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muiitoloko · 24 hours

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A Choice

Summary: Turpin chose you and would always choose you.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Forced marriage, loss of virginity, mention of blood, childbirth.

Author's notes: Hey there, apologies for the delay—I got tangled up in a serious battle with writer's block over this story! Honestly, I'm not sure if the end result is a masterpiece or a hot mess, so your feedback is like gold to me. Big thanks to all you wonderful folks who enjoy my tales! Your comments and messages light up my day like a disco ball! 🎉 Keep 'em coming!

First, Second, Third and Fourth part here.

Turpin sighed irritably as he watched his coachman struggle to fix the broken wheel on the carriage. "Faster, you fool!" he barked, his patience wearing thin with each passing moment of inconvenience. He crossed his arms, casting a disdainful glance around the quaint village they were stranded in.

As he surveyed his surroundings, Turpin's eyes landed on you, carrying a basin of clothes while walking with two other girls. They appeared to be younger, maybe fifteen, while you looked to be around twenty. Turpin couldn't tear his gaze away from you, captivated by your beauty and the sweet smile that graced your lips as you passed by the two girls, who he later discovered were your little sisters.

Turpin's heart quickened at the sight of your smile, his eyes widening with a mixture of fascination and desire. For just a few seconds, your eyes met, and in that fleeting moment, Turpin felt a connection that he couldn't explain. But before he could dwell on it further, you became distracted by your sisters and hastened your pace towards the lake where you intended to wash clothes.

The sway of your hips as you walked away delighted Turpin, leaving him yearning for more. He couldn't shake the image of you from his mind, knowing deep down that you were meant to be his wife, his possession.

Ignoring the coachman's announcement that the carriage was fixed, Turpin dismissed the idea of continuing their journey to Liverpool. Instead, he ordered the coachman to find a hotel in the village, much to the younger man's confusion.

"I thought we were heading to Liverpool, sir," the coachman ventured, his voice hesitant in the face of Turpin's irritation.

Turpin glared at him, his tone icy with authority. "You will do as I say, without question," he snapped, his eyes flashing with barely concealed anger. "Find a hotel immediately."

The coachman, startled by Lord Turpin's sudden change of plans, glanced at him with confusion etched on his face. "But sir," he began tentatively, "I thought we were bound for Liverpool to find a suitable lady for you to marry."

Turpin's eyes narrowed dangerously as he turned to face the coachman, his expression darkening with suppressed rage. "Do not question my orders," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "We are no longer going to Liverpool. Find a hotel in this wretched village, and do it quickly."

The coachman, intimidated by Turpin's demeanor, nodded hastily and spurred the horses forward in search of accommodations. Turpin watched him go, his mind consumed with thoughts of you. He couldn't shake the image of your smile, nor the feeling of connection he had experienced when your eyes met.

Though he couldn't see you anymore, Turpin was determined to find you, no matter the cost. He clenched his fists, his resolve hardening as he made a silent vow to himself. If he had to search every corner of the earth, he would find you and make you his own.

As he stood there, lost in his thoughts, a beggar approached him, asking for alms. Turpin recoiled in disgust, pushing the man away with a look of contempt. He had no time for beggars or anyone else who dared to cross his path.

With a disdainful snort, Turpin adjusted his top hat on his head and strode purposefully in the direction the coachman had gone. He would have you, no matter the obstacles in his way. You were his destiny, his possession, and he would stop at nothing to claim you as his own.

Weeks later, Turpin finally found you in the humble village where you lived with your parents, who were practically bankrupt pig farmers. He wasted no time in introducing himself to your father, making his intentions clear: he wanted to marry you.

Standing tall and imposing in your family's modest home, Turpin refused to sit down, not wanting to soil his fine clothes with the smell of pigs that permeated the air. Your father exchanged a confused look with your mother, unsure of how to respond to this unexpected visitor.

"Do you know my daughter?" your father asked, his tone cautious as he studied Turpin's stern expression.

Turpin's lips curled into a cold smile as he replied, "I do not need to know her to want her. I require a wife to provide me with children, and she will do."

