his emotions had their way of consuming him at times.

𓆩♡𓆪

Impatient knuckles rapped against the door, your foot tapping against the ground as you waited for him to open the door. You didn’t call out to announce yourself, knowing it would be unlikely that he would answer if you did.

You heard his voice on the other side, calling out to tell you he was coming and, before long, he opened the door.

The moment he saw you he tried to push it shut again but you didn’t let him, firmly pushing your hand against the door to keep it open as you walked inside. He backed inside with a scoff, turning from you as he reached for his glass.

“Drinking again, Arthur? Really?”

“What do you know?” he snapped, his voice as sharp as knives.

You sighed and relaxed, not wanting to sound condescending towards him. “I know you’re refusing to return home. Amelia is worried sick, you know? Not to mention heartbroken.”

“She’s heartbroken? Don’t make me laugh.”

“She is, Arthur. She needs you, she needs her brother. She just wants you to come home.”

He shook his head, dismissing all you had to say. “It didn’t work when she came here herself, it’s not going to work now that she’s sent you. I don’t want your charity or pity, I just want to be left alone.”

“Why? Tell me why you want to be alone so much, Arthur. Why push everyone who cares about you away? First me, now Amelia? For what reason could you hate us both so much.”

His demeanour changed and you could almost see him physically become smaller as he cast his eyes to the ground.

“I don’t hate you,” he said, his voice downtrodden, “I could never hate you.”

“Then why won’t you talk to me? I’m here, Arthur. I’m not going anywhere, just talk to me.” You were begging him as you spoke, desperate for him to confide in you. You just wanted him to know he wasn’t alone, that he had people who loved him.

He buried his sorrow, anger returning to his eyes. “You left me before, you’ll do it again. It’s your fault, you know? All of this is. If you hadn’t-”

“If I hadn’t what, Arthur? And might I remind you that I didn’t choose to leave you, you pushed me away just like you’re doing right now.”

“If I had never met you… If he hadn’t caught us that day he would have never done this! Don’t you see? He took everything from me! Everything! All because I loved you.”

His words cut deep, even when you knew he didn’t mean them. It hurt and it made you angry how he was putting all of the blame on you, making it out like you hadn’t had to endure hardship from being with him too.

“I didn’t force you to fall in love with me, Arthur. No more than you made me fall for you. These kinds of things just happen, we don’t choose them but do not say it was a bad thing. Do you really regret it? Everything we had? Everything we meant to one another? Would you have rather it never happened at all?”

He watched you with an unreadable expression. For once, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking but you knew he was thinking and thinking hard at that. His brows were knitted, his hands curling into balls as you spoke.

“Tell me, Arthur. Tell me it meant nothing to you. Tell me you regret it. Tell me you wish it never happened and I’ll leave right now but know if I do, I won’t be coming back.”

You thought you had him. You thought there was no way he would disregard everything you had together so easily. You were wrong.

“I wish it never happened.”

Your face trembled in anger, your hand clutching your cane so much tighter than before, but then the anger hollowed out into this bitter, empty nothingness.

“Very well. Goodbye, Arthur.”

There was a gaping hole in your heart, the void tearing further open as you marched outside. A stray tear started to run down your cheek but you wiped it away with a gloved finger.

𓆩♡𓆪

The days rolled by slowly and you’d heard little of Arthur. You were not sure what he was doing or what he was planning but you knew he was still sulking, still refusing to meet with his sister. So, Amelia had resorted to other means to talk with him.

You had been waiting for her in the drawing room and, when she finally returned, asked, “So? Will he be there?”

“He will. Although he was not happy about it.”

You hummed, “At least he will be there.”

“Yes, and I hope you will too?”

You crossed your brows, disliking the suggestion. “You want me to come to the new year reception? I don’t think that is a good idea. I fear Arthur will be less happy to see me than he will be simply being there.”

“Please, y/n. I need you by my side for this and you know Arthur can be… well, difficult at times.”

“You want me there to keep an eye on him?”

“And to show your support for me. Our families have always been close. I’m sure just having you there will help cement me in my new position.”

You wanted to say no. To come up with an excuse, any excuse. You weren’t ready to face him, not after what happened the last time you saw him. But you couldn’t leave Amelia on her own.

You knew what it was like to be left alone after the death of a parent, to suddenly have piles of responsibility thrown onto your shoulders. And you weren’t a woman, it was easier for you. You couldn’t leave Amelia to face it alone, you just couldn’t. So, you put your feelings to the side and agreed to attend the reception.

𓆩♡𓆪

There they were, Arthur and Amelia standing side by side with smiles as they greeted every guest as they arrived.

When he caught sight of you, your heart frosted over and burnt up in flames all at once. His smile fell a little but then he looked away, speaking to another guest with that forced smile tainting his features once again.

There was a feeling worse than knowing you could not be by his side. A feeling worse than watching him push you away. A feeling that tore through your very existence like a whirlwind, bringing disarray to your life.

That feeling came from watching the pain he was in. Seeing him so hurt, so broken, it killed you. You just wanted to see him smile like he used to. You wanted nothing more than to hear the brightness in his voice and see the sparkle in his eye. You missed it — missed him.

Amelia saw the interaction between you and rather than speak to you she simply smiled your way with a subtle nod of her head, leaving you to go about your business so that you didn’t have to speak to him when you weren’t ready.

As people chatted away, Arthur stood off to the side. His arms were folded over his chest as he did a meagre job of pretending he was okay. You had spotted him from halfway across the room and still, you could see the unpleasant expression that held his face captive.

You took a deep breath and made your way toward him but, when he spotted you, he turned away, ducking into another room to escape you.

“Ah, Mr y/l/n. I’ve been wanting to speak with you all evening.”

Before you could follow after him, a tall man whom you briefly recognised from your father’s funeral stepped between you and your route to Arthur.

“Mr Barnett, how have you been these days?”

You entertained the conversation, partially glad to have something else to focus on.

After a few minutes, when the music began to play, Arthur was back in the room again. This time accompanied by his sister.

They danced together and, for a moment, he looked happy. His smile was radiating and it was as if nothing had happened between any of you. It felt as though things were back to how they had been not all that long ago. Well, until a gentleman you didn’t recognise cut in, whisking Amelia away to dance.

