Ao3 Is Crazy Because You'll Read The Most Gut-wrenching 200k Word Slowburn That Leaves You Sobbing Into

2022 schlatt please save me. please save me 2022 schlatt. headband schlatt, if you can hear me. headband schlatt save me. save me 2022 schlatt please.

I’d let him

Pairing: Jschlatt (Jay) x fem!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Southern Gothic setting, suggestive themes, longing, age-appropriate obsession, minor religious guilt, emotionally charged romantic tension, kissing, not entirely innocent thoughts, suggestive content, TWINK SCHLATT!!!

Summary: You’ve always watched him from afar. Jay, the loud-mouthed boy with bruised knuckles and a laugh that makes you feel dizzy. You’re sweet, or at least you were, before he looked at you like that. Now you can’t stop thinking about him. And worse, he’s finally started noticing you back.

A/N: Hope this ruins you in the softest, most Southern gothic Ethel Cain way possible. 😘 fr though I love this song with schlatt and this plot/setting just screams twink schlatt to me okay- like all of the skinny trashy boys I had a crush on in high school who smoked way too much weed

You saw him for the first time the summer you turned eighteen, when the heat came in thick and slow like molasses, and the pavement outside the gas station bubbled under your sneakers. You were elbow-deep in freezer burn, rearranging popsicles behind the counter, when the bell above the door rang and your world tilted just a little.

He walked in like he owned the place, all long limbs and loud voice, laughing at something one of his friends said. God, that laugh. Big and brash, like the kind of boy who didn’t apologize for anything.

He was wearing a cut-off tee with a band you didn’t know and a backwards hat that barely contained the curls at the back of his neck. You watched from behind the freezer glass, pretending to look busy as he strutted past the aisle of honey buns and beef jerky, jaw chewing absentmindedly on a toothpick like it had done something to offend him.

He didn’t look at you. Not then.

But you looked at him.

And you kept looking.

⸻

Jay wasn’t the kind of boy you brought home.

He was the kind you watched from across the parking lot while pretending to count scratch-offs. The kind of boy your mama warned you about when she told you to keep your legs closed and your eyes down.

But you couldn’t help it.

He was loud and messy and wild in a way this place wasn’t. The kind of boy who’d get in a fistfight for fun and then kiss you in the fallout. He wore his meanness like cologne and spat sunflower seeds at your feet without saying sorry.

You didn’t know him. Not really.

But you wanted to.

⸻

You made a habit of knowing when he’d show up.

His truck would growl into the lot just after 7PM, rattling like it had a death wish. You’d hear it before you saw him, bass turned up too high, the windows rolled down even though the AC worked fine.

He always parked sideways like rules didn’t apply, and strolled in with two of his friends trailing behind him like bad ideas. His voice was always the loudest. Sharp, cutting, dipped in something vulgar and funny.

You kept your eyes low. Played it safe.

But you felt it.

The pull.

The ache.

The heat that bloomed somewhere just below your ribs and spread like spilled syrup when he walked too close, smelled like smoke and gasoline.

And you started dressing different.

Just a little.

Gloss on your lips. Baby tee tucked tight. A daisy clipped behind your ear.

All soft, sweet things.

Things you hoped he’d want to ruin.

⸻

One day, he looked at you.

Really looked.

You were leaning on the counter, chin in hand, flipping through a trashy tabloid when the bell jingled and Jay swaggered in alone. No friends this time. Just him and the thick heat and the sound of cicadas screaming outside.

You didn’t glance up fast enough.

But when you did—

He was already looking.

Right at you.

His eyes dragged over you, slow and lazy like he had nowhere to be. His smirk curled, and he walked right up to the counter, chewing on nothing, eyes half-lidded and cruel.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you before,” he said.

You blinked. Swallowed.

“I work nights.”

“Shame,” he muttered, tapping the counter with a ringed finger. “Guess I’ve been missin’ out.”

Your face burned, but your voice stayed steady. “You want anything?”

He grinned. “Yeah. What’s your name?”

You told him.

He said it once, trying it out. “Pretty.”

You should’ve laughed.

Instead, you stared at the way his lip curled around the word, the way he leaned forward like he was gonna say something awful, something filthy, and you would’ve let him. You would’ve listened to every word.

But he just winked.

Grabbed a cherry soda from the fridge and left a crumpled dollar on the counter.

No change.

No goodbye.

You watched him walk out into the heat, long and golden and made of sharp edges.

You didn’t breathe for a whole minute.

⸻

You started writing about him in your journal.

Nothing serious.

Just little things.

Like the way he scratched the back of his neck when he was bored. Or how he always seemed to know when someone was watching him and looked smug about it. You wrote down the songs he played when his truck idled in the lot. You imagined what his voice would sound like in your bedroom, saying things you weren’t supposed to want to hear.

You didn’t love him.

You just wanted to kiss him so hard your teeth ached.

You just wanted to be his, even if only for a night.

⸻

Two weeks later, he showed up again.

This time, he leaned on the counter and said, “You ever been out to the creek?”

You blinked. “What creek?”

“The one past Miller’s farm. Little spot with the rope swing.” He smiled like he knew you wouldn’t say no. “You should come.

You didn’t ask why.

You just nodded, heart jackhammering against your ribs

.

“Tonight,” he said. “Ten sharp. Don’t be late.”

And just like that, you were his.

⸻

You told your mama you were staying at a friend’s.

Put on your shortest skirt. Slicked on lip gloss that tasted like strawberries and sin. Walked barefoot down the gravel path until his headlights found you.

He didn’t say hi.

Just opened the passenger door and looked you over like he’d won something.

You climbed in, silent and sweating.

The cab smelled like sweat and spearmint and a boy who never cared what time it was.

He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting just a little too close to your thigh.

The radio played something low and slurred, and he tapped the beat on his knee like he didn’t even notice you were staring at his hands.

You were.

You couldn’t stop.

⸻

The creek was quiet.

Moonlight hit the water in soft ribbons, and the trees whispered secrets to the wind.

He cut the engine and leaned back in his seat, one arm slung lazily behind your headrest.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

You shrugged.

“Nervous?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

You glanced at him.

His eyes glittered in the dark.

He grinned.

“You watch me a lot,” he said.

You froze.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb. You think I didn’t notice? Thought it was cute.”

You looked away, heat crawling up your neck.

He leaned in.

“Gotta admit,” he murmured, “I been watchin’ you too.”

You turned to him, lips parted, but he was already there—mouth on yours, hands rough on your hips, kiss sweet and sharp like peach candy and bad intentions.

It wasn’t gentle.