Your father's brows furrowed in disbelief at Turpin's audacity. "You can't just marry off our daughter to a man we don't even know," your mother protested, her voice tinged with concern for your well-being.

But before she could say more, Turpin reached into his coat pocket and produced a heavy bag of coins, throwing it onto the table with a loud thud. Coins spilled out onto the wooden surface, gleaming in the dim light of the room.

"There is plenty more where that came from," Turpin declared, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Consider it an advance payment for your daughter's hand in marriage."

Your father's eyes widened in shock at the sight of the money, his gaze flickering between Turpin and the bag of coins. It was a fortune, more than enough to lift your family out of their financial struggles and secure a comfortable future for you all.

Turpin eyed your parents expectantly, awaiting their response to his brazen offer. Your mother glanced at your father, uncertainty etched on her face as they silently deliberated their choices.

After a moment of tense silence, your father cleared his throat and straightened his posture, addressing Turpin with a mixture of apprehension and resignation. "We... we appreciate your offer, sir," he began, his voice wavering slightly. "It's just... this is all so sudden."

Turpin's expression remained impassive, his eyes cold and calculating as he regarded your father. "I assure you, mister" he interjected, his tone dripping with impatience, "this is a generous proposal. Your daughter will want for nothing as my wife. Think of the opportunities this marriage could provide for her."

Your father hesitated, torn between his desire to secure a better future for you and his concerns about the haste with which Turpin was pushing for the arrangement. He glanced at your mother, silently seeking her guidance in this pivotal moment.

Sensing their hesitation, Turpin reached into his coat pocket once more, producing a document sealed with his personal crest. "This is a marriage contract," he explained, his voice firm and commanding. "It outlines the terms of our union, including a monthly stipend for your family's support. I assure you, it is more than fair."

Your parents exchanged a wary glance, their resolve wavering in the face of Turpin's persuasive arguments and substantial offer. The idea of financial security for their family was tempting, even if it meant sacrificing their daughter's happiness in the process.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of deliberation, your father nodded reluctantly, his voice resigned as he conceded to Turpin's proposal. "Very well, sir," he murmured, his tone defeated. "We... we accept your offer."

A triumphant smile spread across Turpin's lips as he extended his hand to seal the deal with a firm handshake. "Excellent," he declared, his voice oozing with satisfaction. "I assure you, Mr. [Your Last Name], you will not regret this decision."

As the agreement was finalized, your parents breathed a sigh of relief, their worries momentarily alleviated by the promise of financial stability. Turpin wasted no time in preparing for the wedding, eager to make you his bride and secure his hold over your future.

But as Turpin turned to leave your home, pretending not to notice you and your younger brothers peeking in and listening to the conversation, your father approached him, bringing you closer to Turpin with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"May I present my daughter, sir," your father said, his voice tinged with pride and apprehension as he introduced you to your betrothed.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as Turpin's cold gaze fell upon you, his eyes assessing you with an unsettling intensity. You glanced up at him in fear, your heart pounding in your chest as you met his calculating gaze for the first time.

Turpin's smile sent a chill down your spine, his expression sinister and predatory as he appraised you with a mixture of desire and possessiveness. "Ah, yes," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "The future Mrs. Turpin. Delighted to make your acquaintance, my dear."

You couldn't bring yourself to respond, the fear gripping your heart rendering you speechless in the presence of this older, unfamiliar man. Turpin's gaze lingered on you, taking in every detail of your mud-stained dress and disheveled appearance.

But as he looked closer, Turpin couldn't help but notice the underlying beauty hidden beneath the grime and weariness of your circumstances. There was strength in your gaze, a resilience that intrigued him despite himself.

"You'll do nicely," Turpin said with a smirk, his tone laced with anticipation. "Yes, very nicely indeed."

You shrank back instinctively, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end as Turpin's words sent a shiver of apprehension coursing through you. His smile widened at your reaction, relishing the power he held over you even before the wedding vows had been spoken.

With a final nod to your parents, Turpin turned and swept out of your home, leaving you and your family to contemplate the fate that awaited you as the future wife of Judge Turpin. As the door closed behind him, you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled in the pit of your stomach, knowing that your life was about to change in ways you could never have imagined.