You saw how Arthur watched them, his eyes narrowing as the gentleman spoke to her. You weren’t sure what they were talking about but you could see Amelia seemed confused or at least somewhat surprised to see him there. Though she seemed to know the man so you decided to keep your questions at bay until later.

Arthur soon turned away, making a dart for the door the moment she was distracted with something else.

That was your chance and you took it, quickly following after him before he could make it out to the street.

“Arthur!”

He sighed, his head turning to look at you with a low, solemn chuckle. “I thought you weren’t coming back?”

“I’m not here for you, Arthur. I’m here for Amelia.”

His laugh grew more patronising. “As if she hadn’t already taken enough from me now she’s taken you too.”

“It’s not like that, you know that. I’m here as her friend, as a brother just like you. She hasn’t taken me, it was you who pushed me away.”

No matter how many times you said it, nothing seemed to go in. He just wasn’t listening to you — didn’t want to listen.

You sighed and pushed your fingers to your forehead, massaging the tight skin there. “For God's sake, Arthur. When will you just stop sulking and come back home? Can’t you see she wants you by her side?”

“Sulking? I simply want what is mine. When she gives it to me, I will come

home.”

He was beginning to get on your nerves, going round and round in circles over and over again until it made you dizzy.

“You know that isn’t going to happen. It’s not what your father wanted.”

“Of course, it’s not! How could my father want me, a stain on his good name, to inherit his riches?” he snapped, his voice growing louder.

You were thankful for the music, thankful that no servants were around, thankful that this conversation was one kept between the two of you.

“Don’t be a fool, Arthur! Don’t throw what you have away over some petty argument. Just make up with your sister and come home. You have more than enough means to make your own way in this world, you are a Havisham after all.”

You appealed to his family pride, hoping it would help to sway him, but it did nothing of the sort.

“Yes! I am a Havisham! That’s why I shouldn’t have to sit idly by while my sister steals what is rightfully mine!”

Although you had tried not to, you were growing angry at him. All you wanted was for him to listen, to finally see what he was missing, but all he cared about was his inheritance and what he believed to be rightfully his.

“Is that all you care about? You just want the money? The power? If so then you can gladly have mine. I’ll sign over my home, my money, my business. Anything you want, you can have. Just come home. Come home to your sister and it’s yours.”

He seemed struck by your words, astonished you could ever think so lowly of him.

“It has never been about the money! It is about what is mine. What should be mine that was given to her! Do you not see what father has done to me? He’s forsaken me even in death, casting me aside for what I am.”

“And what is that, Arthur?” you asked, voice livid as he once again tried to place the blame onto how he felt about you.

He shook his head, fists balling by his sides as the gentle glint of tears began to poll in his eyes. “You know what I am, you made me this way.”

“I did nothing of the sort and you know that. You chose this path as much as I. Do not dare to push all of the blame onto me. Leave if it is what you wish but know you can only push us away for so long. We are your family, like it or not.”

“I have no family.”

With that, he was gone. His coat twirled behind him as he pushed his hat down onto his head, making his way out onto the snowy streets.

You did not have it in you to chase after him again this time, not when you knew you would only be met with the same anger as before.

He said he’d never hate you but you were beginning to think that was a lie. If he well and truly thought you to blame he was an ignorant fool but it meant that he no longer loved you as he once did.

If just the sight of you made his blood boil so much then there was only one conclusion: he did hate you. And that alone broke your heart.

𓆩♡𓆪

Meriwether Compeyson was the name of the gentleman that had approached Amelia at the reception. Apparently, he was looking to invest in the brewery.

There was something off-putting about him but you couldn’t quite place your finger on what. Whether he had ulterior motives or if he simply wanted to make a business investment you were unsure.

What you knew for certain, however, was that you had never heard of him before. The man had popped up as if out of nowhere, breaking into Amelia’s life with stories and tales about himself that seemed almost too well thought out.

No matter how hard you search you could not find anything on the man and, although you had the means to research his background, you did not want to pry without Amelia’s say so and you knew she would never condone such a thing.

On the day of the fair, when Amelia invited you along with her and her closest friend, Honoria Barbary, you came to learn that Mr Compeyson was a friend of Miss Barbary’s suitor, Captain Hawdon.

You knew of Hawdon, although you had not met him before. You knew Honoria, however, and you knew from the way she looked at him alone that he was a good man.

The five of you had walked around the fair, chatting about this and that and, as you got to know Compeyson, he seemed like a decent man. Still, however, there was something about the way he spoke that had you wondering.

“Forgive me if I am too forward but are you perhaps a suitor to Miss Havisham?” he asked with a smile, acting as though he were simply getting to know you.

“No, no I am simply a friend. Amelia is like a sister to me.”

He hummed, looking as though he were storing the information safely in his mind.

𓆩♡𓆪

With business taking you out of London, it was a while before you saw Arthur or Amelia again.

By the time you returned Mr Compeyson had proven to have stuck around. Not only was he now regularly seeing Amelia but Arthur too. It seemed he had managed to worm his way into their lives after all.

Part of you had hoped that meant the two of them had reconciled and put their spat behind them but that hope was diminished when Amelia told you about how Arthur had barged in the night before. How he was drunk and beside himself, spewing out nasty words left and right until Mr Compeyson had to practically throw him out of his own home.

And that was how you found yourself once again banging on that old wooden door outside of Arthur’s lodgings.

The moment Amelia told you of what happened you found yourself on your way back to him. You knew something was wrong because he would never have behaved in such a way if it were not.

“What do you want?” his voice was cynical, although still hurt in its foundation.

“I heard about what you did last night, Arthur.”

He laughed, walking inside without so much of a protest against you following. So you did, shutting the door behind you.

“So you’re here to give me a talking to as well I presume?”

You shook your head, brows knitting. “No. I just want you to talk to me. Please, tell me what is wrong.”

“You know what is wrong,” he spat as he sat down at the end of his bed, lifting a glass of cheap brandy to his lips.

Before you knew what you were doing you were pulling the glass out of his hand to stop him from drowning himself in liquor. This was a conversation you wanted to have while he was sober. Or at least as sober as he could be.

“I know there is more to it. You would have never spoken to Amelia that way otherwise. Last I heard the two of you had made up, what happened?”

