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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 1 year ago

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THE THINGS YOU DO FOR LOVE... ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru begs you to wear the frilly maid dress he bought. against your better judgement, you indulge him.

word count; 7.0k (this was supposed to be short but i miss him terribly)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly sweet, literally just satoru being down horrendous, lots and lots of petnames (he is embarrassing), he’s ur biggest hypeman, reader is a lil grumpy, satoru gojo is the most insufferable man on earth <3

a/n; this is just a silly lil wip i found in my drafts…. i dont remember what possessed me to write this i just think satoru would cry and fall to his knees and throw up blood if he saw u in a frilly dress

”— no.”

the word rolls off your tongue, instantaneous, with a decisive kind of sterness. leaving no room for hesitation, doubt or indecision; not a single gap for his argument to fit through, no loophole he could take advantage of to persuade you into giving in.

but despite all that, satoru just won’t back down.

”come on, baby, please?” he pleads, voice coaxing and sugary sweet. you can almost see those puppy dog eyes of his from behind the black glass of his shades. ”i already bought it and everything!”

”i don’t care,” you spit. a halfhearted attempt at appearing annoyed, in hopes it’ll distract him from the strawberry flush of your cheeks. ”i’m not wearing it. you shouldn’t have bought it, in the first place.”

”but sweetheart,” he drawls, tinged with a sadness he knows tugs at your heartstrings. ”it’s so cute. you’ll look so adorable.”

”not happening.”

”but —”

”— no. i’m seriously not wearing it, satoru.”

it’s harsh, the flow of your words, sharp and firm; but that’s your only option when he gets like this. your only slim chance at survival, being almost painfully direct. that doesn’t stop your resolve from weakening pitifully when satoru’s posture wilts, though, obviously exaggerated but still somehow effective. you debase yourself for being so weak for him.

but giving in just isn’t an option, this time.

under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t take too long for him to persuade you. satoru can be annoying, extremely so — but when he’s being so stubborn about something, there’s usually a good reason for it, even if it’s just that whatever he wants you to do will make him happy. to you, it’ll do.

(his happiness is your priority, after all.)

but in this case, there’s just no way. absolutely no way in hell.

he’s still holding that thing up, like he genuinely thinks it’ll support his argument, swaying it lightly side to side. it really, really doesn’t. it does the complete opposite, in fact.

”but angel,” he tries, again. you wonder if he’s eventually going to run out of petnames, or if he’ll just keep cycling through them until he runs out of air to breathe. ”don’t you wanna see how it’ll look on you?”

a sharp scoff flows from your lips.

he can’t be serious.

you really, really, really don’t. if anything, you want everything in the world except for that. you’d rather smash a glass bottle into little pieces and eat them one by one. you’d rather sit on satoru’s lap in a room full of other people. you’d rather jump in front of a moving train with explosives tied to your back.

— it’s so frilly.

you almost couldn’t believe it, yourself. when he barged into the room, cardboard box in hand, fresh from the mail; all while wearing an excited grin, foreboding, but you were too mesmerized by it to even notice.

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so you didn’t think much of it. satoru buying you gifts is not in any way unusual, even and especially if you tell him not to — and usually, it’d be a sweet occasion. the kind of moment you can soak in, drink up, and then recall fondly for the rest of the week.

every single detail is worth cherishing. how excitedly he always opens it up, eager for your reaction, and how you always thank him, no matter what it is. sincerely, because satoru can be awkward with his affection, but his love bleeds through in moments like these.

from expensive, well-kept bouquets to little flowers on the side of the road; from thought-out gifts to little trinkets; no matter what it is, the sentiment remains the same.

(this made me think of you. i want you to have it.

i remembered you mentioning this brand. i love you.)

a way for satoru to show his love, without overwhelming himself or you. a way of easing him into it, when everything is still just so new to him.

buying you whatever catches his eye is the perfect solution, according to satoru. and it exasperates you, sometimes, when you come home to five amazon packages right outside your doorstep — but deep down you know it’s more for him than you. because it makes him happy, to be able to, allowed to show his love for you in ways like this. in normal ways, easy ways, that say more than his words ever could.

(being granted the luxury of making you happy. of loving you, even if satoru doesn’t think he’s very good at that, just yet. but he is good at impulse buying things he knows you’d like; so that’ll have to do, for now.)

which is why you couldn’t help but let his infectious joy seep into your bloodstream, trickling its way through your veins with a sweet kind of fervour. couldn’t help but smile, a tender curl of your lips, in tandem with his cute little grin. couldn’t help but grow a little bit excited, as he opened the package —

to reveal a cutesy, frilly, maid outfit.

— and then your mind screeched to a halt.

the look on your face must have been something special, horrified and flustered in equal measure. almost in disbelief, as he immediately began to gush about the outfit in his hands. look at the bows, isn’t it cute? god, you’re going to look so pretty. i mean, you always do, obviously, but —

you weren’t really listening. all your mind could do was spin in circles, trying to get some read on the situation, but it was just no good. he genuinely, thoroughly, truly and sincerely expected you to put on a goddamn maid outfit.

if he had bought it for himself, then maybe you would've been at least a little bit excited. you’re sure he'd look good in it; with those big blue eyes of his, that cute, happy grin. so good that your heart would probably combust, a little. melt through the floorboards.

but no — he wanted you to wear it.

and despite your instant, firm protests, he just will not give it up. your boyfriend is a stubborn man, so it’s no surprise, but it’s still enough to irk you.

”satoru, for real. no! i’m not wearing it!”

”but you’d look so good,” he whines, loud and grating as he inches closer to you. still holding the dress up like a prize; you back away, instinctively, like it’ll burn if you touch it.

”i don’t care! it’s a maid outfit! why the hell would i ever wear it?”

sunglasses seated at the bridge of his nose, satoru allows you to catch a glimmer of his eyes — an effective method of persuasion. he definitely knows their power, and he’s definitely flaunting them for the sole purpose of making you falter. that manipulative scumbag.

the fact that it actually works makes you even angrier, though.

a sharp turn of your head, and your gaze falls on the windowpane, lingering there as you grumble under your breath. he’s so annoying. you’re growing more and more flustered by the minute, too.

”— because you love me?”

satoru tilts his head, white locks of hair following the movement. soft and silky, nice to run your fingers through, but you chase the thought away as soon as it enters your subconscious. he looks almost hypnotizing under the sunlight, with the golden rays illuminating his features, smoothing over the contours of his face — as if the sun was made solely to shine on his skin.

and ah, you think, there we go. satoru’s classic tactic; using your love for him as a bargaining chip, pouting down at you like a kicked puppy. you like to picture his eyes all watery and glassy, everytime he tries it, as if he’s some rejected cartoon-mascot. so silly.

valiantly, you fight off the temptation to smile, gracing him with another little scoff instead. shooting him an unimpressed look, a tiny raise of your eyebrow. ”that won’t work on me.”

”aww, come on,” he almost coos, inching closer still. ”don’t you love me? my sweetiepie? my cute lil’ mochi?”

(he’s getting bolder with the petnames, you note. as if that’d change anything. they’re so cheesy it makes you recoil.)

”obviously.” you deadpan, trying your best not to let affection seep into the words. but you see satoru’s lips curl up, anyway. ”i’m still not wearing it, though. sorry.”

satoru sighs. heavy, exasperated — dare you say defeated? for a second, you delude yourself into thinking he might actually give in, for once, spare you both the trouble —

until he falls to the floor, knees hitting the soft flooring with a loud thud. awfully dramatic. he clasps his hands together as if to beg and plead, a starved dog at your feet, and gazes up at you with newfound determination.

”please, baby — i’m begging you,” he groans, voice sad and pained, agonized, like you just threatened to break up with him. silly, silly man.

”don’t grovel.” a sigh drops from your lips as the pads of your fingers go to massage your temples. soothing what you’re almost sure is an incoming headache.

and he makes a certain noise, almost a whimper, like you just kicked him in the gut. you glance down at him as if to signal really? with your eyes, lips parting to speak —

but your breath only hitches in your throat, and no sound comes out.

satoru’s eyes are almost teary. peeking out from behind his shades, big and glassy, eyelashes dewy with what you know are just crocodile tears. he’s far too skilled at it for his own good, though — maybe you should be supporting his acting career, instead of the weird teacher-slash-sorcerer thing he’s got going on.

and you’re weak, you realize, terribly so. because something deep within your chest constricts, at those sad eyes, heart squeezed painfully, and when you speak you note that your voice sounds a lot softer.

”satoru,” you sigh, again; more resigned this time, a little fatigued. missing the way his eyes glint at the sound, as if sensing an opportunity. ”really. i’m sorry i wasted your money, but it’s just… not happening. okay?”

attempting to sound delicate, your voice settles on a soothing tilt, like an adult speaking to a tantrum-throwing child. hoping it’ll be enough to make him falter even slightly.

it isn’t, of course; if anything, his determination only grows.

”even just for a short while?” he tries, voice sweet and pliant. all daisies and sunbeams, tailormade to tug at your heartstrings. ”just an hour or so! then i’ll be satisfied.”

”an hour? no way!” you scoff.

and this time, you don’t miss it. from behind those shades, a certain glimmer of something flickers through his irises — something keen and observant. a certain dread crawls its way down your spine.

”so it’s fine if it’s less?” he grins, changing tactics, smooth and decisive. ”half an hour. that’s as low as i’ll go.”

”oh my god.” an exhale, drawn out and exhausted, from the very depths of your chest. ”satoru. toru. no. i’m not wearing it at all. this isn’t an auction.”

”but it could be,” he purrs, still on his knees. it makes him look a little bit disturbed. ”c’mon. why are you getting so shy? guess what — i’ll even settle for twenty minutes. just for you.”

oh, he’s just awful. you want so badly to be mad at him, and that teasing, smug, shit-eating little smirk of his — but you can’t.

not when he looks so effortlessly pretty, bathed in the light of the sun, surrounded by a mellow glow so tender it makes him look something like an angel. not when he’s acting so characteristically himself, so stubborn and infuriating and entirely impossible not to love.

another sigh. you’re a little surprised you have enough air left in your lungs to breathe it out, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re beginning to grow just a bit tired of the back and forth. ”i’m not shy,” you huff. ”i just don’t want to. it won’t look good on me, anyway.”

satoru blinks. genuine surprise shines in his eyes, for a second, like you caught him off guard. ”huh? of course it will. why wouldn’t it?”

a pause. gnawing at your bottom lip, you avert your gaze, trying to find the words. ”it’s just… tacky,” you settle on. ”it’ll look weird.”

”it won’t! you’ll look so cute!”

another huff, as your dispassionate, bored gaze meets his. ”and how do you know that?”

satoru's answer is instantaneous. ”you always look cute. just wanna see how you look in this,” he chirps, brandishing the outfit with barely contained excitement. thoroughly giddy. ”when i saw it, i knew it’d look adorable on you. and i’m never wrong!”

a soft pout plays at your lips, in the wake of his eager sincerity. barely noticeable, just a little embarrassed, but it’s there. and satoru’s seen it, finally — the road to victory. he knows he can win this, if he’s smart about it.

”i just wanna see you in it. just for a second. please? pretty please?” he tilts his head, tantalizing, showing off the blue of his eyes and the curl of his lips. ”then i’ll never ask you for anything again. promise!”

”okay, that’s a lie and we both know it.”

the grin that blooms on your lips is a mistake, you quickly realize, because satoru interprets any sign of joy on your face as positive approval. his determination grows.

”yeah, yeah… but i mean it! i won’t bother you if you just wear it once. just once!” he puts a single finger up, to emphasize the point. ”just wanna see my precious baby all frilly and cute. won’t you indulge me, oh my dearest?”

he’s grinning, now, all soft and teasing. it’s more breathtaking than he’ll ever understand. he’ll never even come close to understanding how gorgeous he is, like this — when there’s no one around to perform for, when he can just be himself. when it’s just you, and satoru, and the feeling of having all the time in the world.

(even if you don’t.)

and you know your face must be flushed, a soft cherry red, as your gaze falls to the floor. the heat on your cheeks and neck, the pitter patter of your heartbeat; you feel it all.

and it’s embarrassing, to find yourself so fervently twisted around someone’s finger — to find that you don’t even really mind. being wrapped around satoru’s finger isn’t so awful, all things considered. it’s a scary thought, for sure, but he’d never abuse the privilege. probably.

— a sigh.

you still don’t want to wear it. you really don’t. it’s just awful. tacky, and embarrassing, and overall unpleasant.

… but if it’ll get him to stop nagging you like this…

and if it’s just for a short while…

silence, only silence, spilling into the sunkissed air. outside your apartment, the sky melts into a buttery orange hue. an intense contemplation is etched into your eyes, and satoru takes note of it; opting to put the final nail in the coffin. his very last bid.

