#gentlemen's barber

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you're used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what's on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Right, this was supposed to be a drabble series but it morphed and not I'm fucked.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It's the most special time of year! Mistletoe, jingle bells, and holiday cheer! Oh, and hot chocolate. Lots of that.

You hide your thermos under the desk and grab the crystal bottle again, giving a test spritz to the air. Your job isn't very complicated. All you do is say hi and chat about the perfume. Your manager says the job is selling but you don't like to see it that way.

You smile at a family of five as they veer towards the toy section. You don't think the six year old would be into an eau de parfum. It's understandable.

While you spend your hours wandering around expensive makeups and scents, you're filled with a certain hint of longing. For what you're paid to push the merchandise, you can't afford any of it yourself. Well, you've never been very materialistic.

You spin around and see a gentlemen approaching, though he doesn't seem to see you. He looks past you, almost through you. You stop in place and put on your best smile, fixing the red band around your head.

"Hello, sir, would you like to try some Gucci?" You offer and spray the nozzle at him.

He skids to a stop and recoils as if he's been slapped. He holds out his arm as he looks down at his coat, little droplets seeping into the fabric. He takes a whiff, his short mustache wiggling under his nose, and he scoffs as he tries to shake off the cologne.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He snips.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You just go around spray people with that horseshit?"

"Well, sir, with respect, I don't like that sort of language.

"And I don't like being drenched in dog piss," he blusters, "point me to the goddamn trimmers."

"Um, what kind? Nail trimmers? Pet trimmers? Garden trimmers?"

"What the fuck do you think?" He points to his own face.

You hold your smile. There's always that one customer who's having a bad day. Whatever's got him so upset must be worse than dealing with him.

"Personal care," you point to the far corner, "right over there, sir."

"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.

"I hope your day gets better," you call after him, "oh, did you want a store coupon--"

He ignores you as he waves you off over his shoulder. You watch him turn towards men's grooming and you shrug, rocking slightly. You try not to let them get to you. As jolly as you find this time of year, a lot of people don't feel the same.

You shrug off the encounter. You still have a few hours ahead of you and it's starting to bustle with customers. You help a couple find the home wares while keeping the boundary of cosmetics firm. Lucille, the manager, doesn't like you leaving your zone.

You approach a woman looking at the Prada selection and get her checked out with a new fragrance, specially gift-wrapped by yours truly. She leaves happy, a small victory for the day. You celebrate but not too much.

You come around the counter just as you see that man strutting back up. He has an item in his hand and ignores you as he passes. Still you smile at him.

"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.

"Need help finding anything else, sir?" You ask his heels.

He stops and you see the way his spine stiffens. Oh no, you shouldn't have said anything. He slowly turns to face you.

"You can shut up," he marches up to you and grabs the bottle from your hands, "shut." He sprays you in the face, "up." He squirts you several more times before shoving the vial against your chest, "stupid little girl."

You take the bottle, blinking as you use your cuff to wipe the perfume away from your eyes. He continues on his path as you stand dumbfounded, drenched in Gucci cologne. It's hard to breathe through the heavy scent and you can't help but cough.

What a jerk. Just because he's having a bad day, doesn't mean everyone needs to.

Slowly you grow accustomed to the smell of yourself. It’s not too unusual. You go nose blind about halfway through your shift once you spray a few too many samples. You keep your distance from customers, offering them a spritz but trying not to crowd them with the vapors of cologne rippling off of you.

You yawn as the afterwork rush floods in and you make another round, smiling at Sofia as she peeks over at you. She’s with another customer at the counter, ringing them up as she gabs. You spin at the display at the center of the crossway that runs through the beauty department and stagger back before another can run you over.

You apologise to the tall man as he skids to a stop on his soles. You can tell he’s in a hurry by the way he grips his briefcase and squares his jaw. He wears a long dark wool coat as flecks of snow melt into his thick beard.

“Oh, sorry, I er, wasn’t–” He clears his throat, collecting himself, “I… didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay, sir,” you assure him, “would you like to try the new scent?”

You hold up the onyx bottle but don’t spray him. You don’t need another dousing. He looks at the silver letters on the side then at you. The furrow in his brow lightens as his blue eyes swim.

“No thanks, but er, you think you could help me find something?”

“Of course,” you chime and lower the bottle, “are you looking for a gift for someone special?”

He nods, “my mother-in-law is on her way into town, I need a present. Maybe perfume?”

His tone is tinted with frustration as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. He’s one of those shoppers; the last minute scrambler. You grasp the vial in one hand and tug at the front of your thick red sweater, you’re starting to get a bit toasty in the crowded store.

“How old is she?” You ask.

“Um,” he clamps his lips together and thinks, “hmmm, probably seventy-something? I’m sorry, I guess I should know that.”

“That’s okay, I… I would suggest some Liz Taylor,” you turn on your heel and wave him after you as you head off, “it’s a classic. Not so much a me scent but the older crowd likes it. Oh, and it’s on special so your wallet won’t hate it, either.”

You stop by the Diamonds display as you face him again. He follows at a pace and stops before the shelf, perusing the gold caps and crystal caps. He considers the rack in deep thought.

“Here,” you set down your bottle on a nearby table of seasonal decorations and take one from the display. You slip out a strip of cardstock and spray it with the sampler, “this one is gardenia. That was her favourite scent. It’s probably the least pungent.”

You offer him the sample and he eyes it. He slowly bends and sniffs the end of the paper. He wiggles his nose. It makes you sneeze too. As much as you’re a fan of the classic actress, her scents are dated.

“Smells like her,” he grumbles under his breath, “sure, I’ll take that.”

“Great,” you declare and trade the sampler for a boxed bottle, then retrieve your disposed Gucci vial, “would you like me to check you out, sir?”

“Is it faster?” 

“I can be fast,” you promise him, “this way.”

You go around the sparkling counters and he meets you across the till. You type in your log in, taking several tries to get your passcode right. The man places his briefcase on the counter,a hand resting on the edge.

“You know a lot about this stuff?” He prompts.

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile as you scan the perfume and tap the special offer on the screen, “kinda part of the job.”

“Hmm” he hums again, in that thoughtful manner. You look at him but he’s not looking at your face, “that’s a nice sweater.”

You look down at the red wool speckled with pearls. It’s new and one of your favourites already. You can’t help a little wiggle of your shoulders, “thanks!”

“Very… cheerful,” he muses as he takes out his wallet, “wish I could say the same of what awaits me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, it’s that time of year, I guess,” you push the debit machine towards him and he taps his credit card, “I’m sure your mother-in-law will love the perfume.” The transaction approves and the receipt prompts, “would you like an email?”

“Nah, that’s fine,” he tucks his credit card away.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” You offer, “it’s free?”