His eyes were like daggers piercing through you. Words like venom as he sneered, “It is of no concern to you.”

“No concern to me? You do not truly believe that, do you? I care about you, Arthur and I hate to see you this way.”

He stood back up, pointing a damning finger at you even though he could not bare to look you in the eye. “Don’t pretend you care about me, just give me the lecture and leave.”

You impulsively jerked forward and pulled him to you, sick of listening to him ignore everything you had to say every single time you opened your mouth to speak.

He was surprised but he did not try to move out of your arms. If it had not been for the sharp pain he felt in his back as your hands found their place there he would he leaned into your embrace. Instead, he only winced at your touch.

You stepped back, placing your hands on either side of him as you lowered your head, trying to make him meet your eyes. His head only hung lower, his gaze fixed on the ground.

He let you turn him around and didn’t complain when you began to carefully lift his shirt, your eyes widening at the long, crimson lashes across his pale back.

“Who did this to you?” you slowly dragged your finger across his skin, gently following along underneath one of the wounds, “Does it have anything to do with what happened last night?”

He stepped away, pulling his shirt back down as he moved to sit at the end of his bed again. When his voice finally came out it was in a stutter. “It… It does not matter.”

With a heavy sigh, you sat down beside him. “How did we end up like this, Arthur? Why do you keep pushing me away?”

He unconsciously leaned closer to you, craving your touch after being in your arms again after so long. He’d missed you more than he’d been letting on. He missed having you around, having you close.

“I won’t pry if you do not want to tell me but if someone is hurting you, Arthur, I need to know. When you are hurt, I am hurt. Whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

“I… I messed up, y/n. Really messed up. I- I-”

His words caught in his throat, unwilling to surface. Whatever he was going through, he did not want you to know. So, you wouldn’t pry. His business was his own and, if he truly felt as though he were in danger, he would have told you.

You reached over, pulling his hand into your lap as you gently rubbed your thumb across the back of it. “I’m here, Arthur. I know what I said before but I didn’t mean it. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Never again.”

His lips curled up into a sad smile and, finally, he turned his eyes to you again. You leaned forward, letting instinct take over as you pressed your lips to his.

It had been so long since you’d last felt their tender touch. So long since you’d last known such a warmth.

“I love you, Arthur. I always will,” you whispered against his lips, smiling against them as you kissed him again, “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

He hummed against you, finally letting you in after all this time you’d spent apart.

You were careful with him, gentle so as not to hurt his still raw wounds. You cupped his face, one hand moving to twist your fingers into his curly hair.

He leaned into you, pushing you down onto the bed as he climbed over your body, his lips never once leaving yours.

𓆩♡𓆪

“I have to go,” you spoke as your fingers absentmindedly played with Arthur’s hair, running your other hand up and down his arm as he rested against your bare chest.

He only moved closer, if that were even possible, holding onto you tighter to prevent you from leaving. “Stay just a little while longer? I don’t want you to go.”

You pushed his curls back and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Believe me, I wish I could but I have business to attend to. Will you be safe here, Arthur? Tell me and, if you say no, I’ll personally see to it that you are moved somewhere else.”

“I’ll be alright, I just wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I’ll be back soon,” you smiled at him, pressing one last kiss to his lips before you climbed out of bed in search of your clothes.

𓆩♡𓆪

To your dismay, it had been a couple of days since you’d last seen Arthur. You’d tried to find the time to see him but whenever you thought you were finally done with work something else popped up.

It was your own fault, moving things around and filling out all the paperwork needed to become a company shareholder in the Havisham brewery had been a longer task than you had anticipated.

Your father had never taken the dive himself, not wanting to step on his old friend’s toes. As much as your father and Mr Havisham had enjoyed discussing business deals together, neither one wished to be bound by business over friendship.

With Amelia taking charge, however, you felt it best to support her however you could. By purchasing a share in the brewery you would be able to provide more advice to her about the company.

Not to mention, many of the elder men in the company were still unsure of her leadership so becoming a shareholder yourself also meant you could support her and her decisions more officially to help convince the other shareholders that she was more than fit for the job.

You had no doubt that she would prove herself to them on her own but you knew your encouragement and support could help lift the burden on her shoulders at least a little. You would have done the same for Arthur had it been him in her shoes too.

With work taking up so much of your time you hadn’t found it too unusual that the next time you saw Arthur was at a meeting for the Havisham brewery.

He too had shown up to give his support to Amelia, despite whatever disagreements were between them. You doubted he had apologised for how he behaved the last time he saw her but regardless she seemed more than thankful to have him there.

She just wanted her beloved little brother back, after all.

When Arthur walked into the room, taking his place beside his sister, his eyes fell onto you. At first, he seemed surprised to see you but then an ever so faint smile graced his lips.

You smiled back, of course, happy to see him again after your rushed parting the last time you’d spoken.

It hadn’t been quite what you had hoped, finally making up after so long only to leave him once again, but now that work was finally about to start calming down again you hoped to be able to see him more often.

As you’d predicted, Amelia swept the board off their feet, swaying them all into agreement with her proposed changes. The meeting was over not too long after it began and, finally, you were able to speak with Arthur.

“You were brilliant, Amelia. I knew you had it in you.”

Amelia placed her hand on your arm with a gentle smile. “If I’m being completely honest I was worried they were going to reject my proposals.”

“Don’t be silly, Amelia. You had an answer to their every question, you were always a step ahead.” Arthur too agreed, complimenting his sister on her success.

When another gentleman walked over, garnering Amelia’s full attention, you moved closer to Arthur.

“I’ll come find you later,” you whispered into his ear before turning back to Amelia, bidding each of them farewell on your way out.

You walked down the street with a skip in your step, pulling out the gift you had purchased for Arthur the day prior.

It was a silly thing really, just a small token of your affection but he had been through a lot these past few months and you wanted him to have a reminder with him at all times. A reminder that he was loved — that he mattered to someone — because he had made it very clear how alone he had been feeling since his father passed away.

It had grown dark out when you went out in search of him, heading to his lodgings. You hoped to spend the night there if you could. To hold him again as you slept after giving him the gift you had bought.

