#sweeney todd fanfic

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

warnings: swearing, mention of blood, mention of murder

I waited for the thud before opening the door and slipping in. Sweeney looked up when the door closed. He smirked at me before sending the body down into the kitchens.

“one down one to go.” He said off handedly. I smiled at him as I walked over, grabbing his jacket on my way over. “The judge will be here soon. Once he realizes that the beadle won’t return.” I nodded.

“And honestly the man is beyond clueless without the beadle. Quite stupid for a judge if we’re being honest.” I responded. Holding out the jacket, I helped Sweeney put it on and this cover up the blood stain that covered his sleeve. “When do you want me to get Johanna?” Sweeney turned around and cupped my chin.

“after the judge is dead. Bring her back here.” He said, eyes roaming my face. I nodded as much as I could. “Perhaps we should take out mrs. Lovett and Toby first. Antony will also be looking for her.”

“we do away with the others. Then we send word to Antony that Johanna is here. All done up nice and pretty like.” I confirmed. Sweeney nodded before leaning in to kiss me. His grip on my chin tightened.

“and then the four of us can leave.” He whispered as he pulled away. “Go to America. Start over.” I nodded.

“sounds like a plan mr. Todd.” I smiled at him and he smiled back.

[smilingformoney]

Sins of the Flesh

I. Innocence Lost

Summary: Sweeney Todd | Turpin/Reader | Judge Turpin is not a man known for his mercy, but his mercy is exactly what you need. How far are you willing to go to get it?

Warnings: Rape/non-con, sexual coercion, prostitution, sex for favours, power imbalance, breeding kink, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

Read on Ao3.

[broadwayinabox]

Finished! All 12 chapters are now up!

55,500 words…

[korpuskristae]

Verdict

Warnings: 18+, Smut, public sex, blowjobs, slight femdom, language, mentions of past injuries

Pairing: Fem Reader x Judge Turpin

Word Count: 2600+

Summary: Once Turpin's whore, you find yourself in the position of his wife, although with your new status as Lady Turpin, you find yourself still lacking the manners usually expected of a high-ranking Lady such as yourself. AKA: I had too much fun writing this and got carried away...

AN: I started tweaking at a concert I went to last month because the guy in front of me had long hair and a big nose... I have a type, to say the least... Anyway, I make do with my promises, even if it takes me three whole months. Requests are open, so feel free to drop something in my requests, keep in mind I write at my own discretion. Be wary of spelling and grammar errors! Point them out so I can fix them :) !!

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In the eyes of Victorian London, Lord Turpin and you, Lady Turpin, were amongst London’s most unusual couples. Your relationship came not long after Richard lost his ward, Beadle, and nearly his life after a brush with Benjamin Barker, a lowly barber he sent away on false charges who miraculously, found his way back even after being sent to Australia to serve out a life sentence of harsh manual labor. Richard emerged from the events, not as the man London had once trusted implicitly, but as a man teetering on the edge of mania, grasping at what little fragments of sanity he had left. Returning to the bench a mere three weeks after his attempted assassination, the subjects of London couldn’t help but notice a change in their infallible judge. Almost every circle in London was whispering about the shift in the judge’s demeanor and it didn’t take long for the doubt of his competency to reach his ears causing his already harsh sentences to become even crueler and unpredictable, casting a further darkening shadow over his once-certain judgment.

 Most people expected everything to return to normal once the judge’s attacker had been brought to justice, after all, as a judge of the high court in service to her Majesty the Queen, he reserved the right to convict and sentence whoever dared to cross him, or the law. He was by definition, untouchable… Yet in the case of Sweeney Todd’s attempt on his life, it seemed that Lady Justice had already dealt her hand, taking Todd for herself, depriving the judge of the cruel justice he so desperately desired to feel in control. Spiraling further into a dark path of retribution that bordered on obsessive, Richard was a mere shell of the proud man he once was, seemingly falling further into the clutches of insanity with every passing day.

After being compelled to step back from the bench due to mounting public concern for his mental health and well-being, he was granted a month to rest and recover. One whole month—a dangerous opportunity to ruminate on his unexamined consciousness that Richard was not eager to take. By no means had Richard attempted to fix his wrongdoings, he was a bad man, an unjust, and cruel man who wielded the law as a weapon of his desires. He was a sinner, a liar, and a reprobate. He attended church only to enjoy the company of a whore the very next hour, he knew his life was one big contradiction. And still, he clung to the illusion that as a judge, he stood above the law and public opinion, he was a judge who answered to no one but himself, believing his actions bore no consequence beyond his own scrutiny.

 In the wake of Richard’s recovery from the attempt that nearly claimed his life, your relationship, and subsequent marriage, seemed to unfold at lightning speed. The fact that Richard had forsaken many a beautiful, and no doubt rich, highborn lady for you, irked the British aristocracy who were all throwing their daughters at the judge to have even a chance of marrying into the esteemed house of Turpin. It would’ve been one thing if you two were young lovers but your scandalized affair only grew more scandalous as people started to frequently draw attention to the fact that you had, practically, in the eyes of the public, not existed at all, prior to your engagement. 

The last woman Richard had shown any interest in was Lucy Barker, but even then, it was public knowledge he merely lusted after her, his longing for her was based not on feelings of love but ones of conquest and control, seeing her as a prize to be won. But his feelings for you seemed to stem from an unknown source… one that was less centered around himself and his personal motives.

In a society that prized status and reputation above all, Richard’s marriage to you, someone deemed “lowly” in the public’s eye, sent shockwaves through the cobbled streets of London. Unshaken by the public’s doubt of his choice of wife, Richard managed to pull out all the stops for your wedding, wasting no expense on the extravagant affair, with nearly every citizen near and far from London clamoring to attend the wedding. As guests observed the warmth in his gaze, they began to piece together a narrative that suggested genuine love that transcended societal boundaries. It wasn’t long before the public, hungry for scandal, sought to uncover the mysterious story behind your unusual romance.

The story given to the public was that you were one of the nursemaids who had so gracefully nursed him to back him to health, lovingly tending to him and eventually falling in love with him. While that story couldn’t be further from the truth, every tall tale had some grain of truth to it, certainly no nursemaid, granted, you did tend to him, in a much more… intimate way than originally specified, you two were indeed a rare occurrence of genuine love. Initially, you were just a contract—an arrangement for the night, a whore, to put it crudely. Once you, rather, he finished, you had noticed him wincing in pain along with the stiff movements of his neck, originally wary of the notoriously foul-tempered judge, you, strangely enough, found yourself hesitating to leave. Despite being expected to leave as soon as you two were finished, you couldn’t just leave him to suffer like that. This man, one who commanded London’s High Court with an iron fist now laid bedridden, his physical wounds matched only by a wounded pride. His growls and biting remarks about you staying to offer him help sounded more like thinly veiled pleas for help, revealing a side of the judge that he himself even resented, one that was weak. 

Not even half a year later you were the highly feared and equally esteemed, Lady Turpin. While the fear came from your husband’s reputation, you yourself were quite the opposite of him. Instead of intimidating people to get your way, you often made use of your snarky wit and cleverness, a trait that Richard himself found endearing and discovered proved far more useful from time to time when intimidation wasn’t a viable option. 

Seated at his bench, high above the court giving him the illusion of an almost godly appearance, Richard sat, tall and rigid. Dressed in his black robes, the long wig he wore—an obligation of his station—itchingly reminded him of the traditions he had little patience for. Leering at the people entering his courtroom he huffed uninterestedly. While his wife had managed to salvage his sanity and coax a flicker of gentleness from him, she could not penetrate the fortress he built around himself in public. Fixing his posture, he moved only to accidentally bump something underneath his bench with his knee, seeing you, his wife there, he glared at you kneeling between his legs. Smirking up at him with a lustful haze in your eyes, you placed your hands on his knees slowly parting them as you winked at him. 

Grumbling, he snarled at you without any real venom behind his words, “What the devil are you doing?”

Currently sat in front of a fully occupied court he had to preside over, you clearly had no sense of decorum when it came to respecting the authority that Richard had, slowly parting his robe at his waist, you placed your hands over his pants, palming his already growing erection. The ruthless judge, so quick to condemn others, quite literally, was nothing more than putty in your mere presence.

“Taking care of my husband, of course, you must be so stressed, huh? All those responsibilities… my dear judge, my poor, poor judge,” you purred softly, your fingers tracing languid circles on his thighs. The heat emanating from his arousal was unmistakable and he was clearly getting impatient but you ignored him for the time being keeping the tension high.

Growling lowly, he narrowed his eyes at you grabbing your hand and placing it on his clothed cock, “Do not play games you little minx, if you want to act like this then carry through with your teasing,” he demanded gruffly.

“Oh, my…” you gasped, feigning shock, “right now? Dare you disrespect the sanctity of this here court?” God you were such a tease, how was he ever expected to behave around you when you acted like this? So clearly reveling in your role as an unrelenting tease… if he was in hell, you were most certainly the demon sent to torture him till the end of his days.

Snarling at you, Richard tangled one of his hands in your hair, a firm grip that asserted control without causing discomfort. “Careful now, love. Keep with that insolent tongue of yours and I'll put it to far better use," he growled with an arch of his perfectly manicured eyebrow, his threat laced with a hint of desire.

Laughing lowly, you slowly dragged your fingers up his inner thighs before reaching his zipper and freeing him from the confines of his awfully tight trousers. Already rock hard, his cock was thicker than your wrist and his tip was an angry red color with a small bead of precum leaking from it, a testament to his undying lust for you. “So impatient and rude… you’re supposed to be a Lord, my love, one with manners who treats ladies with respect,” you chided dramatically not caring to whisper considering the courtroom was still settling in.

“Last time I checked ladies don’t terrorize their husbands multiple times a day for sex,” he grumbled letting out a low sigh of relief, feeling the pressure lessen on his aching cock. Eyeing you, he huffed in amusement as a smirk played at his lips, watching you blink up at him innocently. A little actress you were, one who was anything but what she pretended to be.