He hovers his hand over his briefcase as he considers it. His eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples, “alright, yeah, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problem,” you beam back at him, “let me just get some tissue paper…”

You murmur to yourself as you grab some gold tissue paper and a white gift bag with a Christmas tree embossed into the side. You carefully line up the small box on the paper and begin your intensive work. You're a master wrapper, you used to work at the wrapping station in the mall.

“What about you?” He asks before the silence can stretch too far, “you seeing family for the holidays? When you’re not working?”

“Um,” you smile as you look up, “I’m just hanging out with my dog. I bought him a bone.”

“A dog,” he nods, “your family live out of town?”

Usually, you ask the questions. It’s easier that way. It deflects the attention from you. It’s why you like the job; you can hear all about others and not have to think about yourself.

“Yeah, something like that,” you slip the wrapped box into the bag and fluff the tissue paper.

“Eh!” The loud exclamation makes you jump as the man merely turns his head, a tic in his jaw. His eyes narrow as another customer approaches, strutting with hands in his jacket pocket as he calls out, “Barber, what the hell?”

Your customer shifts towards the man, heels squeaking on the floor, “Hugh.”

“Don’t Hugh me, asshole,” the other man retorts, “you said you were busy? What’s the matter, you lose too much money last time?”

“Suzette is in town. Family dinner,” the man, Barber, drones dully.

“Ah, ditched for the old crone, I get it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, poker night was canceled, something about not enough seats,” the man counters sharply.

“Next week,” the first man growls.

“Hey, you,” the man in the russet coat snaps his fingers in your direction, “you got some of that Acqua di Gio. That dumb girl over there said you’re sold out.”

Your brows pop up and you swallow tightly. He’s another type. The arrogant demander. He doesn’t hear no. He’ll ask everyone the same question in hope of getting a different answer.

“We are out of stock, sir, but I could order it in for you,” you suggest.

“Order in? I can just go on Amazon, thanks for nothing,” he chops his hand at you dismissively.

“Hey,” the other man nudges his chest, “be nice. She’s working.”

“What? I’m here to spend money and they got shit all–”

“It’s December,” the other man reproaches before he turns back to you, “sorry, my friend is a jerk.” He accepts the gift bag as you hold it out, “thank you. You saved me.”

“No problem, but er, I was gonna say,” you turn to the other man, “sir, I have some samples of the Armani. I could give you those while you wait for the order.”

“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”

“Let me have a look,” you back up and go to the drawer at the back of the checkout.

“I gotta get going, miss,” the first man waves his hand as you peek over your shoulder, “have a happy holiday.”

“You too,” you chirp back and find the last few tubes of Armani. You claim them and prance back to meet the new customer at the counter, “I have five.” You lay out your wares, “if I order in a bottle it’ll be in just before Christmas.”

“Two weeks?” He puffs.

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the earliest I can do. It’s the last day I can guarantee delivery before Christmas.”

“Talk, talk, talk, order it,” he snaps.

“Right, let me just…” you open the shop and search up the scent. You add it to the cart and proceed. “Alright, got that, did you want it shipped for pick up here or to your address.”

“Here, they can never fucking find my house,” he sniffs.

“Great, so when it arrives, we’ll give you a call. You’ll also get an email to confirm.”

“What’s going on here?” He points at you suddenly. You look down again at your sweater but don’t see anything amiss. You flinch as he reaches to pinch one of the pearls, “what is this?”

“Oh, I… my sweater,” you raise your head, swallowing down the insult. It’s cute!

“Huh, Walmart clearance, huh,” he scoffs, “alright, how much are you robbing me for?”

He reaches into his coat as you hit total. You read out the final amount but he doesn’t pull out a card; he hands you cash. You count the bills, twice over, then give him his change. He looms with impatient huffs.

“Here’s your receipt,” you hand him the strip of paper. “Have a good day, sir.”

“Mmm,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he shoves the receipt into his pocket, “actually, while I’m here, I’d like a new sweater. You can help me and I’ll show you what real quality is.”

You almost laugh. Not spitefully, it’s just a bit silly. He’s competing with you, a perfume pusher.

“Well, sir, I can point you towards men’s fashion but I’m not able to leave this department, I’m sorry,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Oh no, good girl wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he rolls his eyes, “goody goody and her precious little smile.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “my shit better be in by Christmas.”

He twists and strides away. You watch him go but not for long as you’re quickly distracted by a customer looking at the Britney Spears collection. Those are easy sellers.

[silky-nereid]

☘ love like a broken pot || DARK CONTENT

yandere! crime lord x second hand in charge! reader/you

tw : minor & major injuries, manipulation, degradation of self-worth, intimidation and implied murder.

Yandere! Crime Lord who found you when you were nothing; a mere husk covered in scars from a previous crime lord that had been too rough with you and he took it as a challenge to rebuild you; a better you. 

Yandere! Crime lord who is not well-liked in the underworld because he’s known for taking disposable men that were traitors or new people that had either defied death under his wings because the other families would’ve killed them already.

Yandere! Crime lord who isn’t afraid of causing harm to you or to others that are teetering on the edge of betrayal because he’ll purposely step on past wounds of the crew for his benefit. 

He sat on the edge of the bathtub, wearing plastic gloves stained with various mixtures of colors on the once white tank top. Your stained hands applied the tin foil strips to the newly dyed pieces of hair. 

“You’re my favorite,” he said. “You know this, don’t you? You can talk, I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“I.. I know.” Your hands finished folding the last piece of tinfoil on his hair. “But what happened to Ja—“ 

“He betrayed me, he betrayed us,” he explained. “After that stunt he decided to take a swim. Don’t even mention those who betrayed us.”

Yandere! Crime lord who often dyes his hair strange colors and never lets you choose the colors because he has a dartboard to help him choose his dyes but you often have to go and buy the dyes for him.

Yandere! Crime lord who often patches your wounds that you got from missions that he sends you on and enjoys it when you bring back trophies for him to show that you complete the mission. 

Yandere! Crime lord who likes it more when you bring him simple trophies from the mission like a bloodied golden tooth, a switchblade that he eyed; the way it twirled in the hands of the person that didn’t deserve it, golden cufflinks that he could wear or rings that he could add to his fishbowl that he has; enjoys the weddings rings because they are pairs. 

He finished washing his hands, seeing you closing the trunk. Blood remained on your cheek, turning to him. His hand pulled you by the collar of your shirt, eyes stared into your very being; he could break you if he wanted too.

“You’re getting sloppy,” he threatened. “Too sloppy to be exact, next I’ll have the cops at my door because of your sloppiness. Do I need to get Marcus to do your job?“ 

“I’m not getting sloppy,” you confessed. “Just have too much on my plate.”

He let go of your collar, eyeing you up and down and a simple smile carved on his lips. 

Yandere! Crime lord who purposely little by little stops giving you the attention that you as you were slowly getting replaced by someone better than you but still keeps an eye on you somehow; has your schedule written somewhere. 