But it was good.

Too good.

And when he pulled back, eyes hooded, lips shiny, he whispered, “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this.”

You didn’t say a word.

Just climbed into his lap and kissed him like you were starving.

⸻

You weren’t a good girl.

Not really.

You wore white dresses and said thank you and smiled at old ladies in church.

But under it all, you ached.

For him.

For something real.

And Jay?

He was real in all the worst, best ways.

He bit your bottom lip when you teased him. He pulled your hair when you got too mouthy. He kissed your neck like he was marking territory.

You let him.

You wanted him to.

⸻

You met like that every week.

Sometimes at the creek.

Sometimes behind the old laundromat where the lights flickered and the pavement smelled like bleach and burnt rubber.

He’d press you against brick walls and tell you how pretty you looked when you blushed. He’d call you baby and trouble and sweet thing like it meant something.

And God, it did.

To you, it meant everything.

He wasn’t your boyfriend.

Not really.

But he called you his.

And when he drove you home with one hand gripping your thigh and the other curled around the wheel, you felt like you could die right then and be happy.

⸻

You never told anyone.

Not your friends. Not your mama. Not even yourself, not really.

Because to say it out loud would make it real.

And you weren’t sure you could survive that.

He was your secret.

Your summer sin.

The thing you prayed about in the quiet, trembling on your knees with dirty thoughts and clean hands.

You were the girl who watched him from afar and wanted him anyway.

And now?

Now he wanted you back.

⸻

Some nights, you still lie awake and think about the way his hands felt on your waist, the way he laughed like the world was ending and he didn’t care.

You think about the way he said your name—low, rough, reverent.

Like a prayer.

Like a promise.

Like you were something worth breaking for.

And maybe you were.

Maybe you still are.

COWBOY SCHLATT SMUT IS HERE 🙏

Big Bad John [Part 3] - Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

1,487 words Summary: Cowboy!Schlatt x original character. What the title says. NSFW / MDNI A/N: The smut took me forever to write. I’m no good at smut so if it’s bad, I’m sorry.

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Divider: elleisdesigning

“And I was going, just about as far as she'd let me go

But her evaluation of my cowboy reputation

Had me begging for salvation all night long”

“Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” by Big & Rich

Dollie lays in her bed, staring at the ceiling. The scene of John kissing her replays in her head. 

After the kiss, their conversation continued a bit before John called it a night and they returned to their rooms.

She's restless, constantly shifting positions to get comfortable, but to no avail. 

Finally, she gets up and goes into the hallway. A soft light coming from the kitchen casts shadows on the walls. Dollie turns the corner to see John sitting at her kitchen table, drinking out of a glass of water. 

“Couldn't sleep?” John asks as Dollie enters the room. 

“No,” Dollie says. “Kept tossin’ and turnin’. You?”

“Same,” John says. 

Dollie crosses over to her cabinets to grab a cup and fill it with water. She turns around to look at John as she leans against the counter. 

The two are silent for a moment. The tension of their kiss from earlier still twists in the air. She can still feel his lips on hers, the warmth of his hands still lingering on her skin. 

She knows he feels it, too - the ghost of the kiss shared between them, lingering in the silence.

John leans back in his chair, looking at Dollie. “So, that kiss,” he says. “You regret it?”

Dollie exhales, taking a sip of water before setting her cup down on the counter. “Do you?”

“No,” John says, sighing. “But I wonder if you should.”

Dollie cocks her head, a confused look on her face. “Why’s that?”

John looks away, shaking his head. “I ain’t a good man, Dollie,” he says. “I got a past full of trouble.”

“I ain’t askin’ you to be a saint, John,” Dollie says.

He looks back at her. “You should.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Dollie studies John for a moment - his hands make fists at his side and his jaw is clenched.

She scoffs. “You think I ain’t been hurt before?”

“Not the way I mean,” John says.

She walks over to the table, placing her hand on the table in front of him and leaning over him. “You keep talkin’ like you got some kinda say in what I do, John. Like you get to decide what’s best for me.”

His gaze flickers at her. “Maybe I ain’t got no say,” he says. “But that ain’t stoppin’ me from carin’.”

Dollie stills at that. He said it so simply. Like she hadn’t heard that from men like him - men who come and go and don’t leave much behind but their shadows. 

She watches him, how he won’t quite meet her gaze, like he’s waiting for her to call him a liar. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she takes another step closer, standing between his knees.

“John,” she says, her voice a little softer now. “You really think I’m scared of a bit of trouble?”

John finally looks into her eyes, his lip twitching slightly, like he wants to smile, but won’t let himself. “Ain’t a little trouble I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

Dollie tilts her head, resting her hands on his shoulders. “Maybe I don’t care.”

John exhales slowly, his hands making their way to her waist. “You should,” he murmurs, but there’s no longer any weight behind his words.

Dollie smirks. “You keep sayin’ that, but you ain’t exactly pushin’ me away.”

John chuckles. “I’m not,” he says.

A quiet moment passes between them and John pulls her in a bit closer.

Dollie’s fingers travel along his jaw, tracing patterns in his thick mutton chops. “You gonna kiss me again, cowboy?”

John doesn’t respond - at least not with words.

He reaches up to cup her cheek, pulling her toward him. Their lips meet in a slow, deliberate kiss like they know they shouldn’t be doing this but can’t bring themselves to stop.

Dollie sighs into his lips, her fingers tightening against the fabric of his shirt as he deepens the kiss. His other hand slides up her back, holding her in place as if she’ll slip away.

“Dollie,” John breathes. 

“Yes, John?” Dollie asks, pulling away from his mouth.

John looks her up and down. “Can we please go to my room?”

Dollie nods.

John moves quickly to scoop Dollie off her feet bridal-style. Dollie giggles as he carries her to his room, nudging the door open with his boot and gently setting her down on the bed. But there’s nothing gentle about the way his lips find hers again - desperate, urgent. 

His hands roam her body with reverence and hunger, like he’s trying to memorize her by touch alone. 

“Dollie,” he breathes as he kisses down her jaw and neck. “You don’t know what you’re doin’ to me.”

Dollie laces her fingers into his hair, pulling him back up to her lips. “Then show me.”

That’s all he needs.

John smirks. He slips off her nightgown, tossing it away as he pushes her back against the mattress, his weight pressing into the creaky bed. He starts to unbutton his shirt while Dollie fumbles with his belt buckle.

He pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the floor, revealing a body marked by a life on the run - scarred, tanned, and worn in the only way real cowboys are. He then helps Dollie with the belt buckle before throwing his belt across the room and pulling off his jeans and boots. 