Grabbing his cock, you slowly stroked it, watching as his face contorted in pleasure, not explicitly as he was still seated in front of a room full of people, but enough for you to get the satisfaction of seeing him unravel slightly. Exhaling a long drawn out strained sigh, he spoke gruffly, evidently, trying to have some restraint. “What a naughty little thing you are, playing with your husband's cock so brazenly in a courtroom full of people…” 

 Running your thumb over the tip of his cock, you heard his breathing hitch and felt him cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over it lovingly. Letting out a small whimper, he felt you take him into your mouth and swirl your hot tongue around the edge of his tip, tasting his salty precum on your tongue, savoring its slight musky taste. “Yes, mhm… just like that my love…” he hissed, his grip on your hair growing tighter as he pushed you down further onto his cock, forcing you to take him deeper.

Letting out a strangled squeak, you glared up at him with a mouthful of his cock as tears pricked your eyes. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” he teased slowly bobbing you up and down his girthy shaft.

 Hearing the thunderous boom of the courthouse doors opening, Richard glanced up to see the defendant being ushered into the courthouse by a guard from the jail. He barely glanced at the list of accusations before re-establishing his cold, detached expression. As if he wasn’t being serviced by his wife at that very moment.

Richard raised his eyes and immediately the court fell silent, making the usage of his gavel redundant. He struck it lightly for the sake of formality before he cleared his throat, resting his hand atop your head to signal you to stop your ministrations. “You are being charged with petty larceny and the garrotting of several women, what say you in defense of these charges?” he said, his booming voice reverberating through the courtroom, fixing a cold glare at the defendant. How dare he ignore you! Use you for his pleasure and tell you to stop at his own convenience? God, he was way too privileged!

Glaring at him, as you kneeled on the floor, your eyes flashed with anger and defiance, Richard, ever so oblivious didn’t seem to notice the anger radiating from beneath him. Ignoring his wishes for you to halt your movements, you started to bob up and down again, swirling your tongue around his shaft just the way you knew he liked it, feeling him throb against your tongue, you glanced up at him cheekily as he glowered at you. Consequences be damned, you were no convenience, and you certainly weren’t controlled by him!

Barely stifling a moan, Richard’s thighs tensed as he fought to keep his composure. Watching the defendant bow his head in defeat, he heard him profess his guilt, “I plead guilty and ask you for your mercy, your honor.” If he didn’t have a little minx between his legs he’d sneer at the fool in front of him for even thinking he’d be merciful. 

Feeling you take him deeper, he watched as your hand reached up to wrap around the base of his shaft to pump what you couldn't fit in your mouth, with his breathing growing ragged, he only hoped that nobody could see his very obviously flustered state. His grip on your hair only grew tighter as he tensed further, his muscles pulled taut as he felt his orgasm approach rapidly.

Realizing the entire courtroom was awaiting his verdict, he coughed, trying to cover up any of the obvious hints of his arousal, “The jury will deliberate and your fate will be announced at a later court date, this court is adjourned.” He said banging his gavel before watching everyone file out of the courthouse in confusion. 

The Esteemed Juge Turpin, widely revered and equally feared, had rarely relied on a jury—his rulings were law, laws he often wrote without deliberation. Murmurs filled the courtroom as the gallery began to question whether or not even Richard was second-guessing himself. The reason behind his stalling was, in truth, much simpler than what they suspected. Richard was merely just a pawn in his wife’s new uptaking of mischief and suffering the consequences.

After everyone filed out and left, Richard’s head fell back against his chair as you continued to suck him off. “You are so dead-” he groaned, not even able to finish his snarky comment as he felt his cock throb with his impending orgasm. With a strangled gasp and a deep guttural groan, Richard’s hips bucked into you as he came hard, his seed spilling down your throat in thick, hot, spurts that even you struggled to keep up with. After his orgasm subsided, you released his cock with a wet pop, the sound reverberating through the empty courtroom.

Slumping back against his chair, you watched with a satisfied smile as he struggled to catch his breath, his chest heaving. Tucking him back into his pants, you heard him hiss, his cock was incredibly oversensitive after that mindblowing orgasm no doubt. Standing up, you dusted off your dress, looking at him with a wicked smirk, “Hmph, what was that love?” 

Sneering at you with half-lidded eyes, Richard huffed, unable to punish you for the time being, “Your arse is going to be so red when I get my hands on you,” he rasped out, watching you saunter away. He was so going to get you back tenfold, despite his mostly playful annoyance, deep down, he couldn’t deny the obvious satisfaction he got from surrendering his control to you…

AN: First time writing smut, how'd I do? ;)

[tinyufoboss]

i went into a haze of indulgence and made some sticker sheets for the recently closed sweeney todd broadway production, which has completely consumed my life/brain/heart. one for each act!!

they're up for pre-order in my shop rn ❤️🥧

[robin-the-enby]

Hello!! Could I request some sweeney todd x reader heavy fluff please? thanks!

Marked by an angel

Pairing: Sweeney Todd x gn!reader

Smmary: A chance meeting of two strange people on Fleet street. What started just as part of your job lead you to finding a new friend and perhaps...a lover.

Warnings: hints of murder (it's Sweeney, c'mon), unfair boss/employee dynamic, description of getting robbed and bruises (1 blackeye)

A/N: After what felt like an eternity, I am back! I am so glad I finished this. I was dealing with mental issues, financial struggles, work and uni so I had no time and time or energy to do anything. But I am very happy to post this! Maybe it's not as fluffy as you wanted and for that I am sorry, but I feel like it is as true to the character as possible :) I'll gladly hear your feedback on this piece and all likes, but especially reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! Also, if you'd like to hear some bonus stuff about this oneshot, feel free to shoot me a message!

There are many men in the world. And yet you can't say you've ever met anyone the likes of Mr. Todd.

The quiet barber from Fleet street. With his pale complexion, white streaked hair and dark eyes that held the depths of the ocean that surrounds Britain. He had captured your attention the very first time you made an appointment with him for your boss. The recommendations for his shop floated around your part of town and all the gentlemen could not seem to praise his skills enough.

Your boss had ordered you to find him a new barber, since his old one was ripping him off on money. Not that you blamed the poor bloke, times were tough, prices high and it wasn't like your boss couldn't spare a few pounds, especially since he liked to have his hair and beard trimmed once a month. Luckily, you managed to talk him out of getting the authorities involved, knowing that if the man was to be jailed, it would take a massive toll on his family.

Your job as an errand person, a sort of secretary, was simple enough in theory. You followed your boss around, a businessman dealing in produce from a few farms that he owned in the countryside. All you had to do was carry a notepad and a pencil with you to scribble down tasks that had to be managed and appointments that had to be made or dealt with. But in reality your legs were probably stronger than most people's, with how many steps you walked every day. Even though it wasn't in your job description, you did everything your boss didn't want to, went everywhere he wasn't exactly needed. You swore that the lazy bastard would have you walking to the latrine instead of him, if it were possible.

That was one of the reasons you liked the visits to the barber's, because you got to just sit on a chair by the window for an hour at least, quietly listening to the conversation made between your boss and the man grooming him, only occasionally having to scribble down one thing or another. But ever since your boss started to frequent Mr. Todd's shop, the rest wasn't the only reason accompanying your boss there was enjoyable or you.

Mr. Todd was an enigma. Mostly silent during work and outside of it, you learnt to appreciate the sound of his voice and to study his body language, little quirks that gave off pieces of his personality. The way his eyes flitted around, scanning the face of his customer for any imperfections that needed to be dealt with. His hands were steady, working seemingly without relying on his eyes or even brain, with a level of discipline you haven't seen before in your life. And from time to time, his eyes would flick up to meet yours, for a fraction of a second, before falling back down to your boss, lounging on Mr. Todd's intricate chair. You wondered why it had to be so intricate, compared to other barbers you've seen in your career, but you didn't question it, just as you never questioned the way the man's eyes would inevitably get stuck on your boss' neck every once in a while for some reason that had yet to reveal itself to you.

Maybe it was morbid curiosity or some other strange pull that made you want to find out just what was the cause of the deep emotion swirling behind Sweeney's eyes. The kind of pull that made sure the mysterious barber did not leave your mind for longer than a few hours. So you started to come around to the meat pie shop right under Mr. Todd's. The shop owner, Mrs. Lovett, was a sweet and terribly lonely woman, whose meat pies were, also, quickly gaining popularity around its part of town, and it didn't take long for her to take a shine to you as soon as she recognised you as one of her regulars.

While making a new friend wasn't your primary goal when you started hanging around the pie shop, you didn't mind how Mrs. Lovett warmed up to you. She was a sweet and funny woman, in her own way, and you soon recognised she was also dealing with romantic feelings towards Mr. Todd, as she confided in you one day. These feelings were unreciprocated, as far as you knew, although Sweeney visited the shop every night, coming down to fetch his dinner, for free of course. He usually came around after closing his own shop, sometimes even later, when even Mrs. Lovett closed down for the night. He would walk past you two sharing a glass of wine and exchanged a quiet and smooth, although cold 'good evening', before taking a pie and disappearing upstairs again.

But the longer you kept visiting Mrs. Lovett, the more Sweeney started to notice you. Once in a blue moon he would share a glass of wine with you both as you would more or less listen to Minnie ramble about this and that. After some time, one night, when Sweeney was upstairs and you were spending an evening at the pie shop, Mrs. Lovett told you cheekily that Mr. Todd asked about you, how you and her met and why you were around so much. Despite her mischievous smile you felt as if he was wary of your presence here, which puzzled you, but it did not deter you from wanting to get to know the man more.

In the end, it was him who made the first move, and you didn't even realise until much later. One time, when you were accompanying your boss for his monthly trim, Sweeney suggested that he should come around more often, at least every two weeks, because it would do wonders for his hair and beard health. It was evident your boss had no idea whether that was true or not, so he looked at you for confirmation. You shared a look with the barber, through which you tried to communicate to him that if he was planning to swindle your boss, it would be on your head, but something in those dark eyes of his made you trust him, so you confirmed to your boss that yes, coming to the barber more often would not only be beneficial to his hair, but it would also be good for appearances.

