#schlatt angst

[hufflepuffsthunderdome]

Kiss Cam

Schlatt x gn!reader Summary: a cute moment with Schlatt at a baseball game A/N: This is just a cute quick little thing I threw together in 30 minutes to get back into the swing of writing

The crowds are packed as you make your way into the stadium, clinging tightly onto Schlatt's arm as he barrels through the crowds, keeping an eye on you as you cut through the sea of people to make sure you don't get swallowed up by it. Making your way through finally, you let him drag you through the stadium, smiling happily and saying hi to the excited fans as they scramble in to find seats, watching your boyfriend grumble as he pulls you along.

A few people clearly recognise him, stopping and pointing and whispering to themselves as you trot down the stairs to some seats, somewhere near third base. He slinks down in his chair and pulls his hat down a bit, trying to hide himself as the crowd shuffles in, relaxing slightly when he feels you slip a hand around his shoulder.

The more people that slot in around you the more Schlatt relaxes, the older couples or parents with kids a much safer bet to be sitting around than the younger folks pointing you out earlier. It wasn't that he didn't like his fans, but he was hear with you, and he wanted to keep it that way.

You try your best to keep up with the game as it goes, you're much more into football than you are baseball, but you know the basics. You cheer when Schlatt does, boo when he does, blending into the sea of excited Yankee fans around you as you pick up their cues of how the game is going. So far it was proving to be a good night, the Yankees were doing pretty good which meant a happy Schlatt and by turn a happy you.

As you're sitting, sipping your drink, just after the fourth inning, talking to Schlatt as he shows you something on his phone, people around you suddenly start to murmur excitedly. You look up confused, looking down at the diamond to see what's happening, to find it still bare. The cheering gets louder as suddenly someone behind you is tapping you on the back, the unknown person pointing to the corner of the stadium where the large screen is set up, Schlatt and your faces broadcasted with big bold letters underneath it.

Kiss Cam.

You nudge Schlatt as you laugh softly, getting his attention and pointing up at the screen, cringing when the second he lifts his head the cheers noticeably get louder. You know that some people are just excited about this mid game show, but others undoubtably recognise him.

You see him blush hard as he tucks his phone away into his pocket, slinking down again into his chair as he shakes his head, cringing again when a few people boo playfully.

"Come on," you tease as you tug his sleeve, getting him to face you, "don't be a baby." You pull the cap off his head as you beam up at him, running your hand through his hair and pulling him down towards you, connecting your lips as you hold the cap up in the direction of the camera, blocking yourselves from view. You hear people around you cheer as you two kiss, your lips locked together as you feel Schlatt's hand snake down to gently touch your waist, giving you a gentle squeeze as he tilts his head into the kiss.

You pull apart eventually, laughing soft and breathy against his lips as you see the red covering his face, feeling him whisper a soft I love you against your temple as he presses his lips there, taking his cap from you and settles it back on his head, shrinking into his seat as he finally spots the camera, glaring at it as you lean into his side.

[frostedsugarcookiehearts]

₂ i swear, next time i see you i'll be funny

memphis, tennessee. the road sign just appeared out of schlatt's peripheral vision, though he wasn't paying much attention. his hands were gripped tight on the steering wheel as the radio blabbered on about how tomorrow, december fourteenth 2022, a lady named cheryl would be winning a lifetime supply of chuck-e cheese tickets.

"can you shut the fuck up?" schlatt barked, slamming his hand into the console. not a great idea, he knew that— but there wasn't much else he could do. he was going as fast as he could without going 100mph, but that wasn't fast enough.

schlatt was a man with vices. whiskey, mostly, and snacking before bed. but his biggest vice was you, anything you asked— everything was thrown out the window. it'd come to bite him in the ass more than once, but anything for you. and he meant it when he said it.

so when you called, frantic and sobbing, all he had to say was:

"i'll be right there."

even though he was in the middle of a chuckle sandwich shoot, he had to run. ted even let him borrow his toyota tocoma (an honor which he rarely bestowed on anyone), but he knew it was an emergency. and notably, a sixteen hour drive. he drove all throughout the night, not even taking a second to breathe or blink as he made his way to tennessee.

eventually, the old truck made its way past the border of tennessee and into memphis. after a few illegal right turns, he made his way to your apartment. it was small. and it didn't take a genius to see it was also in an awful neighborhood, hell— he could hear police sirens echoing in the background.

which was fucking weird, because you had just shown the chuckle crew a photo of your new high rise you were going to purchase. it had looked nice as hell, eliciting an "ooh" from charlie, ted and even himself. and he was a man rarely impressed.

the whole apartment shook when schlatt knocked on the door, frantic. his huge, strong hands helped him out for once— besides opening jars of peanut butter and jelly or opening locks that were jammed. "hey, open the door!" no response, but he could hear little sobs and whines inside. he took a step back, bracing himself before jamming his elbow into the door, busting it wide open.

you were curled up in a blanket, sniffling and crying as you stared off into space.

in seconds, you were in his arms. your tears soaked his shirt, but he had hundreds of the same one— it didn't matter to him. his voice was hesitant, trying to soothe you. "hey, hey, sugar. nono, don't cry— don't—"

hysterical, you choked on your sobs and hugged him tight. "i'm sorry you came all this way, i didn't mean to bother you, i just—"

"no, fuck, baby. you're not botherin' me. i wanted to come, so i did. ya didn't ruin nothin', alright? cross my heart. pinky swear, whatever or whoever ya want me to swear it on, i do."

heavy, shaky breaths again. "but the drive here takes forever, a—and weren't you filiming a chuckle episode? gosh, don't tell me you left that early, jay..." you took a sharp inhale, voice wobbling. "my heart's beating real, really fast." you stammer.

"'kay toots, you're gonna listen to me now, alright? deep breaths. you can do it, know you can."

your eyes met his, and it felt like someone ripped his heart in half. "you can't just throw everything away to take care of me. what if one day you can't come save me?" you ask, voice quiet as a mouse.

schlatt shook his head, not even giving him a second to think about it. "i always will be," he insists.

"but, i—i am afraid i'll spend entire years— trying..." you stammer, getting all choked up again. "...trying not to need you."

"you don't need to worry about that." he assured you, his voice low and baritone.

and schlatt held you the whole way through. the entire night, coaxing you to stop crying, to at least have some water and have a bite to eat. he brought you hot cocoa with marshmallows and sat next to you on the couch in silence, until you drifted off to sleep.

the austin chronicle on november nineteenth, 2025, had their horoscope section on the second page, tucked into the bottom right corner. today, your horoscope said that old memories would come to light. you laughed and threw out the newspaper before glancing in your doorway to see a random stranger standing there, boxers low on his hips.

resisting the urge to rub your temples, you politely made conversation with the man (a hookup you'd already forgotten the name of, add him to the list.)

the door slammed.

you sighed, groaning and rubbing your eyes. another fucking morning. idly, you made yourself eggs and glanced over at the television. some person was crying to the reporter about a car crash that had happened. unfortunate, you mused. those kinds of stories used to make you cry just as hard as the person it had actually happened to, but now, you seemed impartial to it. just another thing in the walk of life, you supposed.

scrolling through your instagram feed, you got a message from one of your friends about going out tonight. why not, right? it's not like you had better shit to do. (you didn't.)

and in what felt like a blink to you, there were loud, flashing lights that felt like they were pounding in your head. but you didn't want to be the party pooper loser of the night and go home, you needed this, so you downed a few shots with your friends until you eventually loosened up.

your friends burst into loud, shrill shrieks. "ohmygosh!" one of them tugged on your arm, pointing across the club to—

fuck.

schlatt was standing right there, tall and broad as ever, dressed in a black turtleneck with a brown jacket thrown over it. he looked distinguished, and eerily out of place. in the same city as you. and partying in an outfit that looked like it belonged to a stuffy college professor more than your old friend jay who you hadn't spoken to in... jeez, it must've been three years now since you'd ran off from memphis, moved thousands of miles away, went no contact, and started anew. schlatt called so often, frantically worrying about your absence, that you had to change your number.

he met your gaze, and he immediately moved. it made your face blanch as he weaved his way through the crowd easily, not caring if he'd pushed someone or interrupted a makeout session.

"you." he breathed heavily, eyes wide.

a man of few words. your friends, perplexed at the fact he knew you (they had just seen one of his youtube videos once),

"big man!" you put on a big, fake smile like you were thrilled to see him. well, it's not like you weren't. just taken aback, you supposed. "guess one of us had to look better than before, and we all know it's not me." your friends burst into giggles at your self-depricating joke, your smile faltering a little. "you grew a little. how's new york, huh?"

"uh... good." schlatt's eyes were wide, and he opened his mouth to say something, but bit his lip. "good."