Dollie looks up at the man in front of her, admiring him.

John chuckles, noticing her stare. “Ain’t much to look at, I’m afraid,” he says.

“You’re beautiful,” Dollie says. And she means it. Every inch of him is something she wants to explore - to cherish.

John moves to press his weight into the bed once more. “You’re killin’ me,” he says, half in awe, half in agony. “I ain’t ever wanted somethin’ like I want you.”

Their lips crash into each other again. John’s hands rub tiny circles into Dollie’s hip.

Dollie slips a finger into the waistband of John’s boxers. “Take these off,” she breathes.

He does as she tells him, his hard cock bobbing up as he does so. His hands slide down her body to do the same to her.

When their lips meet once more, there's a beat of stillness. No bravado, no games. Just John and Dollie together as if it was always meant to be that way. 

John lines up with her entrance and thrusts into her. Dollie gasps at the feeling of him filling her up. 

When he moves inside her, it's slow and deliberate - like he's savoring each second, like this may be the only time they do this. His breath stutters against her neck as he rocks into her. 

“God, Dollie,” he moans. “I ain't gonna last.”

“You don't have to,” Dollie says. “Just stay with me.”

And he does. Every touch, every kiss, every gasp is full of the kind of need that borders on devotion. 

They move together as if they've done this hundred times before in a dream. Like fate brought John into the saloon for them to find each other. 

John gives his last few thrusts through both of their climaxes, pulling out and laying down next to Dollie. He places his head on her chest. Dollie moves a hand to his head, scratching it gently. 

The room is quiet except for the sounds of their quiet breathing - slow and uneven as if they're trying to come back to earth. 

Eventually, they both drift off to sleep, wrapped up in each other's arms. 

The next morning, the sound of frantic knocking wakes up Dollie. She pushes John off of her, quickly slips her clothes back on, and gets up to walk over to her door. 

She opens the door and Charlie comes stumbling in - his eyes wide and body trembling. 

“Charlie, what is it?” Dollie asks, reaching out to steady him. 

“Your father,” he gasps, catching his breath. “He uh - he found out about John stayin’ here. He's not happy about it. Says he's on his way.”

“Shit,” Dollie breathes. “Shit, shit shit.”

She rushes over to John's room to wake him. 

“John, you need to leave,” she says. 

John sits up, trying to gather his clothes and groggily puts them on. “Why? Was last night that bad?” he asks, chuckling a bit. 

Dollie stares at him. If she wasn't so terrified of her father, maybe she'd laugh too. “It was amazing, John. But seriously, you need to get out. My father found out that you're here.”

John's eyes widen, he starts to move faster, trying to get his clothes on. 

But it's not enough. 

When Dollie opens the door to let John leave, her dad is standing on the other side. 

Previous Part

About me!

Hello! I'm Harley (she/her). I'm 18. I love writing silly little stories. I will likely post them here. And literally anything else I feel like posting, really.

Interests: Jschlatt, Sam and Colby, Taylor Swift, Marvel, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, SNL, shifting, New Girl, Sinjin Drowning, Smosh, The Sims 4

Shifting Side Blog: @harleyshifts

My asks/requests are open! Guidelines are at the bottom of this post.

୨⎯ masterlist! ⎯୧

Guidelines for asks:

➳ I will not write anything offensive (fetishization, SA, self harm, etc.).

➳ Anything else is fair game.

Dividers: thecutestgrotto

I need a movie/show/fanfic about Bucky being in congress right NOW.

No fighting or anything, just him fucking around and being a regular congressman. Day in the life of Senator Barnes perhaps.

fucking schlatt after his work out?!

Cardio Crush

I'm so sorry this took months to complete. I've been in a writing slump for a while, but this is helping me get my motivation back! Oh and this is SPICYYY get ready y’all!!

Word Count: 4.1k

MDNI and 18+, obviously!! Fem/afab reader. I hope my fellow Schluts enjoy!!

Schlatt bursts through the front door, ripping your attention away from your doom scrolling on the couch. He bends over and leans his hands on his knees, panting for dear life as he tries to settle his breathing. Whatever Tiktok was playing on your phone was long forgotten as you watched him in amusement. 

“Damn, did you just get back from the pool?” You chuckle, poking fun at him. “You're drenched.”

“Fuck…you.” He heaves, a small smirk playing on his lips as he glances up at you. 

Schlatt mentioned that he wanted to get back in shape for a while. It took a bit of encouragement on your part, but he finally started running a couple weeks ago. He even told his viewers on stream, so now he had to follow through with his plans and “twinkify” himself again (his words, not yours).

You’re glad that Schlatt’s being more mindful about his health. Sure, you absolutely loved his body to bits, but you could tell that his weight was making him frustrated. Over the past couple years, he's complained about feeling sluggish and worn down. The countless nights spent drinking and eating junk food weren’t doing him any favors, but he's finally turned a new leaf and decided to make a change. You were seeing a whole new side of him that's happier, fuller, more alive. And it’s only been two weeks. Plus, you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t getting hotter the more he exercised.

“Ow.” He winces, doubling over and clutching his ribs. “Running is fuckin’ hard.”

“No, duh.” You laugh. “How long did you run for, baby?” You toss your phone aside and turn to face him. 

“About two miles. Worst fuckin' time of my life, I'll tell ya.” 

You half heartedly chuckle as you stare at him for a little too long. His face glistens with sweat as he stands back up and walks to the kitchen, grabbing a cup of water and sifting through the fridge. Your heart skips a beat as you tentatively watch his chest rise and fall.

“Well, at least it's better than the half mile you ran last week.” You snicker. Schlatt sticks his middle finger at you from inside of the fridge, still searching for something to eat. You could tell his face sported a nasty glare, making you laugh even harder. 

“Do you feel any better exercising?” you ask seriously.

“No.” Schlatt deadpans, taking out a container of hummus and a bag of chips. 

You knew that was a lie. 

He raises his eyebrows as he takes a bite. “But this right here is makin’ it all worth it. This shit is amazing. We should get more.” He exclaims, holding the hummus up to observe the label. He smacks his lips emphatically as he scoops some more into his mouth.

“Wow, I’m really surprised.” You remark sarcastically. “I’d never thought I’d see the day when Schlatt eats vegetables.”

“Go fuck yourself.” He shoots back, talking around the food in his mouth. “I actually like this, alright? Do you want me to throw this at you?”

“No…” You murmur with a slight grin, huffing and resting your chin on your hand. You couldn’t help but feel your face heat up when he dips his head back down to take another bite, admiring  how his brown curls unstick from his forehead and fall into his face. 