”fifteen minutes. then you’re —”

”ten minutes,” you cut him off. sounding just a tad exhausted — resigned to your fate.

and satoru doesn’t even bother trying to hide his excitement. suddenly beaming, he shoots up to his feet, and it causes you to jolt. ”perfect,” he grins, holding the dress out toward you. a little too eager for your liking.

”— but seriously. i’m only wearing it once. never again,” you tilt your head. ”got it?” satoru just nods, happily, so excited he’s practically jumping up and down — and despite everything, you still can’t find it in you to be angry.

he looks so earnestly giddy.

eyes brimming with suspicion and weariness, your hands reach out to take it into your arms; the puffy dress, the frilly headwear, and the black thigh highs. you’re surprised he didn’t invest in a pair of shoes, while he was at it. just to complete the set.

(you decide not to comment on it, knowing he’d have some poor, overworked shoemaker on the phone within seconds.)

”need my help putting it on?” he purrs, face suddenly very close to yours — and the sudden stutter of your heartbeat sparks a hitch of your throat. desperate to cover it up, you shoot him a hefty glare.

”oh, shut up,” you hiss, but satoru only grins wider. soft little giggles flowing from his lips, like a schoolgirl teasing her upperclassman. silly.

a heavy hesitance rests on your features, as you give the outfit another chance. judgemental eyes trailing over the bows and frills, giving it a thorough look, until your lips curl down into a soft frown. it’s not that bad, but…

”it’s kinda ugly,” you lie, decisively.

”really? i think it’s cute, though.”

”yeah, ’cause you have no taste.” a click of your tongue. ”what’s so great about maid outfits, anyway? i don’t see the appeal.”

satoru smiles. carefree, amused — still very much teasing. ”well, we’re about to find out,” he chirps.

you give him a look, eventually giving way to a soft exhale. ”fine — but only ten minutes. at most.” a pause, as you stop to think. what else? ”oh, and no taking pictures.”

”— i’m taking pictures.”

…

the exasperated look you send his way doesn’t seem to phase satoru even in the slightest. he continues to smile at you, unbothered, soft around the edges, and you know you’re not winning this one either.

”… fine,” you sigh. ”but — not too many, okay? and you aren’t allowed to show anyone, either.”

”of course not,” he scoffs, almost offended. ”as if i’d let anyone else see you like that.”

stuck between feeling relieved and put off, you settle on simply letting it go. and satoru continues to speak, reassuringly, glossy lips shining in the sunlight as they part.

”rest assured, baby,” he hums, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. ”this stays between us. i swear on my honour.”

you snort. ”like you’ve got any of that.”

”mean. anyway — c’mon. i can’t wait any longer.” before you can think to protest, he’s ushering you away in the direction of the bathroom, big hands heavy on your shoulders as they push you. still hesitant, you make no move to resist.

(what have you gotten yourself into?)

with one final sigh, your fingers curl around the doorknob, outfit hanging off your arm. not before sending one final glance back at satoru, reinstating your conditions. ”just this once. then you’re selling it. or burning it.”

”yes, yes — you have my word,” he promises. before you can narrow your eyes, he pushes you forward, gently; bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. ”go on, i’m waiting!”

”yeah, yeah…”

the door closes behind you with a soft thud, and the reality of the situation begins to finally dawn on you. the maid outfit weighs heavy on your heart, but light in your arms — you gaze down at it with pure contempt. it’s not like you have a choice, though. satoru won’t let you wriggle away from this one. and maybe, just maybe, a part of you wants to indulge him, after all.

(his smile shone so brightly, in the light of the sun.)

and it’s almost cautious, the way you begin to dress yourself; first the thigh highs, black and silky, then the outfit itself. pulling it over your head, your arms sneaking through the openings.

it’s a perfect fit.

a second passes. you stop to think, brows furrowing in suspicion — did the little bastard measure you? just to make sure he got it exactly right? he has been rummaging through your closet more than usual, recently, but you didn’t think much of it. over the years, you’ve conditioned yourself not to question the things that he does. that sneaky, sneaky man.

after putting on the headwear, you finally lift your gaze, tentative and slow — to take a peek at your own reflection. the flush on your face stands out, a contrast to the black and white colour scheme of the outfit.

and you can’t help but exhale, a little exasperated.

it’s so… frilly. there are frills on the sleeves, on the shoulderpads, on the skirt, on the hems… everywhere. little bows litter the surface of the smooth fabric, a big one attached to the collar, and several smaller ones across the sleeves.

and as much as you loath to admit it — it is kind of cute.

still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re only embarrassing yourself. it’s hard not to think, when a maid outfit is staring into your soul through the mirror — and you just so happen to be wearing it.

(what the hell are you even doing?)

a low groan slips from your lips, and you crouch down, to bury your face in your knees. the flush of your cheeks is beginning to spread towards the tips of your ears, growing hotter by the minute. satoru’s about to see you like this, of all people. how on earth will he react?

(what if he thinks it looks weird, too?)

”i’m still waiting!” a voice suddenly exclaims, sing-songy and sweet, and closer than you realized. has he just been standing there and waiting in silence, this whole time? of course he has.

”just —” you croak out, words a little strangled. ”just… give me a minute.”

satoru lets out a high-pitched whine, cheek pressed against the cold wood of the door. ”but i’ve been waiting so long already!” he complains, pouting, the urge to see you growing unbearable. impatience tugging at his heart, so excited he can barely pull himself together.

(all he can think of is you, you, you.)

curling up into a little ball, you attempt to swallow the bundle of nerves in the back of your throat — but that jittery, feather-light feeling of your heartbeat just won’t go away. it makes you feel a little paralyzed.

you're actually, genuinely, sincerely about to go show off a goddamn maid outfit. what the hell.

when you finally grasp control over your vocal cords and part your lips to speak, the voice that spills out into the air sounds more than a little meek. but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, overcome by a heart-tingling nervosity and the heat of your skin.

”… i don’t want to.”

satoru pauses.

he can picture you, in his mind’s eye; the way you must look, right now. clad in frills and a cute little skirt, face flushed red and embarrassed, as you shift from foot to foot. and it takes concentrated effort, to bite back the coo that threatens to crawl up his throat — but he knows it’s still not too late for you to change your mind. if he wants to see you, he needs to be careful. so he tactfully opts not to tease you.

”come on, angel,” he soothes, instead. voice smooth like honey, like coffee with cream and too much sweetener. ”don’t be embarrassed.”

you stay silent, still attempting to suffocate the tinge of humiliation in the depths of your chest. so satoru continues. ”just come on out, hm? might as well get it over with. then you won’t have to think of it again.”

a moment passes.

”… do i have to?”

the corners of his lips curl up.

ah, you’re so cute. all embarrassed, almost childish, in the way you’re still trying to be difficult; and satoru just indulges you, all too eager to get you to show yourself to him. ”yes, you do,” he coos. ”be good f' me and come on out, okay?”

a couple moments pass. eerily silent, growing second by second. the only sound that fills the air is that of satoru’s soft breathing, the distant whirring of the ceiling fan.

until finally, he hears the squeak of the bathroom floor. you stand up, turning to glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before hesitantly reaching for the doorknob.

it’s slow, the way you open the door, agonizingly so — pushing at it slightly and dragging the movement out. and you can feel satoru’s presence, right behind it, as he takes a step back to give you space. when you finally step over the threshold, you adamantly refuse to meet his gaze.

(satoru’s breath hitches in his throat.)

there you stand, gaze stubbornly averted, expression flustered and mildly annoyed. cheeks dusted a dark cherry-red, that crawls towards the tips of your ears as you fidget with your frilly, oversized sleeves. they’re dressed in little bows, awfully cute, and so is the skirt — short, but not enough to expose the skin of your thighs above the thigh highs. you still squirm a little, thighs pressed together.

and then, of course, the big bow on your collar to complete the look. pink in colour, a stark contrast to the whites and blacks of the remaining outfit.

after a moment passes with nothing but pure silence, your lips part to speak. doing anything you can to stop yourself from looking over at the man in front of you, afraid of what you’ll see. ”i don’t think it suits me,” is muttered, a tiny huff. ”… and i still don’t see the appeal, by the way.”

— but satoru doesn’t answer.

he just stares. uncharacteristically silent, in a way you’re wholly unaccustomed to. enough so that you find yourself gnawing at your bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, hoping the smooth texture will soothe your nerves a little. the beating of your heart resounds in your ears, sending blood flowing through your veins with excited pumps.

the silence festers, and all you can do is let it grow, your nervosity thickening with it — until it’s just too much to bear.

(ahh, you knew it. it really does look weird, doesn’t it? that’s to be expected.

still, you can’t help but feel just slightly dejected.)

”… why aren’t you saying anything?”

the little mumble comes out sounding embarrassed, and maybe just a little defeated, too. but satoru doesn’t hear it. as your gaze falls on the man in question, slowly, you take in his expression with a frown on your face — and realize that he isn’t just keeping quiet.

he’s completely stunned.

no matter how hard you stare, you can’t seem to get a good read on his expression. he’s just standing there, face completely blank, eyes entirely obscured by the black of his shades. the light streaming in through the glass of the windows has shifted its course, falling away from the two of you — but you still see the vague, red tinge crawling up his neck.

and as soon as you spot it, satoru begins his descent.

crouching down to the floor, silently, he brings his hands up to cover his face. feet against the ground with his knees folded, pressed against his chest, stilling as he inhales sharply. shades seated on top of his head, pushed up by his hands when he buried his face in them. a groan drops from his lips, muffled by the skin of his palms — but you can hear it clear as day.

”hold on, just… give me a minute…” he finally croaks out, words somehow tiny. almost shy.

upon closer inspection, you realize your eyes weren’t deceiving you — there really is a red hue to his neck, one you aren’t used to seeing on him. strawberry-tinged dust, staining his smooth skin, the tips of his burning ears. satoru actually looks flustered, for once. and your heart can’t help but flutter.

— he thinks he might actually, genuinely die.

it’s a wonder, he thinks, that he managed not to fall to his knees the very moment he laid eyes on you. all dolled up; frilly and cute, in his own words, though they don’t come even close to properly describing how adorable you look right now. with your flushed face, shy eyes, and all those little frills and bows adorning your dress. rendering him speechless, clogging up his throat with pure unbridled love. a mouthful of honey, too sweet for even him to swallow.

god. god. he really, really needs to pull himself together.

crouched down like this, face hidden behind his hands, he can physically feel himself grow more and more flustered. senses invaded by the sound of his heartbeat, deep and visceral, until it’s all he can hear — he knew you were going to look cute, obviously, but he was seriously underestimating you. your cuteness is lethal.

even just the sight makes him weak in the knees. even just the thought of you makes him feel a little like his heart is attempting to break out of his chest. hurling itself at his ribcage with ferocious resolve, like he could keel over and die of heart failure at any given moment. he’s pleasantly surprised that he’s managed to suppress the loud squeal his body keeps trying to let out, honestly.

and while satoru struggles with his deep, internal turmoil, all you can do is watch. looking down at him with wide eyes, as his skin flushes a bright pink, like little chrysanthemums blooming from his neck up to his ears.

yeah, you think, there’s no doubt about it. satoru is flustered. it’s not a side of him you get to see very often, so you can’t help but be just slightly caught off guard. staring at him silently, until you snap out of it, eyes simmering with something soft and delighted.

he’s so cute.

(and maybe, just maybe — it makes you want to tease him, a little bit.)

so you crouch down, facing him with your knees against your chest, jaw resting on your crossed forearms as you gaze at him. he’s still not looking at you, face hidden behind his palms, shying away from your view.

and then you sigh. the sound catches his attention, soft — and just a little bit dejected.

”… you’re the one who wanted me to wear it,” your lips curl down into a pout, ”and now you won’t even look at me?”

satoru stiffens.

(you sound sad. you sound disappointed.)

slowly, he parts his fingers, desperate to soothe you — blue eyes peeking out through the gaps, as if the sight of you could blind him. he then proceeds to move his hands, tentative, laboured, like he’s dragging heavy weights off his body. like it’s a struggle.

with his face finally exposed, all flushed and pretty, bright azure eyes stare at you; brimming with pure adoration.

satoru exhales, almost shaky. he has to take another moment to simply look at you, as if drinking in every inch of your expression. memorizing every corner of the face he’s grown to love so much.

a moment passes. then two.

then, he practically pounces on you — engulfing you like a tidal wave, trapping you in his big arms as they go to curl around your waist. shades falling off at the impact, hitting the floor with a soft thunk.

