Sal Fisher X Reader - Blog Posts

✄ Summary: Sal is in desperate need of a haircut, entrusting his locks into your amateur hands despite you butchering a client earlier that week.

✄ Total Post Word Count: 1.2k ✄ Writing Word Count: 1k

✄ Pairing: Sal Fisher & Aspiring Hairdresser!Reader (GN) (Romantic/Platonic, fully up to interpretation) ✄ Reader: You work at the local salon, you & Sal are both about 16-17, several incidents of you cutting your own hair in the bathroom as a kid (I think a lot of us did that though)

✄ Song Suggestion: The Calm - Steve Gabry (Feel free to loop, just ambiance)

✄ Requests or questions about my writing process, formatting/graphics, & anything else are more than welcome <3

✄ A/N: This was inspired by someone's headcanons I saw about Sal cutting his own hair, but now I can't find it anywhere. If that was you, don't be shy, reveal yourself :] Also this is my first jab of writing Sal (or Larry & Ash, though brief), hopefully I proof-read and edited this enough on my own for it to be good

Some Disclaimers: Do not ever use my stuff for AI, or any sort of data set.

Another snowy, winter evening in Nockfell, Minnesota slips by, spent sat next to a stretched out Sal. Your eyes skim the textbook balanced in his lap, physics, it's like another language to you. Slowly he turns the page, immersed in the texts and diagrams printed neatly inside.

Softly, you interrupt his focus, "do you think they'll ever stop arguing?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, his head raises, "Hm? What's happening?"

"Listen." You nod, smiling as you look over to Larry and Ash, a thick black bun piled on top of his head and her reddish-brown hair draped over her shoulders.

"-but charcoal is so much more fun." Ashley grumps, a thin vine-like stick you bought for her birthday clasped in her fingers.

Friendly, Larry quips back, "I'm telling you, graphite is much easier to control, charcoal gets everywhere!" His gestures mimic an explosion, a pencil caught in his hand.

Nearly silent, Sal's raspy voice whispers back, "I see what you mean now."

Shifting, you duck your head closer to his ear, "they've been at it for at least an hour now."

Quiet, he mutters, "They like art a lot more than I do."

You pick at the stray threads wisping from the hole in your jeans, "True, you're much more of a mathematician than the rest of us," you concede, tapping the thick textbook in his lap, "…besides Todd."

"How is that physics class going?" you ask, watching his head move away from your gaze, looking instead to the CD player. Sanity Falls quietly seeps from it- well, as quiet as Sanity Falls can be.

A soft sigh collides against his prosthetic, "It's good, just time consuming," he slumps further into the bean bag, "how's your job at the salon?"

You wince, reflecting on the day before, "…Messy. I butchered someones hair yesterday…"

He hesitates a second, before mumbling, "…ouch"

"yeah…" grimacing, your mind wanders off to the blunt layers and too much hair littering the floor. The cold slowed your hands, between that and your scattered mind… well someone walked out unhappy.

Sal's eyes focus on the pair on the other side of the room, watching their hands curve as lines smooth onto the paper. You may not be able to see his face, but you can tell there's something on his mind.

"…Do you want to practice on mine…?" he offers, bright cyan eyes staring, questioning.

You start to protest, your eyes widening at the trust he offers, "No I couldn't-"

He interrupts, steady in tone, "It's fine, already a mess anyways." His pale hand runs through the shaggy blue mess, overgrown and choppy.

Hesitating, you watch the uneven blue waves settle, "…are you sure?"

"Yeah." His response is simple, firm.

A lull in the conversation follows as you mull over the choice: risk your freinds hair, and improve your skill, or leave it be?

You and Sal may have met in a rather unconventional way, (a burning wig and ringing fire alarm were involved) but you two still get along unusually well. Maybe it's something to do with his desire for styled hair and your need of practice.

"Do you think they'll notice if we leave?" you ask, suddenly twice as nervous as before.

His eyes glitter with humor, "in an hour, sure."

Laughter bubbles in your chest, a happy glow greeting Sal's eyes as he sets his textbook aside. Roaring laughter from Larry bursts the quiet bubble you've had with Sal for the last few minutes, the both of you freezing your struggle from the bean bag.

Breaking the pause, he quips, "better now than never."

Your keys jingle in the lock as it finally loosens, the door swinging open as Sal stands behind you, silent as ever. Green carpet and neutral walls greet your eyes, decorated with family pictures and a colorful rug.

Following you closely behind, his eyes survey the empty apartment, "your parents aren't home?"

"They're busy tonight," you reply, striding to the kitchen, tossing your keys onto the counter with a loud clatter, "do you want something to drink?"

"No, thank you." he replies, as you shuffle through the fridge. Dissatisfied with what you find, you shut the creaking door with a sigh.

"well, then to the chair with you" you gesture towards the small dining table cramped against the far wall, humor laced in your tone.

The chair squeaks as he pulls it from the table, watching you duck into the bright bathroom just off the living room. Folding his arms, he settles his head onto the cold surface, watching a tiny carpet beetle creep across the marbled vinyl as he waits.

It's not long before you flop down into the chair beside him, setting down a black, plastic box filled with your hair tools. Combs, scissors, shears… you're pretty sure you have a curling iron somewhere.

"So… what do you want done?" you start, eyes lifting to the spotless mask that adorns his face- well except the purple-ish pink section across his left side.

"uh… whatever works best…?"

You stand, his gaze following your movements. Yours on the other hand are more concerned about his choppy layers, adjusting his gaze forward and down.