You let out a small chuckle, your eyes narrowing on his mouth as you unconsciously lick your lips. Thank god he’s too invested in his snack to notice. 

The thought of Schlatt walking around all buff and broad made your mind spin. You imagined him a little slimmer, his waist taught, his core strong, his arms bulging. You thought of all the ways he could manhandle you the fitter he became. Your fantasies were beginning to light a fire deep inside your core, quickening your breath and making your hands all sweaty. You didn't know if you could even look at Schlatt without melting in front of him.

Schlatt looks up and catches you staring. He notices your pupils are all wide and glazed over, and he breaks out into a sly grin. He knows that look all too well.

“What are you thinkin’ about in that pretty head of yours, toots?” He chuckles, narrowing his eyes in curiosity. He dips another chip into the hummus and tosses it into his mouth.

You quickly shake your head and blush, stuttering out a laugh. “I'm just… so proud of you. Your work will pay off soon, bubba. I just know it.” 

“Mm-hmm. Sure.” He exhales through his nose, seeing straight through your little lie. He walks around the kitchen counter towards you, hummus and chip bag in hand.

“Thanks, anyways.” He beams, a touch of sincerity in his voice. He dips another chip into the hummus and holds it out to you. “Here. Open.” 

You open your mouth and close your eyes, making a little ahhh sound. You expect to feel the smooth texture of hummus on your tongue, but instead, you hear crunching. You shoot open your eyes to see Schlatt laughing through muffled chews. 

“Hey. Not nice, big guy! That was mine!” you whine.

“What?” He boasts, his eyes flicking between your scouring eyes and pouty lips. You were too cute when you got angry. He sighs and grabs another chip from the bag under his arm. “Fine. I'll try again, toots.” 

He gingerly holds it in front of your face, slowly inching it towards you. This time, you keep your eyes open and try to catch it with your teeth, but he pulls away again and it disappears into his mouth. Just like that. The sound of crunching made your face run hot.

“Sorry doll. My hand just slipped.” He chuckles, wiggling his free hand and chewing with an even bigger smirk than before. 

You huff and roll your eyes. “Baby, c'mon. You look so fucking hot right now. So if you’re smart, I suggest you let me have a chip, like, right now.” 

He swallows and listens carefully, scowling. “Hm.” Schlatt glances up at the ceiling, pretending to think about it. “And what if I don't? What are you gonna do ‘bout it?” He puffs up his chest, the right side of his mouth forming a smirk. 

Goddammit. He knows he’s winning. You had to think of something quick.

“No kisses for a week.” You reply on the beat, turning your nose up and standing taller to match his posture.

He raises his eyebrows and stares at you in disbelief, slouching a bit. “No fucking shot. You can’t be serious.” 

You squint your eyes and giggle, enjoying this newfound power you have over him. “Way serious.”

Schlatt shakes his head, begrudgingly handing you a chip before strolling to the kitchen and leaning against the counter. 

“Ugh. C'mon, doll.” He hangs his head in defeat, facing away from you. He throws the snack contents in front of him. “You just get anything you want when I'm around, don't you?” he whines from over his shoulder, feigning hurt.

You roll your eyes and snicker, finishing your bite and walking behind him to wrap your arms around his neck. You stand up on your tippy toes to hug him, scratching your fingernails across his broad chest. 

“It's ‘cause you love me, you dork.” You giggle, leaning your cheek against his shoulder blades. 

You feel him inhale and straighten his back as your hands graze him softly. The sweat from his back seeps through the front of your shirt, momentarily taking the air out of your lungs. 

“Mmmm. Yeah, I do.” He purrs, turning his head to glance over at you. “You're right. I should have been nicer to ya. That hummus is really fucking good.” 

He shifts his weight and turns around. You let go of him and step back as he leans his hands back against the counter with a smile. His eyes are heavy on you, noting all the little details and features of your flushed face.

“It seems like you're still mad at me, though.” Schlatt lowers his voice. He’s caught on to your little game, eyeing you up and down. ”How can I make it up to ya, toots?” he hums, his smooth, raspy voice running shivers down your spine.

Oh god. He was absolutely gorgeous. His odor had that slight tinge of sweetness that you just couldn't shake, and he was glowing. Literally glowing. You adored the even rise and fall of his chest, his skin shining under the kitchen light, his shirt darkening with sweat. And that devilish smirk wasn't helping with the growing heat building in between your legs, either.

“Hmmm. Well…” you tease, unable to contain yourself as you slowly run a hand up and down his stomach. “I can think of a couple things.” You feel his abs tense up from your touch, making you blush hard. 

He chuckles and grabs your waist firmly. You tug at the hem of his shirt, staring into his eyes for approval. He nods with a sultry smirk. You take off his wet shirt, throw it on the couch and continue your hungry exploration.

Schlatt chuckles again, squeezing at your sides and pulling you into him. You feel his dick twitch against your stomach, sending bolts of electricity through you.

“Baby,” he whispers in your ear, breathing on your neck and raising goosebumps on your skin. “You know I'm so gross right now. I don't think we should-”

“Just shut up and let me love you. Okay?” You hiss, racing your hands over his slick chest and planting firm kisses on his neck. He moans and leans back on the counter, craning his neck to the side so you can get a better angle.

“If you insist, toots. But god, you're such a fuckin’ tease.” He murmurs, smiling and straining out a grunt from your tongue licking up his neck. He inches his hands up your back, raising your shirt up. Schlatt felt the warm skin on your stomach press into his waist, and it drove him absolutely insane. 

You laugh through your nose and mumble, “Who's the one teasing now? Someone wouldn't let me have my snack earlier.” 

“Oh, enough of that.” He retorts, “We both know your snack is right here, missy.” He promptly groans as your teeth sink into his flesh from that remark. Yeah, he deserved that one. But your brattiness only made him harder. 

He whimpers at your bites, making you chuckle. 

“That's what I thought. Now come to bed with me.” you demand.

All Schlatt can do is nod, his gaze clouded with lust. He follows you into the bedroom like a lost puppy, licking his lips and diving his hands into his pockets. He watches you crawl onto the bed.

Just as he's about to join you, he stops in his tracks. “Wait, doll. We need a towel, remember?” He asks quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment. You whip your head around to see him frown. His chest was still covered in sweat, and you remember now why he asked. He'll cum anywhere on the sheets, but when it comes to workout sweat? No fucking way he'd let that slide. It was just one of his quirks that mildly annoyed you, but Schlatt always insisted on this, and of course, he always had his way.