Days later, Turpin sat waiting in the parlor of the bridal shop, his patience wearing thin as the minutes stretched on. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the armrest of the chair, his mind consumed with thoughts of you trying on wedding dresses with the help of your family.

Outside, the sun cast a warm glow over the bustling streets of London, but inside the shop, Turpin felt a chill settle over him. He glanced around the ornately decorated room, the opulent furnishings a stark contrast to the modest village where he had first laid eyes on you.

In the fitting room at the back of the bridal shop, you stood surrounded by your sisters, mother, and the stylist, while they fussed over you, adjusting the intricate lace and satin of the wedding dress. Your mother, brimming with pride, couldn't help but gossip to the stylist about your upcoming marriage to Lord Turpin, emphasizing his importance as a lord and judge.

"He's a man of great stature and wealth," she boasted, her voice filled with excitement. "Our daughter will be the envy of all the village!"

You winced inwardly at her words, feeling a sense of dread knotting in the pit of your stomach. The thought of marrying Lord Turpin filled you with apprehension and discomfort, his cold demeanor and imposing presence sending chills down your spine.

As the stylist continued to pin the dress, you couldn't help but voice your concerns to your family, pleading with them to reconsider the match. But your mother waved off your protests, insisting that marrying Lord Turpin was the best opportunity you could hope for.

"Think of the advantages, dear," she urged, her tone firm and unwavering. "He will provide for you and our family. You'll want for nothing as his wife."

You sighed in resignation, knowing that arguing further would be futile. With a heavy heart, you resigned yourself to your fate, silently praying for a way to escape the marriage that loomed over you like a dark cloud.

As the stylist put the finishing touches on the dress, your mother and sisters admired your reflection in the mirror, showering you with compliments about how beautiful you looked. Despite their well-meaning words, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at your insides.

"Mother, do you think I should show Lord Turpin the dress before the wedding?" you ventured, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Your mother's eyes widened in horror at the suggestion, her hands flying to her chest in dismay. "Heavens no, child!" she exclaimed, her tone filled with alarm. "It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride's dress before the wedding. Lord Turpin might even call off the entire ceremony!"

Her words sparked an idea in your mind, a glimmer of hope amidst the despair. Perhaps there was a way to escape the marriage after all, if only you could convince Lord Turpin that it was in his best interest to do so.

A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you formulated a plan. "Perhaps you're right, Mother," you replied with feigned innocence, your voice laced with deception. "It would be best to avoid any unnecessary risks. After all, we wouldn't want to upset Lord Turpin, would we?"

Your mother nodded vigorously in agreement, relieved that you saw reason. "Exactly, my dear," she chimed in, her voice tinged with relief. "It's for the best. We mustn't do anything to jeopardize this opportunity."

Before she could say anything else, you ran out, gathering your skirts and running to the front of the store where Turpin was. Ignoring the calls of your family behind you, you focused solely on the man seated before you, determined to carry out your plan.

Turpin looked up from his chair, his expression dazed as he took in your appearance. His eyes widened in surprise as he registered the sight of you in your wedding dress, a stunned silence falling over the parlor as he rose to his feet, his gaze never leaving you.

You couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at Turpin's reaction, believing that your bold move had succeeded in thwarting the impending marriage.

"Lord Turpin," you said tentatively, breaking the silence between you, "do you... do you like the dress?"

Turpin's gaze lingered on your smile, his eyes tracing the delicate lace and satin of your gown. In that moment, he realized just how beautiful you looked, the white fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places, accentuating your natural grace and elegance.

A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of Turpin's lips as he met your gaze, his eyes alight with a newfound desire. Despite your expectations of his anger and frustration, Turpin's reaction was anything but what you had anticipated.

"Yes, my dear," Turpin replied, his voice low and husky with admiration. "I must admit, you look absolutely stunning."

You blinked in surprise at his response, the weight of his words sinking in as you processed his unexpected compliment. Was it possible that Turpin actually liked the dress? Could it be that your plan had backfired in the most unexpected way?