When you arrived at the pub, however, you found him swaying from side to side ever so slightly as he drank the last of his latest drink, slamming it down on the table before ordering another.

Something had happened in the time since you’d left him earlier that day, something that had him resorting to using liquor to ease his spirits again.

You made your way over to him quickly, calling out to the bartender to halt that last order as you pulled Arthur up out of his chair.

He groaned and complained but followed your gentle tug nonetheless, allowing you to walk him out of the pub onto the quiet street.

“Arthur, what is wrong? Why are you drinking?”

He stumbled slightly as he moved away from you, his words fumbling as they came out of his mouth. “Oh, so I can’t sit and have a quiet drink anymore?”

“This is more than a quiet drink, you can barely stand,” you sighed, manoeuvring to keep him steady.

You didn’t want to get into an argument with him, especially not out on the street so late at night.

“I thought you’d left again, you know? Came back, had your fill and left me behind all over again.”

“That’s not fair, Arthur. You know I had work. I wanted to come and see you. My heart ached that I couldn’t,” you admitted as you tugged him into a nearby ally.

“You did?”

His puppy eyes were boring into yours, searching for the truth in your features. Any trace of the bitterness he once felt was gone, everything about his features now turning soft as he looked at you.

He used to be like this when you were children, always so kind and sweet. One of the most caring people you had ever known to walk the earth. It was only as he grew older, his ears sharpening and picking up on the way people spoke about him and his cook of a mother, that he began to grow cold.

“More than anything,” you reassured him, your tone somehow more telling than the words you spoke.

He smiled and leaned into you. His face came to rest against your shoulder as his arms wrapped around you to hold you close. “Don’t go again, please. I need you.”

You hugged him back, being weary of the wounds on his back as you did so. “I’m not going anywhere.”

This was the Arthur you had fallen in love with, his sweetness unmatched as he clung to you.

The cold air nipped at your ears and you could feel the frost already settling into Arthur’s cheek when you held it in your hand. “Let’s go inside, we’ll catch a chill if we stay out here any longer.”

He stopped you as you went to walk away, his fingers clinging tightly to your coat. “We can’t go inside… I- I have a friend staying in my room.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering who he could mean and why they would need to stay there. You could tell from the look in his eye that he was hiding something from you but you didn’t have it in you to ask him at that moment.

All you wanted was to get him home and warm him up, let the alcohol leave his system so that you could talk with him properly.

𓆩♡𓆪

“A-Are you sure it’s okay I stay here tonight?” he asked as you began to pull his coat off him, hanging it up by the door.

Your maid was already making her way to you, waiting for any instruction you were to give her.

“Emma, run a hot bath for Mr Havisham.”

“Yes, Sir. Shall I prepare the guest room as well?”

Without even turning to Arthur, you shook your head. “That won’t be necessary. Just run the bath and retire for the night.”

Emma nodded with a smile, glancing between you and Arthur before hurrying off to do as you asked.

By the time she was out of the room, Arthur was grabbing onto you yet again, his eyes wide with panic.

“Are you mad? Won’t she know I have stayed here? Won’t she talk of this?”

You smiled softly, reassuring Arthur that he had nothing to worry about. “Emma won’t tell a soul, Arthur. I can assure you of that. She is… of like minds, shall I say. Besides, she has seen us together once before.”

“She has?” his eyes widened further, his chest contracting, suffocating his breaths.

“Yes,” you rested a comforting hand on his shoulder to soothe him, “She spotted us out in the gardens once years ago. You can trust her, Arthur.”

You could see the cogs turning in his head and finally, he realised what you had been getting at. “Of like minds? She prefers the company of women?”

All you did was nod, smiling at him as you took his hand and began to gently lead him through the house.

It had been a while since he’d been in your home, far too long. He hadn’t realised quite how much he’d missed it until now.

As you made your way upstairs he began to think back on your childhood. He remembered the two of you and Amelia running through these very halls, giggling and yelling as you played.

Your parents had told the three of you off for being so loud countless times yet you knew a part of them was always happy to see you indulging in the imagination of childhood.

Amelia had grown out of it first, deciding she was to be a lady before long so she could no longer play silly games with little boys. Still, that didn’t stop her from making you host tea parties with her and your mothers on occasion.

The three of you were always so happy back then. So naïve to the struggles of life.

Everything seemed so different now. His father was gone, his mother too, and although all he had left was you and Amelia he still found himself pushing the two of you away.

Not any more. At least, he wouldn’t push you away again. No, he needed you in his life again. He needed you because he had no one else.

When you reached your bedroom you nudged Arthur toward the fireplace, letting him warm himself through while you searched through your drawers until you found two neatly folded nightshirts.

You rested them on the bed and made your way back over to Arthur, wrapping your arms around him from behind as you tucked your head into the space between his neck and shoulder.

He swayed with you slightly, his hands moving to hold your arms as he eased into the embrace. You held him gently, keeping a small space between your chest and his back. You didn’t want to remind him of his wounds or whoever had given them to him but he leaned back into you softly, his eyes closing as he focused on your warmth.

“You can be yourself when you are here and you are always welcome, Arthur. I hope you know that.”

You pressed your lips to his neck and he hummed, “I’m sorry.”

You moved away to look at him, your expression turning tender as you listened to what he had to say.

“I’m sorry about everything. I shouldn’t have pushed you away… I shouldn’t have put all the blame on you. You never did anything wrong.”

“Neither did you,” your thumb brushed against his cheek as you lifted his head to look at you, “Following your heart is never wrong, Arthur, whether others approve of it or not.”

His lip curled up slightly on one side, a half smile playing on his lips.

“Come, your bath should be ready.”

As you suspected, the bath was run and Emma had retired to her quarters for the night, leaving the house empty save for you and Arthur.

He slumped down into the tub letting the fresh water engulf him, soothing him as you reached for the soap.

You sat on a stool beside the bath, pulling Arthur’s arm out of the water to run the bar of soap along it. When you tapped the back of his shoulder he leaned forward, allowing you to rub the bar across the top of his back.

Your eyes ran across the marks that painted his back. They were starting to heal but they still looked painful. The sight alone angered you, as did the thought of anyone harming Arthur in such a way again.

“Will you not tell me who did this to you?”