[stoneybun]

I've Got All This Ringing in My Ears and None on My Fingers

Schlatt x Reader hurt/comfort. Slight mention of NSFW. Inspired by the song I've Got All This Ringing in My Ears and None on My Fingers by Fall Out Boy. ---

You knew this would happen. Knew it from the moment you saw him, the smug and toothy grin followed by a “Y’need somethin' there, toots?” Said in a drawl that made your knees weak. Schlatt knew he was handsome. Fuck, he had countless people telling him that every day, and he wasn’t shy about it. But something stirred in him from the mindless stare you gave him, eyes like fucking saucers as he tilted his head to look down at you. You shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought. You knew what you’d been told, that he was just another arrogant content creator, even saw it in how he acted sometimes. But you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t fucking hot. And you were crossfaded to hell, dangerously close to making a choice that you knew would shatter you if it went south. You couldn’t risk getting attached to yet another person only for them to disappear. Realizing this, you give a scoff and roll your eyes before turning to head for the door, hoping it’d dampen his interest. Then, you heard him. “Oh, real cute,” his voice cutting straight through the music and party chatter ringing in your ears. The tone in his voice made you falter for a moment, but you kept walking, not wanting to let him see he got to you. But your tense shoulders only gave you away. “Not even a ‘fuck you’ or somethin’?” That took you off guard. Part of you found it funny, the other part was still trying to figure out how to react. “What?” You scoff, finally stopping in your tracks and turning to look back at him. “Oh, that’s what gets you to turn back around?” He taunted, cocking a brow. You usually were never one to give these kinds of guys the light of day, but something about him kept you in his grip like a moth drawn to a flame. Unable to tear your eyes away from the man before you despite the threat of being burned. He seems to clock this fairly quickly, a sly grin forming on his face. “Why don’t you come over and see what everyone’s talkin’ about?” He challenged, making your mouth suddenly go dry. You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol and weed in your system or the way his voice dropped and how he looked at you, but you were trapped in his gaze. And you didn’t want to leave it this time. He stands there, the glint in his eyes making your stomach turn yet also made you weak in the knees. You couldn’t resist anymore, scoffing under your breath before closing the distance, watching as that fucking grin grew on his face. “That’s it, sweetheart. Not gonna run off anymore?” You roll your eyes again, but you stay right in front of him against any better judgment. He seems pleased with this, nodding toward the door you were about to walk out of moments ago, a silent invitation. His grin is sharp as he now has you right where he wants you, watching you like he’s already won. Maybe he has. His hands are on you before you can change your mind—palms against your hips, lips dragging down your throat. You don’t stop him. You only stop thinking. The truth hurt worse than anything Schlatt could bring himself to do to you. The truth that you fell, and you fell hard, when both of you agreed this wouldn’t go anywhere. Just merely filling each other’s needs, right? 

You remember the way he held you under the stars, the one time you saw his walls fall. Saw the man behind the spikey persona he fronted for the cameras. But as fast as you saw them fall, they went back up, as if the moment never happened. Like he was afraid of letting you in, letting you see him for who he truly was. Afraid you won’t be interested anymore. But little did he know, that’s all you wanted. To see that he was something more, but part of you was too afraid of the possibility of that not being the case. It was another night up late, sleep leaving you in the dust as you were doom-scrolling yet again. Sprawled out on your stomach in bed, tucked under your covers and surrounded by your stuffed animals you knew you should’ve outgrown by now but you refused to. And as the clock turns another hour, your phone starts to buzz in your hand, pulling your attention from the reel of a cat absolutely bumping it to a song. Schlatt. Your stomach dropped, sighing softly as you let the phone buzz a little more in your hands, trying to see if he’d back out or not. But no, the phone ringing was as persistent as he was, and you caved, just like always as you tapped the screen to answer. “Hello?” you put on a sleepy tone to make him think he woke you up. But you both knew better than that. There’s a pause on the other end, and for a second, you think maybe he’s already hung up. “’Course you’re awake.” Schlatt’s voice is rough, laced with something you can’t quite place.

You sigh, shifting onto your back. “And you’re drunk.” It’s not a question, then you hear him let out a little laugh.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about, sweetheart.”

“You only call me this late when you are.” Another pause. He exhales sharply, like he knows he’s been caught but refuses to admit it. “Shouldn’t’a called.”

“Then why did you?”

Silence.

You almost think he’s not going to answer, then he mutters, “Fuck if I know.” “That’s bullshit.”

“You always gotta pick a fight with me?” His voice is sharper now, irritation creeping in. “I call, you answer, and we go through this same song and dance,”

You cut him off. “You’re the one calling me in the middle of the night, Schlatt.”

“Yeah? And you’re the one always pickin’ up, toots.”

That shuts you up. Because he’s right. You do, every fucking time. Even though you know exactly how this ends. Messy, unresolved, with a bitter taste in your mouth and a hollow feeling in your chest that you were desperate to fill. 

“Y’could just tell me to fuck off,” he says after a moment, voice quieter. “Would make it easier.”

“Would it even fuckin’ do anything at this point?”

Schlatt doesn’t answer, but you hear him sigh again, long and tired.

“I just… fuck, I d’know,” he mutters, words slightly slurred. “Felt alone.”

Something tightens in your chest. You should be angry. Should tell him to grow the fuck up, to stop running in circles with you. But the vulnerability in his voice, the way it barely slips through before he’s swallowing it back down, has your heart twisting instead. You knew that feeling too well yourself.

There’s a beat of silence before you say, “Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

Another pause.

“…Yeah.”

Your eyes sting, but you ignore it. You don’t say anything else. Just lay there, listening to the steady sound of his breathing on the other end. It’s a comfortable silence, the previous tension between you two seeming to lighten up. It almost makes your heart flutter when you hear him speak up again.

“G’night, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight, Schlatt.”

Neither of you hang up, hearing him as he shifts in his bed before letting out a breath that lets you know he’s drifted off to sleep. And, coincidentally, that makes you relax into your bed, eyes closing as you drift off. You knew you were far from the intimacy you wanted from him, but this gave you hope you’d get there eventually. 

part 2: Hold Me Like a Grudge

[blindboxaddict]

𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍'𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛. 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎

jschlatt x artist!reader

summary: a quiet dinner reveals the growing distance between you and schlatt, where absence speaks louder than words. in the silence, something begins to shift.

notes: AFAB reader, no use of y/n (for now), not beta read

warnings: angst, no comfort, one-sidedness, schlatt being a dick

word count: 814

a/n: i was supposed to write the first chapter for "you, across the hudson river" but i got distracted. this song is one of my favorites and i've been in an angsty mood lately so i decided to write a jschlatt fanfic with it instead. this will be relatively short so it should only be around 3-4 parts. i hope you enjoy!

and maybe sorry in advance for what's about to come

it didn't start with fury, but with something small. a silence too long, and a plate too cold.

dinner had been prepared with a quiet hopefulness, the kind she had almost forgotten how to feel. carbonara: one of his favorites. crisped pancetta, golden yolk stirred just right, parmesan grated so finely it vanished into the sauce like snow. the candles were lit. not for romance, but as a kind of ritual. a reminder that intention still lived in this space. she plated both servings, her motions careful. loving, with what little love she has left. the table was set. she sat. she waited. 

and waited.

the wine in her glass remained untouched and gradually warmed down. the food cooled beneath flickering light. somewhere down the hall, he was laughing: headset on, voice rising through the cracked door in bursts of charming bravado. it was a voice she hadn’t heard directed at her in days. he was on a call with another game or meal prep or whatever company or business it is, trying to secure a deal. not that she cared enough to know, anyway.

she glanced at the clock. then again. the silence around her thickened. it was not a dramatic silence, not the kind that demands attention. no, this silence was patient. seasoned. it knew its way around the room. it had visited before.

eventually, she rose. not abruptly, not angrily. just with resignation, as though she had known all along she’d have to. she padded to the office door and knocked lightly, her knuckles barely grazing the wood.

“babe?”

he didn’t answer. or maybe he didn’t hear. or maybe, worse, he did and chose not to.

she opened the door a crack. he was hunched over the second monitor, headset crooked on his messy hair, laughter bubbling up at something someone said on the other end of the call. his fingers flew over his keyboard. the glow of the screen turned the sharp planes of his face into something unfamiliar.

“i made dinner,” she said. not quite entering or staying.

nothing. not even a glance.

she stood there for a moment, just one moment longer than she should have. and then quietly closed the door.

by the time he came out of his office, forty minutes had passed. she hadn’t moved. the pasta sat uneaten. her wine glass reflected the candle’s dwindling flame. her eyes were fixed on the plate like it was a painting she couldn’t quite interpret.

“you didn’t eat?” he asked.

“i wasn’t hungry anymore.”

he sighed, slipping into the seat across from her. “could’ve just said you weren’t feeling it.”

that was the moment. not loud. not dramatic. but something shifted.

she looked up, her voice as thin as thread. “i cooked for two hours. you didn’t even notice.”

he blinked. “i didn’t mean to ignore you. i was on a call with the twitch rep—this shit is important.”

she nodded slowly. not in understanding or forgiveness. just to stop herself from crying.

“right. everything’s important. except me.”

he shoved his plate slightly forward, annoyance starting to edge into his voice. “god, are you seriously doing this right now?”

“i know you’re busy,” she said, each word deliberate. “but it’s always like this. i’m not asking for much—”

“you’re always asking for more.”

the air thickened. he stiffened.

“it’s not fair,” he said, almost incredulous. “i’m busy for us. i’m not just playing around. i’m building something here. you think i want to be glued to this shit 24/7?”

she swallowed. the words hurt, but not because they were harsh. because they were so familiar. she had heard them before, like a lullaby to soothe her into staying in this relationship.

“i never asked you to do it alone,” she said. “i just wanted you to show up.”

“i’m always showing up,” he snapped. “i work my ass off so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

“i’m not worried about bills,” she replied. “i’m worried about coming home to someone who doesn’t even look at me anymore.”

he let out a bitter laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “why do you always make it about needing attention? what? you want me to stop working just so you feel loved enough?”

“no,” she said. her voice didn’t shake now. “i want to feel like i matter.”

the silence that followed was a new kind: less cruel, more surgical. it cut with precision. she picked up her fork and twirled it through the now-cold pasta, pretending to eat. her hands trembled, barely. her eyes burned, quietly.

he didn’t say anything else.

she stopped talking after that, because pleading for affection is a kind of performance. she was tired of auditioning for a role she was never going to be cast in. 

as dinner went on, she quietly folded into herself, like fog settling over a still lake.

[sweetdarlingfic2]

Late nights

Cw: fat shaming

The party only seemed to grow louder as the night went on, the music thumping like a second heartbeat and voices slurring together into chaos. Most of the people around you were, for lack of a better term, absolutely sloshed.

That night you made the mistake a small, dumb, hope fuled mistake of trying to talk to a random guy. He seemed interested at first, or at least enough to make you believe he was. That illusion didn’t last long.

“Hey, girl! Come here,” a sleazy voice barked out from across the room. Something about it made your skin crawl, but you went over anyway.

“Hey, pretty,” he said with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. He reeked of alcohol. “What’s your name?”

