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sardonic-the-writer · 1 year

Text

—reading glasses

SUMMARY | schlatt might not seem like the guy to help you with your insomnia, but sometimes an act of kindness can come from where you least expect

PAIRING | cc!schlatt x reader

REQUESTED | no

WORD COUNT | 1.6k+

WARNINGS | none

AUTHORS NOTES | id like this to happen to me irl please and thank you <3

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If there was one thing you knew, it was that insomnia was a bitch.

Sleep had always ben unkind to you. Sprouting up and disappearing just when you had gotten settled in for the night. Lingering like a poisonous mist before bleeding into your morning routine when you would have to be at your sharpest. And most certainly plaguing you at the most unfortunate of times—like during the middle of an important lecture for exams. Or the one time when you had gotten up at night to use the bathroom, only to find yourself still on the toilet come morning with numb legs and a sore back.

But it seemed tonight that sleep was the one thing you wouldn't be getting a lick of—if the dark circles under your eyes weren't already proof enough.

"Jesus Christ toots." Was the first thing Schlatt said when you lumbered into the living room, looking like an extra from the set of The Walking Dead. His ide eyes and parted lips told you nothing new, just that you were as tired looking as you felt.

"Carful. Not in front of the cutout. What would Pope Francis say?" Your joke hit about as hard as a feather to the arms, humor missing Schlatt by a mile as he cringed while taking in your current state.

Said man had been reading a book before you so graciously entered the room, only setting it down once he had heard the shuffling of feet against carpet.

"It's one in the morning dude. Didn't you say you were going to bed like five hours ago." He poked his tounge around inside his mouth, eyes softening a bit while looking at you.

"I did say no promises." You flopped on the couch parralel to him while referring back to the last conversation you had had with the brunette. Where, indeed, you had responded with 'no promises' to the call of you to get some rest.

"So, what. Did you just sit in there doing nothing?"

"I mean, Jambo came in at one point and slapped my face a few times before leaving. If that counts."

"No. No, my bastard of a cat terrorizing you does not count." He ran a hand through his hair with a cackle, scrunching his eyes up at the lopsided smile you tossed his way.

As more seconds ticked by, you could feel exhaustion practically seeping into your bones like a weird form of gray matter. But it never seemed to sink it roots into you, the feeling always clearing up for a few minutes before appearing again with twice as much intensity. Rinse and repeat for a couple of nights and you had yourself some good old fashioned sleep issues.

"Fuck, you look dead on your feet." Schlatt's hands found a home in his pant pockets, bundling up the fabric while swaying back and fourth on his heels. "Do you want to uhm, stay out here for a bit? I could turn the light on for you."

A breathy laugh made its way out of your lips. As dead beat as you were, it was heartwarming to see his attempt to make you feel better. It was a softer side of him you rarely got to see, so you'd treasure every moment.

"No need big man." Your arms reached for the skies in an attempt to soothe the ache between your shoulder blades. "I'll pass out eventually. I just have to hope it isn't in the shower again."

"Sure there isn't anything I can do? I've spent one too many nights of my life pulling all nighters editing videos, or god forbid—" He shuddered dramatically. "—playing five nights at freddys."

A joking response was halfway out of your mouth before you suddenly stopped, brows dipping with consideration as you actually considered his offer for a moment.

"Yeah, you could do something for me actually."

"Really? Becuase you know how people say things to be nice but don't really mean it?"

One deappan look at the foul mouthed man had him shutting up, a small grin staying despite your efforts to burn holes into his head.

"What were you reading before I got in?" You asked with a clearing of your throat, shuffling around on the couch to sit up straighter.

Schlatt seemed confused at the sudden turn in conversation. But he reached for the paperback he had tossed down at your arrival, holding the front up for you to see.

"It's upside down genuis."

"Shut the fuck up I knew that."

He flipped it back round to a legible position, his turn to scowl at your bemused grin.

"Seriously?" Small giggles filled the room as you read the title as clearly as you could in your sleepy state. "Business 101 for beginners? Committing to the bit I see."