He shook his head, his voice quiet as you pressed a kiss to his back. “I can’t…”

“Can’t or won’t?”

A heavy sigh fell from his lips. “I will tell you… I promise I will tell you everything, later.”

“I cannot help you if you won’t tell me what you’ve gotten yourself into,” you reminded as you raised the jug of water, wetting his hair.

“I know, I know. I just need a little more time.”

Your fingers ran delicately through his wet curls and he leaned into your touch as you began to massage his scalp. “For you, I have all the time in the world. Just know that I am always here for you, Arthur. Whether you need a place to stay, an ear to listen or just wish for my company. Whatever it is you need or desire, I am here.”

𓆩♡𓆪

You lied together all night. For a while, you talked, your limbs tangled together as you did what you could to ease whatever burdens he was carrying. When you finished talking, you slept by his side, holding him close until morning.

He only stayed for breakfast, thanking Emma with a smile when she saw the two of you to the door and pushed an extra bread roll into his hands, a snack for later.

“Oh, I almost forgot.”

Arthur turned back to you before Emma could open the door, his brows crossing as he watched you pull something from your coat pocket.

You held the gift out for him and he took it, smiling as he examined the fine fabric in his hands. “A neckerchief?”

“It’s not much but I’d like you to wear it.”

He didn’t move as you began to untie the neckerchief he was wearing, slipping your gift out of his hands to tie it for him. You held out the bottom, running your thumb over the embroidery at the bottom.

“Our initials?” he questioned as he tugged the fabric from your hands for a closer look.

“As I said, it’s not much but it’ll mean a piece of me is with you even when I am not. I meant every word I said, Arthur. I won’t ever leave you again.”

His lips curled, his teeth shining as he smiled so genuinely. “Thank you.”

Once again you were parting far too soon, seeing him out and he climbed into your carriage. He looked out at you as the wheels began to move, waving at you as he left.

“I hope it is not too bold of me to say, Sir but I am glad to see Mr Havisham again. You haven’t seemed this happy in far too long.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Emma. “I couldn’t agree more.”

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The Road Forgotten - Chapter 1

Pairing: Arthur Havisham (Dickensian) x OFC

A/N: I made Arthur bisexual and paired him with a female character in this. I know some writers have gotten flack for pairing Arthur with a female character (or reader), so if it's not your cup of tea, please walk away.

This is mostly based on the events of "Dickensian", but I've also incorporated some elements and characters from "Great Expectations". Most notably, Satis House is in Kent (as in the book) instead of in London. I kept the setting "vaguely Victorian", the same as the show though (if I go with the book, it would have to be the early 1800s, since this takes place about 10 years before the start of "Great Expectations", which is in 1812. I've just finished one Regency series and didn't feel like staying there.)

Summary: A few years after his plan to swindle his sister ended in tragedy, Arthur Havisham is a shadow of a man, living in guilt and fear. When Elsie Bradford, a young woman also wronged by Compeyson, enlists Arthur's help to hunt down his former partner-in-crime, Arthur must face his demons and other strange, new feelings, to redeem himself.

Warnings: slow burn, angst (this is standard for me now), revenge, guilt, psychological trauma, mention of prostitution, mention of suicide, some violence, a bit of smut

Chapter word count: 3.2k

Prologue

Saffron Hill was a wretched place to be even in the best of times, but on that miserable night in March, it was a place none but the most desperate would brave. It had been a late, cold spring, and that night was as cold as the middle of winter. Rain fell steadily on the muddy, narrow street, the kind of rain that soaked through waterproofs and chilled a person to the bones, while a merciless wind howled through the alleys filled with refuse. Even the children, who could often be seen crawling in and out of the dark shops at all hours, were rendered invisible. Only the occasional whimpers from behind the termite-infested doors were proof that they hadn't been spirited away by some evil fairy. The sole business that showed some light and life was the Three Cripples. The noises coming from its gas-lit interior were more boisterous than usual, as the inhabitants of Saffron Hill flocked there for some warmth, either in fire, drinks, or company.

However, not everybody was seeking shelter. Opposite the Three Cripples, a figure stood with arms crossed and head bent, heedless of the rain and the wind. From afar, the figure looked to be that of a young man or a boy, broad-shouldered and flat-chested, clad in the usual clothes of a common laborer - trousers and jacket of rough brown corduroy, a black handkerchief wrapped around the collar of an off-white linen shirt in place of a cravat, and a slouch-brimmed hat, which covered the head and most of the face. Only the small, slender hands, sheathed in leather gloves, constantly twitching and plucking at some unseen thread on the jacket sleeves, struck a discordant note.

This person stood leaning against the wall in a pool of shadow between the blinking streetlamps, almost blending in with the murky brickworks, unmoving save for the hands, but the whole body seemed on alert. From under the brim of the hat, a pair of light green eyes looked out, fixed on the bright square of the public house's entrance. Those eyes noticed that a man was also loitering near the door of the Three Cripples, as if waiting for someone. He was a stout, hulking shape, and unlike the figure at the wall, made no effort to conceal his presence. A shaggy, dirty white dog whined at his feet, obviously wanting to go inside where it was warm and agreeable. The whine was answered by a kick from its master, and the dog tugged its tail between its legs, shaking.

Another figure appeared at the mouth of the street, a taller man wearing a frock coat and a top hat. He was dragging his feet and his walking stick on the cobbles, a desolate hunch about his shoulders.

At the sight of this figure, the man outside the Three Cripples sprang into action. He crossed the street with just a stride of his bulky legs, seized the other man's arm, and dragged him into a covered way between two houses. "I hope you're coming to settle your debt, Mr. Havisham," the stout man said.

"Sikes!" the victim yelped. "You frightened me."

The stout man, Sikes, held his hand out, palm up. "Your debt. Sir." This last word was uttered almost as an afterthought.

The other man reluctantly drew a pouch out of his coat and dropped some meager coins in it. Sikes narrowed his eyes. "Is that it?"

"That's... that's all I have."

"Mr. Fagin would not be pleased."

"I will have the rest soon, but..."

"Soon's not good enough. Perhaps I should give you a bit of shaking, just to be sure you're not hiding anything in that fancy coat, eh?" Sikes said, pulling a cudgel out of his velveteen jacket. Havisham cowered on the ground. He could have run, but he seemed frozen in fear. Before Sikes could bring the cudgel down, however, his eyes suddenly went wide, and the hand holding the cudgel was frozen in place.