”you’re killing me,” he whines, loud and right by your ear. nuzzling into you, squeezing you like he’s a puppy with a chew toy. ”you’re so, so, so cute. d’you want me to have a heart attack?”

a hitch of your breath. that’s all you can manage, utterly failing to keep up with him as he presses you up against his chest. rocking you back and forth in his embrace, smearing open mouthed kisses across your skin; whining and murmuring about how adorable you look.

a flurry of warmth, of love, of something a little too precious for words. something distinctly satoru, that makes you forget about everything else — as if the world stops spinning somewhere outside of his arms. as if that’s where you belong.

all you can do is indulge him. maybe you’re spoiling him a little too much, but it feels nice; letting him drown you in his overwhelming affection. the thought of creasing the dress doesn’t even seem to cross his mind, as he squeezes the life out of you.

evidently, satoru suffers from an acute case of cuteness aggression.

”so adorable,” he murmurs, leaving wet kisses on your cheeks. his exaggerated mwahs make you feel just a tad shy. ”my little sweetheart. all dressed up for me.”

squirming in his hold, he only brings you closer, smothering you in his warm embrace. the slightly erratic beating of his heart is all you can hear, with your cheek squished against his chest. arms keeping you nice and still, lips lingering over that one ticklish spot behind your ear.

a little giggle slips from your lips, and satoru feels himself smile; wide and giddy, boyish and adoring. nuzzling into the comfort of your chest, soft fabric brushing against his skin, a low whine escapes his throat. ”can't take it. wanna put you in my pocket.”

”your pocket?” a grin blooms on your lips, words dripping with honeyed amusement. satoru grins right back.

”my pocket,” he hums, approvingly. ”you’re just so cute and small. gotta keep you close, so i don’t lose you.”

a huff, lighthearted.

suddenly, the grip around your midriff tightens — and you’re hoisted up, stumbling a little as satoru lets go of you. still holding onto you by your wrists, softly, delicately, as if you’re made of glass. when you lift your head, all you can see is his satisfied little grin, and the twinkle of his eyes.

your heart flutters.

satoru gazes at you, silently, still drinking you in. every second spent staring into the brightness of your eyes fills his heart up just a little more; colourful, heart-shaped candies, scooped up and poured into the hole in his chest. patching it right back up, so effortlessly sweet that it makes him want to pluck every star from the sky and offer them at your feet.

”alright,” he breathes, taking a step back. breaking the delicate silence, a little dance between him and time. fingers still curled around your wrist. ”do a twirl for me.”

a humoured scoff. ”hell no.”

”aw, come on! you gotta pose for the photo, baby.”

before you know it, satoru’s got his phone out — and it’s aimed right at you. by the time you notice it, you’re fairly certain he’s already managed to snap a couple pictures. so all you can do is sigh, in faux exasperation.

”c’mon, c’mon,” he coos. ”give me a smile, pretty.”

a roll of your eyes, as you bite your lip to muffle a soft bout of laughter. it doesn’t really work. ”i’m good.”

satoru seems unaffected by your words, pulling back from your touch reluctantly; just so he can make a show out of playing the cameraman, switching between elaborate positions and taking pictures from angle after angle. somehow, you get the feeling he’s forgotten your request to keep the pictures to a minimum.

(he looks like he’s having fun, though. so you let it slide. just this once.)

”god. you’re way too cute for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, leaning down to take another picture. and it flusters you, how smoothly the words slip from his lips, how it seems like he barely even has to think about them at all.

it’s a little embarrassing, in a heart-fluttering kind of way. but you do your best to hide it.

”you’re a sap,” is all you say, soft smile playing at your lips.

”and you’re adorable,” satoru grins.

then he slips his phone into his back pocket, satisfied with the collection, and grabs your hand.

his fingers curl around yours, softly — and then he lifts it up. bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin.

(as if he’s whispering psalms under his breath. as if he’s worshipping you.)

then he tilts his head, eyes gazing at you sweetly. sweeter than fresh mandarin slices, splotches of marmalade, his favorite caramel fudge. and his eyes crinkle, crow’s feet and dimples peeking out as he smiles, an easygoing kind of joy blooming on that pretty face of his — youthful, boyish. it suits him more than anything.

his voice comes out smooth, awfully coaxing. so very easy to give in to, paired with that breathtaking grin.

”one tiny twirl?” he asks, politely.

he’s so annoying.

(but you’re far too in love to say no.)

so with a single roll of your eyes, and a soft little scoff, you relent. indulging him once more, just one more time. just one little twirl.

satoru feels his heart squeeze painfully, deep within his chest, as he watches you spin around. skirt and frills ruffled by the movement. just once, a soft little twirl with your fingers intertwined. far too precious for his heart to take.

when you stop, just a tiny bit dizzy, he leans in, and the kiss he leaves on your forehead is soft. chaste, but it still pulls a blissful sigh from the back of your throat. satoru’s lips curl up against your skin, before he pulls back — eyes almost overflowing with affection.

”cutie.”

you blink.

averting your gaze, flustering a little under the weight of his love-filled eyes, all you can do is emit a soft little huff. embarrassed, as it flows from your lips. but it only makes satoru’s smile grow further.

”okay, okay. you’ve had your fun.” you clear your throat. ”time’s up.”

suddenly, satoru’s eyes fill with something akin to dread — nose crinkling, just barely, a sign of his displeasure. ”noooo,” he whines, draping his arms around you. tugging you close. ”just a little more? please? pretty please?”

”nope! we said ten minutes. no take backs.”

”can’t i have an extension? since i’m your favorite?” satoru pouts, puppy dog eyes in full force. only this time, they don’t work as well as he’d hoped.

”nope,” you repeat, popping the p. ”sorry.” another whine buzzes right by your ear, and you smile.

”and then we’re burning it.”

”noooo!”

”sorry, but it’s gotta go.” you bite back a soft grin. satoru sounds agonized, voice dripping with grief, and it makes your heart dance with barely contained laughter.

”but then you can’t wear it anymore, baby…”

”that’s kinda the point, toru.”

”but you’re so cute in it,” he pouts, bringing you closer still. squeezing at your waist and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. ”it’d be such a waste if you never wore it again, don’tcha think?”

he’s trying his best, you can tell — attempting to make you falter, coax you into wearing it just a little longer. but for today, you’re done indulging him.

”well, too bad.” nuzzling into his neck, your tone settles on a firm tilt; decisive, as you nip at his skin. just a little teasing. ”i said i’d never wear it again, and i meant it.”

a moment passes. maybe it’s the warmth of your lips on his skin, or maybe he can tell you aren’t budging — whatever the case, satoru finally seems to relent. an exhale tumbles from his tongue, deep and drawn out. ”fineee,” he drawls. ”i’ll just buy you a new one.”

”i won’t wear it. i’ll just get angry.”

”at lil’ old me? really?”

”really really,” you click your tongue. ”if you love maid outfits so much, why don’t you wear one yourself?” a beat. ”it’d look good on you.”

satoru perks up, suddenly. pulling away so his eyes can meet yours, bright and teasing, glazed over with something excited. ”oh?” he purrs. ”you wanna see me in one, huh? so bold, baby.”

a scoff slips from your lips, sharp but tinged with laughter. ”well, it’s only fair, right?” grinning up at him, your hand reaches out to smooth away his bangs. fingertips trailing across the expanse of skin, touch so very tender that his eyes flutter shut. ”i think you’d pull it off better than i ever could, anyway.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, seconds ticking by slowly; a dance with him and time. an attempt to prolong the softness of the moment.

”hmm… well, i’ll consider it.” just barely holding back a smile, he leans into your touch. ”you gotta wear it with me, though. we can buy a matching set!”

”that makes no sense,” you huff, with a raise of your brow. ”i’ve already worn it once, so next time, it’s gotta be all you.”

”sorry, baby, but you need to do it too.” he cradles you close, smoothing a palm down your spine, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. chest rumbling with the smooth timbre of his voice, words rich with teasing fondness. ”i’m too shy to do it by myself.”

and you really, really wish you could be angry with him — but it’s just impossible.

satoru is just way too lovable, smile far too sunny and warm for you not to melt under. and his caress says more than words ever could, light and doting, careful and loving; like how a believer cups a handful of holy water. as if you could slip from his grasp at any moment, so he has to keep you extra close.

in the end, all protests and complaints die on your tongue. you only laugh, soft and breathy, filling the air with a fondness so palpable you can almost taste it. bordering on something close to a scoff, but never quite getting there.

eventually, satoru does — begrudgingly — let you change out of the outfit. whining a little, sulking a tad, before brightening right back up again. like clockwork, the sun peeking out after a rain shower, the calm after the storm. always that same happy smile, wrapping you around his little finger.

satoru, in all his glory; your very own pocket of sunshine. annoying, stubborn, thoughtful —

and yours, wholly and thoroughly.

(while you’re busy gazing at him adoringly, satoru grumbles under his breath. contemplation painted on his features, as his mind spins in circles. frills, bows, lace…

what kind of design would make him look the prettiest for you?)

#satoru ”my girl look so good today im abt to scream and moan and throw up” gojo #he is so husband coded to me. so unbelievably babygirl #he would absolutely wear a maid dress if u asked him to btw. and he would rock that shit so hard.#just…��. gojo in a dress………….. breathe if u agree #im a firm believer in flustered satoru also…..#it wouldnt happen often but if u act cute enough i just think smth in his brain stops working #and he grins rly wide and tries to cover his face w his hands so you wont see how much hes blushing. if u tease him more he squeaks #who said that.#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

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toorusmu · 2 months ago

Text

Theres a lot of boyfriends out there, which one are they ?

Multi Chara, Haikyuu, Fluff

Best Ever !! Honestly, your friends are tired of hearing about how great he is. When you asked for his phone password out of curiosity, he just have you a strange look. "I dont have a password ?" Every time you split a snack, you got the larger piece. While walking down the streets, hed interlock your fingers and make sure you weren't close to the road. He'd always place his hand over the edges of counters to block your head from hitting it, and he always saved hot water for you.

You met his family early on, and they adore you ! Hes open and accepting about whatever family situation you have, and is comfortable waiting or being unable to meet your family. Your safety and happiness are his top priority when hes with you, and hed do anything to make you feel better.

- Sugawara, Ukai, Ennoshita, Akaashi, Kita, Sachiro, Aran, Yasufumi, Daichi, Iwaizumi, Osamu

Cuteeee !! Hes great, just a little shy and sometimes awkward. Hes on the path to become the best boyfriend, hes just new to all of this. His hands get sweaty easily while holding hands, but he never wants to let go. Under thick blankets during winter, or with a blasting AC in summers wrathful heat, he finds solitude in clinging to you.

Small gifts and pressed flowers, homemade snacks that started out tragic and slowly got more edible. Winking at you during volleyball, "This is for you !" right before his failed serve hit the net. Looks at you like a lost puppy, always following you around.

- Hinata, Inuoka, Takeda, Atsumu, Komori, Bokuto, Lev Haiba, Tadashi, Goshiki, Asahi, Hisashi, Kuroo, Hanamaki, Kindaichi, Konoha

Quite, for sure.. It can be a bit hard to communicate with him, its just too hard to tell what hes thinking ! Unless you directly ask, he'll bottle everything up. Hes not terrible, of course ! You know hes not the type to date someone he doesn't like, he just has trouble showing it. But in his small ways, he does.

Sticky note doodles and letters, getting embarrassed after accidentally ranting about volleyball or any other interest, giving you the first and last bite of everything, driving you or walking with you everywhere. If youve been dating for a while, he often prefers to show his affection through soft, quiet, touches. Petting your hair, tracing your hips, scratching your back, he needs his hands on you.

- Kenma, Kageyama, Ushijima, Sakusa, Suna, Nobuyuki, Aone

Kinda meaaaaan ! Like.. yea.. you guessss you love him (jkkk!!?), so why does he need to tease you so much ! If you're shorter, hes always using you as an armrest or bumping into you on purpose because he 'couldnt see you.' You make one mistake, and suddenly you're a "dumbass" or a "silly idiot." Rarely does he ever actually insult you, but its been an ongoing mission of yours to get his hardass to be a little romantic for once.

And of course, he has his sweet moments, but come the next day. "You look like shit." Whether you bicker back, turning it into a play fight, him never letting you win, enjoying the way he had you pinned down. Or, you could smile at him, you had his shirt on and his favorite pair of shorts, hair freshly conditioned and makeup still light and unsmeared. You knew, as much as he loved to be a bully, all it took was a soft smile for him to melt.

- Tsukishima, Yaku, Mad Dog, Kunimi, Hoshiumi

Um.. hes a little weird !! It probably took a minute for you to introduce him to your friends and family. You never knew what he was about to do or say, he always did something different or odd. Whether it be borderline scary or straight up stupid, it was one of the things you loved about him. All things considered, he was absolutely hilarious.