You hesitated for a second. “Uh it’s Y/N What’s yours?”

He waved off the question, eyes already drifting elsewhere. “Doesn’t matter. Hey, that girl over there what’s her name? You two friends?”

The pit in your stomach began to grow. Still, some naive part of you clung to hope. “Oh… her? That’s Jackie. Yeah, we’re friends. Why?”

His eyes returned to you, slow and assessing, like he was reading a menu. Then, with the cruelty only drunken confidence can conjure, he dropped the words like a hammer.

“Well, you two look kinda similar and all… but you’re fat, you know? I don’t hook up with fat chicks. Appreciate the help, though. Good on you for not being a fridge.”

And just like that, he was gone already halfway across the room, laughing and flirting with Jackie like you never existed.

You blinked rapidly, fighting back the sting in your eyes. Your chest felt tight, your skin too warm, the music too loud. You weaved through the party, finally spotting the back door. You slipped outside, closing it behind you with a soft click, the summer air cool against your flushed face.

You sat on the steps, and the sobs came quietly shoulders shaking, breath shallow. Five minutes passed. Maybe ten. You didn’t count. Then you heard the door creak open behind you.

Panic fluttered in your chest. You wiped at your eyes quickly, praying it wasn’t one of your friends. You didn’t want to ruin their night. But it wasn’t one of them. well not one of the ones you were worried about…

“Hey, toots.” The voice was low and warm, carrying just enough hesitation to feel genuine. Footsteps approached, heavy but careful, he sat beside you. You didn’t look at him right away, your heart was pounding. He took your hand gently, like he was afraid you’d pull away.

“I… I saw you come out here earlier,” he said, voice soft but nervous. “And… uh, sorry, I’m really bad at this kind of thing, haha. But, you looked like you were about to cry, and, uh… turns out I was right, huh?” He gave a sheepish laugh, eyes fixed ahead.

“Anyway, I just wanted to check if you’re okay. And if you’re not… I mean, if you wanna talk or just… get out of here or whatever, I’m down. Whatever helps.”

There was no pressure in his voice. Just an offering. A sliver of kindness after a night that had stripped you raw.

You let out a soft laugh through your sniffles. “Haha… thanks, Schlatt. I appreciate it. I’ve just… I’ve had a really bad week, and then this guy started talking to me earlier and…” You shook your head, looking down at your lap. “I guess I just couldn’t handle it.”

You tried to wave it off, your voice tight. “I’ll be fine though. Really.”

But Schlatt wasn’t convinced. He leaned in slightly, concern etched deep in his features, his voice low but urgent. “Wait what happened? Who talked to you? What did they say?” There was a fire behind his words, but it didn’t scare you. If anything, it made you feel safer.

You let out a shaky breath and rubbed at your face. “I… I didn’t get his name. He was just some random guy inside. He walked up to me like he was interested. And I believed him.” Your eyes dropped to the ground as the memory clawed its way back up. “Then he asked me Jackie’s name. I told him. And then…” Your voice cracked, and the tears welled again, burning hot. You felt Schlatt squeeze your hand, his thumb moved in slow circles across your skin, grounding you. You paused, swallowing around the lump in your throat.

“If you don’t wanna finish,” he said gently, “that’s okay. You don’t have to.” He reached up with his free hand and wiped away one of the tears that slipped down your cheek.

You closed your eyes for a moment, then shook your head. “No… no, it’s okay. There’s not much left to say.” You sniffled again, and this time, the words came out flat, like you were recounting something distant something you wished was distant.

“I told him her name. And he just… looked at me and said something like, ‘yeah, thanks for that. You guys look alike, but you’re too fat to get with.’” A tear rolled slowly down your cheek as silence settled between you.

Schlatt didn’t move right away. But you felt the shift in the air his jaw clenched, his grip on your hand tightening just a little, like he was holding himself back from storming back into the house. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady “You’re not…”

You blinked up at him.

“That probably didn’t come out right” he said, finally turning to face you fully. “Anyone with half a brain can see how beautiful you are… listen you deserve to be treated so much better than how you were tonight, you uh… you deserve a guy who worships you.” He paused, watching you for a beat longer, like he was making sure you believed him.

you let out a small shaky giggle.

He smiled back, softer now. “Y/N I’m serious please believe me.”

You giggled again “yeah okay…”

You two sat in a quiet kind of peace, the hum of the night filling in the silence, words weren’t needed. For a long moment, neither of you said anything just stealing glances at each other, then back up at the sky like it held some kind of answer. The cicadas buzzed softly in the background.

Eventually, Schlatt stood stretching out his long limbs with a quiet groan. He looked down at you again, eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize it in the dim light. “Hey, Y/N” he said, voice lighter now, almost playful. “Wanna go somewhere? Like… on a drive or something?”

You looked up at him and, for the first time that whole night, you smiled really smiled. “Yeah” you said, voice soft but sure. “I’d like that a lot.”

He held out a hand, you took it without hesitation. His fingers were warm, a little clammy, but steady comforting. He helped you to your feet, but didn’t let go. As he led you toward the side gate, he fumbled with the latch a bit, muttering something under his breath that made you giggle. He finally swung it open, gesturing for you to go first. You stepped through but not before reaching back and grabbing his again, not ready to let the moment slip away. He gave a gentle tug, smiling as he followed you out to the car.

Once you reached his car he opened the passenger door like a gentleman, giving you a mock bow that made you roll your eyes and laugh again. The door clicked shut, and within seconds, he was in the driver’s seat beside you, key turning, engine rumbling to life.

“So,” you asked with a teasing smirk, turning toward him as he pulled out of the driveway, “where exactly are you taking me?”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a grin, “I’ve got somewhere nice in mind. you’ll like it.”

The further you drove, the more the world slipped away. The roads stretched out like ribbons under the headlights, winding through quiet backstreets and then into the hills. Trees lined the road thickening the higher you went, their leaves rustling in the warm breeze. The stars above grew clearer, brighter, like they’d been waiting for you to notice them, you did because for the first time all night, you weren’t spiraling. You were just… present.

At some point, his hand drifted to your thigh. But it wasn’t suggestive it was grounding. The kind of touch that said, I’m here if you need me, rather than I want something from you. His thumb moved slowly, almost absently, like he wasn’t even thinking about it. And maybe he wasn’t. Maybe this was just who he was with you and you just leaned into the warmth of it, letting it soothe the ache still lingering in your chest.

You turned to glance at him, The reflection on the dashboard cast a soft, golden glow across his features, catching the sharp lines of his jaw and the soft downturn of his mouth. Something about him looked so painfully handsome in that moment.

Eventually, the car slowed to a stop. You blinked, glancing around as the view opened up around you. A lookout. The city stretched below, distant and quiet. He killed the engine, and the sudden silence felt sacred.

Schlatt got out and, to your surprise, ran around to your side. He opened your door like it was something he did every day like you deserved that kind of care without question. You stepped out, breathing in the night air, cooler now, crisp in your lungs. He led you to the front of the car, the metal still warm beneath you as you leaned back against it, shoulder to shoulder.

“So,” he asked, glancing sideways at you, “you like it?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, eyes locked on the view. “It’s beautiful.”without warning, that old, familiar pang of insecurity twisted in your gut. You didn’t want to ruin the moment but the question spilled out before you could catch it. “you bring girls up here often?”

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t brush it off. Instead, he turned toward you slowly, his hand sliding around your waist, grounding you again. His brows knit slightly, like he was surprised you even had to ask.

“No,” he said, voice low and deliberate. “Y/N… there aren’t any other girls. Just you. Only you.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

His grip tightened just a little not possessive, just steady. “I mean it. I know maybe I’m not the easiest guy to read, But I need you to hear me when I say this.”

You looked up at him, your heart pounded loud in your ears.

“I love you.”

The words hit like a soft blow unexpected but strangely fitting. There wasn’t any dramatic pause or sweeping gesture. Just a confession, raw and unpolished. The kind of truth that doesn’t need to be pretty to mean something.

“You might not believe it right now,” he added, voice gentler now, “but I really do. All of it. The laughs, the quiet nights, even this standing here with you when you’re hurting. I don’t want just some version of you. I want all of it.”

The tears that gathered in your eyes weren’t from pain this time. They were from the weight of being seen. Held. Loved not in spite of your scars, but with them.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, then leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his chest. “I believe you,” you whispered.

And this time, you really did.

Hope you enjoyed \(^ヮ^)/

[ohbabydollie]

“i hope a ghost starts jerking me off” (the inspo)

tws: angst, mentioned death, ghost fucking?

“you know that apparently you can get fucked by ghosts?” ted asks laughing

“really? damn, i need the third dimensional pussy from n/n” schlatt says laughing as well “i haven’t gotten laid since we laid ‘em to rest” he says jokingly as ted laughs

“jesus, y/n is rolling in their grave right now” ted says “you think she would fuck you as a ghost or not?”

“think so” he says taking a swig of his whiskey as they continue the episode laughing and smiling

that’s how he’s been coping since your death, laughing and drinking, it makes him feel better and makes him forget

he hasn’t gone into your room either since you died, it hurts him too much to be surrounded by your scent, your things, your personality seeping through in your room

seeing glimpses of you as he walks through the house seeing decorations you bought, little gifts and trinkets you had gotten for him, it all hurts too much

tonight however he couldn’t resist

seeing a bra that was yours hidden underneath his bed that he found when he was drunkenly cleaning up

he couldn’t stop himself from getting the key to your room and opening the door

seeing the decorations made his heart squeeze, the room reflected your personality

it made him sob as he walked to the bed you kept in there for comfort, sitting down and looking around, seeing all the lamps for ambiance lighting and the little trinkets

he turned on the lamps and turned off the ceiling light before laying down, immediately smelling your scent on the pillow and inhaling deeply

it smelled like you, like home, like comfort

he was surrounded by the smell of you as he sighed, realizing he had started feeling tired, slowly falling asleep

“schlatt”

he opened his eyes at the sound of your voice calling his name, only to see nothing before moving around and going back to sleep

“schlatt~”

he heard your voice again, probably going crazy from his grief, he ignored it and continued to drift off and waking up a few hours later

“2:59 am, fuck” schlatt said groggily looking at the clock on your nightstand

he sits up and stretches yawning, not meaning to have fallen asleep in your room and starts looking around before seeing you sitting at your desk

you aren’t working, more like just sitting there observing him, it’s almost enough to make him cry.