Turpin turned to the store owner, his tone authoritative as he addressed her. "We'll take this dress," he declared, his voice leaving no room for argument. "It's perfect."

You felt a knot form in the pit of your stomach as Turpin's words washed over you, the realization sinking in that your attempt to thwart the wedding had failed miserably. Despite your best efforts, Turpin was as determined as ever to go through with the marriage, leaving you feeling trapped and powerless once more.

Turpin's gaze lingered on you as the stylist suggested adding a veil to complete your bridal ensemble. He found himself nodding in agreement, his mind filled with visions of you walking down the aisle towards him, veiled in white, a picture of innocence and purity.

And as the stylist and your mother led you back to the dressing room to try on the veil, Turpin remained seated in the parlor, his eyes fixed on the door through which you had disappeared. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the image of you in your wedding dress, feeling a surge of desire coursing through him at the thought of claiming you as his own.

His thoughts wandered to the wedding night that lay ahead, the anticipation building in the pit of his stomach as he imagined what it would be like to possess you fully. The idea of having you beneath him, yielding to his every whim, sent a thrill of excitement coursing through him, igniting a fire of lust that burned hotter with each passing moment.

As he closed his eyes, Turpin allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to have you under him, to taste your sweet innocence and revel in the power he held over you. A wicked smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he entertained the idea of taking you by force, of claiming you as his own in the most primal sense of the word.

But before his fantasies could spiral any further, Turpin was brought back to reality by the sound of footsteps approaching. Opening his eyes, he found Lilian, your sister, standing before him, her expression unreadable as she regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and defiance.

Turpin narrowed his eyes at her, his tone dry and irritated as he questioned her presence. "What do you want, girl?" he snapped, his patience wearing thin in the face of her insolence.

Lilian met his gaze without flinching, her expression unyielding as she regarded him with a cool detachment that only served to fuel Turpin's annoyance. Without uttering a word, she turned on her heel and made her way towards the back of the store, leaving Turpin to seethe in silence.

As he watched her retreating figure, Turpin struggled to contain his anger, his fists clenched in frustration at the insolence of the girl who dared to defy him. In his mind, she was nothing more than a disobedient child in need of a firm reprimand, her parents failing in their duty to discipline her properly.

With a disdainful snort, Turpin composed himself, his thoughts turning to the task at hand. He had no time for petty distractions or insolent girls who dared to challenge his authority. His focus was solely on you, the object of his desires, and nothing would stand in the way of him claiming you as his own.

As he settled back into his chair, Turpin's mind raced with plans for the future, his determination hardened by the thought of possessing you completely. With a steely resolve, he vowed to return to London as soon as possible, eager to begin his new life with you by his side, no matter the cost.

Three days later, the wedding finally took place in the quaint village church, the air filled with a mix of anticipation and solemnity. Despite the small size of the church, the ceremony felt grand and significant, with Turpin's imposing presence casting a shadow over the proceedings.

As the vows were exchanged and rings placed on fingers, Turpin felt a sense of triumph wash over him, knowing that you were now bound to him by law and duty. He swore his allegiance to you before God, his voice firm and unwavering as he pledged to honor and cherish you for the rest of his days.

But as the ceremony drew to a close and the guests gathered for a modest celebration, Turpin couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. Despite his best efforts to ignore it, the palpable sadness in your eyes did not escape his notice, leaving him feeling unsettled and agitated.

Turpin danced with you more out of formality than anything, his movements stiff and mechanical as he held you close, his mind elsewhere as he contemplated the night ahead. He could sense your reluctance, your palpable sadness casting a shadow over the joyous occasion, but he paid it little mind, consumed by his own desires and ambitions.

Excusing himself from the party, Turpin led you to the hotel where he was staying, his anticipation mounting with each passing moment. He looked forward to claiming you as his own, eager to fulfill his lustful desires and assert his dominance over you in the most intimate of ways.

But as the question of your virginity arose, Turpin's anger flared, his features contorting with rage at the revelation that you were not untouched. He demanded to know with whom you had lain before him, pressing you relentlessly until you admitted to a past indiscretion with a baker's son.