From that point on you got closer with the barber much faster than you could even register. One night, as you were sitting at the table in the pie shop across Minnie, nursing your second glass of wine and venting out frustration from your job, Sweeney came down to get his dinner. Before he left though, he stopped in the door to the kitchen, where the pies were made, and stared at you for a while, gaze calculating, but not as cold as you were used to. With the alcohol flowing through your veins you called him out on it, to which he simply replied "Your hair. It would do good with a trimming." before turning around on his heel and walking out. Mrs. Lovett cursed his lack of etiquette and assured you that you looked fine, although getting a trim wouldn't be a bad idea. She knew that given what your job was, you didn't have much time left to treat yourself.

The next time you accompanied your boss to his barber appointment yet again, Sweeney brought up the subject as your boss left you to pay. "Have you thought about my offer?" You blinked up at him, not knowing for a second what he meant, before his eyes shifted to your hair and you understood what he was implying. Feeling the heat rising to your cheeks, you tried to keep your cool as you asked, just to be sure "You meant that you would trim my hair?" You didn't want your voice to come out as unsure and surprised as it did, but if Sweeney noticed it, and something told you he did, the barber didn't mention it or let it show. He only smirked the slightest bit, making you wonder later if you didn't just imagine it, and replied "Well, at this point I would be offended if the first person you tasked with such a job wasn't me. Or do you deem my skills inadequate?" he raised his brow as he jokingly asked, knowing well what your answer would be. Feeling as hot as a boiled potato, you quickly settled the date of your appointment before you were out the door, so that your boss wouldn't scold you for dilly dallying.

When the day of your appointment came, you felt strangely nervous, your legs slightly shaking as you walked up the stairs to Sweeney's dark shop. For some reason, you couldn't shake the feeling of cattle being herded to a butcher. You chalked it up to your crush making you nervous, but that feeling only intensified when Sweeney positioned the barber chair you had sat on, so that you were half laying down. And yet when he tended to your locks, his touch was soft, quick and precise, never wandering where it didn't need to and leaving as soon as he was done in one area, moving swiftly to another. What came as a surprise to you was that he made small talk with you the entire time you were in that chair. Maybe it was because he sensed your nerves, but maybe not, you really couldn't tell. He asked you where you came from, why were you in London of all places, he even asked about your job and your family. The last topic he brushed upon quickly, which made you suspect it was a tough subject for him, an information you filed away safely in your brain to mull over later.

The last thing he told you when you were done and admiring yourself in the mirror he provided was to not tell Mrs. Lovett who cut your hair. You nodded softly and made your way home, feeling like a brand new person. Although the next time you set foot in the pie shop, Minnie's first question was "Did Mr. Todd cut your hair? It looks wonderful, darling!" You didn't confirm nor deny her rhetoric question, only smiling a bit bashfully before Mrs. Lovett insisted on opening 'the good wine' for the occasion. You didn't mention the fact that he refused to take payment for the service...

And as if that wasn't enough embarrassment in the short amount of time, this night at Minnie's pie shop turned out to have gone on much longer than any other one. Mrs. Lovett insisted you stay a bit longer any time you brought up going home for the night. Her reasoning being that since you finally did something for yourself after what must've been quite a long time in her opinion, you deserved to treat yourself some more, because when would an opportunity like this arise again?

And so you stayed seated in the dimly lit pie shop that smelled of baked meat, the likes of which you have never smelled before, and a mixture of herbs that reminded you of a memory long buried in your mind.

The conversation flowed freely and as the alcohol made its rounds through your bloodstream, your tongue became looser, as well as did Minnie's. She told you how her attempts at wooing Mr. Todd were progressing, or rather, were stagnating, with the man ignoring any and every romantic gesture or hint made towards him by his friend. That brought you to joining her in her admiring words for the handsome barber, leading to many laughs and jokes. Maybe it was because of her tipsy state, but you were surprised Mrs. Lovett took your admission of your crush on her upstairs neighbour better than you expected.

Your conversation then moved elsewhere and you were both so engrossed in it that neither of you heard the quiet footsteps leading to the shop. Sweeney's brows rose a little as he opened the door to a peculiar sight. The two people he had allowed closer to himself than anyone else since his return to London were sitting huddled at a table, which wouldn't have been that unusual, if it wasn't for the nearly empty bottle of old and undoubtedly strong wine. Both of your glasses were somewhat filled, the precious liquid spilled here and there in small amounts on the table. If Sweeney wasn't such a gentleman, despite his cold and often ruthless heart, he would say you were drunk. And not just a little bit.

Announcing his presence with a gruff cough, both your and Mrs. Lovett's heads snapped around to face him and he fought the small smirk that grew on his face at the sight. "Mr. Todd! We haven't even noticed you were here!" Minnie quickly addressed him with her signature friendliness. You stayed silent, instead opting to just admire the way Mr. Todd looked in the dim lighting in the shop. You felt you were seeing him completely differently than the other nights you spent there. His eyes reflected the light, making them look even more mysterious and alluring than usual and his normally pale face seemed more livelier. You would have spoken up, offered him some wine, but suddenly, being brought out so suddenly from your conversation with Minnie, your tongue felt big in your mouth, the weight of lead and you just did not have the energy to move it. Or open your mouth for that matter. Somewhere in the back of your mind crossed a thought that maybe you have had a bit too much to drink.

"It is quite late, I am surprised to catch you awake." Mr. Todd pointed out in a neutral tone, despite the playful mirth he was feeling. "Oh but the same could be said about you, Mr. Todd." Mrs. Lovett retaliated cheekily "Besides, we have a good reason to drink into the night! It is my friend's birthday, after all." she announced with an air of pride. You blinked at her a few times, not knowing where she had gotten that information from, because you were pretty sure today was not your birthday at all. Perhaps Minnie has forgotten the reason you were celebrating altogether and her drunken mind just made up a reason on the spot. As you were pondering when actually was your birthday, Mr. Todd spoke up again "Is that so? Well in that case-" and in a few strides he was at yours and Mrs. Lovett's table. He grabbed her half full glass of wine and before you could start wondering if it wasn't half empty, he raised it, grabbing your hand. "Happy birthday." he smiled slightly while you stood up, because you were being congratulated and you didn't want to appear rude, even though there wasn't actually a reason to congratulate you. Mr. Todd downed his, previously Minnie's, glass in one gulp before setting it down again.

Turning to Mrs. Lovett, he addressed her "I need to discuss something with you." he then turned his attention towards you "But it seems there is a more pressing matter at hand." he smirked as he gave you a once over. You felt your cheeks flush, knowing he was right. Standing up was the last straw before your alcohol fueled downfall. You were barely standing, your body swaying side to side slightly to keep itself balanced. Mrs. Lovett studied you for a while as well, before standing, with only a slightly lesser difficulty than you. "Oh I'm so sorry, dear, it seems that I have gone overboard with the drinks." she apologised and you couldn't help but smile softly at her sad tone. "'S alright, Minnie. 'M not mad." you shook your head with a small smile "I best be off though..." mumbling to yourself, you bid your friend a goodnight, not really paying attention to Sweeney, assuming he was waiting for you to leave so that he could discuss whatever it was with his neighbour.

Stumbling away from the table, you were surprised when a hand gripped your upper arm, supporting your weight and grounding your otherwise spinning world. Tracing the arm the hand was attached to with your eyes, you found Sweeney's already looking at your face. You said nothing, in the case that he only supported you in your struggle to weave through the tables in the shop, but as he continued to lead you out of the old building, Mrs. Lovett having gone in the back already, you were confused by this act of chivalry. Not that you took Mr. Todd for a brute, you just didn't expect such a gesture aimed at...yourself. The fact that this was also the first time he has touched you in any way while not necessarily needing so, unlike when he gave you your haircut, did not help your inebriated mind from running wild with conspiracies.

The crisp night air helped clear your head a little bit and you gulped it greedily with deep breaths when you walked out, arm in hand, with the barber. He stood, patiently, right next to you, his secure, but not tight grip on your arm never faltering. If he noticed how you took your sweet time collecting yourself, he didn't mention it, his eyes instead trained on the silver moon hanging in the sky like a lamp, blurred slightly by the infamous London fog. When he sensed you move more into the street, however, he tugged you back towards him slightly, as if he could not let you stray far.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his tone devoid of emotion and yet his eyes shone in a particular way that you couldn't exactly put a finger on in your state. The smirk that once rested on his handsome face was gone and you were perhaps more confused than before. "Home?" you half answered, half asked, unsure of what was the problem. Mr. Todd shook his head sternly "I cannot send you home alone at this time of day and retain a sound mind." he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You couldn't help but laugh at his statement. Where were you supposed to sleep then? Inside the shop? Sliding your arm out of his grip, you grabbed your stomach, your laughter gaining in volume, making you double over. "Oh, you're funny, Mr. Todd!" you wheezed, not caring the man you were addressing was looking at your drunken self with a completely neutral expression, not understanding in the slightest what was so funny "I have to go home! Where else would you have me spend the night?" you asked when you caught your breath, your laughter simmering down into tired giggles. Drunk laughing was hard, but really fun at the same time, you thought.

Sweeney reached out to take your arm again, turning you around to face the stairs like a puppet and started leading you to his home. "You can spend the night upstairs. If I sent you home, alone, you're sure to get robbed...or worse." his voice was cold and harsh and yet you had the sense this sudden change of tone was not due to anything you said. Not taking any chances, just in case, you kept your mouth shut and let him lead you up the stairs while you could feel your face heat up. It felt awfully wrong to just...invade his space like that. If there's one thing you learned about Sweeney, and let's be honest, there weren't many to choose from, it was that he was a very private person. At the same time, he invited you here. If he didn't want you in his space, he could've just let you stay downstairs with Minnie, she would take good enough care of you without a doubt. But what did all this mean?

You said nothing else as you let the barber move you along, much like a puppet, while trying to focus on every confusing thought and feeling that ran through your head. But your energy was quickly dwindling and you couldn't help but to succumb to sleep as soon as our head hit the pillow.

Regaining consciousness again was...unpleasant, to say the least. The first thing you registered was rain. Not very unusual for London though. The next thing was a piercing headache, that threatened to split your skull in two. Groaning, you flipped over in bed. That's when you noticed the smell. This didn't smell like your sheets... Slowly, but surely, the events of the previous night came back to you, even the less than appropriate ending of it. Blinking open your eyes, you let yourself get adjusted to the lighting of the room, before taking a look around. You were, in fact, in Mr. Todd's small abode and you were very probably in his bed too. You could feel heat creeping up your neck as you registered the all too familiar objects of the barber shop, now from a brand new perspective. There was the barber chair, as ominous as ever, the normal chair to the side, where you usually sat, now occupied by the master of the house.