“n/n?” he asks softly looking at you

he wants to think it’s his imagination, that the alcohol has finally taken over his mind and he’s going crazy

it looks like you, just see through, just like you did the day you died still beautiful, still lovely

“my poor husband” the voice said softly as schlatt felt himself tear up “you’ve lost yourself to your habit” you said grabbing his face softly and planting kisses on it

“n/n..” schlatt said wrapping his arms around your waist, careful to not go through you

“im here for you, don’t you worry one bit” you said softly pushing his body down to the bed, his hands on your waist as your body started to feel more human again, he could practically feel the warmth radiating from you. slowly he traced his hands down and slowly lifted the white flowy dress to reveal your pussy underneath, the exact same as he remembers it.

he groans from the sight alone, so desperate for you, pressing a kiss to your lips. you let out a soft moan as he pulls you into his lap.

he parts from the kiss to look up at you, for the first time in months he feels bliss entering his body, almost like you’re still there and he never lost you. it’s like you’re still there when you take his cock into your tight heat, his hips unable to control themselves at the feeling of you.

softly thrusting up to you causing a few moans slip out from between your lips.

he starts to tear up as he clings to your body, it feels so light and soft and warm and there

he doesn’t care that it could be the alcohol or the sleep deprivation or whatever it is making him see you. he just wants to feel you one last time, have you in his bed like it’s the first time.

he kisses you softly as he cums deep in you and passes out, clinging to your form.

the next morning he woke up to three harsh bangs on the door, almost enough to shake the house. he ran to open the door and saw there a basket with a blanket

inside there was a baby

[gummysharklover]

TOLERATE IT !

summary: ᯓ˚࿔ song number 43; based off the song tolerate it by taylor swift

notes: ᯓ˚࿔ angst D: ᯓ˚࿔ hey pookies... long time no c ᯓ˚࿔ no use of y/n ᯓ˚࿔ not proofread!

wc: ᯓ˚࿔ 479

i wait by the door like i'm just a kid use my best colors for your portrait lay the table with the fancy shit and watch you tolerate it

You set the dining room table with painstaking care, meticulously draping the cream-colored cloth over the dark stained wood. You bought his favorite wine, and your hand shakes ever so slightly as you pour it into the elegant glasses. As you position the placemats, music softly hums in the background, filling the silence that has become all too familiar in your big house.

Standing in the kitchen doorway, you fidget with the hem of your sweater as you glance at the clock for the umpteenth time in the past five minutes. Schlatt's late—again. But you harshly brush the thought aside with a forced smile as you hear his keys jingle outside.

Your heart flickers with hope as he walks in, but it's crushed as he walks past you, leaving a trail of apathy as he retreats to the bedroom. Your shoulders hunch as you walk to the room, and you try to be as quiet as possible as you rasp on the door.

"I made dinner," You whisper.

"Comin'," He responds.

Half an hour passes before he lumbers out. You both cringe at the loud screech the chair makes against your wood floors as Schlatt pulls out his chair.

"How was work?" You ask with your head bowed, picking at your food.

"Same old," He mutters, and you can see the exhaustion pooling in his frown lines.

You hum, nodding your head.

Schlatt looks up at you with an unreadable expression, "Thank you for dinner. You didn't have to go through the trouble."

Your heart squeezes, and the all too familiar feeling of dread settles in your stomach, "It wasn't trouble—at all."

And it makes you wonder if this would be trouble to him—if making a nice dinner, thoughtfully setting the table, picking up a bottle of your favorite wine, would be nothing but an inconvenience. The mere thought makes your heart knot with anxiety.

You can't sleep, and your eyes water as you watch Schlatt sleep on his side. His chest expands with each breath he takes in his sleep, and you question how he can rest so easily—so peacefully. Because you sit here, basking in sorrow, unable to doze off, and it's all because of him. All because you notice the little things. You notice how he no longer engages with you the way he used to—how you rarely see that bright smile of his. You notice how quiet he is—how he doesn't laugh like he used to. You notice how he turns away from you in his sleep, no longer holding you until he can't.

You cling to the hope that you're simply imagining this growing distance, that he'll softly declare his continued adoration for you, and that all this was due to some external factor—that he isn't falling out of love. You know he won't. So you sit in silence, watching him simply tolerate it.

thank u for reading <333, please reblog if you enjoyed! it means a lot to me :D

[pray4saint]

schlatt had to remind himself every day, every night, and every time he saw you that the two of you were nothing more than friends.

we're just friends, he'd think while you'd cuddled up to him during a movie at his place. we're just friends, he'd repeat in his head when you slept in his bed despite him having a guest room. we're nothing more than friends, he'd let the words bounce around his head when you kissed cheek, and his forehead, and occasionally his lips.

here you were again before him, crying into his shoulder. your arms were wrapped tight around his neck, legs on either side of him while you sat on his lap in the living room. he listened to your cries and complaints and sobs, rubbing soothing circles into your back, under your shirt. he cooed at you and shushed you. ”she didn't deserve you y/n, you've gotta know that.”

he pressed a short kiss atop your head, rocking you side to side in his lap, much like one would a baby. still, the tears poured from your eyes. ”no use wastin' your pretty tears on her.” it really did break his heart to see you hurting over anyone, much less someone who claimed to be your friend, especially when he treated you so much better. we're just friends. but it was true, you both knew it, that he'd make a much better boyfriend as shown by how close the two of you already were. he'd even a wonderful husband one day, and you knew his spouse would be the luckiest person in the world. we're just friends. the unspoken words seem to stop him from saying anything else, anything he really wanted to tell you.

then you pulled your head up from his tear-soaked shirt, looking at him with this frown that just made him hurt. your eyes were puffy and your cheeks were red and you were sniffling horribly, but even as he looked up at you like this, you were so pretty. his lips parted as he took in how you looked above him, and your eyes flicked between his bright irises and his lips, that looked oh so soft. slowly, you leaned in, pressing a gentle, short, sweet kiss to his lips. you couldn't see how his pupils dilated or how his free hand tensed close to your thigh. he couldn't help but want more. we're just friends. right. and if you weren't friends, you wouldn't be here, in his lap, staining his shirt, letting him see you a mess, letting his hands over your skin, kissing him. if you weren't friends, there'd be someone else having you as he did. for now, being friends would have to be enough for him.

his lips pulled up into a smile, as if you didn't just kiss him. ”how about, we make some popcorn and then watch a movie in my room, hm? you can get some rest and i can keep an eye on you.” if it had been anyone else, you would've gotten up and left, but it was schlatt, and he was a good friend. with a sniffle, you nodded a yes to him.

[aerinsarsenal]

Got triggered. Gonna pour it into schlatt angst.

Second person pov or first pov, chat?

[rabbitsrams]

memories -- jschlatt x reader

warnings: ANGST. that's all

wordcount: 1.2k

a/n: WOOHOO STELLA WROTE A LONG FORM FIC

It's been two years since the breakup.

You were mostly over it, having moved all of your stuff out of your shared apartment and blocked him everywhere. The breakup was amicable but you had a feeling that 100% cutting him off would be easier for you.

You were now in the process of finally moving out of your parents' house (again) and into a new place. They let you move back in following the breakup and with that plus struggling to find a decent job, you were stuck there for a while. But this was a good sign, a sign of change. A sign of moving to the next thing.

As you went through your childhood bedroom for the last time, searching for anything that you may have left behind, you came across an old picture stuffed away in your desk drawer.

It was from that photobooth from the zoo. The zoo that you went to with Schlatt all those years ago. All of a sudden, memories began flocking back to you the more you stared at it.

The thing itself was a strip of four photos, four photos that made it seem like the two people in them were hopelessly in love. Which, at the time, they were. Two young, naive kids who were completely oblivious to what was going to come.

“Schlatt, come in here! There's a photobooth!”

”Wait, we don't wanna leave the group behind!“

”Come on! It'll be quick! I wanna have a memory from today.“

”Oh, alright.“

The photobooth was pretty small. You could only just fit together. Schlatt lifted your leg so it could rest on his and so you could be closer. The machine's garbled voice instructed the two of you on what was going to happen, telling you that four photos will be taken in intervals.

The first photo was simple, with the two of you smiling together. Schlatt had his arm around you and you leaned close to him. The flash completely blinded you two, so the second picture was of you covering your eyes, laughing at the circumstances.

The third photo had you kissing him on the cheek, his face crimson and a smitten expression on his face. And finally, the fourth one had Schlatt kissing you on the lips.

The machine was waiting for you to pay for the photos, asking in that same garbled voice for you to insert cash or a credit card. But you were too busy kissing each other to pay attention.

You eventually broke away when an angry father opened the curtain, demanding you two hurry up so him and his daughter could use the booth. You apologized to both of them profusely as Schlatt took his card out and paid for the photos.

You each got a copy of the photos, grinning at how good the pictures turned out. There was a permanent marker lying on the top of the photo dispenser. You grabbed it and wrote the date and drew a little heart with your initials on his. He took the marker from you and did the same.

You turned the strip over, seeing Schlatt's familiar handwriting. It got you wondering if he still wrote his e's like that, still added a little smiley face at the end of his notes, still had the photo like you did.

You wanted to throw it away. You wanted to completely free yourself from those memories. Memories that made you smile but hurt you at the same time. Memories of a relationship that was no more.

But there was something inside you that urged you to keep it, to bring it with you to your new place. It didn't have to be displayed on your corkboard or on your fridge. You could hide it away with your other hidden things and look at it if the urge was there.

You could still hold on.