Turpin's fury knew no bounds, his sense of betrayal fueling his rage as he realized that you were not the pure and innocent bride he had envisioned. In his eyes, you had deceived him, tarnishing the sanctity of their union with your past indiscretions.

With a growl of anger, Turpin eliminated whatever kindness he had been planning to show you that night, his desire giving way to a primal need for dominance and control. He pushed you onto the bed with force, his hands rough as he lifted your dress and ripped your panties in his haste.

Ignoring your surprised cry, Turpin pulled down his own pants and thrust himself into you with brutal force, not bothering to prepare you for his length as he pounded into you with reckless abandon. The pain of his intrusion was overwhelming, your cries falling on deaf ears as Turpin reveled in the pleasure of claiming you as his own.

But as he lifted his head to gaze at the mirror on the other side of the hotel bedroom, Turpin's eyes met yours in the reflection, his expression twisted with a mixture of lust and cruelty. He watched as you gripped the bed sheets tightly, your tears staining the fabric as you cried out in agony.

"Look at yourself," Turpin snarled, his voice dripping with contempt as he continued to thrust into you with merciless abandon. "This is what you deserve, for deceiving me and defiling our marriage bed."

You whimpered in pain and humiliation, your body wracked with sobs as Turpin's assault continued unabated. With each thrust, he reminded you of your betrayal, his words like daggers plunging into your heart as he asserted his dominance over you with every brutal movement.

But Turpin stopped suddenly, his movements freezing as he felt something warm and wet trickling down his thighs. His eyes widened in shock as he looked down, his gaze falling upon the viscous, red liquid staining his skin and the sheets beneath him. Blood.

"What is this?" Turpin demanded, his voice laced with disbelief as he turned to you, his eyes searching yours for an explanation.

You lay beneath him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sobbed uncontrollably, your body trembling with pain and fear. Turpin's heart clenched at the sight of your distress, his anger momentarily forgotten as he focused on comforting you in your moment of need.

"What happened?" Turpin asked softly, his voice gentle as he brushed the tears from your cheeks, his touch surprisingly tender despite his usual demeanor.

You hiccuped through your tears, struggling to find the words to explain yourself. "I-I lied," you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper as you confessed the truth. "I'm... I'm a virgin."

Turpin's eyes widened in shock at your admission, his mind reeling with the implications of your words. He had taken you at your word, never suspecting that you would deceive him in such a manner. The realization left him feeling betrayed and confused, unsure of how to proceed in the face of this revelation.

"Why would you lie to me?" Turpin asked, his voice tinged with hurt and confusion as he searched your face for answers.

You shook your head, unable to meet his gaze as you struggled to find the words to explain yourself. "I thought... I thought if I lied, you would... you would ask for a divorce," you admitted, your voice breaking with emotion. "I thought you would leave me alone."

Turpin's heart softened at your words, his anger giving way to a deep sense of remorse and guilt. Gently, Turpin withdrew from you, his eyes filled with concern as he inspected the damage he had caused. He watched as you winced in pain, your body trembling with each movement as you struggled to sit up.

"It's going to be okay," Turpin murmured, his voice soothing as he helped you lie back on the bed, his hands gentle as he removed the wedding dress that had become stained with blood. "It's just... your hymen. That's why there's blood."

You continued to cry, the pain and humiliation of the situation weighing heavily on your shoulders. But Turpin remained by your side, offering what comfort he could as he wiped away the tears from your cheeks, his touch surprisingly gentle despite his usual rough demeanor.

"It's not your fault," Turpin assured you, his voice filled with sincerity as he looked into your eyes. "I should have been more careful. I should have been more gentle."

You nodded weakly, grateful for his words of comfort in your moment of need. Despite everything that had happened, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that perhaps Turpin wasn't as heartless as he seemed.

As Turpin helped you clean yourself up, his hands lingering on your skin with a tenderness that surprised you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and gratitude towards him. Despite his faults and shortcomings, he had shown you a side of himself that you hadn't expected, a side that made you dare to hope for a better future together.