He eventually became like a son and friend to those close to you. Not a lot of people understood him, and as unserious as he is, he genuinely is thankful you not only stayed with him, but gave him friends and family too.

- Shohei, Tendou, Nishinoya, Tanaka, Oikawa

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yoyomomiko · 23 days ago

Note

Headcanon of reader cooking with Sanji?

— SANJI ☆

pairings: sanji x female reader

cw: not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

— (a/n): this is such a cute idea I just HAD to write it (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) so sorry of this is too short or boring!! -> m.list

Sanji is an absolute perfectionist in the kitchen, so if you're not experienced, he'll gently guide you. If you are, he'll still lowkey try to take over so that everything comes out perfect.

He loves seeing you in an apron. Bonus points if it's one that he picked for you. If it has ruffles, a cute design or is a bit too big for you so he can tie it snugly around your waist? He's in heaven.

I feel like Sanji would stand behind you while you chop ingredients, hands brushing over yours or gently grazing your hips, praising you for what a good job you are doing.

If you happen to be struggling with anything, Sanji will drop everything to help you. Even if something is burning on the stove, you take priority.

The moment he sees you lick a bit of sauce off your fingers, he's completely gone. He WILL grab your hand and kiss your fingertips, muttering about how even the food tastes better on you.

If you ask him to taste test something, expect him to be overly dramatic about how delicious it is.

When you try to feed him yourself, he melts. It's a special kind of intimacy for him. He'll take your wrist and kiss the inside of it before taking a bite of the food you're offering him.

If you attempt to cook a meal just for him, he will treat it like a 5 star meal. Even if it's something simple. It could have a terrible taste, yet he would still eat every bite with a straight face and praise you anyway.

If you get something on your face, he will chuckle and gently wipe you clean with his thumb.

He will not let you lift heavy pits or trays. "That's my job, love. I can't let your delicate hands get tired."

If you accidentally cut or burn yourself, he will PANIC like you've been mortally wounded. You won't be touching another knife until he's personally bandaged you and kissed it better

If you feed Luffy before Sanji gets to try your food, he will pout for hours, sulking like a child because he was supposed to try it first.

Also, you are NOT ALLOWED to cook for Zoro. No way, nope.

——☆

You stood side by side with Sanji, sleeves rolled up, both focused on preparing tonight's dinner. It was rare for him to let anyone help him in the kitchen, but for you? You were an exception.

"You're doing really good." He chuckled, watching as you sliced the vegetables in front of you. "I might have some competition."

You snickered, concentrating with steady hands. "You say that, yet you've already corrected me three times."

"Can't help it, love. Perfection is key." Sanji grinned, flipping something in the pan effortlessly.

You bumped your shoulder against his on purpose, a smile tugging at your lips. "Or maybe you just like bossing me around."

He dramatically placed a hand on his chest, acting offended. "I would never!"

The two of you worked comfortably, moving around each other easily. When you reached for the flour, Sanji was already handing it to you. When he needed an ingredient, you passed it before he even asked.

At some point, Sanji leaned over your shoulder, watching as you finished chopping up the vegetables. "You know..." He started, voice thoughtful. "I really like cooking with you."

You glanced at him, raising a brow as you smirked. "Yeah?"

He nodded, his eyes softening. "Mhm. Feels... Nice."

A few minutes later, Sanji finished one of the many dishes, holding it up and letting you inspect it. "What do you think, sweetheart?"

You took a bite, pretending to judge it seriously. "Not bad, cook."

Sanji scoffed, laughing. "Not bad?! That's all I get?"

"Maybe you need a little more practice." You replied with a smirk, shrugging.

He huffed, but there was something soft in his expression, his gaze gentle as his eyes scanned your face. "Alright then. Guess I'll have to keep cooking with you until I get it right, hm?"

★yoyomiko ★miko

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anmwrites · 13 days ago

Text

Stubborn

Xaden Riorson x Reader

Hi friends! I was originally planning on posting one of my already written fics, but since this was requested I made it first priority! I hope I did the request justice (and didn't miss anything when I proofing it). Forewarning, I feel like I absolutely suck at ending stories, so I apologize if the ending is terrible >:( This was written as a FMC as well, but please change to whatever makes you feel comfortable when reading.

Warnings: Cursing, slight sexual innuendos (?), and faint mentions of childhood trauma.

Other Notes: Xaden being more fluffy, maybe, than usual; reader being moody and not really knowing why she's upset (I think I put some of myself into that oop); pretty rusty at this so I hope it doesn't suck lol.

I also want to go ahead and say that I take trigger warnings very seriously as someone who has struggled with mental health, so for future fics please let me know if I miss anything. This one felt a little lighter than some fics I've written in the past, but I don't want to hurt anyone in any way. Please always take caution even though I will list any warnings. Your mental health matters!

On that note, I hope everyone enjoys and finds a little escape with our favorite shadow wielder! (Disclaimer: I do not own any photos below)

To say the adjustment to training with and well, in general, to having fliers around was easy is a lie. A complete. Fucking. Lie. The only thing both riders and fliers had in common were the amount of fights they caused with one another. That was it.

Y/N tried. She really, really tried to make the best of a shitty situation, but she was almost at her breaking point. Especially with Xaden’s ex roaming the halls. She was one bad comment away from Sgaeyl biting her head off for snapping at him.

“He’s not into her anymore,” Violet said, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts as she stared, more like glared, at the short-haired bitch from across the dining hall. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/N snipped back. “Yes, you do. You are this close to starting a fight with her. Don’t be like Ridoc, you’re a lot more level headed than him,” she said, pinching her fingers together to show a miniscule amount of space. “Hey! It was one fight,” Ridoc exclaimed from across the table.

“One fight too many,” Violet mumbled rolling her eyes at their spastic friend. “I’m fine,” Y/N huffed. The entire squad gave her a knowing look. She rolled her eyes, “Whatever, I’ll see you losers in class.” Ridoc gave her a cheerful smile as she stood, everyone else grumbling their goodbyes.

A silk-like touch wrapped around her ankles as she made her way out of the dining hall. Y/N didn’t have to look to know Xaden sent his shadows trailing after her, a silent inquiry as to where she was going. She just shook her foot, not wanting to think nor speak to her boyfriend. As if Zihnal himself had a personal vendetta against her, though, a rough hand grabbed her arm.

Y/N turned to find Xaden staring down at her, a hint of concern written in those beautiful eyes. “Where are you going?” he asked. “Kill time before our next class,” Y/N shrugged, refusing to look at him. Truth be told, ever since she found out Cat was Xaden’s ex, she really tried to avoid him, a nasty feeling permanently making its home in her stomach.

“Well, I gathered as much,” Xaden rolled his eyes, releasing her arm. “I can come with,” he suggested, his tone much softer than what the entire riders quadrant would ever hear. “I’m fine, thanks,” she said flatly. Xaden made a face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” “You’ve been saying that for the past two weeks now. Yet I barely get to see you, and you’re avoiding me.” Y/N just shrugged, “I’m busy.” Xaden scoffed, a darker expression replacing his concerned features. “C’mon,” he said, grabbing at her waist before running his hand along the curve of her body. She felt her breath sweep out of her. “Don’t you miss this?” He leaned in, whispering in her ear. He planted a feather-light kiss on the shell of it, sending heat rushing through her body.

Y/N almost forgot why she was so mad. Until a nasally voice cut through the air. “Xaden!” she practically shrieked. Y/N cleared her throat, taking a step back out of his embrace. “I’ll see you later,” she mumbled before melting into the crowd. A furious expression graced Xaden’s face as he watched Y/N retreat before turning to face Cat. “What do you want?” he snapped. She sauntered over with a flirtatious smile. “Trouble in paradise?” she drawled. Xaden just crossed his arms. Cat flashed him a saccharine smile, “You know, I can always make you feel better. I do know how to make you feel better.” She smirked, and tried to reach her hand out to touch his face. Xaden shot a hand out, forcefully gripping her wrist. “You don’t get to fucking touch me anymore,” he snarled. Her swaggering facade fell slightly as she squirmed to try and get out of his grasp.

“Fine,” she snapped. He released her. “You’ll come crawling back to me once you get bored with that one.” Xaden glared at her. “I don’t do sloppy seconds,” he spit before turning on his heel and leaving her.

Maybe you should just talk to him, Nordys, Y/N’s black scorpion tail huffed as they lounged in one of the many fields within the nesting grounds around Aretia. That’s not happening. Nordys’ head swiveled in her direction, coming eye level to her. His green eyes narrowed into slits. You’re being childish. He is your mate.

One, ew he’s not my mate. He’s my boyfriend. And two, what am I supposed to say? ‘Hey Xaden, I fucking hate your ex-girlfriend. She makes my life and my squadmates’ lives a living hell. Drags up very painful memories from my childhood. Can I please incinerate her?’ Nordys let out a chortle which was eerily similar to a laugh. Yes. Essentially that. He is the wingleader. And I would be happy to oblige by incinerating her and her mount. Y/N smiled softly at the thought, leaning against his side. At least someone understood.

Tairn just said he would turn a blind eye to it as well. Sgaeyl agreed too. We would have free reign to kill them all, Nordys continued. That’s a shock considering they won’t let Andarna do it.

Andarna is a petulant adolescent. She must learn patience and discipline. At least that’s what Tairn told me.

Y/N sighed. I just don’t know what I’d say to him. I’m not mad at him. He’s entitled to have ex’s. I would be shocked if he didn’t. It’s just…I really hate her.

You are ten times the human she is. You do not need to worry about your position as Xaden’s mate. Y/N groaned, Stop calling him that. Boyfriend, he is my boyfriend. We’ve talked about this. And I’m not worried about my position with Xaden. It’s just…well, I’ve told you before. My mother chased after rich men her entire life. They basically used her for her body and left her in the gutter.

I will call him as I see fit and you are not your mother. You are a rider, Nordys huffed, before laying his head down and closing his eyes. You need to go to class now, he said after a moment. Y/N groaned again. He was right. She was going to be late, and Professor Emetterio would have her head. Fine. Have fun doing whatever it is you do, Y/N grumbled, gathering her things. Nordys let out a hot breath in her face before launching himself into the sky leaving Y/N to trek to class.

Y/N’s moment of peace was ruined the moment she stepped into combat training. The fliers were gathered on one side of the mat while the riders stood on the opposite side. “I see immersion into our current living situations are going well,” Emetterio mumbled mostly to himself. Professor Devera just let out a quiet laugh from where she stood beside her colleague. Xaden was standing near the door, pointedly staring at Y/N while she was doing everything she could not to meet his hard gaze.

“Well, since everyone wants to fight everyone outside of this class, we will be pairing riders with fliers,” Emetterio’s voice boomed through the room. There was an audible groan from both sides.

“Good, now then!” He continued. Y/N zoned out as everyone began pairing off while he called names. Only when her name and her opponent was called did she really pay attention. Her blood ran cold as Cat stared back at her with a dark grin on her face.

“You’ve got this,” Violet whispered from her right. Rhiannon nodded in agreement from her left. “You’ve been trained by Xaden himself. You’re one of our strongest fighters,” Ridoc came up behind her, clapping her on the back. Y/N just gave them a look before stepping on the mat. “Begin,” Emetterio called.

Cat smirked and she began dancing around on her feet. “It’s about time we got paired together,” Cat commented. Y/N snorted, watching her closely. Timing was everything. Xaden taught her that. Study your opponent and assess their weak side if possible. Especially when you go to the mat during class. His voice rang clear in her head from all those late nights spent training.

“Let’s make it interesting,” Cat continued on, “Winner gets Xaden?” Y/N glared back at her, “He’s not some trophy.” She let out a sultry laugh, “You’re right. He isn’t. He’d be one for you, but not for me. You see, we’re royalty, him and I. So it’s just the perfect match.”

Y/N let out an inhumane snarl before lunging at her. To her utter shock, Cat maneuvered out of her way resulting in Y/N punching the air. She swung around and landed a sweep to Y/N’s legs, knocking her on her face. Fury rippled through her as she swung around trying to knock Cat off her feet with a swift kick, but to her surprise, yet again, Cat took the hit and rolled right back into her stance exactly…exactly like Xaden.

Her cackle was like nails on a chalkboard. Y/N pushed herself up quickly, going through the next steps just like Xaden showed her, but Cat didn’t miss a beat, moving just like how Xaden would when they trained.

Y/N froze for just a second, as she watched for the fifth time, as Cat moved just like him. Her moment cost her, and next thing she knew, a fist met her face. Y/N stumbled towards the edge of the mat where Violet and Ridoc caught her and kept her from falling over. “S-she was taught by Xaden. Every single one of his moves. She knows them,” Y/N panted. “It doesn’t matter. Focus,” Vi encouraged. While Y/N thought no one noticed, she was really wrong. Cat got under her skin. Everyone could see it.