——————————————————————————————————

Schlatt had returned to New York for a family party. It's been a while since he's been back after moving to Texas a few months after your breakup. His childhood room still looked the same and had a lot of old memories from his life.

He decided to do a little video for his second channel, giving his audience a little tour of the space they were familiar with before moving to a new space. It was going to be fun looking through old stuff from making videos at that time and

As he was going through a drawer by his desk, he saw a folded sheet inside. Putting his camera down, he took the sheet and unfolded it, surprised to feel it was camera paper as opposed to notebook paper. And he was met with quite a surprise at what the photo contained.

Seinor prom. He was dressed all nice in a tuxedo, smiling at the camera as his arms were around your middle. You were beaming, your dress being that same dress he helped pick out because it was his favorite shade of blue. You had a corsage on your wrist that he remembered the petals tickling your wrist every time you moved it.

You looked so beautiful.

He was surprised that he kept the photo, considering he made it a vow to get rid of everything. He must not have brought this photo with him when moving into that apartment.

He shut the camera off, planning to go back to recording soon. He exammined the photo, remembering that entire night.

He picked you up that night, sheepishly smiling as your parents gave him looks. Looks that would guarantee something happening to him if he ever hurt their daughter.

You looked so beautiful in your dress, in your makeup, with your hair styled so nicely. He almost forgot to give you the corsage because he could not stop staring at you.

The limo was also so nice, with you, him and your shared friends all chatting as loud music blared from the speakers. He loved how you made conversation with the driver after being dropped off, thanking them and apologizing if the group was too loud.

He dragged you to the line for prom pictures, to which you sighed because of how long it was. But the time went by fairly quickly because of how engrossed you were in a conversation.

He laughed at how cheesy the backdrop was, multi-colored fringe foil decorations barely covering the gymnasium door. The photographer, completely uninterested in what he was doing, simply told the two of you to pose and do whatever. He wrapped his arms around your torso, holding you tight as you both grinned.

"Ah! The corsage tickles!"

Schlatt folds the photo back up, this time stuffing it inside an empty pill bottle by his desk. He couldn't bring himself to get rid of the photo. He knew he still had some feelings for you even after all this time. He hated himself for hurting you so much and wished that things could have worked out.

He was hurt when he saw you blocked him, but he knew it was crucial for you to heal. And he hoped that you were doing well with everything you wanted to pursue. Your happiness was all that mattered.

He swore that he was over you, swore that he would be okay without you. But after seeing that photo, he wasn't sure if he was.

[madi-writes-things]

Francesca Pt. 2

Summary:

It broke Schlatt when he had to let Y/N go, But he would go through hell a thousand times if it meant he got to hold her again.

“If I could hold you for a minute… I’d go through it again.”

Word Count: 791

TW: Mental Illness, angst, ocd, depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, break up, pining, feelings of worthlessness, basically a self insert without a physical description, Schlatt is Based in Texas… because so am I

A/N: This totally isn’t a vent fix based loosely upon what the inside of my brain looks like on a daily basis. This is the only way to work through it, and I this fic will probably only get more complicated and sad.

Did you know that Ted is actually teal years older than Schlatt? Reader is Schlatts age. Enjoy!!!

-Madi <3

“”“”“”“”“”

Schlatt’s POV

The drive home was hell, but nothing prepares me for the first time walking into a newly empty house. It didn’t look any different at a first glance… the pictures on the walls, the dirty clothes left in a hamper, the dishes in the sink.

The reality doesn’t hit until I walk into the bedroom. Her side of the room shows no proof that anyone had been living there for the last three years. I walk over and sit down on my side with a deep sigh. I hadn’t realized that I was holding my breath.

I reach over to open up my nightstand. All that sits in the drawer is a small velvet box. All that sits inside is a nearly $5,000 ring… a ring picked out for the love of my life.

I can’t help the soft patter of tears falling to the floor beneath me.

I can’t do this without her.

“”“”“”“”“”

Three Weeks Later

I don’t even know how I found it. I was just rearranging the house in an attempt to distract myself… I was moving the bed when it happened.

As I lifted the mattress, I noticed a small pink envelope… as I moved it completely away, I was taken aback by the sight of dozens of little pink envelopes. They all had names written on them, mostly consisting of mine and Ted’s, but not limited to us.

Now I sit in the floor surrounded by a pile of the opened letters, praying that Ted answers the phone.

“Hey Schlatt, what’s up?” He sounds too happy. This will ruin his day.

“What is this?” He’s silent for a second before asking me what the hell I'm talking about. “Dear Ted, things have been getting worse… but if you’re reading this, you already know that.” I take a deep breath before continuing. “Dear Jay, this isn’t your fault.” I can practically hear the realization hit him. I hear him release a deep sigh. “Dear mom and dad… Dear Charlie… Dear Tucker… Dear Friends and Family…”

I can’t breathe. Ted is silent on the other end of the call.

“She never told you?” He sounds so calm, as if I didn’t just tell him that his best friend has a stash of suicide notes.

What.

The.

Fuck.

“You knew that she wanted to kill herself and didn’t tell me?!” My voice is laced with hurt and anger. How could he keep this from me. “You should have told me… you live almost 20 hours away, it’s not like you could have helped if she had.”

“She’s not going to kill herself Schlatt…” He sounds exhausted, like he doesn’t want to have to explain himself.

I don’t know how to respond. She obviously thinks about it, how can he be so nonchalant about this?

After a few seconds of silence he corrects himself. “She doesn’t want to kill herself, it’s just something that she thinks about sometimes.”

“How long has this been going on?” What I really want to ask is why didn’t she tell me, but I don’t know if I’ll like the answer.

Ted’s silence is deafening. It takes a good three minutes before I hear him take a long breath in. It’s ragged, much like mine.

“it’s been going on since she was like twelve… she used to tell me about it, but something happened a few years back, and she stopped talking to me.”

Twelve? That’s half her life. Why didn’t she tell me? How did I not know? Why did she shut Ted out? He was the only person she trusted.

“What happened? Why did she stop telling you about it?” I have so many questions. I have way to ask her.

Ted gets silent again, like he’s deciding if he should tell me. I stay silent, wondering if I want the answer.

Ted breaks the silence after what feels like an eternity. “After she graduated, we got a small two bedroom house together…” I can hear the hesitation, almost like he’s making sure she won’t hear him. “I was still in school, and she was working as a teachers aide at the local elementary. Not long after her 19th birthday… she… I…” Oh God. What happened? “I came home one day to one those notes on the table, and the car running in the garage. She begged me not to tell her parents… and after that she stopped telling me about her bad thoughts.”

“She’s not okay… I can’t believe I didn’t see this… you need to keep an eye on her, I can’t lose h-” I stop myself, because I already did lose her.

Ted promises that he won’t let that happen, and I hang up the phone.

“”“”“”“”“”

@unbruisable @bernardsbendystraws @sturniolo-fann @jnkvivi @stasiesturn

@h3arts4harry @slutforsturniolos @memento-rory @memea32221 @writingsbyzuzu

[hufflepuffsthunderdome]

Bikini Bottom

Schlatt x Fem!reader Summary: Reader is anxious about the scars on her legs, and struggles with wearing a bikini to the pool. Schlatt just wants to reassure them and remind them how beautiful he thinks they are. Content: she/her pronouns, fluff, angst w/ comfort, panic attacks, self criticism, body image issues, scars, allusions to self-harm or injuries (nothing specific), kissing A/N: This was based on this request from the lovely @imgayandvoreethatsall it was such a cute request I got a little bit carried away writing it so it is loooonggg.

You feel your lip wabble as you eye yourself in the mirror, tilting your head to the side as you take in your reflection staring back at you. Mocking you. It was a scorching week in LA and everyone was making use of the pool that came with the Airbnb you were staying at, as they had been everyday the temperature had hit anywhere near 80 degrees.

It was a gorgeous pool, with a huge patio, deck chairs, glass fencing overlooking the LA hills, one of those stupid waterfall things that all the rich people had. You'd been spending most of your week feeling shit, despite the gorgeous background, lounging on a deck chair in your t-shirt and shorts, trying to keep your eyes glued to the pages of the book you were reading. Every now and again though, you'd look up and just eye your friends having fun in the pool. The chuckle boys were here, filming some stuff, Tucker, his wife, Ted, his girlfriend, Schlatt and a number of other mutual friends they had invited to hang out, including you.

You couldn't help the jealousy in your eyes as you looked at all your friends as they seemed to glide around the pool without a care in the world. It wasn't their fault, you loved them dearly, but it's true when they say there's a certain type of person in LA. Tall, slim, tanned, stunning. You'd watch your girlfriends as they'd sit next to the pool, their long, slim, smooth legs danging in the water, their bleach blonde hair tossed back as they laughed, sun shining off their pearly white teeth. God it made you feel ill.

You had gotten out of it all originally, when the pool talk came up, "oh I don't have a swim suite," you had told Ted, cringing at the disappointment on the faces of your friends as you shrugged softly, "I'll come sit out there though."

But as the temperature kept ticking up, your friends kept asking, and by god did you wanna use the pool. So you bit the bullet, fucking chewed and swallowed that thing more like, and went out and bought a bikini.

It was cute, you had to admit to yourself as you look at yourself in the mirror, and if it was anything else you'd be fawning over yourself in it. It was some ruffly thing that hugged your chest great, high waisted bottoms cupping your ass and stopping just below your belly button. As cute as it was it did nothing to cover your legs.

You feel the tears well up in your eyes as you look down at them, sucking your lip between your teeth to stop the flood gate from opening. Long scars litter the sides of your upper leg, some red, some pink, some white, staring up at you mockingly. It 's embarrassing, walking around with these stupid lines on your legs. While everyone else is model esque perfect, you're covered in the permanent reminder of your past. Of pain and suffering that taunt you, knowing you've missed that chance at perfection.

A soft knock at the door startles you away from the mirror as it creaks open the tiniest bit at your silence. "Y/N?" you hear Schlatt say, his accent thick on his tongue as his tone is soft and gentle, "you ok?"