As Turpin leaned in to kiss you softly on the forehead, you felt a spark of affection ignite within you, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume you. In that moment, you realized that perhaps there was more to your marriage than meets the eye, that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for redemption and forgiveness in the arms of the man who had once seemed so distant and cold.

And as you lay together in the dimly lit hotel room, the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for happiness after all.

Turpin began to undress, shedding his suit and shoes with practiced ease. You couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping over you. Despite his assurances of gentleness, the memory of his earlier brutality lingered in the forefront of your mind, leaving you hesitant and apprehensive about what was to come.

"Wait Lord Turpin," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you reached out to stop him, your hands trembling with fear and uncertainty. "Please, be gentle."

Turpin paused, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of understanding and remorse. In that moment, you saw a flicker of humanity in his eyes, a glimpse of the man beneath the mask of cruelty and dominance.

"Call me Richard," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to cup your cheek in his hand. "That's my name. And I promise, I'll be gentle this time."

You hesitated, unsure whether to trust his words or his intentions. But as Turpin – no, Richard – leaned in to kiss you softly on the lips, you felt a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you, a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume you.

"Okay, Richard," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you surrendered to his touch, allowing him to guide you with a tenderness that surprised you. "I trust you."

With a gentle touch, Richard positioned himself between your legs, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of desire and restraint. He leaned in to kiss you softly on the lips, his touch tentative yet filled with longing as he explored your mouth with his tongue.

As his hands roamed over your body, you couldn't help but shiver with anticipation, the heat of his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. With each caress, each kiss, Richard drew you closer to him, his desire palpable in the air between you.

But as he positioned himself to enter you, you couldn't suppress the instinctual urge to protect yourself, to close your legs and push him away. With a whimper of fear, you pressed your hands against his chest, your heart pounding in your chest as you pleaded with him to be gentle.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Be gentle with me, Richard. I'm scared."

Richard's expression softened at your words, his gaze filled with compassion and understanding as he brushed the hair back from your face, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I will," he promised, his voice low and husky with desire. "I'll be gentle, I swear."

With a tender kiss, Richard guided himself into you slowly, his movements gentle and deliberate as he eased himself inside. You gasped at the sensation, the feeling of fullness overwhelming yet strangely exhilarating as you surrendered to the pleasure of his touch.

As Richard began to move, his thrusts now slow and steady, you felt yourself relax in his arms, the tension melting away as you gave yourself over to the pleasure of the moment. With each movement, each thrust, Richard brought you closer to the edge of ecstasy, his touch igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each passing moment.

Turpin watched you writhe beneath him in pleasure. A sense of satisfaction washed over him, replacing the earlier feelings of anger and frustration. Seeing the pleasure on your face was a beautiful sight, one that left him breathless with desire. He had never cared much about pleasuring women, especially prostitutes, but pleasuring you made his ego swell with pride.

The anger he had felt when he thought you had been with another man melted away as he realized that he was your first, your one and only. The thought filled him with a sense of possessiveness and pride, knowing that he was the one who had taken your innocence. And the way you sang his name between moans,

"Richard!" Turpin woke up abruptly from his dream upon hearing the desperate tone of your voice. He took a moment to get his bearings, still groggy from sleep as he realized he was dreaming, or rather remembering old memories. But he could still hear you saying his name, and Turpin turned, looking at you as you looked in fear.

"Are you alright?" Turpin asked, his voice laced with concern as he reached out to touch your arm.

Before you could respond, Turpin felt the damp sheets beneath him. "You're wetting the bed, girl," Turpin chided, his voice tinged with irritation as he glanced at the damp sheets beneath you. But before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him with a desperate cry, your voice trembling with fear as you announced that your water had broken. Turpin froze in disbelief, his mind reeling with the implications of your words. Your water breaking meant only one thing: the baby was coming.

For a moment, Turpin's eyes widened in shock, his mind struggling to comprehend the gravity of the situation. But as the urgency of the moment sank in, he sprang into action, his instincts taking over as he shouted for the servants to bring the doctor and midwife immediately.