Yandere! Crime lord who enjoys seeing you wallow in your misery and how you’re discarded ever so quickly by other caporegrimes because you were chipping away at your own patience. 

Yandere! Crime lord who fails to notice the planted bugs inside of his gentleman’s lounge because he’s too busy answering the phone in the miniature barber shop. 

Your eyes looked at the ruins of the gentlemen's club and the hands that caused it. You didn’t mean it, didn’t you? You turned around seeing his long shadow on the floor, covering your hunched form and flipping the golden lighter open and close; eyes that threatened to burn your skin. 

“I didn’t give you an order to cause this.” He gestured to the blood trail that was smeared into the miniature barbershop. “Clean this up.” 

He went from behind the bar, disappearing for a moment and pulling a first aid kit. He walked towards you, handing you the first aid and his hand caressed your lower cheek and neck. Your eyes watered, hands trembling desperately clutching his sleeves and staining the sleeves with someone’s blood; it hurts…

“Why did you betray me?” He asked. 

He twisted the blade further causing a gasp escaping your lips. 

“Just to think I was going to let you finally go to a normal life,” he berated. “But you couldn’t keep your lips shut, singing like a canary to the police.” 

He pushed you away, watching you stumble around. He sat down next to your hunched wounded form, blood formed a small puddle around you and his hand tightly gripped your chin and turned it to face him. 

“You must not be feeling the pain.” He pressed on one of the many open wounds. “There you go.” 

Your blurred eyes watched them pull him away, the ringing in your ears continued. Unfamiliar warm hands that pulled you up onto emergency gurney and looking up at the dusk sky; seeing the colors fade into each other. You looked over to him while he was seemingly being handcuffed, placed into the cop car but he never broke eye contact.

[holylulusworld]

The assistant (9) - Revenge for champions

Summary: You are invisible most of the time.

Pairing: Former!Boss!Steve Rogers x Former!Assistant(plussized)!Reader

Possible pairing: Jake Jensen x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader, Curtis Everett x Reader, Ari Levinson x Reader, Andy Barber x Reader, Mike Weiss x Reader

Warnings: angst, flirty CEvans characters, language, plussized/chubby reader, protective brothers, Lloyd being Lloyd, fluff, domestic brothers, Steve Rogers being annoying, arguments

The assistant masterlist

The assistant (8) – A Captain and six brothers

That bastard is still out there. He’s lurking,” Lloyd grumbles angrily. “Let me get the big guns out. I’ll kill him with one precise blow to his ugly face.”

“Lloyd we talked about this. We won’t kill Captain America,” Andy tuts. He checks on the security cameras again.

“But the thought is nice—” Lloyd flashes his brother a smirk. “Right? Don’t you want to lose control sometimes and just punch the asshole?”

“You’ll only break your hand,” you grab Lloyd’s hand before he can punch an invisible enemy. “We talked about this. Let me handle my former boss. He’s stubborn but will lose interest soon enough.”

“I don’t think he will leave anytime soon,” Ari looks out of the window to keep an eye on Steve. He’s sitting in front of the gate, pouting like an angry child.

“Fine,” you huff. “He leaves me no choice.” You get your phone out to call someone to get Steve off your friends’ property. “I hate getting him involved, but this can’t be helped.”

��Gentlemen,” Tony watches you and the brothers step out of the mansion. He grins and licks his lips at Steve’s reaction. The captain barks orders at your friends, ready to take the gate down.

“Mr. Stark, thank you for coming,” you usher the brothers toward the gate. “I didn’t know what else to do. The captain won’t believe me that I stay at my friends’ place on free terms.”

Tony flashes you a smile. He’s still disappointed that you didn’t want to work for him but understands that you needed space and tried to start a new life, with a new job. 

“Anything for you, darling,” he gives you a curt nod before turning his attention toward Steve. “Cap, we should go now. There’s nothing for us to do here.”

“Tony, they are holding Y/N hostage,” Steve points at you standing next to the brothers. Ari, Lloyd, and Curtis immediately crowd you. “See, they won’t let her breathe. I can only imagine what they have done to her since she came here.”

“OH, yeah,” Tony smirks at his friend. “She looks very displeased.” He quirks a brow. 

“See—” Steve nods. “You can see it too!”

“Steve, I tried to be sarcastic. Y/N is glowing and looks happy. We should leave her and her friends alone.”

“No! I won’t leave her to these vultures wanting to take advantage of her kindness and innocence. I have to save her!”

“Ah,” the cocky billionaire nods thoughtfully. “I think we are having a Snow White situation here.” Tony smirks at his friend. 

“What do you mean, asshat?” Lloyd grunts, ready to fight Iron Man and Captain America if he must.

“Seven guys longing for one woman?” Tony snickers. “Six brothers and one Captain trying to win the beautiful princess’s heart over.”

“I understand that reference, but I’m not a dwarf, Tony,” Steve grunts. “If she’s Snow White, then I’m the Prince Charming!” He points at the brother. “And these men are not friendly dwarfs but criminals and kidnappers.”

“Hey! I’m not a dwarf either, Iron Bucket,” Lloyd angrily glares at Tony. “I know you were always good to Y/N, but I won’t let you get away with insulting me…or my brothers.”

“Wait! I think Snow White got seven dwarfs, right?” Mike throws in. He furrows his brows, struggling to remember the fairytale their mother used to read to him. “We are only six.”

“This makes Captain asshole the seventh dwarf,” Curtis laughs loudly. “I think he’s the one they called Dopey. He doesn’t understand the simplest things.”

“I’ll free Y/N!” Steve points his index finger at Curtis. “You won’t hurt her on my watch.”

“Hurt her?” Jake has had enough. He steps toward the gate, hands wrapping around the bars. Jake sneers at Steve and grits his teeth. “The only person hurting her was you! She lost her job, the one she loved because you wanted to stick your dick into that stupid bitch’s snatch. What a man you are. Ordering food for everyone but the sweet woman saving your ungrateful ass every day.”

“You know nothing about me and Y/N!” Steve angrily replies. “I-I made mistakes but tried to apologize. When I came to her home, she was gone. Kidnapped by you and your brothers!”

“We didn’t kidnap her! Y/N is my friend. She came to my café to tell me about all the shit you pulled on her. Day after day she worked her cute ass off to make your life easier. Was it too much to ask for that you gave her a little respect and paid for her fucking lunch?” Jake kicks the bars. “I swear, you’re lucky the gate is in between us. If not, you’d be dog food.”

“Whoa, Jakie,” Lloyd places his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Freaking out and threatening people to kill them is my job. How about you bring Y/N back inside and leave this job to me and Ari.”