"You forget I'm planning to buy Gamer Supps this year. Gotta lock and load the old noggin with the proper information." He paused to blow out a resigned sigh. "And I realize that the last sentence made me sound like a fucking boomer."

"All the greatest businessmen are Schlagg, my boy. But they're also heartless asshole that's probably get off on watching landlord's raise rent." You were straight up rambling from the lack of rest at this point and you both knew it. But to be honest Schlatt didn't really care. He was probably one of the only people able to keep up with your antics, one of the reasons you appreciated him so much.

"Who says I dont either?" Schlatt joked, watching as you rolled your eyes.

"You only jerk off to men. We all know that. Besides, would a heartless asshole offer to read to me until I fall asleep?"

"I am?" His voice rose at the question.

"Yes. Yes you arem"

Schlatt noticed his blunder as soon as a tired, but still annoyingly smug, smirk made its was across your face.

"You know you could have just asked me instead of twisting my words. And taking some hits to my ego." He scoffed in fake frustration. But your grin of victory widened as he picked up the book and began to flip back to the page he had previously left on.

"Well that's not as fun is it. Besides—" You swiftly moved couches to throw yourself down smack dab across from Schlatt, the latter barely looking up in the process. "—I have a feeling I'll really sleep this time."

"As opposed to what. A warm glass of fucking milk?"

"Can you just read already? And try your best to sound boring, I really want you to nail home this college proffessor roleplay situation we have going on."

"What?"

You blinked. That had come out a little wrong.

"Sorry. I had this proffesor in college, boring guy super dull, always managed to make me fall asleep in class and—" You cut yourself off, face warming as you noticed that Schlatt has only been teasing you about your previous sentence. "Eat shit Schlatt. Just read the damn book."

"Whatever you say."

Five minutes later and halfway through a paragraph about the importance of not making your business seem like a pyramid sceme, it was just Schlatt sitting awake at the foot of the couch as he quietly observed your snoring figure.

"Jeesus." He winced as another loud snore ripped its way through the late night air. "You could cut trees with that fucking chainsaw."

But he would be lying if he didn't admit he was happy you were finally getting some rest. He had been in the same situation before too many times than he cared to count, so Schlatt knew you would wake up the next morning feeling better than you had in days. Something he liked seeing, although you could pry that confession out of his cold dead hands.

"Fucking asshole, making me get all soft jusy so they can fall asleep." The lamp light behind Schlatt was shut off as he grumbled under his breath, smoothing the blue hoodie he had been wearing down in preparation to leave the couch before faltering.

With a sigh he resumed his position on the couch, pulling a baseball cap that he had seemingly gotten out of nowhere over his head only after making sure to toss a blanket over you.

As he continued to softly watch over you, a little blob of orange entered the corner of his eye, freezing him for a moments notice.

Schlatt turned slowly to be met with Jambo, who he sternly pointed a finger straight at without hesitation.

"Tell anyone about this, and you're not getting any of that shitty catnip for a week."

He just got a meow in response.

"Good."

Jambos tail swayed back and fourth. He watched as Schlatt curled up on the couch next to you, doing his best to respect your space before giving in and stealing the tail end of the blanket around you.

"Night Jambo. Wake any of us, and you're a dead man."

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simpliao · 2 years

Text

it's over, isn't it? ; (irl) schlatt x reader

summary : an occasion for celebration ! a year and a half after the initial incident, y/n's murderer has finally been charged and sent away for their crimes. with trials ended and justice served, it still hadn't filled the gaping void left in her absence.

info : murder (being murdered), angst, swearing, brief implied suicidal thoughts, light drug usage (alcohol and cigarettes), she/her reader that is described as a woman, and based off of the song by bruno mars (talking to the moon) and the one by steven universe (same title as this one shot).

a/n : i've been watching a lot of true crime recently, and it's been mentioned that it always tends to be about the murderer than the actual victim. I thought about how terrible it was to lose someone in that way and just kinda turned it into a oneshot. also quick announcement to say thank you so much for ten followers !