“Finish it,” Ridoc snarled at her, his hard stare on Cat, who was still laughing. “Ready to tap out yet?” she goaded. Seeing red, Y/N shoved herself off of Violet and Ridoc. Faster than she had ever been, she lunged for Cat. Her fist met flesh with the satisfying crunch of Cat’s nose.

Cat snarled before whipping back up, slugging Y/N in the face again. “You bitch!” she hissed. Y/N laughed, the coppery tang of blood filling her mouth. “You broke my nose,” Cat snarled. “Sucks to suck,” Y/N smirked. “Argh!” Cat exploded, reaching in her belt and ripping out a dagger.

Y/N had moments to react. She went straight for the onyx hilted blade at her side, barely blocking Cat’s attack before she could leave a permanent scar across her face. She felt a faint sting on her cheek, but that was the least of her worries because Cat lunged at her again. Rage built within Y/N. She began striking back, dodging every one of her blows. She was fairly certain Cat was using her abilities on her to rile her up, but she didn’t care. Part of this anger was all Y/N’s.

She could barely hear Emetterio yelling at them to drop the weapons. Barely hear her squadmates and the fliers edging on the fight. It was turning sloppy. Both began ripping at each other’s hair, trying to cut one another. Until strong arms wrapped around her center, yanking Y/N off of Cat, who’s entire face was bloody.

“You won,” a soft voice caressed her ear. “Sweetheart, you won. You proved your point,” Xaden’s shadows wrapped lovingly around her struggling form. Y/N was still seeing red. Cat was shrieking profanities at her as her friends were trying to hold her back. “You fucking whore!” Cat screamed, “He’ll come crawling back after he gets sick of fucking your pathetic ass–” “Cat!” Xaden’s voice boomed.

Y/N snarled and went to lunge again, but Xaden whirled on her, body blocking her with his chest. “Darling, calm down,” he said. “Look at me!” Two hands gripped her face tightly and she felt the fight slowly slip away. Her eyes met his beautiful gold-flecked onyx eyes. “There you go. Calm down. It’s alright, you won,” he was breathing heavily. Nothing but pride filled his face.

The high wore off and she finally took a moment to breathe. Y/N glanced around and saw Violet and Rhiannon give her a grimace, but they looked happy nonetheless. Ridoc looked like he just had a blast, and everyone else began whispering excitedly as Emetterio dismissed them.

She looked back to Xaden who was still staring at her intently. “You were fantastic,” he breathed. “I’ve never seen you move that fast. Albeit it got sloppy there at the end, but still.” That ugly feeling resumed its place within her as the reality of what just happened sunk in. “She fought like you,” Y/N whispered. Xaden tensed. “She fucking fought like you because you trained her,” Y/N hissed, stepping out of his grip.

“Y/N,” Xaden sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. She just shook her head and turned on her heel, storming out.

“Y/N wait!” his voice followed her out as she stormed through the halls. Y/N nearly made it to her room before Xaden caught her arm. “What is going on with you?” he asked, with an exasperated look. “You fucking trained her Xaden!” she shrieked. Emotion began pouring out of her. “It’s one thing that I have to pretend to be civil with your ex when all she does is spew shit out about how she’s royalty and that I’m just a side-piece! And now I find out you taught her how to fight?”

“So what if I taught her how to fight?” Xaden snarled, his temper flaring. He could not, for the love of Amari, figure out what the big deal was. “I-I, just don’t know,” Y/N muttered, exhaustion finally sweeping in. She could feel her cheeks dampen as tears rolled freely down her face. Embarrassment coursing through her. She didn’t even know when she started crying.

Xaden threw his hands up in the air, still clearly frustrated. “You don’t know? You don’t know? I have been trying to talk to you for two weeks now! How many times do I have to tell you that I am in love with you? So deeply in love with you!” he shouted. Y/N just stared at him.

“Are you mad at me? Jealous? What is wrong!” he asked. Y/N opened her mouth and then closed it. Was she mad at him? “No,” she exhaled, “I’m not mad at you. I, I just don’t know why I’m so upset. I mean there’s a very large possibility that Cat has been manipulating my emotions, but I’ve just had this horrible feeling sitting in my gut ever since I found out about your history with her,” she concluded. “You have nothing to be worried about,” Xaden sighed. “That feeling, my dear, is called jealousy.”

Y/N just shook her head. In all reality, she really didn’t want to talk about it with him. He knew what her past was, but just because he said it didn’t bother him didn’t mean it never bothered her.

She pushed open her door planning on slamming it in his face, but he caught it and followed her in. “Just talk to me. Please, baby, just talk to me,” he said quietly, resting his hand on her cheek and wiping a stray tear away. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s just…you were going to marry her. Marry her, Xaden. She’s practically a princess where she comes from. She was practically your first for everything. And she struts around here like she’s still going to be married to you, calling me a whore and all of the other names in the book. Constantly reminding me,” Y/N let out a shaky breath and opened her eyes, "reminding me of where I came from that I so desperately want to forget.”

Xaden studied her for a moment, his features visibly softening. “You aren’t your mother,” he said quietly. Y/N scoffed. “You really aren’t. You didn’t end up like her.” “What? Fawning over rich, powerful men who only cared when she spread her legs open for them?” Y/N mumbled.

“Is that how you think of us?” Xaden questioned. “No? Yes? I don’t know. It’s just with her here, it’s what it felt like,” Y/N whispered. Xaden let out a breath before wrapping her in his arms. “It’s not,” he murmured into her hair, “It’s more than that. I love you for you. For your light, intelligence, your stubbornness…absolutely everything. She may have been my first but you will be my last. My heart has always belonged to you and will always belong to you in this life and the next.”

Y/N felt a wave of calm and reassurance wash over her. She melted deeper into his embrace, breathing his all too familiar scent. “I love you too,” Y/N grumbled into his chest, “And I’m sorry for not talking to you sooner.” Xaden chuckled, pulling away slightly. “It’s fine my sweet girl,” he gave her one of his smiles only she was allowed to see.

“Now can I kiss you or are you going to bite my head off?” He smirked. Y/N rolled her eyes, gripping his face and pulling it down to hers. Xaden’s lips met hers in a fervor. The taste of him all consuming. Kissing Xaden was like a dream, but this? After two weeks of walking on eggshells? Well, Y/N was practically floating.

His tongue swiped her bottom lip, asking for permission. Y/N happily obliged, parting her lips to give him access. His hands roamed freely all over her body sending lightning cascading down her spine. She let out a soft groan as he deepened the kiss, both of them moving in tandem backwards towards the bed. Y/N hardly registered her legs bumping into it before she fell backwards. The soft duvet fluffed up around her as Xaden followed in suit until he was settled in between her legs. He leaned in bearing more of his weight down and –

“Oof,” she grunted, a zap of pain shooting up her back. Xaden froze, pushing up off her. “I’m fine,” she whined, staring up at him. “You took a nasty beating,” he commented, pushing fully up and off of her. Y/N just let out another pathetic whine, missing the feel of his lips and body on hers.

Xaden just chuckled and held out his hands. “Not until you’re cleaned up and feeling better,” he tutted. “Up.” Y/N rolled her eyes, but grabbed his hands. He did have a point. Her whole body had begun aching. “Fine,” she huffed. “But as soon as I’m all patched up, can we go back to kissing?” He let out a glorious laugh, “Yes, love. We can go back to kissing.”

____________

See, I told you my endings are always lame. I'm so sorry. Will also start building a Masterlist soon too.

#xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson imagine #fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #iron flame #onyx storm #xaden x reader #xaden imagine #xaden imagines

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thewistlingbadger · 2 months ago

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I find great amounts of humor in the fact that Jinx's hair looked the best when she was with Silco.

Super baby Jinx, the one on the bridge, her shit was all jacked up. Felicia, never touch a pair of scissors ever again you keep fucking up your kids' haircuts.

Felicia's not the only one getting dragged though Vander get your ass in here. What the fuck is this?

You mean to tell me you got the time to be minding other folks' business, making drinks and police deals but you DON'T have the time to fix this girl's cut? Jinx's bangs as a kid were absolutely fucking terrible Vander you should be ashamed of yourself. Or maybe it's Jinx who I should be blaming because when she cuts her hair the first time in season two that shit looks like ASS. Though ig I can let it slide since she had...other priorities. But you know who's not getting a pass? Ekko. The fact that he had the nerve to look at her shit and go "ykw I can make it worse" is diabolical. Ig it was revenge for all those Firelights she killed smh

EVEN IN THE AU! Where she's supposed the "better" version of herself her haircut is still atrocious!! My God in no timelines does Zaun have ANYONE with a steady set of hands Jesus!!

But with SILCO? Her shit looked NICE. No stray ends, only pure style. He really said you will NOT be terrorizing the city while looking like a hot mess hell no and we MUST respect him for it we just MUST I mean c'mon peep how TIGHT and NEAT her braids are. Those things were WELL MAINTAINED especially when you consider the length AND the fact that Jinx gets up to all kinds of shit. Even the front is really nice and neat and tight. I know her head is tender but damn I think it was worth the cost sksks. Not to mention that Silco was the ORIGINATOR for Jinx's iconic hair swoop thingy it's so integral to her design and it's so fun. I like how it's playful but not hindering her ability to see.

We truly must give Silco an award for making Jinx ditch her bangs because in all timelines in all possibilities those shits were bringing her to a 5 when she's a 10 in coolness.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane s2 #arcane season two #silco arcane #arcane silco #arcane jinx #jinx arcane

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honeysorwell · 1 month ago

Text

all of it (all of you)

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x fem!Reader

Prompt by anon + Idea for reader's nationality by anon

Synopsis: After more than 10 years with the same hairdresser, Melissa Schemmenti must change salons.

Tag list: (Since this is my first time writing for this character, I thought it best not to tag anyone. So if you want to be tagged just let me know.)

Warning: MELISSA AND Y/N ARE MAaaaD *in Ava's voice*

Words: 4k

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Enjoy!

Link on AO3

Chapter 1 - Changes

Barbara Howard's friendship had a transformative impact on Melissa Schemmenti's personal life from the beginning.

The religious woman's friendship at the beginning of the redhead's career made the Italian woman rethink many things about herself. Regardless of their moral differences, how their individual relationships with religion are almost opposite, or even their small disagreements, one thing right at the beginning turned Melissa's world upside down.

The once chaotic and disorganized woman discovered the calming practicality of being hostage to well-established standards with a Christmas gift from her black coworker in her second year working at Abbott Elementary.

A schedule with a small calendar.

The year she received that gift, the redhead was furious with what was left written between the lines.

Disorganization.

After all, Melissa had absolutely everything under control.

She always had.

In her own way.

And Melissa also thought it was stupid to waste precious time that could be spent working by just planning to work, but after a terribly inconsistent semester (with more art, music and physical education teachers being fired than she can count on one hand), the redhead decided to give it a try.

So, 22 years ago Melissa started to use a schedule and a calendar every year faithfully and never looked back.

As she got older, the certainty of her upcoming appointments and how easy was to change what was needed on that sheet of paper to make better use of her time kept Melissa calm even during all the chaos that continued to live in her head and in her classroom every day. But everything changed when the spaces on pages that were reserved especially for her monthly visits to her family's hairdresser were now blank.

Rationally, the redhead knew that the hairdresser who had taken care of her grandmother's hair for the last twenty years of her life, two of her aunts out of town, washed and cared for her mother's hair every week, and three of her sisters periodically couldn't last long. But Melissa couldn't help but feel fooled and betrayed when Andrea Rossi announced her retirement.

The redhead hadn't been Andrea's client for her entire life, after all, the older hairdresser's regular clients had always been her priority. However, Melissa began to be part of the select group of Schemmenti women helped by Andrea when her former hairdresser (the one who had a Greek accent and many opinions that she hated but didn't discuss because he was her brother-in-law's friend), decided to call her Melinda, even after having her as a client for over three years.

Melinda.

Even though it was seventeen years ago, Barb still remembers the angry redheaded hurricane that entered the teachers’ lounge that week and still manages to make jokes about it whenever she gets the chance.

Monthly visits to the older woman had started with a simple hair color, but unlike her old hairdresser, Andrea had become much more than that for Melissa.

It was a ritual, a moment of care that for a long time brought her joy and confidence. It was talking animatedly with an Italian woman who showed her affection and care, something neither of them would admit out loud but was lacking in the Schemmenti family when it came to recognizing Melissa’s efforts and personal victories.

And now it was over.