“She stands right behind you, Lloyd,” you grunt and slap Lloyd’s ass. “I can speak for myself.” You step next to Jake to look Steve in the eyes. “Listen, I know you believe what you are doing is the right thing, but you couldn’t be more wrong. These men are my friends. Jake is my friend and he’d never hurt me. Please just leave.”

“But they—” Steve points at Lloyd. “I don’t trust them. I know you are kind and believe people are always good, but there are bad people out there, who want to take advantage of a pretty girl like you. I can’t let them do this to you.”

“My friends won’t harm me in any way,” you purse your lips. “I’m not like Sandy, a damsel in distress. I don’t look tough like Agent Romanoff, but I know how to defend myself.”

“She can defend herself,” Ari places his hand on your shoulder, “but she doesn’t have to. We are here to defend her and her honor. So, if you’d kindly fuck off now, we want to have dinner with our lovely Y/N.”

“Tony, don’t you have anything to say?” Steve despairs. He can see the determination in your eyes and can only hope you are not wrong. He’d never forgive himself if these men take advantage of you. “Do something!”

“Alright,” Tony claps his hands. “I got enough of this, kiddos. I’m too old for this shit.” He says. “Even though, Capsicle is older than me.” 

“Tony!” 

“How about you let Steve stay for the night? He promises to behave, and you promise to let him have a look at Y/N’s room.”

“He can have a look at my ass before I let him inside my home!” Lloyd points at his ass. 

“Uh-I don’t know,” Mike murmurs. “If he can have a look around the house and sees that we are treating Y/N with respect, he’ll leave us alone.”

“I hate to say it, but Mike ain’t wrong,” Andy throws in. “He won’t leave and I’m not much into getting spied on. Having Captain America lurk around your house is bad for our reputation. People will start asking questions.”

Steve watches the brothers and you discuss Tony’s suggestion. He uses his enhanced hearing to listen to your heartbeat. Your heart beats normally. You’re not afraid at the moment, but he’s still not convinced that you are not in danger.

“Fine by me.” Steve finally says. 

“The shield stays outside,” Lloyd points at Steve’s shield. “…and you won’t set foot into our home wearing your ugly suit. Civilian clothes, no shield.”

“He’ll follow your rules and leave your house, tomorrow morning,” Tony stretches his hand out. “I give you my word, Mr. Hansen.”

“I’ll keep you up on that promise,” Lloyd grabs Tony’s hand. He squeezes hard, making sure Tony knows the man in front of him isn’t afraid of Iron Man at all. “If you break it…well…you don’t want to know what happens if you fuck with Lloyd Hansen.”

“Revenge for champions will happen,” Ari grunts. He points at Tony. “You better keep your buddy in line. If not, I’ll release the beast.”

“…I’m the beast,” Lloyd smirks darkly. “I love letting hellfire rain down on my enemies. Especially when I can defend our sweet Y/N…”

Part 10

Tags in reblog.

[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.

[whynotshaveme]

It's For Charity, Mia

By whynotshaveme

Mia's long, black hair trailed down her back as she arrived at school that morning. With determined strides, she scanned the notice board for any chance to bolster her grades, especially that D+ that she had in American History. Her eyes locked onto a flyer advertising a charity event that afternoon promising extra credit from the History Department to those brave enough to sign up. Not looking at the fine print, even though she really should have, she jotted her name on the sign-up sheet.

Excitement buzzed in the air as Mia entered the school's auditorium that afternoon. Students and teachers packed the seats. Everyone kept pointing at the barber's chair at the center of the stage. Mia nervously approached, dread gnawing at her insides. Oh god, she thought, what did I sign up for?

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our annual charity shave-a-thon!" the host's voice boomed, drawing everyone's attention. "Let's give a big round of applause for our first participant and longest head of hair today —Mia!"

Mia's stomach churned as she stumbled onto the stage, unable to make a break for it now, her steps heavy with trepidation. She took her seat, her hands trembling as she gripped the armrests. Her eyes widened in horror as Mr. Richardson, her weirdo American History teacher, stepped forward, clippers in hand.

"No, please..." Mia's plea was a mere whisper, drowned out by the anticipation of the crowd.

Mr. Richardson's smirk only deepened as he revved up the clippers. Mia's breath caught in her throat as the buzzing sound filled the room, drowning out her protests. The first lock of her hair fell to the ground, soon to be joined by others.

"I always make my students earn their extra credit," said Mr. Richardson so softly that only Mia could hear it.

Tears welled in Mia's eyes as the clippers continued their relentless assault. Mr. Richardson, she would later learn, was a former Army barber. He didn't show her an ounce of mercy as the guards of those hungry clippers ripped through her beautiful head of hair. She wanted to scream, to beg for mercy, but all she could do was sit there, paralyzed by shame and helplessness.

Finally, the clippers fell silent, leaving Mia's head shorn of its crowning glory. But Mr. Richardson wasn't finished yet. With a cruel grin, he produced a pearl-handled straight razor and a can of Barbasol shaving cream, ready to strip away the remnants of Mia's dignity.

The cold touch of the razor against her scalp sent shivers down Mia's spine. Each stroke felt like a dagger, carving away at her self-esteem. She tried to still herself, including her unfortunately full bladder. And then, it happened—a warm trickle down her leg, followed by a spreading puddle at her feet.

Gasps rippled through the audience, quickly followed by jeers and laughter. Mia's cheeks burned with humiliation as she watched everyone in the audience pull out their phone to document her humiliation. She wanted nothing more than to disappear, to escape the mocking gazes of her peers. But Mr. Richardson, a professional, insisted on another pass of his razor and then a vigorous massage of oil into her now naked scalp.

"Gotta made that cueball of yours really shine," he said, laughing with everyone.

Once he was satisfied with how the bright, oily sheen of her bald head looked under the hot lights of the stage, he gave it a smack and then pulled off her cape. Mia then stumbled off stage and to the nearest bathroom to clean herself off and see how she looked. When she looked in the mirror, she cried.

[cevansbrat0007]

How would aj and Andy feel if his friends call his mom a milf ( gp!reader) aj is in his teens

Summary: You're a wife, a mother, and apparently...a MILF.

Warnings: Fluff, Female Objectification, Mentions of Violence, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: This drabble is part of my Growing Pains Series. All mistakes are my own. Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are appreciated. ___

"Dude! It was just a joke, bro!" The young man sputters as his friend, A.J. Barber, unceremoniously thrusts his gym bag and water bottle into his arms. "I wasn't being serious."

A.J. simply shakes his head as he brushes by his buddy, Max, to open the door before gesturing for him to step outside.

"DUDE!"

"That was my mom, man. My MOM!" The younger Barber huffs, pointing an accusatory finger at Max. "And I don't know how old she is because I'm afraid to ask. I saw my Dad do it one time and it did not go well, okay? But she's not - she's so not a...a..."

A.J. trails off, visibly shuddering as he's unable to finish his sentence. Out of nowhere comes another voice, this one belonging to the Barber family patriarch.