You roll your eyes and chuckle, practically running to the bathroom to grab a towel, quickly smoothing it down on the bed and intertwining your hands behind your back. You look up at Schlatt all pretty for him, swaying side to side and batting your eyelashes from the opposite end of the bed. “Better?” you ask, hoping the thin layer of cotton would suffice. 

“Much better.” He chuckles darkly and eyes you from across the bed, running a hand over his face and dragging his thumb over his bottom lip. 

“Is my girl trying to seduce me?” He growls, striding over to you and wrapping his big hands around your waist again. 

You giggle and throw your arms around his neck, peppering sloppy kisses all over his cheeks and licking the salty sweat from his chops. “Maybe.” Your face heats up as Schlatt’s hands wander over your ass. He gives your cheeks a light squeeze, making you yelp and rock onto your tippy toes.

Your stomach does a flip when his dick strains into you through his shorts, begging for any sort of relief.

“You're gonna kill me with that pretty mouth of yours, toots.” He hums, his throat vibrating out a low groan. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. Fuck, angel.” He sighs heavily when you bite his collarbone. Your teeth are threatening to break his skin, but it doesn't hurt him. Oh no, far from it. With each graze of your teeth, he grips your hips tighter and pulls you flesh against his growing arousal.

Your whimper is cut off by Schlatt shoving you onto the bed. You land on the towel with a soft thump, gasping from surprise. Schlatt climbs over you, pinning your arms by your sides and trapping you beneath his broad shoulders. 

His lips find your neck this time. You gasp his name and arch your back into his body. 

“Fuck..” you whine, grinding your hips into his. “You like that, baby?” He grumbles, digging your hips down into the mattress and mumbling into the soft spot on your neck. 

“Please fuck me, Schlatt. Please.” You beg, unable to hold back anymore. You can't take it. You needed him now. 

He chuckled at your bluntness, raising his head to look at you. “Patience, sweetheart.” 

He works on your neck feverishly, biting and licking while he lifts your shirt. He briefly detaches from you to discard it and quickly dives his tongue back into your chest. His hands dance across your breasts, roughly kneading the soft mounds of flesh like his life depended on it. 

“Fuuckkk, Schlatt…” you whine, desperately rutting into him and bucking against his hard cock. You snake your hands through his hair, abruptly laughing when he sucks at the ticklish spot on your chest. 

“Am I makin’ you feel good, toots?” he asks as he sucks at your nipple. You nod and card your fingers through his locks, tightening your grip when you feel his teeth scrape. 

“My Superman.” You tease, peering down at the top of his head. He pops your nipple from his mouth and rests his chin on your boob to look up at you. 

“What was that?” 

“I said you're my Superman.” 

“Huh. I think I'm more of a Wolverine type.”

“Is that ‘cause you have his chops?” You laugh, playing with his hair. His big brown eyes sear into your skin.

“No. It's because he has fuckin’ knives for hands.” He says sarcastically, chuckling. He suddenly thrusts his hips into your cunt, eliciting a deep moan from you. He leans forward to kiss you. You deepen the kiss and shove your tongue into his mouth.

Schlatt kisses you some more and breaks away with a smile, bringing some of your saliva up with him. “I look better in yellow, anyway.” he whispers.

He knows he had you right where he wanted when you burst into laughter. You grip onto his hair to try and contain yourself. He tightens his grip on your waist, digging his nails into your flesh with his erection pulsing deep into your core. 

“Wait, wait, baby!” You wheeze, overstimulated with glee and arousal. You kick your feet in protest. “You're so mean!” Your chuckles turn into moans and whimpers as he sits up on his knees, gripping your squabbling legs, spreading your thighs over his and rolling into you. He smirks as he holds you firmly in place. 

“I thought you said you wanted this dick now, hmm?” He mocks, smirking at your squirming. 

You nod through gritted teeth, feeling the familiar pressure build up in your stomach. 

“God, you really are a slut for me.” He grunts, grabbing your tits again and kneading them in his hands. “We haven't even started. How're you gonna last?” 

“It's your fault for… for teasing me, you dumbass.” You quip. Schlatt barks out a laugh, stopping his movements and scooting back a bit. 

“Well, let's change that then, shall we?” He throws your leg over his head and to the side.

You quickly take off your pants and underwear. Schlatt laughs at your eagerness. “Impatient much, doll?”

“Baby.” You say sternly, grabbing onto his forearm for emphasis. “I've been wanting to fuck you since you got home.”

He chuckles, cocking an eyebrow and smirking as he starts to unzip his shorts. “Is that so?” 

You nod eagerly, licking your lips as Schlatt slowly and painstakingly pulls his zipper down, unfolding the flaps one at a time. God, is he serious? Torturing you like this? 

“Oh, for fucks sake!” you scoff, scooting back and yanking his shorts down in one swift motion.

You shift your position and kiss his hard cock through his boxers. It twitches on your lips and you swear your brain short circuits. 

Schlatt moans and bucks his hips into your face, carding through your hair as he feels your tongue graze his tip. “Shit, sweetheart. Guess I need to tease you more often.” He lets out a low groan and watches you in awe, licking and biting desperately at his cock. 

“Need your dick now. Please, baby?” You beg through strained whimpers and groans, barely sounding coherent while licking his boxers.

Schlatt just nods, giving you the green light to tug his boxers down and grab his cock. You vigorously pump him, grateful to finally feel him in your hand. 

Schlatt moans loudly and tugs on your hair, throwing his head back in bliss. You circle your tongue around his tip, making his hips buck into your mouth. “Holy - haahhh - holy shit. I needed this, angel.” Your laugh muffles into him as you take more of him in your mouth, stroking the rest of whatever you couldn't fit.

This continues for a while - Jay’s hand tangled in your hair, his hips meeting your face, his unholy noises harmonizing with yours. You wanted him to cum in your mouth so badly, to taste him, but eventually he pushes you back and lays you down. “Sorry.” He sighs. “Didn’t wanna cum before you did.” He climbs up your body and spreads your legs apart.

You smile fondly, briefly appreciating his courtesy before his thick fingers come down to meet your clit. You gasp and raise your hips in the air. “Fuck, baby. That feels so good.” You whimper.

“Yeah, doll?” 

You nod eagerly. Jay smirks and whispers in your ear, “You’re doing so good.”

“Faster, please.” You beg, your grip on his shoulders tightening as you feel his fingers speed up.

“So good for me.” he repeats.

You couldn’t help but moan at his sweet words, gyrating your hips into his thigh as he presses himself into the mattress.

Your orgasm is building quickly. You scream and whine into his shoulder, feeling the pleasure envelop you as Schlatt works you through it. 

