Author's Note:

Little Shop of Horrors is a property that I've loved for many years now, and has constantly been a source of inspiration for me, so it's about time I wrote something for it.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope that you enjoy this story. If you have any advice or feedback I'd love to hear it and (hopefully!) improve as a writer, so let me know!

Have a wonderful day x

This story can also be found on AO3 ( /works/33114883/chapters/82206598)


Mushnik's Plant & Flower Emporium

Chapter 1: Prologue (Little Shop of Horrors)

"You love her madly, don't you, schmuck?"

Seymour jumped, "Mr Mushnik, you scared me. I-" he was cut off by borderline hysterical laughter.

"I scared him?" Gesticulating wildly, Mushnik's eyes narrowed "After what I've seen, I scared him? Did you think I didn't know, huh?" He lowered his voice in a threatening manner, "Oh, I knew."

Turning away from his employee Mushnik continued, "I knew you lay down here on your pathetic little cot and dreamed about her," he took a step forwards, eyes locked with Seymour's "but I didn't know the lengths to which you'd go, the depths to which you'd sink!"

Unconsciously Seymour found himself shuffling backwards until he hit the wall behind him, "What depths? What sink?" He tried to regulate his breathing, tried to school his features into a look of innocence but was aware he was probably unsuccessful, "What are you talking about?"

"Little red dots all over the linoleum. Little red spots on the concrete outside." Mushnik stepped closer "I'm talking blood Krelborn, I'm talking under my own roof!"

To Seymour it felt as if the his employer's voice was booming, surrounding him and ricocheting off the walls, so loud it could spill out onto the street for the rest of Skidrow to hear. Flinching with every new word, Seymour swore he could almost hear Audrey II's crooning voice from above, seeping through the wooden floorboards and creeping under the door.

"An axe murderer! I saw everything."

"He knows just what you've done... You've got no place to hide... You've got no place to run..."

"Everything you did to her boyfriend, I saw you chopping him!"

Seymour shook his head, stuttering as he tried to clear his name and provide the full context of the situation, "It's true. I chopped him up, but I didn't kill him!"

Taking a step back Mushnik shook his head and stared with contempt at his apprentice, raising a gun towards the scared man, "Tell it to the police." He knew what he'd seen and regardless of how out of character it may have seemed, Mushnik was not ready for this to come back to bite him in any way; the scandal would destroy them, Audrey II or not.

"... He knows your life of crime... I think it's suppertime!"

It felt like eternity as Mushnik walked Seymour up the rickety stairs into the main shop, Seymour very much aware of the gun to his head and his hands stationed above, as well as the danger on the other side of the door from the carnivorous plant.

One step. Two steps. Three steps.

There was no escape that he could see, and his mind was racing as to what he could say to get out of this situation.

Four steps. Five steps. Six steps.

Nothing, nothing! The police wouldn't believe him, Seymour was the last person that Orin had attended to and with the eye witness account he'd be locked away. Audrey would have lost both of them within a few days. Oh god! Audrey, what would she think?

Seven steps. Eight steps. Nine steps.

Maybe if he could only explain it to her himself...

"Come on, come on... Think about all those offers! Come on, come on... Your future with Audrey! Come on, come on... Ain't no time to turn squeamish! Come on, I swear on all my spores, when he's gone the world will be yours..."

They were nearly at the door now, passing the looming plant, and Seymour knew that once they left the relatively obscured area of the shop his scenario would be seen by everyone and there would be no going back.

Suddenly Mushnik lunged forwards, placing his hand on the closed shop door as if to prevent Seymour from leaving, "You know, Krelborn, it kills me doing this," the inflection suggested a note of insincerity however Seymour was prepared to forgive everything depending on the next few utterances "but... considering you're almost like a son to me, I'm thinking... Maybe we don't have to go to the police."

Seymour froze, hope flaring up within him and he turned to face his, perhaps reluctant, captor, "We don't?" Though unexpected he wasn't going to fight this turn of events.

"I'm thinking... what if I kept my mouth shut and gave you a one-way ticket out of town?" There was a glint in Mushnik's eyes as they flashed with greed.

"You'd do that, sir?" Seymour questioned warily, something not seeming quite right.

"You could lay low for a while, say thirty, forty years. Meanwhile, I would keep the plant."

Fear like ice began to flood Seymour's veins, "The plant?"

"Of course... you'd have to teach me how to take care of it while you're away. Give me your secret gardening tips," glaring at Seymour's hesitation Mushnik added, "but then if you'd rather hang..." His expression eased and he let out a small chuckle, though his eyes remained steely.

"What do I have to do?" Seymour saw the plant reposition itself, Audrey II slowly opening its jaws wide and a plan began to form in his mind.

"... Come on, come on..."

"Just feed it."

He took a step forwards, forcing Mushnik to take an involuntary one back.

"Just feed it what?" The mans eyes were wide with elation and Seymour went to take another step, only to falter. What was he doing? Though they'd had their differences, Mr Mushnik had been good to him, had granted him a respectable job and given him a roof over his head, and Seymour planned to kill him in cold blood. What had happened to him? Since when was he like this?

"... Come on, come on, it's suppertime..."