"What's all this commotion about, gentlemen? I can hear you from the kitchen." Andy strides into the foyer, wiping his wet hands on a navy blue dishtowel.

"Nothing." His son grumbles, blowing out a breath as he tries to resist the urge to thrust his friend out the door and slam it shut in his pencil-mustached face. "Max was just leaving."

Andy raises a concerned brow. "Before dinner? But we're making tacos in the wok tonight. Well, your mother is. I'll just be there to supervise."

And by "supervise", he meant hang out in the middle of the kitchen while you cooked so that he could occasionally accost with you kisses. While he thought of it as his own version of moral support, you maintained that he just liked getting in your "fucking way".

Your words, not his.

"He's not hungry." A.J. grunts at the same time as his pal utters the words "I could eat".

"Uh huh." The older man casts them both a suspicious look before crossing his arms over his rather impressive chest. Even in his fifties, Andrew Barber was still easy on the eyes. The budding silver-fox still managed to attract female attention wherever he went, whether he wanted it or not.

But he never paid it any mind, because he was also a happily married man who wore his wedding ring with pride

"Mrs. Barber is a phenomenal cook. My mom can't cook worth shi- I mean crap." Max laughs nervously, his hand going to rub the back of his neck. "She - my mom. Her food is not great, like at all. But, uh, maybe we could eat by the pool like we did last time."

"He's really gotta go, Dad."

"It's okay A.J. - I can stay. Mom's cool with it." Max calmly pats A.J. on his shoulder, trying to ignore the fire burning behind his hazel eyes.

"I mean...I suppose we could do that." Andy responds, a hint of skepticism in his tone. "I wonder if Y/N feels like making her homemade salsa too. I probably oughta ask..." His short, trimmed nails absently go to scratch at his bearded chin that now sported flecks of gray.

For the life of him, he couldn't seem to figure out why his son was turning such a spectacular shade of red. Or what now had him typing so furiously on his phone.

"She definitely should." Max tosses his bag back at Junior as a grin spreads across his smug face. "And you know, they say that a little sunshine does a body good."

"That it does." Andy agrees, noting of the sudden tenseness in his son's shoulders.

"And I know it's true, because the last time I saw Mrs. Barber outside she looked amazing."

Now that stops Andy quick, even as A.J. makes what sounds like a distinct choking noise in the back of throat. But the young man - Max - keeps talking, seemingly unaware of the danger he's just placed himself in.

"I was just telling A.J. here that your wife is definitely a MILF, sir. We talk about it all the time at school. And you can totally tell she works out or whatever, because she doesn't even look like how most Moms look. "

Suddenly, Andy's twitching eye mirrors his son's own.

"Hey, how old is Mrs. Barber now? Like 40?"

Andy clears his throat before casting a withering glare in the direction of his son's friend. "A word to the wise, young man - never ask a woman her age. Especially not if you want to live long enough to see your way through puberty."

A.J. nods along before returning his attention back to his phone.

"Even I don't know how old my wife is, mostly because I'm not stupid enough to ask."

"But then how do you -" Max interrupts, clearly confused by the direction of this conversation.

"If I think I need to know, then I guess. And when I guess, I err on the side of caution. Because I'm smart, and I've come to understand the meaning of the phrase happy wife, happy life."

"Oh."

"However, even without knowing just how many times Mrs. Barber has made the journey around the sun, she's still out of your age bracket. And therefore out of your league." Andy places a hand on Max's bicep, squeezing just hard enough to make the younger man gulp.

"And I would appreciate it if you didn't disrespect my wife and the mother of my son like that ever again. Do we have an understanding, Maximilian Robert Greenwell?"

"Ye-yeah. I mean yes, sir!" He quickly amends when he notices the way the elder Barber's nostrils flare. "Sorry about that. And, um, my bad, A.J."

"I took the liberty of texting your mom. She'll be here any minute." Andy's namesake interjects. "I suggest you wait for her on the front porch."

Without offering up another word, he opens the door and points toward the street. Taking the hint, his friend gathers his things once again and traipses outside. "Guess, I'll just see you at school -" He tries, only to be cut off when the door slams in his face with a satisfying thud.

"You alright, son?"

"Yep." He huffs before flipping the lock.

"You sure?"

"When he wasn't going on and on about Mom, he also threw in how KitCat and Rory were kinda hot, especially for a couple of nerds. But I shut that down fast. But then he just had to go and call Mom a MILF..."

"I understand. I've seen a lot of men do and say plenty of stupid things because of your mother, but Max..."

The two men share a look of quiet understanding. It lasts a full beat before they finally speak again.

"Max is dead to me, father."

"Good man." A.J. smiles when his father affectionately claps him on the shoulder. "We've got to watch out for the women in this house."

"We do. Plus, they'd eat a guy like Max for breakfast. I mean the level of violence I've been subjected to alone - I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, including him."

"Mhm." Andy wraps a muscled arm around the younger Barber, pulling him close to drop a brief kiss on top of his head. "Believe me when I tell you that your Mom's silverware throwing ability has seriously improved over the years. Shit is scarily accurate now."

A.J. simply nods, choosing to take his father at his word. "Well, now that that's over, is it almost time for dinner? Protecting the women in this house can really take a lot out of you."

The elder man sniffs the air, his nose detecting the delicious aroma of fresh herbs simmering in hot oil.

"I think it is. Smells like your mother's cooking now, which means I need to get in my spot." Andy bestows one last kiss against his boy's temple before playfully pushing him to the side. "Besides, I don't think I've given her a reason to fuss at me yet today. Gotta keep the spark alive somehow, kid."

Throwing his son one last wink, A.J. then watches as his father jogs off in the direction of the kitchen bellowing "here I come, baby girl".

With a sigh, the youngest member of Barber brood turns and begins climbing the stairs, laughing when he hears his lovely mother's annoyed shouts coming from the other side of the house.

His parents were crazy about each other, that much he knew. But the older he got, the more he was beginning to realize that there was a little more to it. They were actually still in love with one another.

And that was cool. Sometimes, it even made him the envy of his friends whose folks were either divorced or barely tolerated each other. He was cool with that too.

Just don't ever call his pretty Mama a MILF. Because that shit right there...that wasn't cool no matter how you spun it.

END

[weekly-layton-puzzle]

weekly Layton puzzle #024

Professor Layton and the Curious Village puzzle 051

requested by anonymous

The Town Barbers

A certain town has only two barbers in it. There aren't any other towns nearby, so everyone who lives there gets their hair cut by one of these two stylists.

HINTS:

HINT 1

You don't cut your own hair, do you?

HINT 2

Everyone in this town has one of these two handsome gents cut their hair.

The two barbers themselves are no exception to that statement.

HINT 3

Since they don't cut their own hair, the miserable haircut Barber A received must have been inflicted upon him by Barber B. Poor guy.