You hum, as you quickly scramble for your shorts, pulling on the board shorts over your legs as you open the door, plastering on a smile as you look up at Schlatt, "hey, I'm good yeah."

He laughs as he moves out of the way, letting you step out of the room, "I thought you got lost in the bed sheets."

You laugh softly as you walk with him out to the pool, tugging on your shorts when you feel them ride up the tiniest bit, "I was just hyping myself up." you admit softly as you feel your face warm up at your confession.

"For what?"

“You know,” you say as you motion down to your bikini, stomach tensing when you feel his eyes trail down your body. Schlatt next to you swallows thickly as he looks over your body, admiring the way the bikini top hugs your chest, the way the shorts hang off your hips so enticingly.

“You coming swimming?” he asks, as he snaps his eyes back up to your face, furrowing his brow at the anxiety on your face. Your small nod is all he needs before a grin is breaking out on his face and he's hoisting you up into his arms the second your feet hit the outdoor patio. You squeal in delight as you thrash around in his arms, his gaze loving as he beams up at you as you squirm. “Look who I dragged out,” he calls out excitedly as your friends cheer, ignoring your shrieks of protest as he strides over to the pool, howling with laughter as he unceremoniously drops you into the water.

Everyone's calmed down a bit as the afternoon wears on, lounging in or around the pool as they chat happily. You're standing over with Schlatt and your friend Amy as you all chat, your body pressed up next to Schlatt as you lean against the wall.

"I wanna get a photo," Sophie, a girl you don't know super well says excitedly as she stands up from her towel. Some people excitedly shuffles over to the fence of the property, overlooking the hills, Amy grinning down at you when she pulls herself out of the pool, "you coming?"

You hesitate as you look at her outstretched hand, going to reach out for her to help you out before Sophie's valley girl voice cuts you off, "maybe the next one Y/N? Like we love a 2000s chic board short look but... this one's for the 'gram," she says as she stares at her phone, not even looking up at you, "you know how it is."

A tense silence falls over the pool as your friends stare at Sophie in shock, a few people you don't know super well humming in agreement, as you let Amy pull you out of the pool none the less. You look at Amy to see the shock already on her face, turning to meet Schlatt's eyes and see the anger burning behind his iris.

"Fine," you mumble as you push the shorts down your legs, taking a deep breath as you push yourself forward and walk over to where the girls are lining up, "am i 'gram ready now?" you say, sickly sweet as Amy laughs next to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder.

Schlatt stares in awe at your confidence, as much as he can tell you're putting it on. He loves seeing you like this, unwilling to take anyone's shit, it's hot in a way he's not brave enough to admit out loud. He lets out a low whistle as he moves over to the other wall, closer to where you're all waiting to take the photo, "yeah Y/N," he says as he claps, smiling to himself as he watches you blush and turn your head into Amy's neck to whisper something to her. He wolf whistles at you while you take the photo, not so subtly hyping you up as he admires you, watching as you laugh at his antics and cling to Amy as Tucker snaps pictures of all of you.

"That was incredible," he says, a proud grin plastered on his face when you get back in the pool, "you've got the biggest balls of anyone here, shutting her up like that.”

That makes you throw your head back and laugh as you sink back into the pool next to him, placing a hand on his bicep to help you in, "thanks for hyping me up."

"You don't have to thank me," he says sweetly as he takes a gently hold of your waist and helps you in, "that's what I'm here for."

Sophie didn't even end up posting the photos, you think she got her ego hurt a bit by everyone teasing her about her 'gram for the rest of the afternoon. But Amy did, and you couldn't stop tearing over them.

They were cute photos, some of the group, some of just the two of you she had taken, but god you couldn’t stop looking at your legs. You should've put your shorts back on, Amy wouldn't have mind. you should’ve asked her even to edit them, she would’ve said yes, but you couldn’t face the embarrassment. Instead, you just sat here, feet danging in the water as you zoomed in on yourself, not even daring to open the comments.

"Hey," you hear Schlatt's voice say as he approaches you from the house, hand coming over your shoulder to hand you a bottle of something that you take eagerly. He smiles down at you as he sits down, rather ungracefully next to you, legs joining yours in the water with a splash, "you alright?"

That's something you always admired about Schlatt, his ability to turn it off and just be with you when you needed it. He was undeniably loud and in your face when he wanted to be, but he had this ability of reading the room like no one you've ever met before, knowing when you needed someone to just sit and talk. You look up at him and nod as you sip your drink, turning to look back at your phone next to you.

"What's wrong?"

You let out an annoyed groan as you lay back on the tiles behind you, unlocking and handing him your phone. There's no point hiding it from him, he has a way of reading you, you might as well just show him.

He scrolls across the pictures Amy posted, smiling to himself when he sees the one of you with her, tilting your head back and laughing, "what's wrong with these? They're cute."

"Cute?!" you say as you look up at him wide eyed, "omg cute?! Look at my legs," you groan, "ugh it makes me wanna puke."

"Your legs?" he asks as he glances at you, face scrunched up in confusion before he looks back at the phone, "what's wrong with your - oh," he says as his eyebrows raise when he notices what you're talking about.

"Oh god it's so bad isn't it?"

"What? No, no I didn't mean it like that," he says as he zooms in on your legs, taking in the sight of the scars littering them that he's never really taken note of before. He's seen them sure, but he's always been too focused on the soft curves of your thighs to ever really notice.

You're both silent for a while before he speaks, "is this why you haven't been swimming with us?" You just nod as you take the phone back from his hands, zooming in on yourself again as you sigh.

He glances down at you next to him as he takes in your sad expression, feeling his heart ache as he watches your slumped figure stare intently at your phone, "you have an even bigger dick than I thought then for earlier."

You laugh softly as you roll your eyes, looking up at him as you nudge him, sitting up again. "But seriously," he continues, "I'm proud of you," he says as he looks down at you, taking in the way your face is lit up in the dim blue light of the pool.

"Really?" you whisper back, leaning into his side the tiniest bit as you seek out his warmth.

"It's not easy, putting yourself on display," he says as his eyes flick down to your legs for the tiniest second before meeting your face again, hand twitching at his side as he fights the urge to reach out and touch you, "especially when you're worried about something like that."

You nod silently as you fully lean into his side now, resting your head against his arm as the two of you enjoy each other's presence. It feels nice, to feel seen like this, to have someone who notices you, faults and all, and is here anyway.

"When I started gaining weight, it took me ages before I was willing to swim without a shirt on again," he admits as he snakes an arm around to rest on the tile next to your hip.

"Really?!" you ask as you look up at him, turning slightly to rest your chin on his arm as you watch him stare down at the water.

"Oh yeah, like so long," he nods as he moves his legs in the water, watching the way it ripples around his movement, "I was just convinced that everyone would be staring at me the entire time," he shrugs, "and like, sometimes people do you know? I'm not gonna lie... but most people didn't even think twice about it. And if they did they didn't care."

"Do you think anyone noticed my legs today?" you ask as you pull away, looking up at him pensively as you think back on the day. It's hard to remember if the burning of people's gazes on your body was real or just your anxiety convincing you it was.

"Honestly?" he asks softly and you nod, "probably not. Like not in a bad way, just like, I don't think most of our friends really pay attention to that sort of shit."

There's a moment of silence before he's laughing as he looks down at you, "I know I for one was more focused on these puppies," he says as he dramatically and blatantly staring at your chest, "awooga," he says as he hangs his tongue out and dramatically pants.

"I hate you," you say as you fall apart laughing, pushing him away from you and watching him dramatically fall into the pool.

"Don't look so hot and we won't have a problem," he laughs when he comes up to the surface, laying on his back and flailing a bit as he attempts to float.

"You're so unbuoyant?" you question as you stare at him confused, howling in laughter as he flails around.

"Oh yeah like you can do any better," he says as he faux glares at you, fighting the smile creeping onto his lips at the sound of you laughing.

You bite your lip as you smile giddily, pressing your hands against the edge of the pool and slipping into the cool water as you feel it envelope you, "I'm a goddamn pool floatie, I'll have you know."

You lay back in the water, and let yourself float, the rhythmic pattern of the pool jets whirling through the water as it surrounds you, calming you. Your breathing sounds impossibly loud as you take long and deep breaths, but you open your eyes to find the night sky staring back at you. It's not often you see starts in LA, but the few twinkling in the night right now ground you. It's just you, Schlatt and the sky right now, the way you like it.

You flip back over and dunk under the water, pushing your hair back out of your face as you swim up and smile up at Schlatt, "told you so," you tease, but find him already staring at you.

He's looking at you, lips parted slightly as he leans against the wall of the pool, arms resting on the side as his eyebrows raise when you meet his gaze. It makes your heart stutter as you swim closer to him. His tongue swipes across his lower lip as you approach, hands coming to rest by his side as he looks down at you, sinking down into the water so he's closer to you.

"I'm glad you came in with me," he whispers as he smiles softly down at you, almost nervous to break the silence in the air, "I know it's not easy," he takes a deep breath as he gently brings a hand down to touch your waist, "you look amazing though."

You let out a dismissive scoff and shake your head, turning to look off into the distance as you feels Schlatt's eyes stay locked on yours, "thanks," you whisper softly, not really believing it yourself.

You feel his large hand, surprisingly delicate, take a hold of your chin gently and turn your head to look back at him. His eyes stare down at you, soft and loving as you feel the warmth rush to your face as you gaze up at him, "I mean it, you're so beautiful."

He leans in closer, just a tiny bit, but it's enough to make the water ripple around you. His hand moves from your chin to cup your cheek gently, other hand moving under the water to hover over your outer thigh. You feel the water move and you let out a shaky breath, as you bring your hand down to touch his, gently pressing it into your skin. His large hand lays delicately on your thigh for a second, before pressing into the skin ever so slightly as his thumb rubs along your cheek, "you're the most stunning person I've ever seen."