Polishing and sharpening his blades, Sweeney sat by the window, seemingly uninterested and unbothered by basically a stranger waking up in his bed. His unwavering focus was only on his blades, a focus so intense it would send shivers down your spine, if you weren't so engrossed in your own embarrassment. Only when you began to sit up, your arms threatening to give out underneath you, did the barber tear his gaze away from his tools. You tried to get up to your feet as quickly as you could, manners all but forgotten, your only desire was to get out and never return to Mr. Todd's barber shop or Mrs. Lovett's meat pie establishment ever again. But your knees were wobbly and you felt in your body like a newborn fawn, so your quick escape proved to be harder than you thought.

Sweeney looked at you inquisitively and it seemed like he wanted to say something, but you beat him to it, the thought of anything he could and probably would have said making bile rise in your throat. Fighting the nausea, you pushed yourself off the bed and lightly stumbled before standing in front of the barber. "I am so sorry for what transpired yesterday, Mr. Todd." you apologised first and foremost after clearing your throat "You should not have had to witness any of that." looking awkwardly to the side, you continued "However I am very grateful for everything you have done for me yesterday." And with those last words, you bee lined it for the door, only briefly noticing the 'closed' sign on the door that should have been turned around probably hours ago. It wasn't until you were in the middle of the journey home that you realised you didn't even know what time it was, nor did you at least have the decency to make up the bed after you have slept in it. Which brought forth a question...Where did Mr. Todd sleep? There didn't seem to be another sleeping area nor any kind of furniture suitable for such activity in his living/working quarters. You weren't sure what made you blush more, the possibility that you shared a bed or the possibility that he stayed awake somewhere in the same space as you were the whole night. Both seemed strangely...intimate.

For the next few weeks, you avoided Fleet street like the plague. Luckily for you, your boss wasn't in need of a trim anytime soon, even though you did convince him to visit the barber's more than he did previously. But whenever you thought about the mysterious gentleman residing above the pie shop, hot embarrassment flowed through your body like lightning. And so you didn't remind your boss to upkeep his appearance and as usual, the big oaf wouldn't think of such thing himself. He had money, so what if he looked a bit disheveled? Everybody was saving up on everything they could, the rich and poor alike.

Mrs. Lovett was especially vocal about your absence. She worried that she really did offend you or did you wrong somehow during that a bit too wild night. Whenever Sweeney would appear in the shop to fetch his meal, she would bombard him with questions, if he had any news of you, your whereabouts, your wellbeing, or whether your boss' appointment was coming up anytime soon. She regretted now never asking for your address, with how much she'd come to like you in the time you've spent together. You brought a normalcy to her life that she's dreamed of oh so much.

And while Sweeney wasn't pretty much vocal at all towards your sudden absence, when he closed down for the day and looked out of his window, overlooking the grey London sky and dark and gloomy rooftops, he wondered where you could possibly be. What were you doing? Were you alright?

You had came into the vengeful barber's life unexpectedly and while at first Minnie's obsession with you irritated him, making his goals, his work, that much more dangerous, he couldn't help but notice your good nature. Not only towards his neighbour, even though with how strange the woman could be it was surprising in itself, but towards him, even towards your boss. It wasn't that you were naive, no, he could see in your eyes that you knew exactly how cruel and unjust this world was, and yet you still chose to be kind. Despite all the hardships he knew you were dealt by destiny, no, by other people, the biggest monsters on this earth, you still remained with your heart open to others. And he admired that. Your presence on Fleet street was like a beacon of clean light in the constant grey fog, when he sometimes glanced at the street below him and you happened to be there, he always recognized you, as if you shone more brightly than others.

The lonely man spent many a night pondering on what was it that made you occupy his mind so much, what made you so special. He still loved his wife, and his daughter, wherever she may be, that much he knew. But sometimes...sometimes when he looked at you, your face, as you were laughing with Mrs. Lovett about this or that, he could see her smile. And it was so reassuring, as if Lucy herself was sending her mark upon you, signaling to him that you were someone he needed to protect. And when he came to terms with this revelation, he swore to himself that that was exactly what he was going to do.

So of course it was no problem for him to let you spend a night in his bed. He found your drunken antics and your embarrassment the next morning quite endearing. If you would've paid more attention to him and your surroundings that morning, you would've noticed the small smirk on his face as he watched you clumsily apologize, even though he saw no reason for it. And you would've noticed the two cups of coffee, along with some painkillers standing prepared on the table near the bed. But Sweeney didn't think his actions would've driven you away from him and Mrs. Lovett like that. He knew there was nothing that he could do except wait for you to come back, although he didn't like the idea of something happening to you without him knowing it, being able to prevent it. And he didn't even want to think about the scenario that you would never be back. He saw the way you looked at him, studied him, the confusion in your eyes from the way he behaved so often and now he wanted nothing more than to tell you everything and sort things out. Even if he wasn't sure how exactly to do that. Benjamin was good with words, but Sweeney? Sweeney was all about action, because unlike Benjamin, Sweeney Todd knew just how little weight words could hold in the world.

It didn't take long for you to start missing Fleet street, with your two favourite residents, Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd. You contemplated when should you pay them a visit and how you would explain your avoidance of them, until after one night, when that became irrelevant.

It happened in the evening. You were let go from work for the day and while you were on your way home, thinking mostly about whether you had any leftovers from yesterday or if you had to cook dinner from scratch and not paying much attention to your surroundings, when you were jumped. Two men, none of which you knew, cornered you against a wall of a building along which you were walking, asking for some money. You, not wanting any more trouble than necessary, pulled out your pouch, where you kept all the change you needed, but it wasn't enough for whatever they were planning. With two figures towering at least a good head above from you, demanding you do what they say, you didn't dare look them directly in their faces, so you knew little of what they looked like. But they smelled awful and faintly of fish. When they asked to show them what more you had in your bag, yo asked them to leave you be, that you've already given them everything important you had on you. That proved to be a mistake, since one of them grabbed you roughly by the arms from behind, while the other ripped your bag from your hands and turned it upside down. You struggled to get away from the bastard's bruising grip and started calling out for help, which was another mistake. The guy that was going through your things, most of which were only daily necessities, such as your keys and whatnot, suddenly sprung up and hit you in the face, gruffly telling you to shut up, if you valued your life. It was at that point you noticed his voice was slightly slurred.

Luckily, an officer must've been patrolling nearby, or someone must've taken pity on you and called him over, it wasn't that late in the evening after all, because as soon as you heard the distinct sound of a bobby whistle, the first guy let you go while the second one hastily grabbed your notebook and both of them booked it down the street, weaving through the city's intricate alleyways. The officer quickly asked what happened and told you to stay put while he chased after them. But it wasn't even five minutes before he was back, informing you that he lost them and he asked you to accompany him to the police station to give a statement on what happened and they would see what could be done.

The next day, you showed up to work with a nasty looking black eye, without your notebook or a single penny. The police officers told you that with the limited description you provided they weren't sure how much could be done. After telling your boss what happened, he surprisingly took the matter quite seriously. Not only did you write down ever single appointment he needed to attend to in your notebook, but some quite serious and important information, codes to safes, finance tracking, different information having to do with sales and so on. He asked what police station you went to yesterday and said he would get in touch with the officers, since it wasn't impossible that the attack wasn't planned ahead and the notebook was exactly what someone was after. You didn't need or want to know anything more than that. Your boss also gave you two weeks off, to let your eye heal, commenting how it would seem weird if you accompanied him looking like that and he didn't need any more rumors being spread about him, like physically abusing his personnel. He gave you your money back, saying it was going from your next paycheck until the police got your original money back, plus some more to buy a new notebook. As incompetent as he could sometimes be, he was still a businessman, and even though his motivation for these choices was questionable, you were still glad he made them.

As soon as you were outside again, your legs immediately took you in the direction of Fleet street. Still quite shaken up after the incident, the thing you needed the most at that moment was a friend and something told you Minnie would not turn you down.

And you were not mistaken. As you took a step inside the pie shop, Mrs. Lovett's arms were around you, her worried and apologetic rambling reaching your ears as soon as they got used to the buzz of the busy establishment. As soon as the woman pulled away from you, her relieved expression turned to one of shock as she carefully cradled your cheek where the bruise was, asking "What in god's name happened?" Immediately she brought you to the back of the shop and fetched the cleanest rag, which was then promptly soaked in cold water, so that you could relieve some of the ache of the black eye. And she had you remain there until closing, spending her time between serving customers and preparing pies chatting with you. She informed you that she wasn't mad about your sudden disappearance, that she was just very worried and then she promptly asked you your address "In case you want to pull something on me like that again." she reasoned with a cheeky smile.

After Minnie closed down in the evening, you both could sit uninterrupted in the main area, with the businesswoman cleaning up here and there and re-wetting your rag. Anytime you tried to offer her help as a thank you, she would just sternly order you to sit back down and not even think about work, since you've been given 'a sick leave'. Just as she was done with cleaning and was about to head out to get rid of the dirty water, a person you were still dreading to meet walked into the room. You immediately knew who it was by the way Mrs. Lovett's eyes brightened, her face blooming into one of sweet happiness as she cooed out a greeting "Oh, Mr. Todd! Look who decided to join us today! Poor thing got mugged yesterday, can you believe it?" she shook her head, carrying her bucket out the door "So nice of you to join us, there are some pies hidden in the oven in the back for you!" she called behind her as the door clicked close after her.

There was nothing for you to do but turn around, your face heating up again, only praying Mr. Todd wouldn't pay attention to it. But to your slight surprise, he only stared intently at the black eye adorning your face, like a joke of a monocle the more posh men liked to wear when out and about. With a few quick strides, the barber was next to you, his hand under your chin, tipping your head upwards, so he could assess your wound better under the light. His face was contorted into a frown, but his eyes were nothing but gentle as he murmured "Who did this to you?" His voice was ice cold, but somehow you knew you didn't need to be scared. "I don't know." you whispered "The police are after them now." You both said nothing as you only continued to study each other.