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

I love you 3000 writing bonanza!

I’ve hit 3000 followers!!!

Now if you remember a while ago I asked how you guys would like to celebrate and this is what I’ve come up with! If you remember my 2.5k Followers Writing Challenge and Exchange its kinda similar to that but I’ve made some improvements!

What is going to happen is I am going to open up my askbox/dms for requests!

To make this manageable and allow me to complete as many as possible I will only be accepting requests in these following forms:

1) A question about a character or series

For example: How would X characters feel about Y character doing XYZ?

2) A What If…. For one of my series

For example: What If the character for X series met 10 years prior

3) A request using a maximum of 3 of the prompts below (the list is hella long so I’ve put it below the cut!)

For Example: Ari Levinson / Mob AU / You won’t get away so easy

If I receive a request that does not fall into one of these three categories then I will not fulfill it!

And because I like for everyone to be able to get involved if you yourself are a writer/want to give writing a go and you like any of the below prompts feel free to use them (the max of 3 doesn’t apply to you guys) all I ask is that you tag me, use the hashtag Niamh Loves You 3000, use appropriate warnings and let me know which ones you’re using so I can keep my eye out!

If you are writing a fic using the below prompts I ask you to follow these rules:

No sexual relations with minors, no somnophilia, necrophilia, incest, toilet stuff, snuff, or beastiality!

Dark Fics are allowed (Non-Con/Dub-Con) but they MUST BE APPROPRIATELY TAGGED!

Any creation MUST BE ORIGINAL! No stealing, stealing is bad!

The creation if part of a series must be able to be read as a stand alone!

No word limit! If it’s over 500 please use the read more function!

All the prompts are below the cut, remember its a max of three, but you can mix and match as you like so the possibilities are endless!

Characters:

Chris Evans

Steve Rogers

Andy Barber

Frank Adler

Ari Levinson

Curtis Everett

Johnny Storm

Jake Jensen

Ransom Drysdale

Any other Chris Evans character

Trope:

Fake Dating

Only One Bed

Enemies to Lovers

Friends to Lovers

Cuddling for warmth

Trapped together

Mistaken Identity

One night only

Love Triangle

Fated Mates

Childhood Sweethearts

Grumpy x Sunshine

Forbinned Love

Forced Proximity

WILDCARD! (You can pick an Trope not listed!)

AU:

A/B/O AU

Mob AU

Sports team AU

College AU

Emergency Service AU

(Medieval) Royalty AU

(Modern) Royalty AU

Pornstar AU

Fairytale / Fantasy AU

Biker AU

Soulmate AU

Band/Musician AU

WILDCARD! (You can pick an AU not listed!)

Dialogue:

"I told you not to touch that"

"I'm tired of answering that question"

"Why didn't they come?"

"I'm so sick of pretending everything's okay"

"don't just stand there! do something!"

"do you remember that night in [insert place]?"

"is there a problem here gentlemen?"

"what on earth happened here?"

"there's blood everywhere"

"Get in the van!"

"I'm not saying you're a bad cook, but even the flies in the kitchen wear gas masks."

"I may be a terrible dancer, but I've got great moves in bed."

"I'm not high maintenance; I'm just low tolerance for mediocrity."

"I love the sound of your voice and the way you say my name."

"Being with you feels like coming home."

“You're not the person I thought you were."

"I never imagined my life without you."

"I never got to say goodbye."

"I'm so glad you're here to point out my flaws. I would never have noticed them on my own."

"Oh, don't worry about being late. We'll just sit here and wait for you forever."

"I'm sorry. Did I ask for your opinion?"

"Why do you always insist on seeing the worst in people?"

"It's not my fault you can't handle the truth."

"You don't know what I'm capable of."

"I'll do whatever it takes to get what I want."

"You think you're better than me, but you're not."

"I'll use anyone I need to achieve my goals."

"You've made a huge mistake, and now you're going to pay for it."

"Don't you realize how much you've hurt everyone around you?"

"you have no idea what you do to me"

"don't you dare go slow"

"I don't think I'll be able to walk tomorrow"

"move and you won't be coming tonight"

"hands behind you're back"

"Beg for it"

"you can take it, you've done it before"

"I'm going to fucking ruin you"

"do you think you deserve a reward/punishment?"

"show me how much you missed me"

"Are you holding back? don't"

"shall we put your mouth to better use?"

"Slowly, I'm not going anywhere"

"I said I'd take care of you"

"Please, I can't sit still"

So there’s absolutely so many to pick from covering fluff, comedy, angst and smut 😉 don’t forget to follow the rules I’ve set out above!!

I love you all 3000 🩵🩵🩵

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Wherever I rest my head is home if it's with you

Part 1, Luck be with you

Masterlist Word count: 2 k Charles Smith x Fem!Reader Arthur Morgan x Mary Linton John Marston x Abigail Roberts Dutch Van der Linde x Molly O'Shea Mary-Beth Gaskill x Kieran Duffy

Summary: Looking for gold is a men's world in a town run by women. The amounts of violence and suffering these men go through with the hope of getting rich is insanity. Gold fever broke marriages and relationships alike until the settlement was nearly all women.  It's a small settlement, nearly a small town, next to the Elysian Pool. Most men red hot with gold fever pass through to stock up on supplies before heading down to the mines near Beaver's Hallow or Annesburg.  The settlement has only one law set in stone, as lawmen do not want to come there, and it is praised like it was one of the ten commandments. You do not harm the women.

Preview

Going up towards the Grizzlies always brings a bone chilling wind along. It's that kind of cold that flows right through your lungs, into your bloodstream, and infects your every inch of being. But the four men on the road to prosperity aren't in that part of the woods yet. These men being Arthur, Charles, John, and Hosea. None of them are particularly fond of finding the gold around these parts but they are concerned about their friends who rode up weeks ago.  Before their journey, the men had been told and warned about a settlement. According to the men that came back, you're lucky if you leave with a broken heart and a nugget of gold in your saddlebag. If you're not so lucky, well, you don't make it out alive.  So many stories about this little settlement. They could just push through to Van Horn or go straight to Annesburg, but they have to admit they're curious. All the stories about beautiful, cruel women only fanned that curiosity. Hosea, with all his experience traveling through America, had never heard of the settlement which strengthened their desire to go see for themselves even more. After all, they've all had their hearts broken before, so what’s another chip?  What Hosea did seem to know is the major of the town. He had met the woman down by Emeral Ranch while she was picking up a delivery for the town. Hosea had, so kindly, offered to be a hired gun for her in hopes of taking over the stocked wagon but was met with the barrel of a shotgun against his back when he tried to get up onto the driver's seat. She had smiled at him and kindly told him to fuck off.  How he had managed to get onto her good side after an encounter like that was a mystery to the other men, but she had offered a place to rest their heads if they were ever close and in need.  As they reach the edge of town, they can already tell this is a settlement like no other. Though most settlements are one street, a good place to ride through, this settlement is spread out like a village. Down by the lake is a huge ranch and down by the train tracks seems to be a hotel and post office, but no train station which strikes both John and Arthur as curious. There's a grocery store, a tailor, a saloon, a barber, a gun store, a doctor's office, everything one might need.  And, as the stories predicted, a lot of women wearing pants and barely any men.  Hosea points at a large house a little bit higher up on a small mountain: 'From what I've been told, that's where the major lives. Let's go introduce ourselves gentlemen.' 

