i adore your work! I was wondering if you could write about schlatt confessing to you in the stupidest way ever?
THISSSSS!!!!!! i needed this ask desperately thank you so much. You said stupid so I went with stupid, but lovable. And I could see this happening. I genuinely had so much fun with this. Thank you for the request 🙏🤩🤩
Schlatt was never quiet. Not with his friends, not on camera, and definitely not when he was working up to one of his ridiculous rants. You’d seen him chew someone out over bagels and scream into a mic about corporate greed. The man could fill a room with his booming voice and trademark laugh. But with you? He wasn’t loud. He wasn’t brash. He wasn’t even trying to be funny half the time.
Around you, Schlatt was... soft.
It had been a gradual thing, this shift in his personality. When you first met him through mutual friends, he was as bombastic as ever, cracking jokes and tossing out snide remarks with a self-satisfied smirk. You thought that was just who he was, a loudmouth with a heart of gold buried deep, deep under layers of sarcasm. But then you caught him in quieter moments: brewing you coffee without being asked, staying up late to help you with a project even when he had his own work to do, the way he always looked at you like you were the only one in the room.
And now? Now you weren’t sure if the flutter in your chest was from his laugh or the way he smiled at you when no one else was around.
Schlatt, for his part, was spiraling. He’d never been good at feelings, much less talking about them. All he knew was that he couldn’t stop thinking about you. How you looked when you laughed at one of his dumb jokes, how you seemed to brighten up his whole world just by walking into a room. He was smitten, and it was starting to drive him insane.
So, naturally, he decided to confess.
But this was Schlatt we were talking about. He couldn’t just say how he felt like a normal person. No, he had to make it a thing.
Which was how you found yourself on your couch one Friday evening, confused as hell as Schlatt paced back and forth in front of you, muttering to himself and holding... a PowerPoint clicker?
“What’s going on?” you asked, watching him with a mix of amusement and concern.
He stopped mid-stride and turned to you, pointing the clicker like it was some kind of weapon. “Shut up and let me do this, alright?”
“The presentation,” he grumbled, stepping to the side to reveal your TV screen, which now displayed the title slide of what appeared to be an actual PowerPoint presentation. The title read:
"Why You Should Date Me: A Comprehensive Analysis by Schlatt."
You blinked. “You’re kidding.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” He hit the clicker, and the slide changed to a picture of himself giving a thumbs-up, surrounded by a truly absurd number of clip-art hearts.
“Nope, you said you’d hear me out.” He cleared his throat, suddenly looking uncharacteristically nervous. “Alright, slide two.”
The screen switched to a bullet-point list titled "Key Features of Schlatt."
Has mutton chops (very masculine).
Funny as hell (you laugh at my jokes, admit it).
Makes great pancakes (citation: you said so last week).
Will watch shitty rom-coms with you without complaining (that’s dedication, babe).
You were trying not to laugh, but the combination of his serious tone and the utterly ridiculous content was making it impossible. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Yeah, well, you like that about me, don’t you?” he shot back, hitting the clicker again.
The next slide was titled "Statistical Data."
It featured a bar graph labeled “How Much I Like You” with the bars labeled “Normal Amount” and “Way Too Much.” Naturally, the second bar was comically taller.
“Oh my God,” you said, burying your face in your hands.
“Hold on, I’m not done yet.” He clicked again, revealing the next slide:
"Real-Life Applications."
This slide was a ridiculous flowchart that began with “Date Schlatt” at the top. Arrows led to outcomes like “Free breakfast every Sunday,” “Terrible but endearing jokes,” and “Someone to scare off your exes.”
“Is this a joke?” you asked, biting back a smile.
“No, it’s a compelling argument,” he said, deadpan. “Now, moving on.”
The next slide was titled "Frequently Asked Questions."
“What if I say no?” You won’t, because I’m irresistible.
“Are you serious about this?”
Dead serious. This took a week
“Why now?”
Because if I don’t tell you now, I’m gonna lose my mind.
You couldn’t hold back your laugh this time, and Schlatt’s ears turned red, but he kept going, determined to get through it.
Finally, he clicked to the last slide, simply titled "The Proposal."
There was no text, just a poorly drawn picture of the two of you holding hands.
“Look, I know I’m an idiot,” he said suddenly, cutting you off. His voice was softer now, all the bravado gone. “But I want to be your idiot, alright? And I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you how I feel for months now, and this was the best I could come up with. So, yeah, maybe I’m not good at this, but...” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “I like you. A lot. And I’d really like it if you gave me a shot.”
You stared at him, the absurdity of the presentation fading as his words sank in. There was something so him about the whole thing—over-the-top and ridiculous, but also genuine in a way that made your heart ache.
“You’re an idiot,” you said finally, smiling as you stood up.
He blinked, looking momentarily crushed. “So... is that a no, or—”
You cut him off by pulling him into a hug, your face buried in his chest. “It’s a yes, you idiot.”
“Oh.” He hesitated for half a second before wrapping his arms around you, a laugh rumbling in his chest. “Well, uh, good. Because I had a whole second half planned if you said no, and it was gonna get really pathetic.”
You pulled back just enough to look up at him, grinning. “More pathetic than this?”
“Hey, don’t knock the PowerPoint,” he said, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “That thing took me hours.”
“Hours you could’ve spent just talking to me, you dumbass.”
“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”
You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face was impossible to hide. “I guess I’ll let it slide this time.”
“Damn right you will.” He leaned down, pressing a quick, awkward kiss to your forehead before pulling back with a sheepish grin. “So... dinner tomorrow? Or should I whip up another PowerPoint to convince you?”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Just dinner. No PowerPoints.”
2087
janainaart
theartofmadeline
snowghoul