When the sound of a door being opened could be heard, Sweeney gently let go of your chin and took a step back from you, but not quite leaving your side. Mrs. Lovett trotted happily back into the room, taking the seat across from you and looking up at her neighbour, she patted the chair beside hers. Not waiting for him to comply, which was good, because Sweeney did not move an inch from where he stood, she asked you, her expression concerned "Darling, do you think it'll be okay for you to walk home alone at this hour?"

Looking out of the window, you saw the street was getting dark. It would not take much more time for night to completely settle over the city. You felt so safe and comfortable, that you completely forgot about the passage of time. Surely there will be little to no people out at this hour. And those who will be outside roaming the streets are definitely not the kind of people you want to associate yourself with. And while you had no problem walking on the bring of darkness alone before, after yesterday's events, you couldn't help the cold shiver that ran down your back at the thought of the many alleyways you'd have to pass before getting home.

Seeing your hesitance, Mrs. Lovett placed her hand softly on yours "It's alright, love. You can stay here for the night! I'm sure there's plenty of room for one more person in the house." her smile was so reassuring, you couldn't help your own taking over your face. But you shook your head "As much as I appreciate your offer, I have to go home. The officers might need me for more questionings, it's best I don't stay out of the house too long." you explained with a small smile and got up from your chair. Surprisingly, it was Sweeney who spoke next "I'll walk you home. If you wouldn't mind, that is." he offered, his eyes flickering between your face and the table during the latter part. "Oh, Mr. Todd! Such a gentleman!" Minnie squealed adoringly, standing up as well "Trust me, love, with Mr. Todd, you're in good hands." something about the way she looked at the barber when she said that made you feel strange, but you had no reason not to believe her or the quiet man standing beside you. So you nodded and looked towards the window again "Best we head off though, I wouldn't want you to have to return when it's completely dark." you muttered, more to yourself and then looked at your companion for confirmation. The dangerous glint you caught flashing through his eyes made you shiver again, but you ignored it.

After hugging Mrs. Lovett goodbye, you were on your way. The first few minutes passed in complete silence, you had no idea what to say and Mr. Todd wasn't one for many words. Sighing, you decide to be the one to break the ice "I...I'm sorry, once again, Mr. Todd. For running out on you like that. You've done so much for me and I repaid you horribly." your gaze was set on the stone path as you apologised. For a while, the barber said nothing, which did not help your nerves at all. "Sweeney." That was the only thing he said. You whipped your head around to look at him, your mouth hanging agape in confusion. "I'm sorry?" Sweeney then looked at you, a single chuckle escaping his chest through his smirking lips. In the dim night lights of the London street, he looked possibly more attractive than ever before. "My name. I feel like we don't have to keep up such formalities, since you've spent a night in my bed already."

You couldn't look him in the eyes anymore, your face heating up. "You make it sound like something much more serious." you pouted. He chuckled again. This was the most you've heard him talk or just express himself in any way since you've known him. "And it wasn't? I don't let just anyone into my bed, you know." It was clear as day he was enjoying this. But his words held an underlying meaning, one which was much more deeper than the lighthearted teasing. Sweeney slowed into a stop and you followed suit beside him. The last street lamp was now behind him, leaving his face covered mostly in shadows. And yet you could see his eyes, vulnerable in a way he probably hasn't been in a long, long time, you could feel his intense gaze on your face, studying your every small reaction. "What are you saying?" you breathed out, your heart in your throat. Sweeney took a step closer "What I'm saying is that you've grown to be quite important to me. After that night..." he stopped, searching for the right words to continue "I realised many things. And I've realised...that I want to keep you close. To protect you. To know you and to allow myself to be known by you. If you'll let me, that is." and he slowly reached for your hand, holding it in both of his oh so gently. "Do you deem me worthy of knowing your heart? Your soul?"

You could feel your breath hitch in your throat as you were overwhelmed by sudden conflicting emotions. But the one that stood out from all of them was... "As long as you'll deem me worthy of knowing yours." you replied in almost a whisper. And with those words, that one sentence, it was as if the tension in the air disappeared all at once. Sweeney stood beside you once more, this time offering you his arm to take and after you've linked your arm through his, he continued to escort you home. Not just as an acquaintance, not as a friend...but perhaps not yet as a lover. But there was time for all of that. Right now, there was the chilly London night air, you and him. And you could figure out the details, such as breaking the news to Minnie, or discovering why exactly there was a trapdoor behind the barber chair, some other time. Tonight was just for you.

[deepperplexity]

Prompt 8: Never-ending Consequences [C2]

Pairing: Judge Turpin x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Continuation of: Prompt 4. Darkest Night [C1]

A/N: It's Sunday, Second Advent, and time for Turpin's story to continue! He is quite the elusive mystery in this fic and I'm having a blast writing Julianne Brimmer - gosh, I adore her and I feel so connected with her even if we're not the same at all. She's so cute though! 🤭👏

Also, Turpin is very harsh and unyielding in this fic - not in an evil manner but he shows very little and gives very few indications of feeling or thinking anything at all and, honestly, I've been super excited about writing him like that for a change- I¨m all for the swirling storms in his eyes and all that which I usually write him with when he finds his SO but there's just something about him showing basically nothing that has me hooked this year 👀🙈❤

Tags/TW’s: Talkative Character, Harsh Judge Turpin, He Offers Her Sanctuary For The Night, Instant Attraction, Secret Pining, Harsh View Of Oneself, Negative Self-image,

Word Count: 1.5k

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Never-ending Consequences

The carriage drew to a halt no more than half an hour later in the middle of central London. “Miss Brimmer,” the judge said in a low, incredibly clear murmur. “I shall provide shelter for the night, my lady.” “Oh, my lord, how good of you,” I said, a wide smile adoring my lips as the man with steel for eyes looked at me in a manner I could not fully determine to be neither good nor bad. Consuming, yes, but unknown to me.

The door opened and the judge stepped out gracefully before offering his hand for me to support my own exit. Such a gentleman, I thought as I grasped his glove-clad hand. It was sturdy and strong, holding me with stability. “Thank you, my lord.” He smiled in a stoic sort of fashion. “We shall send a search party for your carriage when morning comes, Miss Brimmer.” “Thank you, sir. You are most helpful, such a gentleman.” “I can be,” he drawled, releasing my hand and turning a second later with a look to his features I was not certain about.

I followed in his wake, entering the grand townhouse through a large black door only to be met by a gloom that seemed to cling to the very walls of the man’s home. Well, that’s a rather unpleasant feeling for a home. Where are his decorations? Christmas is nearly here, yet there are no garlands or adornments to tell of it.

“Good evening, my lord,” said a woman dressed in a black dress with a white apron and grey hair pinned up. “Miss Brimmer shall stay the night, order the room.” His voice was harsh and direct yet I found it rather thrilling as it filled the entrance hall. Perhaps I hit my head harder than I thought? “Yes, my lord.” The maid stiffly bowed her head as the judge removed his out garments and I found myself lost in adoring thoughts of the manner he was dressed underneath that thick winter coat.

“Miss Brimmer,” the maid said. “May I take your cloak, my lady?” I jolted. “Why certainly, thank you,” I replied in a rush, feeling heat creep up my neck as my eyes finally left the man dressed fully in black with golden details to his frock and vest. There was something about him… I could not put my finger on it yet he drew my attention in a manner none other ever had while his entire being had this unapproachable hardness to it — a harsh power that appeared unyielding. Yes, yes I have absolutely hit my head. I must have, this man is…

I could not term it. Dangerous? Cold? Unreachable? Well, for me, most certainly. Oh, this is grand, to be attracted to a man far out of my reach — that infernal bad luck seems to remain. Pity, I would have liked for things to change but no matter. I am a woman with no consequence to the world, and so I shall remain even when the world seems to throw consequences my way from left and right simultaneously. Perhaps I shall find myself with a cow falling atop my head someday, would be no far stretch to assume bad luck would fall upon me from above, too, given it flanks me on either side.

“Come, I shall walk you,” Judge Turpin said in that dark rumble that seemed to go through me. I blinked, seeing his gaze travel up and down myself. “Thank you, my lord,” I managed to push out as the inferiority of my dress to his exquisite clothes had me nearly sighing. Rid yourself of the idea that there is even a chance, Julianne. Rid yourself of it. This man is not for you, nor will he house any interest in you. He is a man of the law, acting like a gentleman ought to by helping a damsel in distress, obviously.

I followed two steps behind, walking up the stairs toward the upper levels of the house. “You mentioned the Christmas Ball?” he said without looking back at me. What a good thing too or he would have found me admiring the broadness of his shoulders. “Oh, why yes, yes. I’m not one for such frivolous things usually but one must endure for the sake of one’s future, my lord.” “Is that so?” I smiled for myself, a contrite thing covering my lips. “Yes. As you already pointed out I ought to be a Mrs rather than a Miss, my lord. I am not one men find attractive, or interesting, for that matter. I do not mind, bad luck follows wherever I go and I pity the man who ends up wed to the equivalent of a black cat crossing a road under a ladder and knocking a mirror down with its tail simultaneously, my lord.” He did not react to my words, not that I could tell at least.

We stepped through a hallway while I spoke rather freely. There was no need to hide myself from the harsh man, he was not within my reach either way — I still continued to allow myself the handsome view of him, though, I was not to be in his company for long so I ought to make the most of it I figured.

“You speak harshly of yourself,” he said in a rather darkened tone after a moment. I chuckled. “No, my lord, I speak honestly about myself when possible.” “When possible?” he asked, stopping outside a door and once more turning toward me, those steely eyes hooking mine without a flicker of motion in them yet I was utterly trapped. A bunny in a snare. “Yes. Should you be within my reach I might not disclose my faults so freely but I am a woman of little consequence in the presence of a gentleman of the law. Truth must find its freedom in such situations, do you not agree, Judge Turpin?”

I kept eye contact, a tingling sensation filling me within as he viewed me most harshly. I rather liked that, truth be told. There was no insincere smile, no false pretence or acting.

He arched a brow at me, the action sharp and well-practised it appeared. “Truth, you say?” “Yes, my lord. I do endeavour to be honest but that almost always lands me in some form of predicament. I am simply not made for society and all its falsities. I try, my lord, yet I fear I shall never master the skill.” I smiled at him as my cheeks heated. Well, this is going jolly good. I am already making a fool of myself in his presence. Even though it does not matter I am truthfully saddened by my own words, I think.