The way he says it, so soft, so earnest, filled with love and unspoken words, makes you let out a shaky breathe you didn't realise you were holding as you move in closer to him. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean into his hand, basking in the feeling of his warmth, his hands on your thigh, soft breath hitting your lips.

You're so caught up in the feeling of each other that you hadn't even noticed the door slide open, or the sound of wet footsteps running towards the pool until a tidal wave of water wallops you and Schlatt as Tucker and Ted laugh manically when they resurface.

"Ever the good timing fellas," Schlatt mumbles, apologetic eyes drifting to you when you swim away from him.

You had made your escape the night before, clambing out of the pool into the dark, where you could secure a towel around you and bask in your safety under it's cover and sinking into the group inside to chat happily with your friends.

Now however, as the sun rose over the horizon, you found yourself looking over your body the same as yesterday. The scars on your thighs stuck out to you like a sore thumb, but you felt better today, more confident. No one would notice and if they did, they wouldn't care, you told yourself. At least Schlatt wouldn't care, he had your back.

"Here she is," Amy squeals excitedly from where she's lounging in the pool when she sees you coming, flopping off the floatie with an excited giggle as she pushes her sunnies up her face.

"And looking fucking fine as hell I might add," Schlatt says with a grin on his face as he walks out of the house behind you, just loud enough for you to hear, bottles of beer in his hand. You roll your eyes and scrunch up your nose as you steal a beer from his hand, walking over to join your friends in the pool.

The day goes on, the sun beaming down on everyone, and you find for the first time in a long while, you're able to forget about your body. Forget about the way you look and the things you hate about it and just exist. It's not perfect, but it's a start.

Schlatt watches from the window in the kitchen of the airbnb as you play with some beach ball someone found, passing it around to people as you grin happily. He just stares, beers he came in to get getting warm on the counter as he just stands there and watches you enjoy yourself. You look angelic; sunkissed and carefree, something he hasn't seen from you in a long time.

"You'll burn a hole through her head if you keep staring," Ted laughs as he walks into the kitchen behind Schlatt, putting the beers he got out back in the fridge and grabbing cool ones instead.

“Can you blame me man,” he says, not even trying to deny that he was staring, he's played this coy denial game when Ted's asked about his feelings for you for too long to care anymore, "she looks great in that bikini."

“That's what's making you act so clingy?” Ted asks as he stands next to Schlatt, taking a sip of his beer as he hands one to Schlatt. Schlatt just nods, watching the way you move as you jump up in the water to grab the beach ball.

Ted lets out a whistle as he watches too, "I can't blame you dude," he says as he takes a gulp of his drink and dodging away from the friendly punch he knows is coming, "she is pretty hot."

More people had trickled into the Airbnb for the rest of the afternoon, as the sun slowly began to set. People you didn't really recognise, friend of a friend kinda people that were just so LA, as Schlatt had said after escaping a conversation with some surfer looking dude and retreating back to your group.

Ted and Amy had been bouncing around the new people who've rocked up, you're not sure if they're their friends or if they're both just social like that, but you, Schlatt and Tucker had retreated to your safe little corner of the pool, to just chat happily.

“Come on you lot,” Ted says as he comes around the pool to your corner, “stop being antisocial.” He whisks you all over to a large group that has formed around a tiny, shitty little fire pit, where chairs had been pulled over to form little groups.

“Some fire,” Tucker scoffs as Ted forces you all to sit down next to him, with a few other people who are chatting to each other.

“The whole city will burn down if you even think of anything bigger,” you laugh as you eye the tiny fire pit, the light from it casting you in a warm glow as you feel the water on you begin to dry in it's slight heat.

Seeming to notice your precence suddenly, the rest of your new little groups introduces themselves and begin to join you in on their conversation. They're talking about some movie they worked on recently that Ted is fascinated by, and you smile and nod along to as you listen to their stories.

They're a very sweet group, you get to know them for a while as they chat, but they're not the most tactful. They had said some weird things already, that you can tell weren't meant to be mean, but just weren't thought through before they slipped out. Something about Tucker being a bad guy for joining the military, and Schlatt's accent making him sound uneducated or some shit. Stupid stuff that the guys shrugged off.

Something you couldn't shrug off though, were the looks they kept giving you. The not so subtle glances you'd catch when they'd look at you, eyes blatantly drifting down to your legs everytime you'd talk. Unlike yesterday, you couldn’t convince yourself this was in your head. This was happening right in front of you, obviously and without shame.

They kept doing it, just openly staring at the scars up your thighs whenever you talked, as if you were nothing more than a spectical to gawk at. You weren't sure if they were even listening, or if they only pretended they were so they could get another look to judge you.

You knew what would happen, the second you all left they'd start whispering, what happened to her? How did she get those scars? Just sitting there like that, out in the open?

You couldn't breathe proeprly, your chest getting tighter everytime you felt their eyes burning into your skin. Each time they'd turn to look at you it felt hotter and closer, as if they were silently telling more poeple to look. To turn and stare at the freak, to point and laugh at your scars. God it was so embarrassing. You felt disgusting.

"I'll be back," you blurt suddenly, interupting Tucker as you stand up, knocking your chair over in the process as you fumble to pick it up, throat feeling tight when more people look over at the comotion. You push your way through the group and book it into the house, finding the first room you can, luckily a bathroom and locking the door behind you.

You tear a towel off the hanger and wrap it around your waist to save yourself having to look at your scars anymore, hands shaking as you attempt to secure it. You grip the counter as much as you can as you double over, heaving chest attempting to breathe as you stare down at the sink, gasping. Your head feels like it's spinning, eyes struggling to focus on anything as you look up at the ceiling, panting and weezing as you try to calm yourself down.

The door handle jiggles and you choke back a gasp as you try to stay silent, short shallow gasps escaping your lips as you try not to choke. It jiggles again and you manage to cough out, "occupied."

“It's me,” Schlatt's concerned voice comes from the other side, "can I come in?”

You let our a choked breath as you reach blindly for the door, unlocking it and stepping back against the wall as Schlatt pushes the door open and steps inside, shutting it behind him.

You stare up at the ceiling, throat tightening more as you feel his concerned eyes on you, heaving to bring in a breath as you refuse to look at him. It's a heartbreaking sight, to watch you like this, watch your face scrunch up in pain as you struggle to breath. He reaches out a hand gently, hovering it just over your shoulder, "can I touch you?"

You nod urgently as you finally lower your gaze to look at him, sputtering as you feel the spit pool in your mouth as you cough and choke, doubling over as you try to calm yourself down.

"You're ok," he says softly, watching you with concerned eyes as he slowly lowers you to the ground, which you happily oblige, going to pull your knees up to your chest to sooth yourself before he stops you, "sit up straight if you can."

You follow his soft instructions as your brain throbs, hazy from the lack of oxygen you're taking in. You preen at his soft praise, "that's perfect, now breathe with me ok."

His voice shakes with nerves as he watches you struggle, hands gripping your shoulders firmly as he keeps his face infront of your eyes, taking a deep breath in and nodding as you attempt to follow. "Perfect, that's perfect."

He sits with you for a while, breathing with you through the panic attack until you can breathe on your own. He feels his own breathing return to normal when you slump your head back against the wall, eyes shutting from exhaustion as your chest begins to rise and fall in a steady pattern.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks, looking at you with furrowed brows as he keeps his arms firmly on your shoulders. He doesn't wanna push you to talk if you're not ready, but he desperately wants to know what happened to make you feel this way.

"They were staring," you say, voice barely above a whisper as your face scrunches up as the painful burn of their gazes return to your skin.

His face morphs to one of realisation as he glances down at the towel around your waist, heart aching at the pain across your face, "shit, Y/N," he whispers as he pulls you into a tight hug. His strong arms wrap firmly around you, bringing you closely into his chest as he buries his face in your hair, rubbing your back when he feels you exhale a shaky breath into his chest. He just wants to keep you here, in his arms, where he can make sure you know how perfect you are.

"I know it won't help with how shit it feels," he whispers into your hair, "but seriously fuck them," he presses a gentle kiss to your head as he asks, "was it that lot we were sitting with?"

You just nod as you burry you head further into his chest, trying to escape the world. His arms tighten again around you and you feel your heartbeat in your ears as he holds you firmly against him. You barley make out what he says over the static in your brain as you melt against him, something about their personalities being faker than their teeth.

"At least you're fucking real," he says as he pulls away slightly, keeping his arms tight around your waist, "real and strong... and fucking perfect."

His words warm you up from the inside as you gaze up at him, sucking your lip between your teeth as your stomach flutters. You are real, and so is he. Right now, the feeling of his arms firmly around your waist is more real and more important to you than anything else outside this bathroom.

He watches you, eyes drifting down to your teeth as they chew in your lip, his thumb coming up to gently tug it free. Running the pad of his thumb across the smooth, soft skin of your lip he can't help the way his lips part, the way his breathing gets heavier as he takes in the sight of you, "so perfect," he whispers again as he leans in.

His thumb moves from your lips and is replaced with the soft warmth of his lips against yours, gently ghosting over yours, giving you a chance to pull away.

You pull your arms free from where they're sandwiched between you two and wrap them around his neck, pulling him closer to you. You push your lips firmer against his, melting into the kiss as you push yourself against his.

Schlatt lets out a breath into your mouth he didn't realise he was holding, your lips moving against his as he poured all his love and devotion into the kiss. He wanted you to feel beautiful. To feel safe. To feel loved. He pulled you closer again, flush against his chest, sure you could feel his heart beat against yours as your lips moved in tandem. He felt the spark that everyone talks about, that spark that he always thought was some sappy shit, but right now feels so real.

You lift yourself onto your knees, kneeling with him so you're closer to his height, lips staying locked together. He was warm, and gentle, taking his time to move his lips against yours in a way that reminded you that he was here for you, nothing else. Just you, as you are. The towel shifts from your waist and drops down your legs a bit, leaving you in your bikini and him in his shorts, warm skin pressed against each other. His hand comes down to lay gently against your thigh, soft and gentle against the scars there, and you don't move, you don't flinch or shy away, instead, you lean into him more.