"Let him go," a quiet voice said out of the darkness.

Havisham blinked up in surprise. Sikes moved stiffly forward, just enough for the flickering light of the lamps to flash on a blade, held in a leather-gloved hand, pressed to his throat. "Who're ye?" he asked.

"Someone that can move faster than you," the voice answered.

"You're bluffing," Sikes said, but he sounded uncertain.

"Try it, and you'll bleed out before you can catch me."

Sikes' lips curled in anger. His small eyes scowled at the victim on the ground. The blade pressed down a little harder, and a drop of blood squeezed out. Sikes spat and dropped the cudgel. At that moment, the blade also left his throat.

"You'll see me again," Sikes growled to both of them, then picked up the cudgel and vanished into the night, the dog following closely on his heels.

Havisham sat still in the puddle of black slush he had collapsed into, seemingly too stunned to move. His savior bent down and extended a hand. "Arthur Havisham?"

Havisham could only nod.

"You're a hard man to find, Mr. Havisham," the other person said. The melodious voice seemed to lift Havisham out of his daze.

"Who are you?" he asked, taking the helping hand and struggling to his feet.

The other person stepped forward and took off the hat, revealing two wings of black hair framing a face that even the uncertain light of the streetlamps showed to be striking, and definitely female. "Elsie Bradford," the young woman said. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Chapter 1

Elsie led Havisham into the Three Cripples, though he kept looking behind his back as if afraid that Sikes would return. She picked a table in a corner, away from the fire and the piano, where most of the patrons converged. None of them gave the pair a glance, even though one of them was a woman dressed in man's clothing. The Three Cripples had seen odder characters than that. Only a furtive-looking man, sitting by the window, turned to stare at them briefly, before burying his head in his pint again.

Elsie called for the barmaid and ordered two ales. "Or do you prefer brandy?" she asked Havisham. "I'm buying."

"Brandy, please," he said in a small voice, and Elsie nodded to the barmaid.

While waiting for their drinks, she took a closer look at the man she'd just rescued, the man she'd watched the Three Cripples for a whole week to meet. He was younger than she thought, probably just a little more than five-and-twenty, around her own age, though his face was sadly ravaged, whether by excessive vices or personal misery or both, she did not know. He must have been handsome once, and there were still traces of his former good looks in his high, white forehead, his finely shaped nose, full lips, and long lashes that veiled over his large brown eyes. But the forehead was now plastered with limp, sweaty dark blond curls, the nose was red from cold or drinks, the lips were slack and surrounded by stubble, and the eyes were puffy, red-rimmed, and kept darting around the room like those of a cornered animal. She also took in his frayed velvet coat, splattered with dirty water from his fall, and faded silk hat. All spoke of a man not so much down on his luck as scraping the bottom of the barrel of his luck and still coming up empty.

The drinks arrived. Havisham gulped his down like a man dying of thirst. Elsie indicated for the barmaid to leave the bottle and took a sip of her ale. The brandy seemed to revive Havisham a little. He sat up straighter and eyed Elsie curiously.

"You said I was a hard man to find," he began. "May I ask why you were trying to find me?"

"I need your help," Elsie said.

Havisham slumped down again. "I'm of help to no one," he said. "Not even myself."

Elsie raised an eyebrow at that. "Most people would ask 'help with what' first."

"I know my limits," Havisham muttered into his drink.

"How much do you owe Fagin?" Elsie asked, changing tactics.

"What business is it of yours?"

"Perhaps we could help each other."

"I doubt that," Havisham said bleakly.

Elsie sighed, frustrated. They were going to be here all night at this rate.

"All right, Mr. Havisham," she said, putting her pint down. "I'm here because I know you used to be friends with a man called Meriwether Compeyson. And I need your help to find him."

The changes that came over Havisham were shocking. If he had looked like a cornered animal before, now he was like an animal looking down the barrel of the hunter's gun. His face was deathly white, his hand around the glass of brandy trembled so much that Elsie was afraid he would drop it, and he wasn't looking at her, but at a spot over her shoulder, at something that wasn't there. She waited. The piano jingled a tune, and some woman led the whole room in song. With a herculean effort, Havisham took another drink and pulled himself together.

"He's no friend of mine," he said, his voice shaking. "I haven't seen him in five years, and I do not wish to ever see him again."

"I know that," Elsie said. "But you must know something about where he can be found, where he used to frequent."

"Why do you want to find him?"

"To kill him."

Havisham stared at her. She returned his look evenly. Then he started laughing, a horrible, mirthless laugh that sent chills up her spine. "Oh, Miss Bradford, you are quite the comedienne," finally he said.

"He took something from me," Elsie said, stone-faced. "I consider it a fair compensation."

Havisham shook his head. "Nobody gets anything back once Compeyson decides to take it."

Elsie studied him. She had only heard that Compeyson had swindled Havisham out of his inheritance, but what had the villain done that rendered this young man a shadow like this? But look at yourself, she thought bitterly. You may not be a drunken mess like this poor sod, but who from your old life would've recognized you now? And poor Marianne... Compeyson had a talent for damaging people even without touching them.

"I don't intend to take it back," she said. "It cannot be. But perhaps I could stop him from claiming more victims."

"It's a noble pursuit, I'm sure," Havisham said. "But for your own well-being, Miss Bradford, I suggest you forget the whole thing. Compeyson is not a man to be reckoned with. I am living proof of that." A bitter smile, filled with self-hatred, briefly crossed his face. He downed the rest of his drink, stood up, and put on his hat. "Thank you for your hospitality," he said and walked away. At the door, however, he seemed to have second thoughts, turned back, and pocketed the bottle of brandy. "And thank you for saving me from Sikes," he added and left, for good this time.

Elsie bit back a curse. Money wasted, and she was no closer to her mark. Then his parting words struck her, and an idea formed. If Havisham couldn't be bought by brandy, she would have another way to ensure he was in her debt.