“You declare me out of your reach,” he drawled. “That is quite the freedom you’ve claimed, Miss Brimmer.” My eyes widened as the warmth left my cheeks. “Goodness, no, sir. I meant to take no freedoms or liberties, I am merely aware of my standing, my lord. One ought to always remember one's standing in society, to know one's place is most important. Especially when in the company of someone far grander, my lord.” He arched his brow again. “Grander?” I spluttered, my body not knowing if it wished to pale or blush. “Y-yes, my lord. I am merely the daughter of a master smith, a woman who has known hard labour and little comforts. I would never assume myself grand enough to stand in your presence or be offered aid from such a grand man so I am remembering my place in your fine company, my lord.” “Talkative, are we?” “Oh, yes, my lord. One of my many faults. I apologize for occupying your time with my—” “None occupies my time.” “My lord?”

He stepped closer and my back stiffened as a waft of the musty scent he smelled of hit me. It was quite the delicious scent, truth be told, and I had to stop myself from inhaling deeply. “None occupy my time. My time is spent how I see fit,” he said in a manner that was both decisive and commanding. “Yes, of course, sir. I apologize.” Well, this is going utterly great. Gosh, if I have to endure another hardship on this wretched earth I shall surely implode. “I shall see you in the morning, Miss Brimmer. Eight o’clock sharp.” I bowed my head, feeling idiotic and like a nuisance to the man who so kindly helped me far beyond what necessity required. “Yes, sir. Thank you, my lord.”

He walked off toward the end of the hall without another word. His steps were long and the thudding of his footfalls loud. What a man… No, no, get your head out of the clouds! This is all bad luck one more time. Do not-, Julianne, do not fall for the gentleman you cannot have. Stop it, right this instance. And why am I still looking at him?! As my tirade ended he opened his bedroom door and closed it behind him. “Foolish, Julianne. Not only foolish but you made yourself into a fool in his presence. Well done, absolutely fantastic of you. Wasting the man's time with your blabbering. Idiot.”

To Be Continued...

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NEXT PART » Prompt 10: Lingering Touch [C3]

A/N: He does tell her she's not occupying his time - that has to mean something, right? 👀 Gosh they are such a mismatched pair and I can't wait to solve how they're going to end up together - I'm thinking some drama, some darkness, and perhaps a close call or two? 🤭❤

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[hotpinkboots]

~𝕭𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖝 𝕷𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊 x Fem!Reader (Mini-Oneshot)~

~~~

I'm practically asleep right now, but my brain is absolutely demanding that I write something for Trixie (Bellatrix). Bellatrix requests will be immediately accepted and written asap 🤝

Summary: Bellatrix cages you against herself and the wall behind you, taunting and sneering at you. She finds disgusting pleasure in seeing you so afraid of her.

Warning(s): Yandere behavior, holding (Y/N) in place against her will, a bit of Bellatrix's tongue, (Y/N) in terror, ect.

~~~

"Keep still, pet!" Bellatrix breathed out a chuckle, fingers wrapped firmly around your throat to force you to stare at her. Her breath was warm and heavy, it gently blew the black curls that fell over her dark eyes into your face. You could feel whisps of her hair tickling your cheek, unkempt nails digging into your neck, and the low rasp of her breathing.

How would you ever escape? Surely your friends would come back for you. Perhaps they were getting help right now. Perhaps help was already on the way!

...

Perhaps they wouldn't make it in time.

Bellatrix cackled at the sight of your expression. The corners of your lips trembled into a frown of terror that you could not hide, no matter how brave you tried to be. Your brows were furrowed, eyes glossy with tears, and you were practically holding your breath to keep yourself from sobbing. But to your despair, it only made you give a desperate hiccup.

She began to pout mockingly at you, batting her eyes and sticking her bottom lip out. "Ohhh, poor baby..." Bellatrix drew her words out to taunt you, hopefully to even make you cry harder.

When tears began to dampen your lashes, Bellatrix thrived off of the sight. She waited until a warm tear ran down your cheek, and when the time came, she roughly removed her hand from your throat. Bellatrix yanked you roughly by the hair to pull your head to the right, the force she used making your neck ache painfully.

"Look at me, pet~ Pretty, pretty pet. Stupid, helpless little pet! AHAHAHA!" Bellatrix cheered in sick joy. Her excitement faded into an intense closed mouth half smile, and she leaned closer to intimidated you further. She then smirked, her eyes going half lidded. Bellatrix looked smug, proud of herself for bringing you down into a black void of pure silent panic.

"Look at me." She repeated harshly. Your eyes were locked on her in pure horror as she slowly let her tongue slither out like a snake from between her teeth, holding you by the scalp to keep you still whilst she leaned in and dragged her wet, hot tongue up your cheek to lap at your salty tears.

"Silly girl..." Sneered Bellatrix. One hand stayed locked firmly in your hair, while the other had her wand in it. Bellatrix held it under your chin, pressing the tip of her pointed wand into your soft flesh. Bellatrix's fluffy hair draped thickly over your shoulder and eyes when she leaned closer, her lips at your ear.

"What a pity...You seemed so brave when I first saw you. And just look at you, now. Pathetic and afraid, aren't you? I'm disappointed." Bellatrix pulled her lips away from your ear to grin derisively at you once more. She blinked slowly, her eyes drifting away from you, pretending to look as though she was thinking about releasing you. But the moment you relaxed a single muscle in your neck, she snapped her gaze back to you once more and gripped you even harder.