Closure, justice, and his darling: those were the three things Schlatt wanted since the beginning. Today would be the day people figured he'd get what he'd wanted, minus getting Y/n back. Him and the other families of the bastard's victims stood their ground, gave their testimonies and said their peace. He was there since the beginning, showing up everyday and being as involved as he possibly could. Today was the day he'd been sentenced, and yet it left the brunette dissatisfied. The fucker evaded the death penalty. Taking a plea bargain, and only getting life without the possibility of parole.

The New Yorker was about to tear out his own hair, even giving a chaste interview after leaving to the media vehemently calling for the death of the one who took it all away from him. Twitter had essentially clipped that and sent it everywhere, being that him and Y/n were public figures, the case was highly popularized and viewed from everywhere. Now that it was over, it didn't feel like it. No, not when her name still trended on Twitter and that suffocating vacant space in his heart and soul still only seemed to grow.

Arriving home later that evening, what used to feel like home, he lazily kicked off his shoes and kept his gaze down. Since that night, the night his life went to hell, he refused to put away her things from their once shared apartment. And now it made for reminders of what was lost, but he wouldn't dare let them be stored away in a storage unit to be forgotten; he absolutely loathed the idea to let her be forgotten. He let himself turn into a mess, he'd stopped taking care of himself and survived off instant noodles and alcohol. All while keeping fresh ingredients and produce that he never used stocked in the fridge and cupboards. Y/n was the one who loved to cook, and he made sure to go out to the grocery store every week to replenish the food he let rot. It was a cope, a part of him pretending like she was just away for a while, out to LA or Europe to see friends, she'd come home any day now and make anything for the pair to enjoy. To eat as they sat on the balcony, laugh and joked around as she told him about her trip and how much she wished he came with her. He yearned for one last chance to share one of her home cooked meals under the light of midnight stars.

That day would never come, he knew this. And yet every week he still played this fantasy of going to the Whole Foods and pretending like everything was okay. He'd even had to give up Jambo while he dealt with this, which had been for almost about a year now, to friends he knew would take good care of him. He'd visit but the poor, confused cat would always snuggle up and look around for his other owner: his mom, unknowing of the fate that fell upon her. He shrugged off the blazer, a part of one of many suits he'd wear to the courthouse, unbuttoning the tops of the buttons of his shirt as he was quick to fetch what he needed: cigarettes and whatever cheap beer he kept off hand. He briefly met the gaze of cleaned dishes that were set to dry beside the sink so long ago, the night she was supposed to come home. While waiting anxiously he had washed the dishes and guessed she'd been coming home from their rented out office overworked and tired; the last thing he wanted was to stress her out more. But she never came home, and he never put up those cleaned dishes.

Retreating to the balcony, bistro styled furniture awaited him. Two chairs and a table, where they'd share romantic dinners and he'd watch her eyes twinkle under the blanket of stars. That second chair now cold and empty, pushed into the table and just like him, waiting for her to come. He never touched it, just like most (if not close to all) things in the apartment. She had moved those things into place, her touch still lingered on these items and he'd do his damnest to preserve it. Like he was still trying to keep a part of her alive.

He opened up the can, setting it on the table as he took the minute to alight the end of the cigarette; a habit he always had but had sharply taken over his life when he find no other way to cope without her. He knew she hated seeing it, but what else was he supposed to do when her touch and embrace couldn't calm him down anymore? Taking one long drag, and returning to pick back up the cheap beverage, he sat, waiting patiently for the moment the flurry of warm colours slipped beyond the horizon and the moon had come up in the sky. And when it did it was like a pressure lifting from his chest.

"They caught him." He began, speaking whist grey smoke slipped past his plump lips. "...But not good enough. They took a plea deal and the bastard isn't even facing death, just boredom." The scoff that came out of him was imbued with fiery abhor, disgust for the man that from what evidence showed, made his lover cry and feel unimaginable fear, pain and suffering. Life behind bars wasn't enough, no, he wanted that fucker to feel the same way he made all his other victims feel. He wanted him afraid and anxious as he would know the exact date and time of his death; forcing him to live out the rest of his pathetic life with a countdown always in the forefront of his mind. He got away with it in Schlatt's mind.