"Quickly!" Turpin barked, his voice commanding as he directed the panicked servants to fetch the necessary help. "We haven't a moment to lose. The baby is coming!"

The servants, alarmed by their master's urgent tone, appeared in a flurry of activity, rushing to obey his orders without question. Turpin watched with a sense of satisfaction as they scurried about, knowing that his authority would ensure that everything would be done swiftly and efficiently.

Turning his attention back to you, Turpin moved to your side, his hands gentle as he helped you get more comfortable on the bed. He arranged the pillows and sheets with care, tenderly making you as comfortable as possible as you writhed and moaned in pain.

"You're doing well, my dear," Turpin murmured, his voice filled with encouragement as he watched you with concern. "Just hold on a little longer. Help is on the way."

But as he reached out to touch your hand, you looked at him with frustration, your voice filled with urgency as you pleaded with him to bring the doctor.

"Turpin, stop fussing and fetch the doctor!" you snapped, your tone sharp with irritation as you struggled to cope with the pain. "I need help, and I need it now!"

Turpin was stunned by your outburst, the sharpness of your words cutting through his usual facade of authority and control. He had never heard you speak to him in such a manner before, and for a moment, he was at a loss for words.

But as he looked into your eyes, filled with pain and fear, Turpin's resolve hardened, his determination to help you in your moment of need outweighing any sense of wounded pride. With a nod of understanding, he turned and hurried from the room, determined to fetch the doctor without delay.

As Turpin disappeared from sight, you were left alone with your thoughts, the pain of labor washing over you in waves as you struggled to cope with the intensity of the moment. But despite the fear and uncertainty that filled your mind, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards Turpin for his efforts to help you.

Turpin stood outside the bedroom, his anxiety mounting with each agonizing scream that echoed through the house. The midwife had unceremoniously ordered him out of the room, insisting that he wait outside with the servants. The urge to defy her, to burst back into the room and demand to be by your side, was nearly overwhelming. But Turpin knew he had to obey, no matter how much it grated against his every instinct.

As he paced the hallway, his mind raced with worry for you. He could hear your cries of pain, each one piercing his heart like a knife. Turpin clenched his fists, feeling powerless in the face of your suffering. When one of the servants attempted to offer him words of reassurance, he snapped at them, his frustration boiling over.

"Silence!" Turpin growled, his voice low and menacing. "I have no need for your empty platitudes. Just pray that she survives."

Realizing his lapse in composure, Turpin forced himself to regain control, settling into a chair with a rigid posture. He couldn't afford to show weakness in front of his servants, even as his heart threatened to break with each passing moment.

The screams seemed to go on forever, each one a painful reminder of the fragile line between life and death. Turpin had never considered the possibility of losing you, but now it loomed over him like a specter, haunting his every thought.

Finally, the door creaked open, and the doctor emerged, his expression grave. Turpin stood, his heart pounding in his chest as he awaited the news.

"How is she?" Turpin demanded, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desperation.

The doctor hesitated, his gaze shifting uneasily. "The birth... it's complicated," he admitted reluctantly.

Turpin felt his stomach drop, a cold dread settling over him like a shroud. The doctor's words hung in the air, the unspoken question lingering between them. When the doctor suggested that perhaps Turpin had to choose between saving you or the baby, Turpin froze at this impossible decision, his mind racing with conflicting emotions.

The doctor, realizing Turpin's distress, tried to convince him that saving the baby would be the most sensible choice. After all, Turpin needed an heir, and the choice seemed obvious. Turpin knew it too, but he couldn't bear the thought of a life without you in it. Despite the societal pressures and expectations weighing heavily on his shoulders, Turpin's love for you outweighed any practical considerations.

"I choose her," Turpin declared firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Save her at all costs."

The doctor was shocked by Turpin's decision, his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. He attempted to persuade Turpin to reconsider, to prioritize the baby's life over yours. But Turpin remained resolute, his gaze unwavering as he stared down the doctor.

"I will do everything in my power to save them both," the doctor assured Turpin, his tone tinged with frustration. "But if it comes to that, I will prioritize her survival."