“That’s it, doll. Let go for me.” Schlatt pants in your ear, keeping up the pace on your sensitive clit. 

It hits you all at once. Your body convulses and squirms into him. Jay’s digits slow down as you ride out your high and your breathing returns to normal. He carefully lays you down, kissing your temple and grinning into your cheek. 

“All fucked out for me, doll, huh?” He whispers, his tone light and teasing. He lifts his head to peer down at you, fully expecting you to call it quits. 

But there’s a new spark in your eyes. He’s caught off guard as you regain your composure and huff, grinning up at him like a madwoman.

“Not yet.” You push him onto his back, throwing your leg over his waist and positioning yourself on top of him. Schlatt grabs your hips and tucks his bottom lip between his teeth. He loves it when you take charge, making him feel small under you. It really did something to him. 

That much was evident with how hard his cock was pressing against your stomach, leaking precum onto your belly button.

“Fuck, angel.” Schlatt whimpers, watching you flip your hair to the side and press his dick into your stomach. He squeezes your hips, aching to be inside you. “Need you so bad.”

“So impatient for me, hun.” You tease, mocking him for earlier and gingerly sliding your hand up and down his cock, pressing it into your soft stomach. 

Schlatt groans and lifts his hips slightly, desperately trying to get any sort of friction as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Please, baby. Just fuckin’ ride me already.” he whimpers.

You sigh and lean forward, placing your hands above his shoulders and lifting up on all fours. Schlatt slides his hands to your hips, lining up his tip with your entrance. You kiss him softly, slowly, feeling a moan escape his lips and slide into your mouth. You smile wickedly as Schlatt tries to lower you down onto him. You pull back from his lips, tisking at his disobedience. 

“Nuh, uh. Did I tell you to move me?” You ask bitterly, your harsh voice ringing through his ears. Schlatt stops in his tracks. 

His eyes shoot open. A flicker of fear scatters across his face. 

“Answer me.” you order.

He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing beneath you. “No, ma’am.” His voice comes out strained, hesitant. You sigh again, staring at him disapprovingly. You ghost your lips past his cheek and bite down hard on his earlobe. Schlatt whines and hisses. “Fuck! Shit!” he curses, his breath escaping in huffs and grunts.

Maybe that was a bit too far. 

You kiss his neck softly to say sorry. “You can lower me now, baby.”

With that, Schlatt sighs shakily, easing you down onto his cock and groaning. He fills you up perfectly. You squeal into his neck, savoring the feeling of his warm cock pulsing inside of you, the tip barely kissing your cervix.

When your hips meet, he rubs your back softly, dragging his fingers along your spine. “Can I move, doll?” He asks, his voice quiet. 

You felt so full, so good, so happy. Your dominance instantly disappears at his question. 

“Please, love. Go ahead.”

He smirks and begins pounding into you, squeezing your hips tighter with each thrust. 

You whine and moan, your voice getting louder and louder as his rhythm quickly falters. Your pussy flutters wildly, hips jostling above him with the force of his penetration, only adding to the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“Schlatt, I’m gonna - “ You choke out, feeling your second orgasm building faster than before.

“Cum with me, toots.” He pants, reaching up to hold the back of your head. 

You silently scream and arch your back, meshing your hips with his. Schlatt thrusts one last time into you, feeling your cunt squeeze around him and release your juices all over his cock. He pulses inside you and releases his own load, squirting his hot cum into you and holding you as close as he can. 

“Shit, fuck, holy shit.” He curses, tightening his grip in your hair as his body shakes and he releases every last drop. He holds you and drags his fingers through your hair, easing back into the mattress. 

Schlatt coaxes you through your high, squeezing you and trailing his hands over your body lightly. “Shhh, angel. There you go.” He whispers, letting you relax into him. He smiles tiredly and plants soft kisses to your head, whispering sweet nothings into your hair. 

“You did so good for me.”

“You’re so gorgeous.”

“That’s it, pretty. Just breathe.”

A couple minutes pass and you both settle down, a beautiful mess of tangled limbs and sweaty bodies. Schlatt clears his throat and lightly squeezes your waist, signaling you to move. You slide off of him with a groan, resting your head on the pillow. Sleep threatens to overtake you as Schlatt carefully slips out of bed, not wanting to disturb your peace. Your body goes limp on the mattress. Everything feels heavy as gravity sinks you down further into the bed sheets.

“Gonna go shower, angel.” Schlatt whispers, hovering over you and kissing your cheek. You murmur a quiet “m’kay” and sleepily watch him shuffle to the bathroom, smiling to yourself as you watch his ass jiggle and disappear behind the bathroom door. The last thing you hear is the rush of water hitting the tile floor. In the midst of your deep sleep, you dream of Wolverine Schlatt saving you from the forces of evil.

Tagging (albeit late) @the-slimebox @lettersfromharley

Big Bad John [Part 1] - The Devil Went Down to Georgia

1,040 words Summary: Cowboy!Schlatt x original character. Dollie gets an unexpected guest in her saloon. A/N: Brain worms got me. 😔✊

[Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Divider: elleisdesigning

“Nobody seemed to know where John called home

He just drifted into town and stayed all alone

He didn't say much, he kinda quiet and shy

And if you spoke at all, he just said, "Hi" to Big John"

“Big Bad John” by Jimmy Dean

In the old town of Ghostridge, Georgia, nothing ever really happened for someone like Dollie Sheppard. She ran the town's saloon after her grandfather died. Most of her days were spent pouring drinks and dealing with the occasional rowdy drunkard. Folks passed through her saloon all the time telling stories about outlaws, shootouts, and menacing figures that haunted the West like ghosts. But in the quiet town of Ghostridge, Dollie didn’t witness any of that herself.

There was one outlaw in particular that Dollie heard the name of a lot: Jonathan Schlatt. Most folks called him “Big Bad John.” He was the kind of legend that made men shiver and women clutch their children a little tighter.

They say he comes into town dressed in all black, his gun visible at his side. Some even claim he’s killed several people, but no one ever says the same number - it’s always either two, five, or even thirty.

Dollie doesn’t believe in fairytales, and sure as hell doesn’t believe in ghost stories. Hell, she’s not sure “Big Bad John” even exists. Folks come into her saloon spouting phony make-believe over a glass of whiskey all the time. 

That was, until he walked right into her saloon.

One moment, she’s standing behind the bar, polishing glasses while making small talk with Ol’ Charlie. The next, the doors to her saloon fly open and a man scrambles in, his eyes wide and full of terror.

“It’s him! It’s Big Bad John!” the man shouts.