[jaimeshanice]

Appreciation for BLACK fashion throughout tv & film: Gone with the Wind (1939) | Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) | Repo: The Genetic Opera (2008) | True Blood (2008) | The Cell (2000) | Reign (2013) | The Craft (1996) | Gia (1998) | The Sweetest Thing (2002) | Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005) | Black Swan (2010) | Belle of New York (1952) | Bedazzled (2000) | The Invitation (2022) | Paradise Hills (2019) | The Girl Next Door (2004) | Batman Returns (1992) | Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953) | Horror of Dracula (1958) | Glitter (2001) | Legally Blonde (2001) | Death Note (2006) | Striptease (1996) | Beetlejuice (1988) | Ready or Not (2019) | Candyman (1992) | Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet St. (2007) | American Horror Story: Hotel (2015) | Let's Make Love (1960) | Austin Powers in Goldmember (2002)

[doyouknowthisactor]

By "roles" I mean playing a different character, and in a different piece of media; someone playing one character across a franchise only counts as one thing for the purposes of this poll, as does playing multiple characters in one franchise/piece of media

Below are some of this actor's roles. Please only check after voting!

Downton Abbey as Mary Crawley (3 Emmy nominations)

Godless as Alice Fletcher (1 Emmy nomination)

The Gentlemen as Rosalind Pearson

Defending Jacob as Laurie Barber

Dockery is the sister-in-law of actor and screenwriter Phoebe Waller-Bridge

More roles

[periru3]

Reblog for a bigger sample size - for bonus points tag your favorite musical(s) that didn't win this decade but maybe should have!

Polls for other decades

[rndmmarston]

Doc Holliday X F/Reader

Im Back…AGAIN

Warnings-None(I don’t think)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/Ns Pov

It was a Nice Morning In Tombstone,Hot like usual, Doc Was sitting outside leaned back with his feet Propped up on a chair at the Barber, I walked over to him “Morning” I said as I sat next to him “Morning Darlin’” he said with his eyes closed looking very Relaxed.

I leaned back into my chair and watched the people walk up and down the street, I seen in the Distance Wyatt, Virgil and Morgan, as they were walking,Ringo,One of the cowboys, Came out of the saloon looking very drunk and looking to start trouble, “Well what do we have here…” he said with a slight Slur “What do want Ringo?” Virgil said Putting his hand on his Revolver “I want your blood, and i want your souls and i want them both right now” He said slightly Stumbling over, I stood up and leaned against the railing watching them, After the O.K Corral shoot out things were not going well between the Earp’s and the Cowboys, I looked over at Doc he was still leaning back, now he had pulled his hat down over his face, i guess to keep the sun out of his eyes, “Oh Look who we have over here~” I looked over to realize Ringo was talking to me “Leave her out of this…” Wyatt said stepping forward, Ringo just smiled “Now see, with out your lover here…You ain’t nothing without him…” I just stayed quiet, I seen in the corner of my eye Doc had put his hand over his Gun…He’s listening… “You know…Why are you with him anyways?” he asked me with slurred words “Why are you with a Lunger? Ya know he is gonna die soon…” He said with a Smirk… “Ya know its sad how he isn’t here to protect you…” He said with a smirk

“Just leave her Alone Ringo…” Wyatt said Getting Ringo attentions, As Ringo was looking at Wyatt Doc Stood up and Put his Gun behind his back, He Whistled getting Ringo’s Attention, Ringo’s eyes Widened when he seen him “Ive been here the whole time…” Doc said stepping down “Go to hell…Ill put ya out of your Misery-“ “Say when” Then Curly bill and A few other cowboys came out of the Saloon, As soon as Ringo went to for Doc he got pulled back by the cowboys “Don’t mind him he’s just drunk thats all!” Curly bill said while laughing.

“gentlemen” Doc tipped his hat at the Earp’s and Walked back over to the Barber, I stood there leaning against the railing, He came up to me wrapping his arm around my waist “You Okay Darlin’?” “yeah…Im fine…” “Its okay…Im here to protect you…Don’t listen to anything he says to you…” He says with a slight smile “I wont…Thanks” I said as I leaned up and kisses his cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N- This is a Short story…Its Currently 2:45 Where i am so its not the best i know, Sorry i dont ever post on here <3

•Requests~Open•

[holylulusworld]

Deadly Kitten (12)

Summary: You’re a deadly kitten. 

Pairing: Mafia!Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader, Mafia!Ari Levinson x fem!Reader, Mafia!Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Characters: Lee Bodecker, Lance Tucker, Jake Jensen, Lloyd Hansen

Warnings: angst, language, polyamory, soft mobsters, fluff, violence, characters death, blood, stabbing

Badass kitten & her tamers

<< Part 11

Eighteen hours earlier…

“You want us to do what?” Ari crosses his arms over his chest. He shakes his head and dares anyone to agree on your plan. “No! We won’t use you as bait!”

“I talked to Jensen about this,” you point out. “He will be the guardian angel on my shoulder and watch my every step. Jake won’t leave me out of sight. Lee and Lance will be my shadow. This is the only way to get hold of Hansen.”

“No-!” Andy stands next to Ari. He mirrors Ari, adamant about keeping you safe. “We will find another way, kitten.”

“You’ll not leave the house,” Ransom grabs your face. He rests his forehead against yours, mumbling your name. “We will get them all.”

“We will if we follow my plan.”

“Just listen to her for once. Y/N came up with a great plan,” Jake grunts. “Can you for once act like she’s not some pretty face but a smart woman too? We’ve got a plan, and it’s a good one. We will get them all at once.”

“I won’t let her play bait for Hansen!” Ari raises his voice. “Never.”

“You need to meet up with Rachel. I want you to tell her that you got into a fight with me and that our relationship is falling apart,” you pat Ari’s chest. “I need them to believe that all of you will turn their back on me.”

“Darling, that’s insane,” Andy tries to be the voice of reason once again. “Let us handle this.”

“No! That’s exactly what I don’t want!” You throw your hands up. “Secrets, all those secrets. You kept me in the dark and that’s how Lloyd got close enough to hurt me. I’m part of all of your lives and keeping locked away in a gilded cage won’t save me. I got to be strong and handle things on my own.”