“Ragazza (girl), don’t be like that… I’m old now, my hands hurt more than I can handle after a busy weekend,” Andrea tried to justify, stroking Melissa’s head with a tender smile as she finished coloring her hair that day, but which did not hide the weight of the decision.

“And what am I going to do now? Let the gray hair give me another 30 years in less than 6 months?”

“Don’t be silly! I’ve already transferred all my clients to hairdressers that I trust. You included! So stop it now!”

“I don’t want someone new.” Turning uncertainty into resistance is like armor for the redhead, even though she knows she has no choice, her brain still tries to break the meaning of Andrea’s retirement, “It’s going to mess up my entire schedule, Andrea! Two classes and now with you gone? I almost went crazy with the first semester of the year alone, now I know I’ll as soon as classes start after winter break!”

“I know that, Melissa. That’s why I talked to the hairdressers I know, and the best choice for you is Y/N, my last trainee. She’s great, hard-working, very talented and was willing to easily change her own clients’ schedule to see you at the same time I see you every month, she also works just five minutes away from here. You’ll like her.”

“But I don’t know her.” Even though she didn’t admit it, the idea of a stranger touching her hair disturbed Melissa deeply, and the murmur that left her mouth made a point of emphasizing this.

The change came too quickly, and with it, a wave of anxiety took over Melissa's heart. This feeling was temporarily drowned out by her more than exhausting end-of-year routine. She was the hostess of the Schemmenti family's Thanksgiving dinner, and this, along with the end of the year, drained her ability to think about her other problems. But when the following month arrived, and along with the return to school after winter break, her colorless hair also started to show again, so Melissa swallowed her pride and went to the salon that Andrea had recommended to her.

Riverfront Roots.

The name was silly, a clear reference to the Delaware River that Melissa preferred not to think about too much as she looked at the large letters printed on the facade of the place. As soon as she entered the new salon, the smell of hair products and the sound of blow dryers buzzing caught her attention. The place was modern and well-decorated, but Melissa couldn't feel completely at ease. The smell was different, the decor was different, the voices were different, and the redhead hated each of these things.

She wasn't so reluctant to little changes in her daily life, but that week was so exhausting. The two classes together made a point of actively getting on her nerves, Gary also changed some of the lemonade brands in the vending machine and none of the new ones lived up to the taste of the old ones. The man made a point of telling the redhead that it wasn't done on purpose, thanks to the end of their relationship, and she genuinely believed him, but even so, such a change in such a tiring week only made the teacher's discomfort that Saturday morning turn into a gratuitous and deep antipathy towards the new place.

The woman of Italian descent approached the counter, where a receptionist graced her with a friendly smile.

"Hello, how can I help you today?", was the question that greeted Melissa, with a kindness that, in the redhead's mind, was completely unnecessary.

The teacher hesitated for a moment before answering sharply, ignoring the hello offered to her.

"Schemmenti. Melissa Schemmenti, please. I have a coloring booked here. A recommendation from Andrea Rossi." While the receptionist checked her information, Melissa looked around, trying to get used to the new habitat, but she barely had time to do so because, in less than thirty seconds, the receptionist escorted Melissa to a chair in front of one of the largest mirrors in the salon.

The chair that was chosen for the redhead was a little isolated from the other people present, who were laughing and talking without worrying about the noise, but if the redhead was being honest with herself, she actually preferred it that way.

“Hello, Melissa. My name is Y/N and it’s wonderful to meet you. I hope you fell welcome and comfortable here with me. Andrea has told me wonderful things about you and I have her notes in my hand to make sure you leave here satisfied.”, a younger woman with a thick accent appeared out of nowhere, vomiting the words at Melissa with a smile and a sweet voice that were already starting to give the redhead a headache.

The speech seemed rehearsed, still genuine, but her voice seemed too practiced to instill comfort in the redhead. And if that wasn't enough, the younger woman was enthusiastically waving a note in her hand like a triumph, making Melissa even more insecure about Y/N's talent than she already was.

The teacher knows she's not an idiot but… This hairdresser wasn't even thirty years old. This Y/N was clearly in her early twenties, with rich hair and a quick smile that probably lit up the room more than those stupid ringlights that surrounded the chairs in that place.

Not to mention that she was beautiful. Very beautiful.

A part of Melissa, hyper-aware of her own age, felt the bitter taste of envy take over her tongue as she looked at the younger woman's reflection in the mirror in front of her, but another part, even more recklessly, awakened a dormant desire in her mind.

However, even with that spark hidden behind Melissa's eyes, their initial interaction couldn't have been worse.

Y/N seemed excited, first asking Melissa for permission to touch her hair – something the redhead almost said no to, just to see if that smile would die on her lips – but quickly the hairdresser started discussing ideas for Melissa's hair, something that forced the redhead's voice to sound cutting:

"I just dyed my hair red for years.", Melissa made sure her voice sounded as sharp as she intended, "Get those ideas out of ya head and just do what Andrea used to."

The lack of niceness caused Y/N to feel strange, but the hairdresser tried to remain calm despite the discomfort.

New clients were always a little insecure, so the Brazilian woman would just prove to the one in front of her that she had talent.

Y/N always had magical hands. When she was still a girl, on the hot afternoons in her hometown, she would have fun braiding the hair of her school friends. Long locks of hair shiny thanks to the summer sun and strands yellowed by the chemicals of several women in the city often passed through Y/N's hands as if she were an artist molding a sculpture.

Her friends loved the hairstyles she did. At first, they were not at all sophisticated due to her young age, but they were done with so much love and dedication that they always seemed to transform any hair into something unique. For Y/N, it was more than just fun.

It was a passion.

When she reached her teen years, that passion became something more serious. Y/N was not satisfied with just doing the hair of her friends and family. The Brazilian woman wanted to learn, she wanted to master the art of transforming people's hair into something even more special.

That's why when she graduated from high school, Y/N started studying, and within a few months, she was already working professionally at a salon in her city. It didn't take long for her to be recognized for the quality of her work. Her skill with scissors and dye made her quickly stand out among other professionals. She knew what she was doing, she knew how to transform people into more beautiful versions of themselves, she knew what her clients wanted and, most importantly, she knew how to make them feel good.

Little by little, Y/N began to stand out even more and her life began to change.

She knew that her talent could not be limited, and so, when some close friends who had already moved to the United States began to encourage her to try her luck in Philadelphia, Y/N was scared at first. But if the chance to start over in another country meant more opportunities, she couldn't let this pass, even if the exciting idea had the power to scare her. But even though she was frightened, she was soon embarking on a new chapter in her life in a plane.

It was hard to save money for the travel, it was hard to get all the necessary documents to enter the USA legally, it was hard to leave loyal clients behind, and it was even harder to leave her country and its traditions. But the youthfulness of her soul and the hope of a new life embraced her heart and the hairdresser decided to give herself this chance.

Wen she arrived in Philadelphia, Y/N felt, at the same time, small and full of possibilities. The city was big, the competition was powerful, and she was seen as just another foolish immigrant.

But she was determined.

The Brazilian woman knew that her skill could be the key to a promising future. She just didn’t expect that her future would be shaped by Andrea Rossi, an older and more experienced Italian hairdresser who worked at a well-known salon nearby.

The story happened by chance. One of Andrea’s regular clients mentioned that her son had gotten a haircut from a really new Brazilian hairdresser.

“It was something very different… Like those stupid things we see on TikTok, but it was exactly what James wanted, and we had never found anyone willing to do it. What this young woman did perfectly and without thinking twice, and my son loved it!”, the woman commented in admiration before giving the older woman an idea, “You should meet her!”

Andrea was curious and, figuring she had nothing to lose, asked for more information about the Brazilian woman. The client was enthusiastic and told the Italian one everything she knew and, even though she was skeptical, Andrea let her curiosity get the best of her and decided to see it for herself.

The next day, she went to the salon where Y/N was working and, observing closely, immediately noticed the young woman’s skill. The Brazilian woman had the touch of someone who knew what she was doing, an eye for beauty trends, and the needs of her clients, but she also had more than that.

Y/N had a natural connection with people, a charisma that, combined with her smile and strong accent, made any client feel at ease, and Andrea saw that.

So the Italian woman wasted no time. She called Y/N for a chat at the end of her shift and, soon, took her on as her last pupil before announcing her retirement.

Normally, hearing Andrea Rissi's name made Y/N happy. All the advice, recommendations, affection, and wisdom shared by the older woman were a pleasant memory for the Brazilian woman.

But there, while she tried in vain to be nice to what was Andrea's transfer, having her work compared to the older woman's began to annoy her.

First, the owner of those pretty green eyes began to verbalize her dissatisfaction with the work tools Y/N used, telling her how much she preferred Andrea's work tools, which were always on display for her clients to see. Then the redhead started rolling her eyes at Y/N's coworkers, who, since they had no clients, were chatting spiritedly while planning to get their nails done at the end of the day, muttering how much she would appreciate some peace and quiet.

But the first sign Y/N gave that she was definitely not the type of person who would just ignore or shrink from Melissa's bad mood was when the redhead made a point of directly comparing her work to Andrea's before Y/N even started dyeing her hair.

"Andrea, don't part my hair like that. You'll leave my hair full of spots!"

Trying to preserve the good mood she had woken up in that morning, the hairdresser chose to be sneaky and ironic. Y/N looked around theatrically and curiously, as if she was searching for something important, and Melissa, unable to contain her fear and confusion, made her voice present.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just looking for Andrea Rossi since you want to talk about her so badly.”

Receiving only silence as an answer, and thinking that the unhappy attitude of that client was over, the hairdresser continues her journey. Y/N measures the dye with all the care in the world, making sure to double-check on the scale in front of her that the weight is correct when compared to what Andrea gave her over the phone before applying the dye accurately, fearing giving Melissa another reason to complain. The Brazilian woman divides Melissa’s hair locks with the focus of a professional with much more experience, doing everything she can to not lose a single gray hair, and when she goes to wash it, she does so with a gentleness that surprises Melissa.

But the teacher doesn’t want to admit it, so she continues to stare sullenly at the mirror, even while Y/N gently untangles her wet hair.

When the redhead’s hair is nice and completely ready to be dried, Y/N looks at her hair curiously before turning once more to Melissa’s reflection in the mirror.

“I usually do this before dyeing, but what do you think about maybe cutting a few inches? The ends are starting to lose their shape.”

“I don’t want to cut anything.”, the words are said low enough for no one but the hairdresser to hear but Y/N, but with a hint of anger that surprised the young woman, “And stop talking, your voice is too annoying for the kind of mediocre work ya deliver, kid.”

It was insensitive. Even to Melissa.

The redhead knows that Andrea would never send her to a bad hairdresser. She knows she is being harsh and critical to someone who gave her no reason to do so, but before she realizes it the words have already escaped her mouth.

But the teacher simply has no idea what was coming.

The hairdresser’s eyes widened, large pupils full of rage meeting the teacher’s gaze through the mirror, shocked by the words said by Melissa. And, before Melissa's mind can even work on instigating any remorseful reflexes, Y/N grabs a large chunk of hair from the redhead's bangs and takes a pair of scissors out of her pocket with her free hand, quickly placing them right on Melissa's forehead, exactly where her hair grows, like a more than concrete threat.

“Listen to me Philadelphia's beauty, I don't know what kind of hairdresser you expected when Andrea transferred you to me but as long as you sit in my chair you will respect my work and listen to my fucking suggestions.”, it is said as a whisper, but the hairdresser's anger and her thick accent along with the slight pull she gives the redhead's hair make the whole interaction sound indescribably scary, even to Melissa, “I've been nothing but polite and respectful to you, but I'm starting to regret accepting someone so unfortunate in my char that they think they can criticize my work without even knowing me.”

There, locking eyes with Y/N in the salon mirror, Melissa understood how much she had crossed the line.

Melissa took a deep breath, filled with adrenaline at the thought of losing the top part of her hair, before nodding her head, causing Y/N to put down the scissors and let go of her bangs as she returned to work normally.

And then silence.

Dead silence.

The silence between the two women was so thick that it seemed to fill every corner of the room, making the sound of the dryer and the conversations around them sound muffled and filling the air with a corrosive feeling.

The scene from minutes ago was still boiling in Melissa's mind, repeating itself like a scratched record. Now, as if Melissa had finally come to her senses, the redhead wanted to disappear. She wanted to jump out of the chair and run away from the mirror which reflected her own guilt and shame. But she couldn't. Her anxiety combined with the idea of leaving now, before the end of her service (something that could be even more disrespectful than her words), did a magnificent job holding her body in place, like an invisible chain that kept her feet on the floor and her mouth gagged.

With her fingers drumming on her apron-covered leg as the Brazilian woman prepared to style her hair, the teacher wanted to believe that it hadn't been so bad, that maybe Y/N had already forgotten what was said. But she knew that wasn't true. The weight of the moment still hung between them, thick and uncomfortable.