Panic spread through the saloon like wildfire. Chairs scrape against the floor as men try to hide under tables. A few darted for the exit, practically tripping over themselves in their haste. The only ones who didn’t move were Dollie and Charlie.

Dollie scoffed, arms crossed over her chest. “Y’all really believe that nonsense?” she asks. 

No one said a word. 

Then, she heard it. Heavy boots against the wooden planks of the saloon floor. Slow. Deliberate. The kind of footsteps that belonged to a man who wasn’t in a rush, because he didn’t need to be.

Dollie lifted her gaze as the man entered her saloon.

He was tall, at least a foot taller than her, and built like a man who’d spent his years taming the land rather than letting it tame him. Dressed in dark jeans, a belt with a large silver buckle, and a maroon button-up beneath a black vest, he carried himself with the kind of ease that only came with experience. A long black leather coat hung from his shoulders, dust clinging to the edges like he’d ridden through hell and back to get here. A black cowboy hat cast a shadow over his face, but when he stepped fully into the light, Dollie caught sight of sharp brown eyes and neatly trimmed mutton chops.

Something about his demeanor makes Dollie freeze for a moment.  Was this actually Big Bad John? He looked dangerous. But not in the way people had described. He wasn’t the monster they had painted in their stories - he was something else entirely.

She stood behind the bar, watching him closely as he made his way to the bar and sat down. He reaches for his hat, taking it off and setting it on the counter. 

“What can I get for ya?” Dollie asks.

The man looks up at Dollie. She feels captivated by his good looks.

“Whiskey, neat,” he says.

“Coming right up,” she says, reaching for a glass and pouring the man a whiskey. She slides the glass across the counter to him. “There you are. Enjoy.” She smiles at him.

Dollie goes back to polishing glasses and speaking to Charlie. Slowly, the other saloon patrons go back to whatever they were doing before this mysterious cowboy entered the saloon.

“Can I get another?” The cowboy asks. 

Dollie pours him another. “So, cowboy, where ya from?” she asks. 

“All over,” he says. 

Dollie nods, not pressing. “And your name?” she asks. 

“That a habit of yours? Getting to know every man who walks through that door?” 

Dollie looks him in the eye. “Just want to get to know who’s sitting in my saloon,” she says. 

“Your saloon?” he asks. “You run this place?”

“Indeed, I do,” she says. “Now, are you going to tell me your name or what?”

He takes a long sip of his whiskey. “Jonathan Schlatt,” he says. “But most call me John.”

“Like Big Bad John?” Charlie pipes up.

John chuckles. “Yes, like Big Bad John - if that's what they're calling me,” he says. 

“Well, welcome to my saloon,” Dollie says. “If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t seem so big and bad to me.”

John chuckles. “Is that so?”

“If I believed all the stories, I’d be shaking in my boots right now,” Dollie says. “But you’re just another man looking for a drink, huh?”

John lets out a low chuckle. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just waiting for the right time to prove ‘em right.”

Dollie doesn’t flinch. “If you were going to prove ‘em right, I figured you would’ve done it by now.”

John smiles. “Smart lady.”

Charlie let out a laugh. “I like this one, Dollie. Seems like he’s got some sense.”

John tipped his glass toward the man. “I try.”

Dollie leaned forward, placing her elbows on the bar. “So, tell me, John. How does a man get a reputation like yours?”

John exhales. “People like to talk. Sometimes a story is better than the truth.”

She considers this. “I get that,” she says.

The three of them - Dollie, John, and Charlie - talk until Dollie closes the saloon. Charlie eventually heads out, but John stays.

“So, where can a man get a place to sleep around here?” he asks.

“Well, there is an inn down the road, but they may not let you in. Not too many folks like ‘Big Bad John’ around here,” she chuckles.

John chuckles as well. “I guess that’s true.”

The two are quiet for a moment before Dollie gets an idea.

“You know,” she says. “You could stay here. I live above the saloon. There’s a spare room.”

“That would be nice,” John says. 

“Alright, follow me, then,” Dollie says before leading John upstairs.

Next Part

Almost, Maybe [Part 3]

902 words Summary: Fem!reader x teen!Schlatt. You’ve had a crush on Jay since you were twelve, unsure if he feels the same. Inspired by The Summer I Turned Pretty.  A/N: Last part. Part 1 - Part 2

Divider: dialilimoon

At breakfast the next morning, all you can think of is Jay. 

You feel like you’re stuck. The tension between you and Jay has been building up all summer and it’s getting unbearable. Every longing glance, every lingering touch leaves you wanting more.

And last night, Jay had said it. He admitted it. And then Drew had to come along and ruin it.

“So, what happened between you and Jay last night?” Robin asks as you sit down on your bed after breakfast. 

“Nothing,” you mutter.

She snorts. “Bullshit.”

“Wait, did something actually happen?” Maggie asks, sitting on her bed.

“Well, he - we - confessed our feelings for each other,” you say.

“And?” Robin asks.

“That’s it.”

“You didn’t kiss?” Maggie asks.

“No,” you sigh, laying back on your bed. “Drew interrupted us before anything could happen and then I kind of… ran away.”

“You ran away?” Robin asks. “No wonder he was acting so weird at breakfast.”

“You have to go talk to him,” Maggie says.

“Yeah I will,” you say. “Eventually.”

Later that day Gabe and Drew suggest a boat ride.

So, you put on a swimsuit, grab a towel, and make your way to the dock. 

Jay is already there, wearing a t-shirt and swim trunks, his hair messy from he wind. Your stomach flips. 

The boat ride starts normal - Maggie and Robin fighting over music, Gabe driving the boat too fast, and Drew leaning back in his seat with his sunglasses on looking unbothered.

Then, the boat stalls. 

“Shit,” Gabe mutters, fiddling with the motor. “We might be here for a bit.”

“Well,” Robin says, stretching, “guess we’ll have to swim to pass the time.”

One by one, everyone jumps into the lake - except you, Drew, and Jay.

You and Jay are sitting on opposite ends of the boat, avoiding each other.

It’s ridiculous. You know it. And apparently, so does Drew.

Because suddenly, he stands, stretches, and says, “Hey, Y/N, why don’t you and Jay go check the storage compartment for extra towels?”

You narrow your eyes. “Why?”

He smirks. You immediately don’t trust him.

“I don’t know. Just in case we’re stranded out here for a while.”

Jay exhales sharply but stands. “Fine,” he mutters.

You follow him below deck, where the small enclosed storage area is dimly lit.

Jay kneels, checking the compartment. You stand awkwardly beside him, arms crossed.

The silence is excruciating.