"hm…" you hum anxiously, fingers brushing the straps holding his mask in place, "can this come off?"

Relief floods your veins as his hands reach up, working the clasps loose. A glimpse of exposed sinew reflects in your eyes as he sets it onto the table, his hands resting on his knees.

Slowly, blue hair floats and collects on the ground, minutes ticking by as you work, your hands warm and mind clear. Finally, you finish, guiding him to your bathroom and trying not to run him into every wall on the way there. Your hands rest on his shoulders, the both of your expressions reflected in the mirror.

"You can open your eyes now." You say, tapping the fraying burgundy of his shirt sleeve. His eyes crack open, jaw popping wide as he leans forward to inspect your handiwork. Your hands slip from his shoulders, pride gleaming in your smile.

He turns to you, disbelief across his expression, "I don't believe you butchered that clients hair at all."

You just smile, a bit cheeky. Many mannequins, and incidents when you were five, desiring new bangs, led to this skill of yours- though Sal's bangs are much more impressive than the ones you did when you were five.

BOOO, Surprise. Have a fav piece of artwork I found. Thanks for reading till the end <3

Highschool

—random Drabble with you, Larry and Sal at school.

Tw: mentions of underage drinking and drug use.

Putting your books away with a sigh, you let your head drop roughly against the desk. A loud enough noise that even Travis shot you a glare.

Class was boring. Like really boring. Like so boring you even watched Sal draw weird little triangle head people beef with square heads then die in a big scribble hole.

You didn’t study for the test— of course you didn’t. You never did, always preferred to spend your evenings at Larry’s place or Sal’s if he wasn’t already at Larry’s. You were a good test taker, didn’t need to study, just semi listened and managed to make good grades. An average A, B student.

Larry would always look over with that stupid ‘I don’t know what the fuck just happened’ and you’d just shrug with a smile. Just to have your test handed back to you with a 86. And oh he’d glare you and poke your rib with his middle finger.

You were the type of student to slack off, smoke pot and drink shitty beer on the weekends with your friends.

Your future was empty except for your knack at piercing. You’d given Larry a piercing on his left ear— he’d gone on some long ass rant about how the right ear is the gay ear and he needed to at least kiss a girl before college— seeing as this would be your senior year.

You pierced Ashley’s nose piercing, as well as her naval but you’d made her cough up a $20 for that.

“Use both eyes, freak.” Travis sneered, that ugly look on his face directed at you.

You’d zoned out but his comment was enough to get you to lock back into life. “You kiss your daddy with that mouth?” You’d stolen it from Sal, who only rolled his eyes behind his prosthetic as he stood up.

“You little bitch!” Travis stood up, about to charge up to you but Larry stood in front of you.

He’d gotten taller and started working out more, which was a bonus in so many ways because now Travis was backing up like a little bitch and grumbling as he walked out.

“Never stop working out.” You patted Larry’s shoulder, before slinging your bag over your shoulders.

“It’s cuz I’m so hot right?” Larry wiggled his brows but just sighed when you pinched his nose, before promptly pushing you away by your forehead. “You are such a pain in the ass.”

“I’m gonna crawl into your skin.”

“Just kill me now.”

“We’re missing lunch. Come on,” Sal groaned, almost as loud as his stomach.

“It’s bologna day.” Larry rose a brow at Sal.

“Let’s just eat outside.” Sal was quick to pull a 180 and walk out the doors of the school. Leaving the two of you in two.

“Hey so good news, I’m getting a car.” You dropped out of no where as the three of you sat down on the half empty school parking lot.

“What? What kind? And can you drive us?” Sal was immediately asking, eyeing you down like the solution to all his problems.

“Let me rephrase, I got the car, and drove myself here today. It’s right there.” Pointing to the shitty, beat down Chevy truck. The red paint scuffed and scratched— bumper hardly hanging on.

“Wow. What a shit box.” Larry deadpanned, just to sigh, stand up and walk to said shitbox, opening the door, immediately the inside of the door smacked against the ground, and he just side eyed you.

“What? We can fix it up. You two are men. Do your man stuff.” You waved them off before standing as well and stretching, “sooo let’s skip?”

“This is why we’re friends.” Sal walked to the backseat and slid in, situating himself so he was sat in the middle of the two front seats so he could see.

“Your not even gonna try to get front seat?” Larry eyed him from the side.

“No. If she wrecks I’m gonna be the safest.” He shrugged and leaned back against the seat.

“Wait, shit, let’s swit-“

“Sit your ass down.” You huffed and forced him into the car before getting into the drivers side. You had to wait a while before actually cranking it all the way, the whole process was sad.

“It’s totally gonna break down on the highway.” Sal sighed.

“He’s not an it. He’s a David.” You corrected before pulling out of the parking lot.

“David? You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Sal reached forward and changed the radio station.

“I’ll shit on you.”

“Please don’t.”

“Too late.”

“Children.” Larry buckled up immediately when you slammed on the breaks just to smash the gas peddle to gap some mom van. His hand on the oh shit bar.

“I’m so powerful. I could like pit maneuver whoever I wanted.” You drive with your knee, and rolled down the window with the window crank.

“Let me out. Wait. No. Please.” Sal’s voice was sarcastic as he pawed at the window.

“Your putting marks on my window, stop it you rat.” You reached back blindly and tried to slap his hand away but he just held you by the hand.

“Marks are the least you should worry about with this vehicle.” Sal and Larry snickered.

“Assholes.” You sighed.