He pulls away panting softly, his hold firm and loving on you as he whispers against your lips, "you're so perfect."

For the first time in a long time you believe it.

[frostedsugarcookiehearts]

₁ the year you died

teenagers with burdens too heavy to utter, a pack of marlboros, a beat up old red '66 chevrolet el camino, a sweltering new york summer the year before college and too many hours to waste.

in the summer of 2015, the door to schlatt's room was white.

in the summer of 2016, the door to schlatt's room was bright pink with spots of turquoise and yellow, a huge rainbow on it and two pairs of handprints― yours and his, your names etched under it in the wood of the door with your pocketknife.

in the summer of 2017, the door to schlatt's room was white again. but the color under was still just faded enough where you could see there used to be something there― something important.

the door, a messy amalgamation of color that looked like a cross between an LSD trip and someone had tripped over piles of paint, swung open. schlatt shot up from his bed, taking one of his headphones out. "what the fuck, ma―"

but it wasn't his mom, it was his best friend. "hey loser, get your lazy ass off your bed, and let's go do something! it's the summer of junior year," reminding him as if he didn't know that already, he was pulled to his feet and shoved into his own garage. he blinked, and then suddenly the two of you were out biking the hectic streets of a new york summer. delivery boys swerved their mopeds to inch away from you, middle aged mothers muttered curses under their breaths at you they hoped their children couldn't hear, and grumpy old men on the street shook their fists at you like you were heathens.

drenched in sweat, breaths heavy like aging smokers', you two clamored into schlatt's tiny new york apartment. his mother made chicken pot pie as she gently asked you about college, and boldly you proclaimed you were going to harvard. an absurd notion for your shoddy new york streets, scruffed vans, jagged hands self, but then schlatt's dad let out a gruff laugh― eerily the exact one schlatt himself had a few beers deep. the four of you sat at the dinner table together, a flickering lamp illuminating the room.

laughter filled up the halls in schlatt's apartment, and whenever you two got the chance you'd sneak out back to the woods behind his place, which you affectionately called "farfignugenville", because the tongue twister always made you and schlatt laugh. grabbing the switchblade you always kept in the pocket of your blue jeans, you'd carve both your intials into the trees. said, "it wasn't morally wrong if you two were meant to be in history forever." schlatt believed you. he believed everything you ever said― your voice was his bible.

breaking down bedroom doors with his worn highschool varsity baseball bat, smoking cigarettes even though his lips were virgin in partial to it was how schlatt was after his mother had told him. her words had sort of all blurred together, kind of sounded fake― he'd taken it like one of her lectures, tuned her out. but this time it was real. something important. you were gone. if he was three years old, she would've used a dumb euphemism like "up in the farm" or "in a nice place far, far away". but he wasn't. he was seventeen. a man now.

nothing was the same after that.

schlatt had the same bike since he was seven years old, when he still believed in santa claus and his favorite power ranger was the red one. he'd gotten that damn bike when he'd played his first game of minecraft, as well. but now he stood in front of his apartment after hearing the news, frozen as he saw the pole outside his house bare. normally your bicycle and his were in tandem together, tied up on the same black pole for years. but they were both gone.

and schlatt snapped. he asked around the neighborhood until a bunch of eighth graders whispered gossip to him that it was a troublemaker in the neighborhood named corduroy, that he'd done it to mess with schlatt, but mainly you. hearing your name coming from someone else lips after knowing you were gone filled him with a sense of white-hot rage that he was only sure he felt. promptly, he beat the shit out of the snotty little eighth grader, spit on him while he was down, and stole his shitty fake id that looked like it was made at a toys-r-us out of crayon.

lipstick and hair astray, schlatt rolled over on top of a blissed-out girl with her black hair spread out on the ground just as her legs were, her red lipstick painted all over his body as if he were a mural and not a douchey teenage boy. the grass under her tickled his thighs and he could almost ignore the glimpse out of the corner of his eyes of the two of you's initials etched into the oak he had the girl pressed up against. he'd taken her out to the woods you'd dumbly referred to as "farfignugenville" and simply called it, his voice deep and more like his fathers' now, "the path." his breath was heavy and his heart didn't speed up as he tossed the used condom to the side, it seeping into the dirt of the oak tree. a crude slapping noise came as it collilded with the spot you'd etched your initials onto the tree. you'd have hated him for it― for littering, for sleeping with her, for beating the shit out of that kid, for everything. he hated himself for it too.

he drank until he gave the word "alcoholic" a new definition, still using the crumpled up shitty one he'd gotten from the eighth grader. the path had become a new place for him to hangout with his new pothead stoner douchebag friends, the popular crowd, kids who hated you. who hated him. they didn't hate the fun he brung, though, or the booze. and so they drank and drank until their livers gave and their parents called the police on them. one night after the red-and-blue lights stained the windows of schlatt's apartment again, his father slapped him and his mother told them they were getting a divorce.

there was a permanent stain where you'd once been when at fourteen you tried to wash your clothes and dropped the bleach on the carpet. there were new stains surrounding it now, especially from barf after one of schlatt's parties that he pretended weren't only thrown because his friends used him for his house, and he mopped up that stain like it was his damn future career― which it probably would be if he kept acting like a damn fool― to cover it up from his parents. the barf stain went away. the bleach one didn't.

he, after a drunken bender, woke up naked and wrapped in paper towels next to his friends in their old neighbors' backyard, a grumpy old man with a rifle. his friends laughed, their breaths reeking of alcohol as the familiar sing of sirens filled their ears. the neighbors son, a boy in schlatt's class, came outside and screamed at the lot as they shimmied into their clothes. schlatt, ears ringing and fists clenched tight, decked him in the face and broke his nose. as the boy lay, his nose in hand, tears prickling his eyes, schlatt scoffed distastefully. "fuckin' faggot." he grumbled, much to his friends delight, as they burst into annoying laughter that sounded like shrill grating.

taken a bat to his mailbox and bent it out of shape, he'd gotten his college acceptance letter in the mail three weeks late. it was aged and yellow, the page crinkled with the emblem of the local state school on the front. accepted for once in his life, schlatt celebrated by going to the grocery store and buying himself a six-pack. his brown steely eyes had instilled fear in so many youth and adults alike eyes, but the minute he saw the auburn hair in a ponytail that was your mothers, those eyes were anywhere but on her. he couldn't bare to look at her. you looked eerily like her.

so that day he drove the '66 chevy to a rock, all brandished with your name and surrounded by flowers from people who hated you when you were alive, but now out of courtesy pretended to be your friend. he planted his feet in front of it, trying to find duds in the lining of his blue jeans pockets to offer you. only things he could muster were rolling papers and condom wrappers, so he'd sprinkled those on the mulch. they'd gotten thrown out promptly by the graveyard security, deemed as an act of "vandalism" and brandished on his permanent record.

and as he walked home alone that night, he'd turned on radiohead.

-> for anyone who couldn't tell (it wasn't that publicized dw) the title is the name of this poem of the same name and is the inspiration for this fic. please read it helps you understand !! :3

divider credits: @issysh3ll

[kenritolicious]

hurt/comfort with schlatt ? he takes care of the reader!

omg yes. sorry the last one is taking so long but im going to try and get this one done faster

[cathers-world]

I have a French assignment so when I’m done w/that I’ll start writing the Schlatt fic

[emarie-writes]

Five More Minutes

JSchlatt x GN!Reader

Summary: When Schlatt refuses to leave his desk for bed, the reader takes matters into their own hands—giving him a late-night distraction.

Warnings: Suggestive content (mdni 18+), smutty toward the end but nothing explicitly said, kinda brat!reader yum

The soft glow of the monitor lit up Schlatt’s face in the otherwise dark room, casting sharp shadows under his eyes and across his jaw. His headset was pushed back behind his ears, one hand on the mouse, the other rubbing tired circles into his temple. The late hour clung to the air like dust—still, heavy, and quiet, save for the occasional sharp click-click of editing cuts and his muttered cursing. You leaned against the doorframe in one of his old hoodies, the hem brushing your thighs and your arms crossed over your chest. “You said ‘five more minutes’ an hour ago.”

“I meant it an hour ago,” he shot back, voice gruff. “Now it’s critical. The transitions are outta whack, and the audio is peakin’. It’s a mess, toots.”

“Toots,” you echoed, brows raising as you pushed off the frame and padded over to him barefoot. “You’re a mess. It’s almost 2 a.m. and you’re still yelling at Adobe Premiere like it owes you rent.”

He didn’t look at you, just dragged the timeline across with a frustrated grunt. “Maybe if it did, it’d work right.”

You rolled your eyes but your expression softened as you slipped behind him, arms wrapping lazily over his shoulders. “Come to bed. Please?”

“Mmhm,” he muttered, leaning into the warmth of you pressed against his back but not budging. “Just—gimme a sec.”

You leaned down, lips brushing his ear. “You’re really gonna make me drag you away from this desk?”

He finally glanced over, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You threatening me, sweetheart?” You were already sliding down, slow and teasing, until your knees pressed into the carpet beneath his desk. His chair creaked as he turned slightly, wide-eyed now. “Wait, you—babe—?”

You gave him a slow smile, hands bracing on his thighs. “If you won’t come to bed, I’ll just have to give you a reason to want to finish up.”

He swore under his breath, voice low and gravelly. “Jesus Christ…”

You reached up and tugged gently at his waistband. “Keep editing. Pretend I’m not here.”

“Oh yeah, real easy,” he muttered, face already flushed as he stared at the screen and tried to act like he wasn’t completely unraveling. His voice cracked when he tried to speak again. “This is a violation of workplace conduct, y’know that?”

“Good thing we’re not at work.”

He huffed, biting back a groan, and let his head drop back against the chair. “God, I fuckin’ love you.”

“You better. Now shut up and finish your video.”

And he tried—he really did—but that night, the only thing he managed to finish was you.