Good GOD

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

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!"

Big Bad John [Part 2] - Cowboy Like Me

1,415 words Summary: Cowboy!Schlatt x original character. Dollie and John get to know each other a bit more. A/N: Sat my ass down and managed to write this chapter in about three hours. 💪

[Part 1] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Divider: elleisdesigning

“You're a bandit like me

Eyes full of stars

Hustling for the good life

Never thought I'd meet you here

It could be love

We could be the way forward

And I know I'll pay for it”

“cowboy like me” by Taylor Swift

Dollie leads John upstairs and shows him her spare room. It’s not much - quite small, the wallpaper is tattered and coming off the wall in some places, the furniture is quite old, and the bed squeaks when you sit on it. But it’s a place to sleep.

“Well, here’s my spare room,” Dollie says.

John grunts in response. He walks into the room, looking around before sitting on the bed with a loud squeak.

“My room is just down the hall,” Dollie says. “If you need anything just holler.”

“You got any spare clothes?” John asks.

Dollie juts her head toward the wardrobe in the room. “Should be some clothes in there, but don’t count on it. I don’t get visitors a whole lot.”

John nods. “Alright, thank you,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” Dollie says before shutting the door and walking to her room.

Dollie lay awake that night, her mind restless as she thought about John. He wasn’t what she expected. Not at all. The stories painted him as some ruthless outlaw, a gunslinger with blood on his hands, but the man sitting in her saloon tonight had been quiet, almost careful. There was something in his eyes - something thoughtful, something tired.

Her father wouldn’t see that, though. He was the sheriff, and to him, an outlaw was an outlaw. If he found out she had given John a place to stay, there’d be hell to pay.

The next day, Dollie gets up bright and early to open the saloon. She makes a quick breakfast for herself and leaves some out for John when he wakes up. 

She goes downstairs into the saloon and does her normal opening tasks before her first customer walks in.

John finally joins her about midday. The folks in the saloon give him wary glances as he walks up to the bar.

“You heading out?” Dollie asks.

John sits down at the bar and looks up at her. “Think I’ll stick around for a few more days if that’s alright.”

“‘Course,” Dollie says. “My saloon is always open to ya, John.”

John smiles. “Good to hear,” he says. 

“Can I get ya anything to drink?” she asks.

“Just a whiskey.”

“You bet.”

Dollie pours him a drink and goes back to serving other customers. 

She’s not sure how much time has passed, but eventually the sun starts to set. Golden rays of light pour in through the saloon’s windows. 

Just as she’s about to start polishing glasses, a group of three men burst into her saloon. They all wear similar tattered clothes and each wear a cowboy hat. She doesn’t recognize them, but she gets plenty of folks she doesn’t recognize in her saloon all the time.

“How can I help you, boys?” Dollie asks.

“We heard Big Bad John’s in town,” one man says. “Heard he might be here. Just wanted to pay him a visit.”

By the way the man is looking at her and how he said John’s name, Dollie isn’t sure these guys are looking for a friendly chat. But before she can say anything, John gets up and approaches them.

“That would be me,” John says. “What can I do you for?”

“Well, you see,” says another man. “We caught wind of you passin’ through town. You killed our brother a couple years ago. We’ve come to get payback.”

John looks like he’s sizing the three men up. He’s studying them intently, planning his next move. She notices a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. 

Dollie doesn’t like it.

Silence settles in the saloon - thick, heavy. Some patrons back away, some leave entirely. Dollie herself isn’t sure what to do. 

One man shifts on his feet, his hand moving toward his holster.

John takes notice. “Now, I don’t want any trouble,” he says, putting his hands up. “If you boys are smart, you’ll walk away.”

“Is that so?” the man who spoke first - likely the leader - asks. “Funny. Last I heard, Big Bad John doesn’t walk away from no fight.”

Before John can respond, Dollie slams her hand down on the table with a loud thud. The men look at her. 

She shakes her finger at the leader. “That’s enough,” she says. “I don’t care what unfinished business y’all think you got, but it ain’t gettin’ settled under my roof.”

“This ain’t your fight, lady,” the leader sneers.

“It sure is when it’s happening in my saloon,” Dollie retorts. “Now, unless you boys are lookin’ for a drink, I suggest you run along.”