With a swig that more seemed like a chug, he didn't even process the taste of the beer; he just wanted some kind of buzz to lessen the pain. "...He gets away with it, while me and the other families have the rest of our lives to process the loss. If only they'd let me go in there and let me kill him myself." Somber eyes fixated upon the orb hung in dark skies, holding onto hope as to who resigned there. The woman who adored its beauty and gentle light every night, that's who he knew he was looking at. "You'd hate that though, and I know you would sweetheart. You'd try and defuse my anger, run those slender fingers through my hair knowing just how addicted I was– am to your touch."

"But now what? It should be over, the case is done, people are already beginning to forget... But what is justice if you can't be here beside me?" He questioned out to the heavens, always met with painful silence in return. His eyes always managed to well up, another painful drag taken to numb the pain; it never fully did. "I just hope to whatever god out there that you're finally okay. You've always talked about wanting a better view, I guess now that you're amongst the clouds you've gotten the beat seat in the house." A bitter grin and laugh left his throat, drowning out his pain with whatever remained of the can and subsequently tossing it over the ledge into the city without a second thought. "It won't hit anybody, and if it does they'll be fine toots." He assured her knowing how she'd react, undoubtedly would scold him for his carelessness.

"Ted's been up my ass too, you remember when he came to visit us a few weeks ago? He keeps telling me I should seek counselling, or therapy or whatever... He doesn't get it, I don't want to talk to anyone else. I only want to talk to you darling." A pang crushed his heart, you know he's right Schlatt, you have to move on, would be her exact words. A gush of wind that had his silk blouse rustle did manage to make him softly chuckle, she loved going on about how hot she thought he was in a suit. Maybe it was his mind still in this cope, or maybe it was her way of sending the message that she was still here. He knew she was right and one day he'd have to pack away her things and kiss her goodbye for the final time, but today wasn't that day yet.

"I get the message sweet cheeks, give me some more time. It's your fault for being so damn unforgettable." He uttered, acting as if these kinds of instances were cosmic signals she was sending. He knew if she was still out there it's what she would have done, she never really did stop worrying about him. "I'll get some flowers for you grave, how's about that? The pretty ones you've always wanted to have at home but neither of us were exactly green thumbs." He smiled through bittersweet memories, if he could go back, if only he could go back, he'd make sure he'd find her sooner, he'd make every moment of their fleeting time together even happier. He'd make sure she wouldn't go out to the office that day to stream.

...

"...I should get some sleep, can you believe I woke up at six this morning to get ready for court? I'll keep the window open, maybe you'll show up as some kind of ghost thing and everything can be alright again." He knew sooner or later this façade would have to fall, and that settling of dread for what was yet to come overcame. He had to keep living for her sake, as much as he wanted to throw himself off and join her if she was even still out there. He never wanted to upset her anymore than he is now. But he knew from the depths of his heart he would, he'd been babbling so long to her that he's been watching the moon slowly set and tangy oranges make themselves known from the distance.

He turned around to return back inside, and yet still he hesitated after having one foot through the door. And even though it was practically early morning he still spoke a chaste goodbye, "goodnight darling, I'll speak to you again tomorrow." It was like his heart tore out of him when he could see his beloved moon, his beloved Y/n, slip behind the silhouettes of skyscrapers and disappear again. He'd grown such an attachment it was like he lost her again.

To everyone else this book was over, the chapter read and the 'the end' already spoken out and forgotten. To Schlatt he never left that night of misery, of worry and panic when she'd first gone missing. He'd never left that phone call where police informed him that they'd discovered a body. And he sure as hell will never move past the instant he learned the gruesome details of her death, a fate she never deserved. But it all was supposed to be over now, she was gone and her perpetrator (with a name he refused to remember as to not give him that satisfaction) served justice and would pay for his crimes.

It was over, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to move on.

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