"Poor thing. Seems a downright shame, really." Bellatrix jeered sarcastically.

~~~

~Love, PinkBoots

[mrs-sharp]

Happy birthday. You are missed.

[macabr3-barbi3]

God, That's Good

Chapter 11: Pretty Women

There's a hole in the world Like a great black pit And it's filled with people Who are filled with shit And the vermin of the world Inhabit it—

Tags: the usual. Murderous thoughts and intents

I am once again late with this but we're almost at the end of Act 1! I'm sorry this is taking so much longer to get out than I initially expected, October really threw me for a loop 😅

thank you as always to @fraugwinska and @minkdelovely for their continued support of this fic despite the delays!

Act 1: Chapter 1 🥧 Chapter 2 🥧 Chapter 3 🥧 Chapter 4 🥧Chapter 5 🥧 Chapter 6  🥧Chapter 7 🥧 Chapter 8 🥧 Chapter 9 🥧 Chapter 10 🥧 Chapter 11

Upon following Alastor out of the apartment and back to the barbershop, the work they had done was swift- Alastor had sent Lucifer down to his home to grab a basket and fresh clothing for them both, and by the time the barber had come back, Pentious’ body was safely stowed away where it would wait until the dead of night, when they could sneak it out of the building to a cemetery or the bayou. When Lucifer stepped through the door of his shop, he had been amazed at the speed with which Alastor had managed to clean up the blood that had soaked the floor- something he explained away as having practice from working at the butcher’s.

The most pressing mess having been cleaned up, they stepped back into the old apartment to change out of their soiled clothing, Alastor promising to get them washed as soon as he could. Lucifer had been a little distracted by the unveiling of all of Alastor’s skin as he had changed, reminding himself that he was far too old to let a little skin rile him up so much again as Alastor tugged on a fresh shirt and slacks.

Standing together in the barbershop, Alastor pulls Lucifer closer by his bowtie and straightens it out, a hum under his breath the only sound aside from their breathing. “You’re not afraid of me at all, huh?” Lucifer asks, and Alastor’s eyes tick up with a smile.

“I pose no threat to you,” he says softly. “I understand why you did what you did, dear, and I have no intentions of wronging you in any such way that you would turn your malice my way.” He looks over to the trunk he had managed to shove Pentious into meaningfully. “He was a liability to your plan- to your livelihood- and you were right to dispose of him.” 

Lucifer’s insides squirm uncomfortably at the memory- the violent way that Pentious had fought against him, the scrapes and cuts he still bore on his arms from the struggle before he had put a permanent end to it. It still felt wrong, if justified, to know that he had taken a man’s life; that he planned to do it at least twice more. But to know that he had Alastor’s unconditional support was a balm on the blow to his soul, a bit of comfort in the hardship of the day.

It was then that he remembered Vaggie would possibly be bringing Charlie soon- if not today- and his spirits soared again. “You’re right. And with Vaggie bringing Charlie- the timing was wrong. He needed to be taken care of.”

“Precisely.” Alastor brushes a finger down Lucifer’s face with a smile before stepping away to throw a couple clean towels on top of the blood-soaked linens in the basket, picking it up to rest on his hip. “Come now- we should get these downstairs before your sailor friend arrives.” Lucifer nods, turning towards the door of the shop when he notices movement on the street below.

Adam.

His face was littered with unkempt stubble, his clothing wrinkled and stained. He still walked with the confidence of more put-together man, something that Lucifer had always envied of him, an air to him that didn’t make him seem out of place next to the proper and perfect Beadle, with not even a hair out of place. “It’s him,” he whispers, and when Alastor makes a questioning noise he repeats, “it’s him! Adam!”

“Really?” Alastor peers through the window as well, sees Sera brushing off Adam’s shoulders and pointing to the sign for the barbershop. “My my, it would seem fortune is kind to you today, my dear!”

Adam doesn’t even look up as he approaches, and Lucifer realizes how easy it would be to simply make his death look like an accident- drop a heavy object from the window to crack over his head and send him tumbling back down the stairs, ‘accidentally’ fall into him as he descends and make sure his head lands with a satisfying crunch on the sidewalk. There were ways to end his life that wouldn’t require that Lucifer get his hands any bloodier than they already were- and Sera as well. He could simply poison them the way that Lilith had been poisoned, invite them for tea and slip arsenic into the glasses, watch them gasp for air and claw at their throats as they realized what he had done.

But no. For Adam, in particular, his death would be personal. Intentional. Despite his distaste for the way he had killed Pentious, he wanted to feel the life slip from his body the same way. Only then would he be vindicated, his wife and the life he could have had finally avenged. He wanted Adam’s blood to stain the floors of his barber shop until the building collapsed, a smear on New Orleans that could never be washed clean or sent away.

The knock at the door pulls him from his stupor, and Alastor’s not taken more than two steps before it flies open without waiting for a response. “Lucifer Morningstar?” He asks Alastor, with a glance up and down the man’s body, a poorly disguised look of distaste on his features as he looks around the building.

“Heavens, no! I own the building this fine establishment is in- and the bakery downstairs.” He waves a hand towards Lucifer, still standing stock still on the other side of the room by the window. “Here is our esteemed barber, Judge Cain- and a pleasure to meet you, might I add! If you have business to attend to, I’ll be off!” He repositions the basket on his hip and steps around Adam, shooting Lucifer a wink before he exits and closes the door behind him with a resounding click.

Adam narrows his eyes at Lucifer, watching him intently. “You look fucking familiar,” he says, and Lucifer’s hands clench at his sides in preparation for a fight. It was unlikely that Adam would have recognized him- the man hadn’t seen him clean shaven like this in well over twenty-five years- but he still should have accounted for the possibility. He wasn’t sure he was fast enough to get to his razors in time if Adam rushed him, but he would beat him to death with his bare hands if he had to-

He clears his throat, forcing the tension in his shoulders to relax and giving the man a smile when Adam’s eyes don’t widen in recognition after his statement. “I’m afraid I haven’t yet had the pleasure of meeting you, sir- but of course, the reputation of the esteemed Judge Cain does proceed you. I’m humbled that you’ve decided to grace my shop with your presence.” He was maybe laying it on a little thick, but if there was one thing he knew about Adam it was that flattery would get you everywhere with him, and was a surefire way to make sure his guard went down.

As expected, Adam puffs his chest up. “Well, Sera said you’re the best in town- and naturally I need the best, especially for an occasion like this. Let’s get a move on,” he says, impatient as he approaches the barber chair, “I’ve got important shit to do tonight.”

“Of course, your Excellency,” Lucifer says, letting his anger simmer below the surface while Adam settles into the chair, fiddling with the levers for his own comfort. “Might I ask what the occasion is, and what you’re looking to get done? A soothing massage, perhaps? A haircut?”

“A shave, obviously,” he says with a sneer, catching his own eye in the mirror across from him. “I need this stubble gone- got a lady I’m trying to impress, and I need it done fast.”

A woman- typical. That was the only time that Adam had ever come to Lucifer when he was Damien, was when he was trying to lure some unsuspecting lady to his bed. But he seemed agitated and tense in a way he had never been when trying to score a lay before, closer to the way he had been when he finally admitted his love for Lilith.

“Pretty shitty place you got here,” he adds as Lucifer comes to stand behind him, casting his eye around the room while the barber gathered his materials. “You know, I knew the barber that lived here before and he kept it a hell of a lot nicer. You could take some pointers.”

His back is to Adam when he stills, fingers tensing around the handle of his blade. “You knew him?”

“Yeah, he was a buddy of mine,” he says, and allows the barber to lower the chair, tip him back for a better position.”Before- well, you know, shit went down. Things happen.” He shrugs and closes his eyes with the new reclined position of the chair, relaxing with the prospect of his coming shave.

Shit went down. Things happen. What a way to describe ruining his best friend’s life, making his wife drink poison, feigning care for their daughter, likely lying to her all the while. The nonchalance that he spoke with filled Lucifer with a white hot rage, his fingernails digging into his palms. “You don’t say,” he says through gritted teeth, grabbing his soap bowl to begin to lather it. It wouldn’t do to strike too quickly- it would be better to lure him into a sense of calm, get him nice and relaxed so he couldn’t fight back when Lucifer dragged his blade across his traitorous throat. “I hope to soon have the shop looking a bit more welcoming. I have to say, I’m so pleased that you’ve come to see me this evening- I swear this will be the closest shave you’ve ever had.”

The last one, too.

Lucifer feels detached from his body, a wraith that shares his face when he turns back around and catches his reflection in the mirror above Adam.

He doesn’t blame him for not recognizing him without looking closer. The bags beneath his eyes are dark and heavy like they had never been when he was younger, happier. His hair has traces of gray that blend seamlessly into his blonde, and his shaven face held wrinkles that Adam had never seen before when they still knew one another. Adam had aged, too- the same streaks of gray to his dark locks, laugh lines etched into the skin of his mouth and his eyes.

Who would they be now, had Adam not betrayed him?

“It had better be,” Adam sneers, “or you’ll be out of a job as quick as you started. I need to look fucking good tonight- and hey, if you do manage to get it right I’ll hire you for the wedding!”

“Oh! A wedding, you say?” He would never make it to the altar, even without Lucifer’s interference. The only woman Adam had ever said he loved was six feet deep somewhere in this city- he had never wanted to settle down, content to sweet talk woman into bed with him with no promises or commitments when they were younger, and Lucifer truly couldn’t imagine the kind of woman that could possibly catch his old friend’s attention now. He starts brushing the lathered soap onto Adam’s cheek, the strands of the brush catching on his stubble and preventing a frictionless glide “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“My ward, Charlie. And let me tell you, she’s a looker; it’s no surprise, her mom was too! Missed my chance with her though- I never really expected to…” 

Lucifer nearly drops the brush- he manages to catch himself as Adam keeps talking, spewing bullshit about how lucky she was to have caught his eye, how it was fate that she had grown up just as beautiful, that he was here on the shitty side of town now to make sure that she could see the best version of him when he informed her of the good news.

The idea of it was vile at best. He had known Charlie since infancy, had watched her grow up; to know that he looked at her now with lust filled eyes, saw her as some kind of replacement for the woman he had driven to suicide…

“The things we do,” Lucifer finds himself saying, “for pretty women, yes?”

“Hell yeah, man, you get it!” He grins, soap lathered across his face, waiting for Lucifer to carefully shave it away like the action could remove the sins he had committed. “I’ve put up with a lot of shit for a bit of tail over the years, you know- shit, maybe I shouldn’t talk about that, Sera would have my hide. Don’t go spreading any of this around, got me?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Lucifer tells him, bringing the blade down to rest almost lovingly against his stubbled cheek. “I know how to keep a secret.”

“Sweet! So I might be like, the Judge around here or whatever but I’m still a man, you know? So I’ll take a lady out once in a while and treat her all nice and shit, and…”

He tells his story while Lucifer slowly, slowly drags the blade down his skin, clearing the hair and soap in the razor’s path as he goes. His motions are methodical, precise as he turn’s Adam’s head this way and that, the man’s shoulders relaxing further and further as Lucifer goes, melting boneless into the chair as he’s serviced. Lucifer doesn’t even hear what he’s saying anymore, so focused on the reveal of shaven skin and picturing in his mind’s eyes what it would look like splattered with blood when he finally made the final swipe clean across Adam’s throat. This was his moment- this was what had made the last fifteen years of waiting, of hurting, worth it. Lilith would be avenged, and he would finally be satisfied, he thinks as he wipes away the last bit of shaving soap and positions his blade again, securely pressed to the jugular and ready to be pulled. It would all be for something now.

Adam laughs at something he said then, likely his own joke, his eyes opening to look into Lucifer’s like he was waiting for a chuckle, the delicate skin around his eyes crinkled with mirth. For a moment he looks so much like the man, the friend, that Lucifer had once known that his hand, traitorous and forgiving, hesitates in what should have been it’s final motion.

“She’s agreed, Mister Morningstar!”