Y/N doesn't cut her hair or even mention the idea once again. The hairdresser just dries her red hair perfectly, but now with a serious gaze and a hurt look on her face. The Brazilian woman vehemently ignores Melissa's green eyes throughout the entire process, and the teacher stupidly decides too late that she prefers the incessant smile that remained on the hairdresser's lips minutes ago.

Melissa thought about apologizing, but the idea of speaking made her breathing quick and shallow, along with the fear of seeming too desperate.

It was then that her eyes fell on the small ceramic jar in the corner of the counter next to her chair. It was decorated with hand-painted flowers and had, in crooked but legible letters, the words: "Tips for Y/N" next to a QR code. Even with the virtual possibility of compensation, the jar was open and with a significant amount of dollars, coins, and two lollipops, which Melissa just knew had been left there by a child.

And so, an idea formed, hesitant but clear in the teacher's mind.

A good tip seemed perfect, silent, indirect, but still meaningful. As the minutes passed, anxiety whispered again in Melissa's mind, wondering if Y/N would believe that she was doing this because of the guilt she felt at that very moment and not because of the regret that was now eating her mind. But the alternative of doing nothing was simply unbearable for Melissa.

The redhead knew she couldn't leave without at least trying, even if in her own way, to make amends.

When Y/N finished applying a light-smelling oil to the teacher's hair and walked away, silently letting her know that her work was done, Melissa tried to meet the hairdresser's eyes and give her a small smile, which she knew would be nervous, but which could give her an idea of what was going on in Y/N's head.

But Y/N didn't look at Melissa.

When Melissa got up from the salon chair, her racing heart didn't stop her from taking two generous bills from her wallet — much more than she would usually give for just an appointment to dye her hair— and walking over to the pot. Her fingers were shaking slightly, but before anything could be done, she was interrupted:

“I don’t want your tip.” Before the two hundred dollars could enter the ceramic pot with the Brazilian’s name written on it, Y/N placed her own hand over the top to the object, successfully blocking Melissa from doing what she intended.

“M'kay. Now you’re being ridiculous!”

With those words, the hairdresser's eyes finally focus on the green ones again, still filled with an anger that Melissa rarely sees in people who have a disagreement with her (too used to the regretful and submissive ones) and the redhead was shocked by this when Y/N actively chooses to ignore her accusation by saying:

"I'm willing to give you the exact coloring mixture that Andrea developed for your hair so you can find a hairdresser who is like the silent imitation of Andrea that you are looking for.", and before the redhead even has a chance to answer her with an apology that would apparently be necessary, the hairdresser quickly collects everything that was used in the teacher's service and directs Melissa a few more words before walking away without looking back, "Call the salon when you want the measurements and the receptionist will share them with you with pleasure. Have a good rest of your day."

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti imagine #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfics #lisa ann walter #lisa ann walter x reader #lisa ann walter imagine

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jd-loves-fiction · 22 days ago

Note

Appears in your askbox again like a plague

Same platonic premise with Boothill, Blade and Gallagher but reader gets kidnapped by their previous captors (reader is a former slave) in the heat of conflict

🌑honeypop if your requests are a plague I wanna be sick 😭 CRIIINGE also this got so angsty good lord 💀

✦ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 ✦

PanicpanicPANIC

He's never shot people so quick, get space Guiness we've got a record

Getting rid of anyone who gets in his way without a second thought nor a moment wasted - he's never felt more like a machine

He just wants-- no, he needs you to be safe or he might go crazy from the guilt

He was supposed to protect you, he promised

He'd never forgive himself if you got hurt on his watch

So he's shooting people like it's going out of style, quickly tracking your captors down and making his way to you

You'd best look away when he finds them... He's not exactly a merciful man when it comes to his enemies

When he finally gets to you - he doesn't experience adrenaline anymore but - his head is spinning

He's approaching you carefully, doing his best to speak softly and try to make you laugh, so you know you're safe now

He'll swear to you again that this will never happen again

Utterly heartbroken that due to his metal body, he can no longer even give you a hug as comfort :(

✦ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 ✦

Another one panicking, except it's slightly different

Because of the mara he can't let himself be consumed by his panic and anger because he might end up hurting - the LAST thing he wants

But my god is it difficult to stay calm

He's lost too many people already and we've seen what he's willing to do to bring them back

He's rampaging to your side while trying not to lose himself to the mara

Hope you dont mind him making sure they can never do this stuff again because he's not holding back on the fuckers once he finds them

His rage overtakes his concern to the point that he becomes so focused on paying them back that he only remembers why he's doing this after they're all dead

Immediatly rushes to your side after calming himself down - god forbid he sees even a sliver of fear in your eyes when looking at him or be might throw up

Terrible at expressing his concern, at least verbally, so with your consent he's holding you gently and carrying you to safety - silently comforting in the way he usually is, with an edge of anger and guilt this time

But if you dont want him near you for the time being, he'll be heartbroken but undertanding, though he'll still stay close to your when he can as a means of protection - he just cant let this happen ever again

✦ 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫 ✦

Nonchalant no more

All the way chalant, he's freaking the fuck out

True guard dog, genuinely surprised someone got past him since he tries his best to keep an eye on you during fights - clearly he needs to try harder

Tries his best to stay calm in order to focus on getting to you but man it's hard to do

No matter what you are the priority, but he really wants to mess up the people who dared do this again

Tell him you want revenge please and he's hunting them down to the ends of the galaxy

But if you tell him to drop it, he will - you're absolutely his priority, even if he really wants to rip those people to shreds

With his skill set it wont be too difficult to find you and get to you, quickly and efficietly taking care of anyone in his way

When he finds you, he's quick to read the room to figure out what you need

Space? You got it, he'll just stand a little to the side so he can still protect you

Revenge? No need to ask him twice, he's on it

A hug? 🥺He might cry, of course you can have a hug

He's a pretty heartfelt guy but he's got a good head on his shoulders so he understands that this was not his fault but his heart still aches for you

Let's you sit by him at the bar as he works; cracking jokes and teachin you a few bartending tricks to get your mind off things. At least until he can be sure that it wont happen again

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astralis-ortus · 9 months ago

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thunders of rage

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— even through the worst days, you're still my priority.

w.count → 1.1k genre → fluff, comfort warning → mild cussing, reader had a bad day and lashes out at chan :(, one time jump, kissies, chan referred to as chris, reader referred to as baby and babe a.n → based on this request! tysm for requesting♡ ⋆ see masterlist

the word terrible doesn’t even cover the magnitude of bad luck you’ve been facing for the past 10 hours.

from waking up late for work, buses not operating due to a strike and causing the subway being jam-packed, getting absolutely roasted by your supervisor for someone else’s mishap, having your work ruined by a coworker, to barely surviving the somehow never-ending rush hour while running only on a single piece of toast you had in the morning—you’re absolutely in no condition to socialize, even for the slightest bit.

“hey, babe,” your boyfriend’s cheery voice was the first thing you heard as soon as you stepped inside your shared apartment. noises coming out from the speaker on your living room were the thing you noticed next—and you swear you’re so close to losing your sanity.

“how was your day? i saw you barely ate your breakfast when i got back from the gym. are you okay?” oblivious to your nonexistent reply, chris had his eyes glued to the game while he continued to talk. “i haven’t decided what to make for dinner, by the way. do you—”

“can you decide that on your own?” you finally cut your boyfriend off, tone of your voice catching chris off guard. you’re not one to speak sharply—you know it might offend the other party even when you didn’t mean to, and chris knew that about you.

so when he heard that tone being used against him, chris knew something is absolutely wrong.

“let’s get ice cream, then?” chris immediately paused his game and shifted his focus onto you. he sees it now—the seemingly permanent subtle frown on your forehead, the nonexistent glint on the reflection of your eyes, the messy bun on top of your head.

something stresses you out. bad.

“sure.”

chris watched your exhausted trudge head towards the kitchen and grab a glass of water, contemplating the best course of action to get grumpy you to cheer up even just for a little. “and some pizza? or some dimsum? while we wait i’ll run a bath—”

“goddammit, chris!” the loud sound of cup slamming on the countertop startled chris out of his sentence, eyes wide when confusion, irritation, and hurt started to mix in his chest. “i just told you to decide it on your own! stop bothering me! do i need to make every decision for you? god!”

the room fell silent as chris tried to digest the words you aimed at him—but it felt like his head was on static. it only took him a second to get up and grab a hoodie, suppressing any reaction his instinct was telling him to do before he said something he would regret.

“i’m gonna go cool off,” chris quietly said as he headed towards the door, momentarily stopping to look at your tense back. he desperately wanted to stay—but he knows you needed time to be on your own.

“you should cool off too.”

and with that, chris left.

it’s been nearly two hours since chris left, and after a cup of warm tea and a long bath later, guilt finally caught you up in its tight grip.

you knew what you did towards chris was wrong—chris was simply trying to make sure he’s getting something you like because he knows only then your mood would seem to improve, but instead, all you did was accuse him of trying to bother you.

thoughts ran through your head while you stare at your boyfriend’s phone number, thumb hovering over the green button as you try to piece an apology in your head. you’re genuinely worried—it’s getting later in the night, and you still haven’t heard even a single peep from chris. you can’t help but feel worried.

but just as you were about to press the call button, your ears finally picked up the sound of your front door cracking open—chris is home.

“baby, i’m ho—”

chris stopped in his tracks as he felt warmth suddenly enveloping him—you’re hugging him tight, face buried on the span of his chest.

“i’m sorry,” you quickly whispered, barely allowing him time to process what happened within the span of 5 seconds. “i was wrong. i shouldn’t have acted like that. i just really had a terrible day, and—”

“hey, hey, hey,” chris couldn’t help but chuckle, finally wrapping his arm around you after he finally set down the plastic bags on the countertop nearby. “breathe, baby. slow down. you’re okay.”

peering up at chris, your guilt only seemed to dig its claws deeper when you saw his dimpled smile, beautiful eyes gazing right at you even after the sharp words you threw at him.

you felt like crap.

“i’m really sorry,” you croaked another apology, now near tears with the tip of your lips turned down. “i really acted like an ass back there but you still became the bigger person between us. i would’ve understood if you shouted at me, but—”

“baby,” chris shook his head as he gently cradled your face, pads of his thumbs running softly against your cheeks, “i would never forgive myself if i ever raised my voice at you, even during a fight. you’re my girlfriend—you’re someone i need to protect, and that’s what i’ll always try to do.”

the way chris loves you never fails to render you speechless.

some might say you’re the bigger romantic between the two of you—date plans, endless whispers of ‘i love you’s, constantly wrapping yourself around his arm. it’s all what people would see; but you know the nights chris would pull you closer when he notices your tossing and turning, allowing you to settle to the rhythm of his heartbeat. you know the days when he would buy you a single stem of the prettiest sunflower or the loveliest bloom of rose, all because you said you’ve always liked flowers but never the huge bouquet. you know how he would always walk on the side nearest to the road, and the way his arm never left the curve of your waist.

you know the subtle ways he remembers—his ways of saying i love you, and you would never change that for anything in the world.

“kiss me.”

a chuckle rumbles in chris’ chest to your request, beautiful twinkle in his eyes turning you warm and fuzzy. he then gently tipped your chin, whispering a soft ‘i love you’ as he brought his lips onto yours, relishing in the way swarms of butterflies burst under your feverish skin.

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inseparabiles · 2 months ago

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Hi, my freeranged and appropriately enriched audience. I need to talk about something real big bad and I think I've already ended all of my friendships for this reason, so I'm doing it here instead.

This scene? After Colosseum?

There's so many things going on in this scene, and for the love of everything that is holy, in order to talk about any of it, I've clipped Macrinus out of the picture because he doesn't exist.

I'll start with the fact that, while these two are described as somewhat pathologically paranoid, this is the first day we see them living through that gives them significant reason to be worried. Most days, they seem to coast by being both terminally naïve and endlessly isolationist in terms of their company, focusing solely on each other and themselves, particularly their hedonistic pursuits, while assuming that everybody they surround themselves with loves them, for whatever reason. Everything is going great for them as far as they're perceiving it. They don't know the audiences are not cheering for them - they take every cheer as if it was aimed at them. Presenting Acacius at the Colosseum for the first day of the games? They receive no applause beyond what the audience is already dishing out upon their introductions. But producing Marcus Acacius has the audience heated, and these two somehow think that's for them. They're idiots. Morons. They're so stuck in their own delusions of grandeur that yes, while they do recognise they're in Rome and Roman emperors have a terrible tendency to catch a blade, they don't seem to be actually living that reality at all.