***

It wasn't difficult to send a message to Havisham's creditor - every child in Saffron Hill seemed to be in his employment. The old Jew showed up at the Three Cripples promptly enough, though with understandable skepticism. It was only when Elsie pushed the money across the table that his shriveled face relaxed, like a crumpled handkerchief being smoothed out. "Well, my dear, far be it from me to tell a young lady what to do with her own money," he said in his oily voice, as the bills disappeared into the depths of his overcoat. "It appears young Havisham was fortunate in his acquaintances." Elsie asked if Fagin himself had had any dealings with Compeyson at all, but in this he had nothing for her - he, like most people, only knew of Compeyson's general involvement with Havisham. Of course. Compeyson was a gentleman. He wouldn't deal with common criminals like Fagin.

Fagin did give Elsie the address of Havisham's lodgings in St. Giles. Early the next morning, wearing her plainest, most practical wool dress and with her face hidden behind a poke bonnet, she set out for it, the promissory note in her reticule and the blade concealed in her sleeve as usual. She took the long way, avoiding the familiar streets of Covent Garden, though at this time of the day, her old friends were most likely still abed and there would be none to recognize her. Still, she tightened her hand around the blade as she neared the Rookery. Its sharpness felt reassuring in her palm.

Havisham's lodgings were on the second storey of one of the many tall, narrow houses that crowded a side street. This wasn't the heart of the Rookery, so it was slightly quieter, but the level of squalor was no less appalling. Silent, ill-humored men slumped in doorways, filthy children sat amongst the rubbish and mangy dogs, too listless to even play. A woman with a swollen, stony face emptied a chamber pot out of a window, and it was by pure luck that Elsie didn't get splashed by it. She thought of the faded finery of Havisham's clothes and wondered how far down the social ladder he had fallen. Reaching the house, she climbed the slimy staircase and knocked on the door. There was some muttering from inside, but nobody came. She knocked again. "Mr. Havisham?" she called. "It's Elsie Bradford." More mutterings, louder now, but the door remained closed. Impatient, Elsie tried the knob. It turned in her hand. She pushed the door open and walked in.

Havisham was sprawled on a chair in the corner of the sparsely furnished room, but he wasn't alone. Another man was kneeling on the floor in front of him, his head buried in Havisham's lap. At her entrance, both men looked up, and Havisham's face went purple with shock. "Get out!" he screamed, grabbing a glass by his side and throwing it at her. Elsie withdrew just as the glass shattered on the wall next to her head.

She waited on the landing while the voices inside rose in contention. Then the door burst open and the other man ran out, fixing his clothes as he went. She never got a good look at his face, only a glimpse of a rich velvet coat and a silk cravat flapping around his neck. Just another young scion of some rich family who fancied himself a libertine, searching for debauchery amongst the great unwashed before slinking home to his doting parents and fawning servants. She had seen too many of them.

Havisham stumbled out the door but appeared to have no intention of following the other man—he was still in his shirtsleeves and barefoot. He stopped upon seeing Elsie. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed, his face twisted in anger.

"I came here to tell you that I've settled your debt with Mr. Fagin," Elsie said.

Havisham seemed to have trouble understanding her.

"I paid it off," Elsie repeated. "But that means you owe me twenty pounds now. So perhaps you should be nicer to me, starting by inviting me into your room."

Havisham, still looking nonplussed, stepped inside, and Elsie followed him.

The room was as miserable a place as she'd ever seen. It was steeped in a gray murkiness. Situated at the back of the house, the only light it received came through a window overlooking a courtyard surrounded by yet more houses, which did very little in ways of illumination. That might be a blessing, though, for more light would only accentuate the dreariness of the room. Other than a chair, a table, a bed, and a cupboard, there was no other furniture in the room, no rug to cover the scratched wooden floor, no picture to liven up the peeling plastered walls, no curtain to brighten up the grimy windowpanes. Elsie suddenly felt quite sorry for Havisham.

"Mr. Havisham," she said, her voice softening. "My apologies for barging in like that."

"I suppose you have another debt to hold over my head now, even more valuable than the twenty pounds," he said sullenly.

It took a moment for her to catch his meaning. "No!" she said. "I would never—please, Mr. Havisham. You and your friend can rest assured. Your secret is quite safe."

"He's not my friend," Havisham replied, looking pained. The look lasted only for a few seconds, but Elsie saw it, and somehow it went straight to her heart.

"I—I'm not... It doesn't matter to me," she said, trying to explain. She hadn't been flustered before when she walked in on them, but she found it offensive that Havisham thought she would use this to blackmail him. It was something the likes of Compeyson would do. "I used to... I used to work at a bawdyhouse. There is very little that I haven't seen."

Slowly, Havisham's scowl disappeared, to be replaced by his usual default expression of despondency. "My debt?" he prompted her.

Remembering her business, Elsie showed him the promissory note. "I shall cancel it if you help me find Compeyson."

Havisham glanced at the note. "If you could pay off my debt that easily, you can't be wanting for money," he said. "Why do you want to kill Compeyson?"

"I told you, I'm not looking to get my money back. I just want him to pay for his crimes."

"But he didn't hurt you that badly, by the look of it."

"You have no idea how he's hurt me, Mr. Havisham."

Havisham looked at her more closely. "Did he... jilt you? Break your heart?"

Elsie smiled grimly. "Ha! He never had the chance."

"Then what?" he insisted. "Look around you. Did you want to end up like this, like me? Because that is what would happen if you chose to go against Compeyson. I'm trying to warn you here, Miss Bradford. You were lucky. Forget him and live your life."

Lucky? If he'd only known... Elsie looked down at her gloves, feeling the blade hidden there. To Hell with it, she thought. She had gone this far; she might as well tell him the truth.

"Yes, I suppose I was lucky," she said, still fingering the shape of the blade under her glove. "Do you want to meet someone who wasn't so lucky?"

Havisham frowned, not understanding.

"Get dressed, and I'll take you to her."

"Do not order me about," Havisham snapped at her with a trace of haughtiness that must have been insufferable when he was in his prime.

"I'm sorry," Elsie said, unable to suppress the mocking in her voice. "Get dressed, please."

Chapter 2

[verecunda]

scribbler-spot replied to your post “Send me a Ship and a Number and I will Write a Kiss”

@verecunda​ our two puppies J/A and number 6!

@scribbler-spot Right you are! Always up for writing about our lovelies! Sorry it took me so long, m’dear!