The man who had been reaching for his gun scoffs. “You think you can just send us packin’?” he asks.

“I don’t think,” Dollie says. “I know. This is my saloon. You start trouble, I promise you won’t like how it ends.”

The leader scoffs and juts his chin toward the door. “Let’s go,” he says. “But this ain’t over.”

“It is for now,” Dollie says.

The men make their way toward the door, glaring at Dollie as they do so. She watches them leave and listens as the sounds of their heavy boots get quieter and quieter. 

After a few moments, the saloon goes back to its normal hum of conversation. 

Dollie turns back to John who has returned to his seat at the bar. “You sure do know how to attract trouble,” she says.

John smirks, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Not my fault folks don’t know when to let things go.”

She rolls her eyes. “Next time, don’t bring it into my saloon.”

Later that night, Dollie and John stand on Dollie’s balcony, sharing a cigarette. The cool night air feels good on her face and she can just barely see John in the moonlight.

They sit quietly for awhile, just taking turns with the cigarette.

“So, Dollie,” John starts. “How’d you get to own the saloon?”

“Grandpa owned it before me,” she says. “I practically grew up in the saloon. Mom died when I was quite young and dad didn’t know what else to do with me while he was working, so he’d dump me here durin’ the day. Grandpa taught me how to tend the bar when I was about eleven. He taught me everything I know. After he passed, I inherited the saloon. Been runnin’ it by myself ever since.”

“Sorry about your grandfather,” John says.

“Don’t be,” Dollie says, taking a drag of the cigarette before handing it to John. “It happened a while ago.”

The two are quiet for a moment, taking in the night breeze.

“What does your dad do?” John asks, breaking the silence.

Dollie chuckles a bit. “He’s the sheriff, actually.”

She looks over at John - even in the dark, she can see his eyes go wide. 

“He doesn’t know you’re here,” Dollie says. “My dad and I… we ain’t on the best of terms. He don’t approve of me runnin’ the saloon. In fact, he wanted to sell it after grandpa died, but legally, it’s mine. Now, Dad’s set on marrying me off to some guy and convincing him to sell the saloon. But he ain’t found anyone to marry me yet.”

John nods, not adding anything.

“How’d you get into the cowboy life?” Dollie asks.

John exhales, watching the smoke swirl into the night air. “Didn’t have much of a choice. My old man worked cattle. Taught me how to ride and shoot. Figured out real quick that life ain’t always fair. You either get tough or get left behind.”

Dollie studies what she can see of him for a moment, seeing something deeper in his words. “That why you left? To find something better?”

John smiles softly. “Something like that.”

Dollie leans on the railing, very aware of the way John’s side presses against hers. “You ever think of leavin’ the cowboy life behind?” she asks.

John turns his head, his gaze meeting hers in the moonlight. “Some days,” he says.

Neither of them says anything for a moment. The air feels heavier, charged with something neither of them are quite ready to name. 

Without thinking, Dollie shifts closer. John hesitates for only a second and leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. The kiss is slow and tentative, almost like they’re feeling this out, trying to figure out what the other is thinking.

When they pull apart, John chuckles. “I didn’t see that comin’,” he says.

“Me neither,” Dollie says, smirking. But she definitely doesn’t regret it.

Previous Part - Next Part

Thinking about cowboy!schlatt. May need to let the brain worms take over and write it.

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

Started watching daredevil…now THAT is a man who knows how to moan

ao3 is crazy because you'll read the most gut-wrenching 200k word slowburn that leaves you sobbing into your sweater at four in the morning and the author will be applejacksmonstercock

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

To add onto this, I was thinking about maybe doing it in first person and make it sort of diary-esque? And I might purposely put the chapters out of chronological order. So one chapter may take place in September 2021 and the next in November 2019 idk.

Hear me out.

I want to write a Schlatt fic in which the chapters are out of order (each takes place at a different point in time). The MC and Schlatt are sort of in this situationship. It takes years for them to finally realize their true feelings for each other. (Sort of inspired by One Day except there's no sad ending because I don't like sad endings.)

I hope this made sense. I can't wait to start writing it. 😜

Might fuck around and write some hobama fanfic idk guys