“Y/N will lure Hansen out. If she checks in at one of the hotels in town, using one of the credit cards he undoubtedly keeps tabs on, he’ll fall for our trap,” Lance explains your plan. “We will strike hard and fast.”

“She’s not wrong,” Lee shrugs. He leans against the wall, stuffing one of the taffy you got for him into his mouth. “Boss, we’ve got this. Lance and I are a good team. We will not leave her out of sight. And Jensen will…uh…do his thing.”

“She will be wearing different trackers and I’ll be following her signal all the time,” Jake explains. “Nothing will happen to Y/N.”

“This…no!” Andy throws his hands up. “Are you fucking insane? This will never work. I won’t let Hansen get close to Y/N. Ari, Ransom, we will think of a better plan…”

Your men storm out of the room, slamming the door shut.

“I guess we are on our own then,” Lee points out. “Do you still want to go through with the plan?”

“Yes.”

“Good, we are all in. Hansen must be taken care of.” Lance looks at Jensen. “What about you, nerd?“

Giving Lance the stinky eyes Jensen says, “I was all in the whole time. Now, let’s bring to show on the road.”

“Ah, look at what the cat dragged into my house,” You’d like to roll your eyes at Lloyd’s antics. You press your lips together and try to ignore that your plan went down the drain.

You didn’t expect Lloyd’s men to overwhelm Lee, Lance, and the others keeping an eye on you. “What? Cat got your tongue, sunshine?”

“I just prefer talking to gentlemen, not the likes of you,” Trying to sound confident you hold Lloyd’s gaze. His mustache looks funny to you, but his eyes. Those ice-cold blue orbs tell you that he’s no one to mess with. “Why am I here again?”

“I wanted to know what the fuss is about,” you gasp when he roughly cups the back of your neck. He holds you in a tight grip while his eyes seem to scan every inch of your face. “Hmm…pretty face, but not so special. Maybe it’s what's between your legs that they like so much.”

You grit your teeth. No man ever dared to talk to you like this. And you won’t let Lloyd Hansen do so. 

“I wonder what women see in you,” you look him straight in the eye. Showing strength while facing a stronger opponent is essential. That’s what Ari taught you years ago. “It can’t be the mustache. Right?” 

You hum and place your right hand on his shoulder. “Oh, this is getting interesting,” Lloyd smirks. He believes you will be putty in his hands soon enough. “Abandonment is a hard fate.”

“Maybe it’s what’s between your legs.”

Lloyd proudly puffs his chest. He makes the mistake of dropping his hand from your neck. Lloyd wants to say something, wants to tell you about his dick when the worst pain he ever felt ripples through his crotch.

“What?” He screams as you slide the knife back out only to ram it back into his crotch. Once, twice, and three more times. “You bitch!”

He punches your face to get you off him. Lloyd is bleeding heavily. He stumbles back, hand pressed into his crotch. 

“I bet you didn’t expect me to stab your dick,” you chuckle darkly. “Lee gave me the knife. He helped me hide it in my sleeve.”

“You had an ace up your sleeve, huh?” He laughs, while slowly bleeding out. Lloyd doesn’t fight it. “I never thought a pretty girl would be the death of me…or I hoped one would. I just dreamed of dying while letting a busty bimbo ride my dick…”

His legs give in. He ungracefully drops to the ground. It almost looks like he’s amused as you stand over him, the knife still in your hands.

“They are coming for me…I know they will…”

Now, an abandoned warehouse, …

“Kitten!”

“Darling!”

“Y/N!”

Your men storm into the abandoned house, looking like they fought their way through an endless stream of enemies to get to you. And you guess they did. None of them would leave you to their enemy.

Ransom limps a little. Andy’s face is bloody, and he shelters his left arm. Ari looks like a wild animal. His shirt got ripped open and there is blood all over his jeans and shoes.

“Baby!”

Ari storms toward you. He gasps and drops his gun to cup your face. Ari tilts your head, sniffling as your clothes are soaked with blood. Your left cheek is swollen, and your lip is split. “Baby, we are so sorry.”

“You should see the other guy,” you grin up at Ari. “I gave it to him good. He never stood a chance against a badass kitten.” Ari wraps you in a bear hug. He holds you tightly as Ransom and Andy look at the other guy on the ground.

“She didn’t lie, Ari. Damn,” Ransom whistles. „Kitten got him good!”

“I told you so,” you hide your face in Ari’s chest, sighing deeply. Your heart is still racing, and your legs feel like jelly. While in Lloyd’s hands, you tried to be strong, and not show that you are scared. “I’m a deadly enemy.”

“We should never mess with our girl,” Andy runs his right hand over your head. His hand trembles, and he needs to take a few deep breaths to calm his nerves.

“Kitten, you outdid yourself. I’m proud of you,” Ransom watches you relax in Ari’s arms. He squares his jaw as his plan fired back. Three of their men got killed, and Lee and Lance barely made it out alive. And you got kidnapped and had to endure Lloyd Hansen’s presence.

“We are so sorry. We failed you,” Ari buries his face in your neck, almost crushing you against his chest. “I promised to always protect you and let him get his hands on you for a second time.”

“Did you get Rachel and the others? Did my plan work out?” you ask. “Ari, did it work out?” You press on as he doesn’t answer. 

“He got her,” Ransom answers your question. You slowly pull away from Ari, smiling up at him. You stand on tiptoes to kiss his lips before you turn your attention toward Ransom. “Kitten…”

“Let me look at you,” you tut. Ari snickers as you look Ransom up and down. You check on him before pecking his lips too. “You’ll live. Now, daddy needs my attention. He looks awful.”

“I’m good, darling. You know I had it worse,” Andy tries to not worry you even more. It’s no use. You’re all over him, touching his injured arm with gentle fingers. “Y/N…”

“Your arm looks like it hurts a lot. What happened?”

“He didn’t watch his back, and someone dislocated his shoulder.” Ransom snickers. “He’s getting old. His reflexes are not the best.”

“Hey, don’t make fun of Andy,” you mutter. “How about you tell me if you got that bitch good too!”

Epilogue

Reblog for tags.

[ziggy-stardust-is-in-love]

I'm watching sweeney todd

OHHH YESSS OMGGGGGGGGG

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHRHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHHE

IM GOING FERAL YOU BETTER LOVE ANTHONY OR A SWEAR TO GOD ILL ILL YOU 💕 ATTEND THE TALE OF SWEENEY TODD

HIS SKIN WAS PALE AND HIS EYE WAS ODD

HE SHAVED THE FACES OF GENTLEMEN WHO NEVER THEREAFTER WERE HEARD OF AGAIN

HE TROD A PATH THAT FEW HAVE TROD

DID SWEENEY TODD

THE DEMON BARBER OF FLEET

STREET

[slicktapercut2]

Generations have gone to the same high street barbers. Departing looking like gentlemen.