What we know from the script is, however, that they have never truly known stability or safety: his whole life, Geta has been shielding Caracalla from their father's explosive anger. Caracalla, presumably, has witnessed this if nothing else, though I'm curious about that golden tooth within this context. I'm sure he's caught some inbetween there, too, because Geta can only afford so much shield from a grown man. And they've never had any protection from any of that. Nobody would stand up to an emperor to protect a prince; they were his rightful property. He could do with his boys whatever he pleased, and Geta's sole duty has been, it seems, not to survive, but ensure that his brother does. His pain has never mattered. His rights, needs, wants, wishes have never mattered. Caracalla's have.

I'm sure they used to be at each other's throats like the wolf pups that they are when they were younger. But what you can see with them in their early adulthood is that this is something that does not apply anymore. They'll hurt anybody else, particularly anyone they perceive as hostile to them, and most often it's done just for fun and pleasure. This makes Caracalla's fetish for watching violence particularly interesting - what with the complex relationship kinks and fetishes can often have with prior trauma, feelings of powerlessness, and attempts to regain control - but that's for a wholly different meta there. What I'm getting at is that it's always others they inflict cruelty upon, and enjoy, but never each other; there is an absolute dynamic between them, it's them against the world, them for one another. Geta's first duty is to protect Caracalla, and Caracalla trusts him implicitly. At least before this scene.

While script!Geta has less patience for his brother than Quinn's Geta does, there is never any doubt there who and what his priority is. Caracalla comes first to him. So, it's safe to say that with Dondus screaming, when he flings his water in Caracalla's face, it's never with the intent of hitting him. I have sensory issues and I'll be the first to admit I've thrown things when my processing threshold is violently crossed and it's something you just don't second-guess, like someone hitting your knee joint with a hammer. But regardless of intent, the consequences are so very interesting. And I'm sure Caracalla, even, knows that this wasn't intentional. Dear gods though, look at his reaction.

This is the face of someone telling you you have crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed.

And, for the sake of my sanity, I need to make sure everybody understands that Caracalla's way to emphasise just how much things have broken here is to say absolutely nothing, leave the room, and go cry under a table. Terrifying. But I digress; what is terrifying is Geta, after this has happened.

This is the face of a man who has crossed a boundary of his own, and it has quite little to do with the previous. Yes, Caracalla is angry at him, and there will be consequences in some form. Again, for now, the consequences are that he's chosen to become inconsolable and hide under furniture, likely much as he did when their father had his rages. But Geta, for the first time in his life, broke out of his role of a protector, and the one to be beaten.

He's realised that Caracalla is not untouchable. And for ages, he doesn't move, because his whole world has shaken here; and what he does then to justify his actions is blame his brother for them. Caracalla did absolutely nothing to earn what he did to him, but it's now his fault, for being so unstable. A liability. How could Caracalla make him do this to him, truly.

This evening, Geta's been brought face to face with his reality: he is not loved. He is not untouchable. While he can mandate the word of gods, he is not, himself, regarded as a god. Not like he deserves. Not like he should be. He's suffered so much - but he is a great man, and he knows this. He's not stupid, and he's a conqueror, albeit from his comfortable seat at home. But he deserves better.

And what, pray, is standing in the way? What is holding him back? His brother is. Caracalla, who is always embarrassing him. Who is his first and last responsibility each day and each night, who needs him to watch his every move, to keep him safe not only from the world but from himself and his own instability, his insanity, his unpredictable actions. Without Caracalla, Geta could be focusing on being an emperor. He could be achieving so much more than he is, if he wasn't his brother's constant, eternal keeper, his babysitter, his court jester. And he deserves more, doesn't he? He deserves to be remembered.

So, let Macrinus (who doesn't exist as you can see from the screenshots) handle Caracalla this time. Geta has an empire to think of.

And this, this is what interests me about this scene more than anything. For Caracalla's part, things seem at a glance much more benign, though no less broken: the one thing he took as certain as air has fallen apart - that his brother would always stand for him first, and would never lay a finger on him to hurt him. His brother, who bled for him, protected him from their father, and has ever since looked after him, elevated him to the highest status, aside from some... minor symptoms of hubris, of course. But while all of this hurts him, deeply, fundamentally, it isn't enough to make him immediately see Geta as his enemy.

And I can't stop asking - should he? Should he now regard Geta as his enemy? His whole world is collapsing. It's from this very moment onwards (yes, this one, specifically) that he begins to show symptoms of acute psychosis: delusions, paranoia, severe lapses in reality, memory, and continuity. He doesn't look like he sleeps either, but of course, other factors come into play with that part. (And gods know I don't blame him for that.)

Geta was his foundation, his bedrock. They were in this together, whatever happened. Yes, they bicker, but they've always known how that goes: Geta's patience is endless with Caracalla, and Caracalla's thirst for violence is not turned towards him, even at its worst. Geta has no issues turning his back to Caracalla in the state that he is while the man is wielding a sword and doing god knows what with it in the background. Not for one second does Geta flinch when coming between Caracalla, his sword, and a man he's already condemned to die, because Caracalla would never harm him, either.

But after this? After the first blow, however small? What then?

I'm just asking questions here. This could lead onto the next subject - the way Caracalla's whole demeanor changes when he inflicts the first wound on his brother and finds that he bleeds just the same - but I'm keeping that to me for now.

edit: I did not keep it to myself, by popular demand. Here.

#gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator meta #apparently I do that now #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #this post is dedicated to all of my friends who did not get the whole of this in their DMs for once #I love you but it cannot stop me from doing what must be done #original content

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imliterallyf7ckin9crazy · 2 months ago

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꧁⋆°𝓢𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓭 𝓖𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓒𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼°⋆꧂

Specifically the men :>

Characters: player 001 (in-ho), player 230 (thanos), and player 124 (nam gyu)

Warnings: squid game shit, gn reader, includes general head canons and relationship ones. Some are more toxic than others…. This is also to help understand the characterization I use for the characters in other fics lol

ᎮᏝᏗᎩᏋᏒ 001

- I have few appropriate things to say

- first off, we all know this man has money and thus I feel like he would have a large car collection that he just doesn’t get around to driving

- rarely able to get drunk. Not that he can drink, it just takes a lot to get drunk

- manipulative without even trying. Though he knows danm well what he’s doing it’s effortless for him.

- has no empathy. Or it’s complicated, he has empathy but it’s conditional. He can seem like cares but chances are it won’t last long, and wasn’t very genuine in the first place

- this is random but I think he is a morning person. Not just a normal morning person, a 4 am wake up person. A time he will likely not be bothered, a time he can take his time. Think about all the things he has to do. The planning, the hiding. He finally gets real time to think.

- CLEARLY obsessive. He be staring at gi hun like he want that cookie so damm bad. Season two squid game was built for him practically by in-ho. meticulously.

- safe to say once he wants something he gets it.

- unfortunately he obviously sees the poor as less than. I think it would take a nearly impossible life changing event for that to change.

Relationship wise:

-evil.

- let’s be so real here, he is not the best choice. Very attractive and silly, but terrible as a person

- he says himself he knows he’s a likable fellow, he’s willing to use that. To worm his way right into your heart. Make you think “wow, how charming” or “man, he’s so kind”. He knows how to use his seemingly harmless nature to root himself in your mind

- will buy you anything. One of his ways of manipulating you. He will yell at you, prioritize his “work” over you, scare you… just to make it up by a luxurious trip where he is finally nice to you. And you think “maybe he’s changed. I’ll give him another chance”

- you don’t even realize how many times you’ve said that.

- it’s not like you have a choice to leave anyway. He’s possessive. If you were to leave him, he wouldn’t let you. If you manage to get away he’s finding you and dragging you back. He will have you until he can’t anymore, you do not have much of a say. He’s woven himself deeply in your life.

- has his people watch out for you and protect you. Has people Solve problems for you before you recognize there is one. And you never even know

- let’s you sit on his lap while he watches the games.

- you have no friends, rarely talk to family, your life is basically his. And you have to be okay with that (or not)

- all his workers know you and you have full access to whatever you like (as long as it’s not interfering or messing up anything he has planned

-he work would probably come before you. Not to say he doesn’t care…. Just he has weird priorities

ᏢᏝᎯᎽᎬᏒ 230

- my dear thanos. Where do I begin

- clearly he has a drug problem. Serious pill addiction.

- goes into public absolutely GEEKIN off who knows what and insists no one can tell (they can)

- tried to be a plug but kept arguing abt prices with his clients so they stopped buying…

- as a famous rapper you know he has bitch AND hoes. A player who leaves a trail of broken hearts. Women and men bc I say so

- and also he just gives that vibe

- can’t manage money. Even when he wasn’t in debt bro cannot keep his dabloons in line. Drugs don’t help with that

- physically pretty strong. He can fight but it’s not like he’s gonna win every time

- actually really passionate about music. It truly means a lot to him and he worked for it. However over years he’s gotten frustrated with never having true privacy as a non celebrity would

Relationship wise:

- contrary to how I see people write him I personally think he wouldn’t be as mean in a relationship as some of the others

-and I think he would actually value you.

- I think he’d be pretty respectful with the ladies. He clearly appreciates a pretty girl.

- respectful might be a stretch. I mean verbally he wouldn’t like say crazy vulgar things. Nah he’d call you “flower” like that one girl or something

- he might be a bit rougher with the fellas out there. He’s pretty handy with his “bros” I’ll tell you that much.

- would write songs for and about you. They’d be cringe… in a nice way. Stupidest title and lyrics but hey! He made it just for you :3

- pre debt he’d definitely spoil you. Post losing all his money you’ll have to compromise. He sucks at telling you no so if you ask for something he might just steal it.

- people try to say he’d try to keep you from his drugs. I don’t think so. Realistically you’d probably end up doing some illegal substances with him

- might cheat in the early stages. Let’s be real. Those famous boys are almost never loyal. Butttt I think after he wouldn’t. Threaten to leave and he will see he really needs you

- never said he was perfect <3

ᏢᏝᎯᎽᎬᏒ 124

- MY SHAYLAAAA. Idc so many ppl hate him. I know, he’s objectively terrible. However I don’t care I think he’s silly so there

- another addict. Honestly heavier than thanos. He’s tried nearly everything under the sun. However as shown in show, herion is his vice.

- he’s a shady night club worker so I’d say he could probably fight.

- I see him as an introvert 90% of the time u til he’s around a close friend. He seems like he has some sort of manners and keeps to himself until he met thanos. And even then he didn’t really talk (nicely) to anyone else besides min-su (sometimes)

- can clock a bitch like no other. Will read you to filth. Be prepared to gain new insecurities around him

- seems like a cat guy. I feel it in my soul he pets every stray cat ever.

- has jitters. Be it he’s anxious, thinking, happy, or withdrawling his hands are constantly on the move.

- laughs at nothing. Do not do anything amusing in the area if something even slightly serious is happening. He’s ruining the mood and will not stop giggling abt it after.

- he does the sweater paws. Not a head canon just a viable fact but it needs to be said. Yes I know he’s a grown man with a dick and balls but it’s very baby girl of him

- has quite the violent streak. Was probably the worst bully in highschool. I can smell the semester suspension radiating from him

- would do probably anything for some drugs. Like anything. He’s seen and done some shit.

Relationship wise

- MY SHAYLAAAA

-evil lowkey

- he’s definitely difficult because he’s always on some H and it actually can make you more aggressive.

- still cares though I swear it’s just harder for him

- touchy asf. Constantly playing with your hands, poking your face, touching your hair. Bro MUST touch.

- possessive and jealous type. Will lash out about it. Or just start being mean to the people you talk to.

- kinda about that life. Because he’s in the night club scene he has definitely witnessed some real gang shit. Maybe even participated

- will protect you if you’re walking out in the street.

- has moments at night where he’s genuinely calm and able to talk about normal things. Not worried about work, scared about money, itching from drugs. Just him and you.

- you’re his safe area. Shit goes wrong he comes to you. He had a bad day? He’s coming to you. Bad trip? He’s with you.

- will care for you if you are going through a bad trip too. Or just scared, he gets it.

- kinda toxic sorry not sorry

- clearly a selfish guy, wants what he wants and tries to take it. He manipulates with saying cruel things with an angles smile. Might yell at you, lash out, etc. probably wouldn’t hit you though

- but he cares. In his weird, clingy, mean for no reason but doesn’t mean it way. He will stick with you. You both will yell and scream and cry at each other but at the end of every day you lay in each others arms. Very much a “us against the world” type relationship.

Yeah that’s all. This should help elaborate on future things I will write mwah ha ha.

#squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game #thanos x reader #player 230 #front man x reader #in ho x reader #nam gyu x reader #player 124 #player 001 #x reader #squid game season 2

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