Sweeney Todd x reader - Our Secret

New home

Whilst waiting for the boat to arrive at the dock, I notice a fellow man staring at my direction just a few metres from where I'm standing.

He makes no attempt in being discrete and that makes me irritated. Men these days think they rule anything just cause they have a cock and some of daddy's money to flaunt. Pathetic ..

I turn away, preparing myself for the boat to stop and gather my belongings in the meantime. I don't have much, cause I don't need much, as soon as I'm done with what I've come to do. I intend to join my family. I have no other purpose than killing the men who took everything from me. And that is all.

Before I'm just about to step off I hear a man calling, "Miss, you appear to have dropped something." His hand tapping my shoulder as his other holds a tiny brown bag. He's dressed in a fine blue suit and seems to be some sort of salesman. I know this cause I've seen enough like them....they're all the same. Well, my father wasn't like that.
I stare down at it and look back up to see him smiling at me, but it's not a nice smile, no...

I know this smile and seeing it makes me want to rip out his tongue and shove it back down his throat so that he could choke on it.

"That's not mine", I point out and attempt to turn away. But his fucking hand is now wrapping round my arm. The fuck-!

"Are you sure Miss, it seemed as if it-", "I am positive it is not mine. Now sir if you would be so kind to let me go!" That came out a lot louder than intended. People now stare at us, then his hand on me.
His cheeks brighten and finally he lets go, though I swear I felt as if he tightened his hand for a second. Bastard. Like a little squeeze is gonna scare me.

He gives me a look of hatred and embarrassment. Then he walks off, along with a little blond boy that carries some luggage. Poor kid, wonder if he's got a family. Wouldn't surprise me if he didn't by the way that man treats him like a personal butler.

Men.

I spend the next few hours wondering the towns of London, getting an idea of what the streets are like and what parts are busy. I'll have to come again at night so see if it's any different.

You might just turn a corner and find a sex worker with someone's cock in her mouth.
No shame in it, you do what you gotta do to survive. Even if it means destroying yourself for the sake of others. That the world we live in now.

This world is cruel...and so are the people in it.

Before coming to London, I had someone help me contact a friend of a friend that lives here in London, asking if they could take me in. They agreed. As long as I worked for them and didn't cause trouble.
I believe the name was Lovett. She runs a bakery. Can't be too much trouble. She won't even notice I'm there half the time.

After another hour of waking around, I finally come across a street with the name Mrs Lovetts Meat Pie on a small building.

I walk in, with the welcoming noise of a bell and automatically come face to face with a women, her face pale and eyes dark as if she hadn't slept in years.
Her hands are covered in - I presume flour and her hair is in a weird messy style that looks like a birds nest. I quite like the look. If different from the usual standard women.

"Hello, I'm y/n. Tom Harlem sent a letter on behalf of my stay at work here" I stated.
Her eyes widen to the realisation,
"Oh yes, yes of course. I had forgotten about that. Oh do come in, it's quite cold out there" she motions me in rubbing her arms afterwards.

The shop is quite small, and to say she's still in business and in need of help is quite hard to believe. Theres not one customer here. Except for the cockroaches that creep around the floor and the....flour. Gross.

"I'm Mrs Lovett, but you can call me Nellie, no need for us to be formal" she shakes some flour of her hands, though it does practically nothing.

She offers her hand and I take it, flour doesn't bother me, I'm not exactly dressed in proper clothing so it doesn't matter.

"Thank you for taking me in, i didn't think anyone would knowing of my background"
The background I provided.
I y/n, an orphan, raised in a catholic orphanage that had trouble with settling in with foster families due to my behaviour of episodes of rage.

That's all I told to anyone who asked about me. Just so I could protect my identity from the people who murdered my family. They thought they got all of us; they just forgot about the 9 year old girl hiding in the walls.
Then again, who's gonna say 'lets check the walls'.

"Oh darling what kind of person would I be, not letting a poor girl like you in. I've seen my fair share of people and you don't come close to my list of crazies. Besides, having a young women like you working with me could be fun" she takes her apron off and throws it on a open chair, turning away to another door.

"Follow me dearie, it's much more nicer in here than it is in there" she calls out.

I follow her into a living room with a yellow glow from the fireplace. It's cozy in here; dark but cozy.
I'm not afraid if the dark. Never have been. It's just what lurks in it that gives me a sense of unease.

"Drink?" She offers a glass of what seems to be gin or whiskey.

"Thank you" I take it without hesitation. I swallow it all in one go, loving the burning sensation that slides inside my throat.

"Looks like you needed that" Nellie chuckles.

You have no idea ....

"So, y/n. I'll get straight to the point cause I have some business to take care off. You job is mainly cleaning and keeping the area look nice and running errands for me. If you know how to bake, good. That'll come in handy. But I won't lie, you won't be busy all the time, business is slow due to our meat situation, so I won't expect you here all the time."

She goes on about rules and what I can and can't do. It doesn't bother me.
What bothers me is that I can hear footsteps above and she hasn't mentioned it once at all if someone else is here.

"Does someone else work here?" I rush out, cutting her off mid sentence.

She looks up and nods, "ah yes, my neighbour - he's a barber that works above practically all day, every day. He just recently moved in, although he did use to live here before me."

Curiosity has me along with a sense of dread. No man was ever mentioned before coming here.
Especially about him recently moving in.

"What's his name?" I ask.
I need to know his name, just in case it's in the list of names I made of the same men who I intend to kill.

"Todd. Sweeney Todd"

(Hope you like it so far. I'm so sorry if it feels like it drags. I promise the good parts will come, in time)