The door to the barbershop flies open, a resounding crack echoing in the air as it slams with force into the wall- it startles Lucifer into a nick of the skin on Adam’s throat, not nearly as deep or wide as he needed it to be. The sharp pain makes Adam flinch as blood trickles like sweat down the column of his neck, a loud “what the fuck” escaping his lips that’s drowned out by Vaggie’s excited words as she closes the door behind her. Her dark hair is messy, strands escaping her usual tight braid, her lips swollen and her face flushed from activities that were too obvious even to Lucifer’s eyes. 

“Charlie said she would go away with me; we’ll go North, far North, where that tyrannical Judge could never dream to follow us-”

“What the fuck is this?”

Vaggie finally notices him as he speaks, her mouth blissfully falling silent as she realizes who she had come in on. “Judge Cain,” she stammers, color draining from her face as he stands from the chair and throws the towel around his neck to the floor, stained with what little blood Lucifer had managed to draw with the slip of his razor. “I thought- Mister Lovett downstairs said-”

“You little bitch,” Adam snarls, stalking across the room and shoving hard at Vaggie’s shoulders; she stumbles backwards into the wall as he continues to advance. “I fucking told Sera we should have shipped you off the first fucking time we spotted you sniffing around my goddamn house, and now this?” When Vaggie steps away from the wall he shoves her again, her feet slipping out from under her as she slides down the wall with the force of it, the sound of her head smacking off the wall loud. “You’re fucking stupid if you think Charlie is going anywhere- I’ll lock that deceitful slut up myself before I let her go anywhere with you, and if you don’t get the fuck out of my town-”

Lucifer was across the room before he could think better of it, the insult to Charlie striking him like a hand across the face. He wasn’t even sure what he planned to do as he stepped between Adam and Vaggie, his razor still held half open in his hands. 

Adam took the option away from him. “And you,” he growls at Lucifer, ripping the razor from his hands and hurling it across the room- it clatters noisily along the floor while Adam sticks a finger into Lucifer’s face. “Was this your plan all along? Distract me while this bitch runs off with my fucking girl?”

“Of course not,” he bites back, tamping down the rising panic in his chest, “how could I have known-”

Adam shoulders past him, his larger frame ensuring that Lucifer is almost sent tumbling to the floor as he strides to the door. “You’re both full of shit,” he sneers, ignoring Lucifer’s words as he yanks the door back open. “And if this,” he says with a distasteful look at Vaggie,  “is the kind of company you keep you’d better hope you have some loyal fucking customers because I sure as Hell won’t be singing your praises.” And with that he slams the door closed behind him and descends.

“Mister Morningstar?” Vaggie asks, still sprawled on the floor of the parlor, and he doesn’t reach out a hand to help her.

Lucifer feels something in him breaking with every thundering step that shakes the building as Adam runs down them. All he can see is that split second of hesitation when Adam had laughed, the moment of recognition to the man he used to be, the men they both were. He would have gotten his determination back, he was sure of it, had Vaggie not come in-

“You’re scaring me, sir,” she finally says to break the silence, and Lucifer drops to his knees to pick up the razor from the floor before he looks at her again.

“Get out,” he says quietly, in an attempt to get her to leave before the storm inside of him boiled over, spilling his rage across the floor like blood.

“Sir, I-”

“OUT,” he screams, the force of it tearing forth from his throat as he brandishes the razor at her in renewed fury. “OUT, GET OUT!” He rages as he climbs from his knees, and Vaggie stumbles to her feet and flees, Alastor peeking into the room curiously moments after she had gone.

“What’s happened?” He asks pleasantly, noting the soiled towel on the floor and picking it up. Lucifer crosses the room and watches Adam and Vaggie leaving the shop in different directions from the window, as Alastor comes closer to stand next to him.

“I had him,” he says softly. “He was right here.”

“That sailor,” Alastor tuts placing a hand on his shoulder, “not even stopping into the bakery to see if you were busy. How sad, to have such good luck be thwarted-”

“No, damn it, I HAD HIM!” He smacks Alastor’s hands away from him and stalks away, his heart beating loud in his ears. “His throat was bare right in front of me, I was so close-” His hands tangle into his hair, pulling like the action could turn back time, take away that moment of hesitation when he should have slit Adam’s throat like he had been planning for months. 

“Come now, Lucifer,” Alastor says, approaching him with his palms held aloft and a soft look in his eyes. “Everything will be alright, you’ll have your chance-”

“He’ll never come back!” He swipes his hand across his table of instruments, sending everything but the razor in his hand clattering to the floor with a crash. “It’s ruined, it’s all ruined-”

His hands run jagged through his hair, strands catching on the scrapes he’s accumulated through the day, from the fight with Pentious. The sting of it is grounding as he paces around the chair, kicking at the instruments that litter the floor. “Fuck, if Vaggie hadn’t shown when she did it would be done.” It’s unfair to blame the sailor- he knows it was him, the stay of his hand when Adam smiled, the curse of his human heart despite the vengeful monster he had sworn himself to be.

“Hmm, yes, the woman did have some abysmal timing, didn’t she?”

“You have no room to talk,” Lucifer spat at him, in lieu of getting more angry with himself. “You told me to wait. To bid my time, and I did, and now it’s all FUCKED.” He screams the last word, echoing off the empty walls of the parlor and making Alastor flinch.

He thinks of Charlie then, how she would feel seeing him like this, not recognizing him in his rage and his absence. Would she flinch, too? Frightened by the man that he had become in his quest to avenge the life she should have had, if Vaggie had brought her? Despair festers in his veins like a disease, knowing that there was no world in which she would love him again. His sweet daughter, estranged by time; killing Adam would never give them back the time they had missed together, even if he would feel sated knowing that such a blemish on the world was rightfully purged.

Perhaps that was what the world truly needed, he thinks deliriously, and it feels like he can feel his blood moving at a glacial pace through his body. Perhaps not just Adam, but all of them; every self righteous, hypocritical, selfish man that pulled the same stunts that the Judge did. Made moves for their own benefits, didn’t care who they were hurting in the process, just took what they wanted and moved on. Every person in the Church, in the Courts, that allowed Adam to stay where he was, in a position of power that he abused at every turn. Everything he’s feeling swirls inside of him, the frustration and rage and distant sadness, until it settles in the pit of his stomach with a startling clarity.

The whole city deserved to burn, and he was happy to light the match.

His manic laugh prompts Alastor to tip his head to one side, not any closer than he was before but no longer looking fearful. “Something funny?” He asks lightly, eyes tracking the movement of Lucifer’s arms as he lowers them, releasing his hair and letting them fall to his sides.

“New Orleans is a cesspool,” he says, and even he is surprised at the low tone, the darkness that seeps into his words as he speaks- but it makes Alastor’s expression light up with interest, finally coming closer, reaching a hand out to him that Lucifer takes, relishing in the gentle warmth of him when everything in himself feels cold. “And there’s no way for something to heal when the disease is still present.”

And despite the dark promise that taints in his tone, Alastor smiles. “It is indeed!” He says cheerfully, pulling Lucifer closer by his hand and tipping his face up with a delicate finger. “So what are you going to do about it, my dear?”

Act 1: Chapter 1 🥧 Chapter 2 🥧 Chapter 3 🥧 Chapter 4 🥧Chapter 5 🥧 Chapter 6  🥧Chapter 7 🥧 Chapter 8 🥧 Chapter 9 🥧 Chapter 10 🥧 Chapter 11

[trashpidgeon48]

Sweeney Todd Fic Recs

So, I’ve been reading almost exclusively Sweeney Todd fic for the last few months and I wanted to gather up some of my favorites to present to y’all. (Fair warning most of these are Sweenett fics)

Pushing Daisies by FelixCited

Rating: Explicit

Words: 55k [Complete]

Ship: Sweeney Todd/Nellie Lovett

Wonderful Canon divergent fic. Starts with the Barkers arrival in London and goes from there. Equal parts Sad/Spicy/Sweet/I want to bash the characters skulls in cause they’re so stupid.

Any fic by worstpies

Rating: Almost always Explicit

Ship: Sweeney Todd/Nellie Lovett

Very smutty Sweenett smut ahead, be warned. But within each piece, you also find very interesting character studies, especially relating to my girl Nellie. For me, the character studies are the best part.

Any fic by armandjolras

Rating: Almost always Explicit

Ships: Sweeney Todd/Nellie Lovett, Lucy Barker/Nellie Lovett, Nellie Lovett/Mrs. Mooney

Once again, another author rec. Once again, more smutty character studies. But besides the standard Sweenett fare, we also have some lovely femslash, as well as a wonderful Lucy Barker character study. I want to inject this author’s writing into my veins sometimes.

give you my wild, give you a child by stonehearts

Rating: Mature

Words: 6k [Complete]

Ship: Sweeney Todd/Nellie Lovett

Cute, mildly angsty pregnancy au. Sweeney starts out incredibly reluctant but he comes around. Trying to earn his father of the year status back after returning from Australia.

not a lot, just forever by stonehearts

Rating: Gen

Words: 6k [Complete]

Ship: Sweeney Todd/Nellie Lovett

Another pregnancy AU, but this time we’re at the beach and Johanna is here. This fic is such a treat because we get Johanna POV, that is so rare and it is so well done in this fic in particular.

Barber, Baker, Beggar, Bride by demonbarberofbeepbeep

Rating: Mature

Words: 16k [Complete]

Ship: Sweeney Todd/Lucy Barker

Sweeney stops being an idiot and realizes that the Beggar woman is his wife, Lucy. And then all the angsty complications that go along with it.

A Slice of Afterlife by Moonlightshadoww

Rating: Teen

Words: 12k [Complete]

Ship: Sweeney Todd/Nellie Lovett

Ghost AU that goes by Beetlejuice logic. Mrs. Mooney buys the bakery after the events of the musical and they try to haunt her out. It’s a very silly and enjoyable fic.

something like love with nowhere to go by Macremae

Rating: Teen

Words: 7k [Complete]

Ship: Gen

Johanna POV character study as she reads Sweeney’s letters to her Post-Canon. Wonderful exploration of Johanna’s upbringing, complicated relationship with her father, and grief.

Passing Strange by Pamena

Rating: T

Words: 125k [Complete]

Ship: Sweeney Todd/Nellie Lovett

An oldy but a goody on ff.net. Nellie and Sweeney are fated to be together and so the fates make them immortal after the events of canon until they admit that they love each other.

Death is for the Alive by Defying.Expectations

Rating: T

Words: 184k [Complete]

Ship: Sweeney Todd/Nellie Lovett

Another ff.net fic. Post-Canon Afterlife AU with an incredibly creative version of the afterlife.

Bitter Freedoms by MoonlitSerenity

Rating: T

Words: 259k

Ship: Gen

More ff.net fic. Pre-Canon. A teenage Johanna ends up running away and shipped off to Botany Bay for stealing and meeting her father, Benjamin Barker. This fic is mostly complete, just without an epilogue so the ending doesn’t feel as satisfying.

Anyway, these are all the fics that I have for you today. If I’m missing any good fics, let me know. Also shoutout to my own writing on A03, plenty of Sweenett goodness to be found.

[blizzard-of-ozz]

Okay okay Good Omens AU idea

Good Omens x Sweeney Todd

Crowley is Sweeney Todd and Aziraphale is the pie lady. There's also romantic subplot of course !! (Maybe it's more plot then subplot)

Also have some Fanart (not mine, all credits to original creator)

[smilingformoney]

Sins of the Flesh

IV. Always

Summary: For better or for worse...

Warnings/content: Rape/non-con, abusive relationship, stockholm syndrome, jealousy, semi-public sex, pregnancy, blood, menstruation, breeding kink, Victorian attitudes, doctor/patient roleplay, anal rape, forced oral, blood play, masturbation, fingering, watching masturbation, suicide, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

Read now on Ao3.

AN: Thanks for taking this wild ride with me, folks. I thought maybe 2 people would want to read this but it's proved a lot more popular than I expected... turns out we're all a little bit deranged here.

I'm sure you all know this but remember that Turpin and yn's relationship is extremely toxic and unhealthy and we all deserve better irl <3 Turpin still hot tho.

[broadwayinabox]

For all those interested, chapters 1-11 are now up on AO3

I am too long winded for succinct summaries but here goes:

Pre-Sweeney/Prison Benjamin Barker and Nellie Lovett, baby Johanna and a lot of angst, sadness, love, and yah know bloody stuff.

Also so many cameos and call backs, it would make Taylor Swift blush.

[stabby-apologist]

The trope that A loves B in spite of the bad things they’ve done but B is actually a genuinely horrible person like a serial killer or something and it’s like a Dark Fic like

—-

A: “I love her.”

OC: “She’s killed like 10 people and ripped somebody open with a chainsaw…

A, looking on lovingly: “Nobody’s perfect.”

—-

Love it. I love it so much.

[thebluestpaintwater]

Chapter Summary:

Harry runs into some familiar faces.

Heres chapter two! Sorry it took so long. Hope people enjoy<3