Finally, he sighs. “So, are we gonna talk about it?”

Your throat tightens. “About what?”

Jay gives you a look. “Really?”

You shift on your feet. “I mean… what’s there to say?”

Jay lets out a dry laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, maybe the fact that I told you I liked you and then you just—ran off.”

You flinch. “I didn’t run off.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe I did,” you admit. “But Drew totally ruined the moment.”

Jay sighs, leaning against the wall. “Yeah. He did.”

There’s a pause. Then, he looks at you - really looks at you. “But that doesn’t change how I feel.”

Your heart pounds. You open your mouth, but before you can say anything, the boat suddenly lurches.

You stumble forward. Jay catches you. His hands land on your waist. Your palms press against his chest.

Neither of you move. Your breath is shaky. His fingers tighten slightly. Everything feels too much. Too close.

And then - he leans in.

Your eyes flutter closed. His nose brushes yours. Your heart is beating so loud you’re sure he can hear it -

“We fixed the boat!” Robin’s voice cuts through the moment like a knife.

You jump apart. Jay curses under his breath, running a hand over his face.

“Right,” you say quickly, stepping back. “Let’s - uh, let’s go.”

You don’t miss the way Jay clenches his jaw, looking frustrated as hell. You don’t blame him.

Later that night, you go out to the dock to clear your had. It had been a crazy day and you needed a moment alone. 

You stand at the edge with your hands in your pocket.

After a quiet moment or two, you hear the dock creak behind you. You turn around to see Jay. 

He takes a deep breath and steps beside you. “Hey.”

You look over at him and smile. “Hey.”

You’re both quiet for a moment.

So you say it.

“I didn’t run because I don’t like you,” you admit, voice soft. “I ran because I do.”

Jay turns to face you.

Your pulse races, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “I was scared,” you continue. “Because I like you so much, and I didn’t want to ruin—”

Jay cuts you off.

By kissing you.

It’s not hesitant this time. It’s urgent, desperate—like he’s making up for all the moments you almost had.

You grip his sweater, his hands find your waist. 

You melt into him, the taste of summer and longing being all you ever wanted.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours.

“I don’t care if summer’s ending in a few weeks,” he murmurs. “I just don’t want this to.”

You swallow hard. “Me neither.”

He smiles. “Good.”

You kiss him again, because you can.

Because this is yours now.

Maybe this summer was always meant to change everything.

Previous Part

Jschlatt Imagines - Party Meet Cute

I've had this sitting in my drafts forever! I def wanna go back and add more (maybe with some nsfw) but I wanna put this out anyways. If you guys like this enough, I might just make a part 2! Or a full blown fic?? Idk. Please comment/reblog your thoughts.

No warnings, really. Mentions of partying and drinking. fem/gender neutral reader. Enjoy this party meet cute with the big guy!

Schlatt literally fell into your life one night.

A friend of a friend invited you to Charlie's party, begging you to be their plus one. You figured, why not? You were free and there would be a bunch of streamers there, so you decided to see what the night had in store for you.

At first, you were nervous as hell, stuck to your friend's side like a leech. But your worries slowly dissipated as you started chatting with people. 

You meet a lot of Charlie's good friends, including Ludwig, Ted and Hasan. They all seemed way too nice to have literally millions of followers on twitch. But hey, it was a great group of people AND you were having fun at a party! Yipee!

Maybe it was the constant blaring music or the shot of Titos you had earlier, but you swear you heard the word “shat”, like, multiple times. And it seemed like it was addressed... to a person? What??

Whatever. You shrug it off. Maybe it was an inside joke in the streaming community.

You decide to take a break from all the socializing to slip into the kitchen, where you find your friend and hunker down next to the fridge.

One moment, you're gossiping and having a nice time, and the next you're pushed sideways and shrieking. Some strange man barrels into your body and shoves your head into your friend's shoulder to prevent his fall.

“The fuck?” You shout, almost chuckling at the bizarre situation unfolding. His hand practically engulfs your entire face.

“Woah! Sorry, toots. Lost my cool there.” He chuckles nonchalantly and peels his sweaty hand off your face, wiping it on his leather jacket which makes you cringe.

Ugh. How drunk is this guy?

He quickly straightens himself and readjusts his jacket. Amidst your disgust and confusion, you take a better look at him.

Oh no. Oh fuck. He's absurdly tall and super fucking handsome. Strike one.

He had these mutton chops that could cut through steel. An odd look for the 21st century, but you admit, it suited him surprisingly well. Strike two.

What really drew you in, though, were his eyes. Despite his intimidating broad figure, his eyes were a soft chestnut brown that just… left you staring for way too long.

Strike three.

“No, yeah. It's all good. You okay, dude?” You ask. Your voice quivers as you take in his intimidating presense. You can't help but blush when you catch him checking you out.

Or, at least that's what you thought he was doing. He could've been 12 shots deep for all you knew.

With a quick nod, he flashes a lopsided grin and by god does your heart skip a beat. 

“That's not how I usually carry myself, by the way. I don't just go stumbling into cute girls thinking I own the place.” His words floated off his tongue effortlessly, almost like he had said this a million times before.

Is that... is that a New York accent? He leans down to meet your gaze. Oh my god. Holy fuck.

You laugh at him - probably a little too loudly. “Sorry again.” The mystery man says, sticking his hand out to you. “The name's-”

“SCHLATT!!” Ted's booming voice cuts through the quiet murmur of the kitchen. He bursts through the door and immediately puts the guy in a headlock, scratching his head vigorously. 

“Ow! Hey, man! Cut it out!” The man grumbles, trying to pry Ted's arm off of his neck. 

The others lingering in the kitchen laugh at them, even your friend. Huh. This must be normal, right? Ted and…?

Oh, wait. 

Schlatt. This is the guy everyone's been talking about. 

Ted finally lets go, gritting his teeth playfully and ruffling Schlatt's hair. “You owe me for that whiskey, buddy.” Ted exclaims, letting him go and pointing a finger at his chest. 

“Hey, it's not my fault the Jack Daniels was just sittin’ out like that.” Schlatt slurs. “Finders, keepers, dude.” He smirks at his friend playfully.

Ted scoffs and glances between you and him. “Ah, Y/N. You've met Schlatt. Careful. He can be a real pain in the ass.” 

Schlatt smooths his hair back and rolls his eyes. “If you're really that sour, man, I'll just buy you a new truck. So, ya know, we’re even.”

“Fat chance!” Ted calls out, walking backwards and swiveling on his heels to going back into the living room. "This isn't over, bitch!"

Need him so bad 🫦