I call this one “Fun With Headcanons”. And when I say “fun”... hope you’re in the mood for angst!

“You’re very quiet tonight.”

“Mm?” Amelia turned from the window. “I’m sorry, I was miles away.”

“So I see,” said Jaggers drily, before looking at her closely over his reading-glasses. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh - yes.”

“Are you sure?”

She smiled. “Quite sure. I was only thinking.” She glanced out the window again. Night had come on fast since they had retired to her parlour after dinner, and rain hurled itself against the windows, accompanied by a moaning wind. Certainly not a night for being out in. Mr. Jaggers had never considered himself particularly suited for domesticity, but there was something to be said for being indoors on a night like this, sitting at a warm fireside with a new book in hand, and Amelia close by.

“I never used to mind the dark,” she said, in a soft, musing voice, “not until… not until afterwards. It was always Arthur who got frightened. On nights like this, he used to come in with me, and we would make up ghost stories together, until we laughed away the fright.” She turned back to him. “We convinced ourselves there was a ghost in the attic, beyond the maids’ rooms, and went out hunting for it one night. I think we got as far as the main landing before a loose floorboard sent us shrieking back to my bedroom. I think we woke the entire house up. Father was beside himself.”

She smiled, a very soft, inward-looking smile, lost in her memories. Remembering the happy days, no doubt. They were not so long ago, really. Even he could recall, when he had first become the Havishams’ family lawyer, a time when Amelia and Arthur had been inseparable.

“I don’t suppose there’s been any word?” she asked now.

He shook his head. “No word. And I was speaking to Inspector Bucket just the other day. If he had any information, he would have told me.”

“I thought not.” She received it with her usual calm, but her face - her whole manner - was suffused with a deep, abiding sadness. It was always the same, when the subject of conversation turned to Arthur. Of all the hurts she had suffered, those were the ones that still ran the deepest, and Jaggers knew all too well what bitter self-reproaches she still put herself through when her spirits were low, the conviction that all that had happened must have been her fault. Despite her sadness, however, there was no sign of these reproaches tonight, and he looked at her curiously.

“Strange,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about them all day. Arthur, my mother and father, even my stepmother. I found this today.”

She crossed to the chimney-piece, and took up a small jewel-box that had been left there. Carrying it carefully, she returned to where she had been sitting before, beside him on the couch, and opened it to reveal a delicate silver necklace inside.

He recognised it at once. It was the necklace she had worn on her wedding day, and during every day of her long seclusion. He hadn’t seen it since her recovery, and the sight of it now sent a less than agreeable jolt through him.

Amelia gave him a faint smile. “I haven’t worn it since I took off the wedding dress. For a long time just seeing it distressed me, so I put it away in a drawer in my dressing-table and tried to forget about it. But it was my mother’s, and I couldn’t bear for it to be forever spoiled for me. I have so little of her already.” She lifted it from the box and held it out to him with a very earnest look. “Would you?”

He nodded. He could appreciate a symbolic gesture as well as she. “Of course.”

She turned away, the better to let him put it about her neck and fasten the clasp at the back. As she turned back, she raised her hand to the pendant, and her face warmed with pleasure. “There. Better already.”

He smiled back, helpless to do anything else. Every day, Amelia Havisham faced down her demons. He merely turned his back on his, or tried to sluice them off.

“They would both be proud of you, Amelia, if they could see you now.”

She smiled, luminous, and her fingers continued to play with the pendant of the necklace. As she did so, however, a thought seemed to occur to her, and her face sobered. “Do you really have nothing at all of your own family, Jaggers?”

“We never had much use for heirlooms in Clerkenwell. Anything of any value usually ended up at the pawnbroker’s, or being carried off by the bailiffs. My father had a watch that was supposedly worth something, but the surgeon at the Fleet claimed it as a fee.”

“How awful!”

He shrugged. “I let him have it. I wanted nothing of his, by the end.”

It was remarkable how quickly the old anger rose up again, no matter how carefully he battened it down within himself. The old anger, and the old shame.

“He could hardly help being a debtor,” said Amelia.

“No,” he allowed, “but he could help the rest of it. When he died, it was mostly a relief. An end to all that selfishness, the begging-letters, the insistence that he was the most ill-used of us all. When he died, my first thought was that the danger was past now, and there was no chance that he could ever drag me back down with him, after I had at last made a respectable living for myself. That was my first thought.”

Here, quickly, he caught himself. Amelia knew most of his history by now, but he had never revealed so much of his feelings at that time, even to her. He knew they did him no credit, and he found himself reluctant to meet her eye now. Filial devotion was a virtue that had always come easily to her; she’d had a father worthy of it, after all. He remembered how she had cared for Mr. Havisham during his final illness, sending for doctors and pharmacists, sitting with him every moment that she could spare, talking with him, reading to him, cherishing every second they had left together. How she had held his hand all through that last long night, even after Dr. Losberne had declared it was all over. Compared to hers, his was a very sorry demonstration: all those long, grim hours sitting in silence at that bedside in the prison hospital, for the sole reason that it seemed requisite that someone must be there, and since what was left of the family was scattered, he was the only one of them there to do it.

Coolly, he said, “I suppose you think that heartless of me.”

But her reply, very soft when it came, was, “No. No. Josiah…”

Now he did look at her, her face full of inexpressible sadness, her eyes bright with tears. And at the sight of her, the cold anger within him thawed, as it always did.

“Don’t cry for me, Amelia. I made my choices, and I’ve learned to live with them.”

She shook her head, and her chin assumed its most stubborn set, even as the first of those threatening tears spilled over and ran down her cheek. “I will,” she retorted, and rummaged for her pocket-handkerchief. “I always thought - even before I really knew you - that there was something lonely about you. At least I have good memories to hold onto, but you…”

Yet again, he found himself marvelling at Amelia Havisham: not only her courage, but also her generosity of spirit, her astonishing capacity for love. His past had hardened him, his profession had made him guarded and suspicious. He had built so many walls about his heart over the years, but she could bring them down with a word. Despite his best efforts, she had found in him something to love.

Taking her hand, he leaned in and kissed her cheek, his lips catching the salt of that first tear.

“I am not lonely now.”