Stepping back he looked once more towards the plant which was still waiting, the position of its' leaves seeming almost smug. "Maybe we should discuss this outside," Seymour was almost surprised that there was only a slight tremor to his voice, "I'll tell you everything, just not... here."

Mushnik paused, sizing him up before giving a terse nod and gesturing for Seymour to leave through the door which he did as quickly as possible. Looking back behind him through the glass windows Seymour could see Audrey II appearing to stare at him and he gulped, he wouldn't, couldn't go back there.

"... It's suppertime..."

"Feed it minerals. On Thursdays you should give it water. But don't," Seymour paused "don't give it your humanity, your morals. You'll regret it," he took a few steps away "don't feed the plant, you should kill it now, it's not worth it!" He turned away only to feel a clammy hand secure his shoulder.

"Just tell me-" Mushnik hissed.

"I have!" Seymour exploded, "I've held up my half of the deal, everything you need is inside the shop. Just please-" a half sob wracked his body, his voice cracking, "just please let me go. I won't bother you, I just want out of all this."

Mushnik observed the man before him and took a step back, letting him go.

The instructions made no sense and he felt his arm twitch as if to again raise the gun towards his, once, employee. He'd never seen him so frightened before though, and something within him stopped. Due to the small twinge of something that could perhaps be construed as affection, Vincent Mushnik chose to stop pushing and let the young botanist run off into the night.

Turning back towards the shop Mushnik felt almost a sense of loss, aware of how alone he was now. Walking back through the frosted glass door, he was hit with a sense that he was being watched and with each step the uncomfortable feeling grew slowly stronger.

After gathering his thoughts for a minute he turned around towards his new acquisition, only to feel a flicker of confusion as the plant appeared to be in a different position than he had previously remembered. Despite this unease, he felt his lips quirk upwards into a smirk; the plant was finally, and now entirely, his.

Seymour ran onwards and onwards through the worn streets of Skidrow until his legs ached and his lungs burned, even once out of sight of the immediate danger. He wasn't sure exactly what he feared more at that distance: the dull silver of the gun, or the vegetable that was rooted in place unable to move.

Regardless of the fear though he couldn't help but contemplate returning to the shop. Go back, take care of Mushnik and go back. How was it fair that he was to implicated in a crime he didn't commit? That he had to leave behind his livelihood? His rising wealth that would allow him to reach aspirations he'd never even hoped to dream for?

Go back, take care of -

Suddenly it was gone.

Slowing to a walk, it was as if a haze had cleared from his mind and the tendrils of some sort of influence he'd previously been unaware of were withdrawing. With rising clarity came a quickly growing horror.

That hadn't been him. If those thoughts and feelings weren't his own, then what was? How many choices had been unknowingly made for him?

Stopping, he contemplated what exactly he should do now. He couldn't go back, not to the shop, not even a single step behind him. Somehow, Seymour knew within his bones that the haze had something to do with the plant, and that to return to it's apparent radius of influence would prevent him from leaving for good. As part of the bargain he'd made he'd have to leave town, he knew that much, however with the haste at which he'd left Mr. Mushnik had never actually given him the money for the ticket. He'd have to walk for now he supposed.

Remembering a recent stroke of luck, he reached his hand into his pocket to trace the edge of a business card. It had been pressed quickly into his hand earlier that morning during a quick exchange that he'd almost forgotten in the slew of fortunate events brought about by the arrival of Audrey II. He hadn't been sure whether or not he would call before but now he thought it might just be the lucky break he needed.

Letting out a sad chuckle and shaking his head, it occurred to Seymour that while he hadn't ever dreamed it would come in this form, now at least he was finally getting out of Skidrow.

Looking around, it dawned on him that this would be the last time in years (thirty, or forty even, if he obeyed Mr. Mushnik's timeline) that he would be there, on the streets that he had walked his entire life. It filled him with a nervous energy and anticipation, as well as an odd sense of melancholy.

Now that he was to leave, maybe never to return, what would he miss? There was the obvious, Audrey, and even Mr Mushnik to an extent, however was there anything else? Not really. Not the fake smiles he received now that he was deemed 'something', not the desolate atmosphere and depression around town, though, if he was honest, there was an element of comfort to its predictability.

Seymour had, despite his dreams, never actually taken a step outside of the dreary city and could admit that on some level he almost feared it. For so long Skidrow had been self-contained, people from outside had no reason to enter and those who resided there had no ability to leave. Even now, though, with tourists and reporters slowly infiltrating the area for the sake of Audrey II there was a masochistic comfort to be found in the familiarity of it all.

Sighing softly to himself, he began to walk again through the unevenly paved streets towards uptown. The perpetually dreary clouds above began to drizzle, and the light rain started to soak his shirt, flatten his curls and leave droplets upon his glasses that obscured his vision somewhat. Drudging forwards, he acknowledged that things were bad right now, maybe worse than they'd ever been before, but that this was also an opportunity. That in time, rain would cleanse the blood from his hands and rejuvenate him into a new man.

Things would get better.

For him, anyway.

For those he was leaving behind, well, things would be very different soon.

Back within the shop, empty for the night, with Mushnik leaving soon after the apprentice, the plant tapped a single vine against the floor in thought. Sure, it's plans would need to be adjusted, and this was a course of events it had not foreseen, but maybe it could make this work.

Oh yes, this could do quite nicely.

"… Suppertime"