Turpin nodded, his jaw set in determination. He knew the risks, understood the consequences of his choice, but he refused to waver. As the doctor disappeared back into the room, Turpin refused to stay outside, his concern for you overwhelming any sense of propriety or social decorum.

Inside the room, the midwife and maids were taken aback by Turpin's sudden appearance, the old midwife attempting to shoo him away. But Turpin ignored her, his eyes fixed on you as you writhed in pain, your wrists tied as you strained to push the baby out.

Turpin froze, not knowing what to do. He felt a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through him, his mind torn between the fear of losing you and the guilt of his past transgressions. Unable to face the reality of the situation, he turned away and went to the window, looking out into the darkness of the night.

You noticed the movement and called out for him, your voice strained with pain and desperation. But Turpin couldn't bear to look at you, couldn't bring himself to stay by your side knowing that you could die. He clenched his fists tightly, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon as he struggled to compose himself.

Thankfully, you stopped calling for him, your cries of pain mingling with the instructions from the midwife as you pushed with all your strength. Turpin lost track of time as he stood there, lost in his own thoughts, until he was jolted out of his daze by a new sound—a baby's cry.

Turning, Turpin saw the midwife holding a blood-stained bundle in her arms, a look of relief on her face. She carried the newborn baby to the basin, where she began to wash away the blood, revealing the tiny features of a newborn child. Turpin's heart skipped a beat as he realized the implications of what had just happened.

The maids released your wrists, and Turpin rushed to your side, his hands trembling with emotion as he reached out to touch your sweat-drenched forehead. Relief washed over him as he saw you breathing heavily, the color returning to your cheeks.

"You did it," Turpin whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "You're going to be okay."

As he looked into your eyes, Turpin felt a wave of gratitude and love wash over him, overpowering any lingering doubts or fears. The doctor approached him then, a smile on his face as he congratulated Turpin on the birth of his son.

"You have a healthy baby boy, sir," the doctor announced, his voice filled with warmth. "Congratulations."

Turpin was stunned by the sight of the newborn baby in the midwife's arms, his mind reeling with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming emotion. A baby, a boy—the realization hit him like a thunderbolt, leaving him momentarily speechless. He exchanged a glance with you, his heart swelling with pride and love as he saw the exhaustion and joy written on your face.

Approaching the midwife with determined strides, Turpin reached out to take his son from her arms, eager to hold the precious bundle in his own hands. But his movement was halted by the short, old woman who stubbornly blocked his path, insisting that you, the mother, should hold the baby first.

Turpin's frustration flared once again at the old woman's interference, his impulse to strangle her momentarily overwhelming him. But as he caught sight of you cradling the baby, a soft smile playing on your lips, his anger dissolved into a flood of tenderness and admiration.

You looked weak, yet still so beautiful, your eyes shining with love and exhaustion as you gazed down at the tiny life in your arms. Turpin felt a lump form in his throat as he watched the intimate moment between mother and child, a surge of gratitude washing over him for the miracle of your survival.

Turning to the doctor, who stood nearby with a smile of congratulations, Turpin was brought back to the present moment by the question of his son's name. He glanced back at you, his eyes softening with affection as he silently conveyed his trust in you to make the choice.

"It's up to her," Turpin declared, his voice filled with pride as he nodded towards you. "She shall choose our son's name."

You looked at Turpin in surprise, knowing how firm he had been in his decision regarding the name. But his encouraging smile reassured you, reminding you of the love and trust that had brought you through this ordeal together.

With a smile of determination, you turned your attention back to the baby, your heart overflowing with love as you whispered the name that had been in your heart.

"William Bartholomew Turpin," you announced, your voice filled with conviction as you met Turpin's gaze. "Our son's name shall be William."

Turpin's heart swelled with pride and joy at your choice, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he reached out to touch your hand. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and love of his growing family, Turpin felt a sense of peace and contentment unlike anything he had ever known.

"Welcome to the world, William," Turpin whispered, his voice filled with emotion as he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You are loved more than you could ever know."

#judge turpin x reader #sweeney todd #judge turpin #alan rickman x reader #alan rickman #oc

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