#nyxschlatt

[nymphomaniaa]

oh my GOD… WEAPONPLAY???? can we get a preview PLEASE. PLEASE. JUST A CRUMB. I RARELY EVER SEE WEAPONPLAY FICS THAT I ACTUALLY LIKE AND I JUST KNOW YOUR WRITING WILL HIT IT OUT OF THE PARK

well, since you asked so nicely! here’s a crumb.

warnings: nsfw gunplay but nothing very explicit

Schlatt hesitates as his gun reaches your jawbone. He wished he could take a photo of the moment he was about to recreate from your fantasy, because off of imagination alone, the way you had described it to him earlier was beyond hot. Now, he was staring down at you, the tip of the barrel just barely kissing your closed lips, intrigued by the glimmer in your eye that is screaming want. You involuntarily let out a quiet whimper as he applies a little bit of pressure on your bottom lip with the metal. His own lips quiver with anticipation. He has so much power over you. It’s beautifully terrifying.

“Open,” he commands, his eyes staring down at you like an owner looking at his pet. When you pretend to shake your head in fear, he furrows his eyebrows. “What, you scared? Don’t make me show you something really scary. Now, open.”

You knit your eyebrows as you shyly shake your head again. There is complete silence as he blinks slowly. He doesn’t seem too pleased with your response to his demand.

A sharp click! from the gun pointed directly towards your mouth reverberates through your skin when Schlatt switches the safety off. Or on. You can’t really tell, but all you know is that he has forced you to press your torso closer to his as he towers above you, practically bending you backwards so he maintains the greater physical advantage over you.

“Scary enough for you now, sweetheart?” he cockily mutters. “Now, let me see that pretty tongue of yours, or I’ll just shoot right through it.”

He gives you a snarky grin, almost like he has just had an epiphany, but never releases his intense stare. “Ah, but we wouldn’t want to leave a mess like that in the very room your boyfriend sleeps in, now would we? You’re better than that, right? Can you be good for me?”

[nymphomaniaa]

something about us [XX] "parasite" — a preview!

summary: this snippet includes part of a scene where the reader sets up a photoshoot for a merch drop featuring the lunch club members.

warnings: slightly nsfw joke

notes: FINALLY finished this monster of a chapter! it's really long because it sets up the current "arc" ending and the next one beginning, so it's... kind of a roller coaster of emotions. below is the only part of the chapter that i felt was fluff-ish enough to include as a lighthearted preview, so make sure to buckle in when you read the actual chapter because... oh boy. it's a lot.

Returning from the postal office (where the Lunch Club P.O. box was now up and running in hopes to receive packages from fans in the future, thanks to you, of course), you held the most important package in your arms three weeks before the start of TwitchCon.  Inside this large hunk of cardboard were the finalized versions of the new merch that you had painstakingly worked on throughout the past spring and summer.  It made it past weeks of reviews, tweaks, and packaging delays, and was finally in your possession, ready to be distributed to the boys so they could finally promote a project that had been on the works for months.

In the basement's common area, you spent most of the morning by yourself, working on setting up a photoshoot area for the group using a backdrop screenprinted with a repeating minimalistic pattern of the official Lunch Club logo — courtesy of a manufacturing company Ryan suggested weeks ago.  By the time you finished setting up the studio lights borrowed from Ted, arranged a couple of chairs on the set, and unpacked the box of merch to take a peek inside, most of the group had finished eating brunch upstairs.

Ted was the first to come down, since he was the one with the camera you would use for the shoot, so he was the first one to be spoiled by the surprise.  "Woah," he's taken aback by the set at first, bewildered by how official you made it look despite the very limited supplies you had.  "This looks really professional for only costing, what, like, two hundred bucks?  And my lights?"

"One hundred and eighty bucks, actually, with shipping and taxes," you snarkily reply, placing your hands on your hips with pride.

Ted lets out a halfhearted laugh, then after fiddling with his camera, hands it over to you.  "Take good care of her.  I've had her since the beginning of film school, she's practically my baby."

You wrap the neck strap around your head gently, and offer Ted a thumbs up while looking down at the camera screen, trying to orient yourself to its panel.  "We're all good to go, I think.  If you could bring all the boys down for me, please?"

"Yes, madam," Ted beams, then suddenly runs up the stairs, shouting, "Alright fellas, get all of yer asses down here right now!  We're aboutta' start rootin' and shootin'!"

A distant drawn out "yeehaw" (likely from Charlie) above you makes you roll your eyes.  These boys never ran out of ways to make noise echo throughout the house.

One by one, each of the Lunch Club members step down into the basement with 'oohs' and 'aahs,' until all of them convene in front of you and are now ogling the box behind you.  Methodically, you explain that you would start with getting shots of each member with their respective pieces of merch, then you would get photos of each of them wearing the group merch, then a few group pictures with all of them together: one set with their group merch, and one set with them wearing whatever they chose to wear.  All of these stills would be displayed on a new merch website that had already been prepared in advance by one of Schlatt's web developers he worked with, but you also intended to get some short candid video clips of them just goofing around and chatting with each other that could be used for a video promotion that could go on their channel.

If all went well, they could start promoting their merch exactly one week from now, and by the time TwitchCon rolls around, the manufacturing company should have enough pieces shipped to Ryan to be sold at the Lunch Club booth.

The shoot went as well as expected.  Each member had their turns modelling their own pieces, with the remaining boys being hypemen behind the camera.  As each session went by, you had a difficult time containing your excitement.  Your art and your designs were on official pieces of merchandise that people all over the world had access to.  You were directing a photoshoot, which granted, you had never done before nor had interest in, but for your first time trying it, each member seemed happy with the results when their mini modelling session was over.

Of course, when Schlatt's turn came around, you took the opportunity to get him in certain poses that accentuated his features.  Partly for you to shamelessly stare at his good looks in your own time, but also partly because you knew a certain part of his audience would be more inclined to support the merch drop if he looked overwhelmingly handsome in his own clothes.  If he could take advantage of you being a woman in his Love or Host show, you could take advantage of him being eye candy in clothes you designed.  More money for the group.  Everyone wins, and the score will be even between you two.

"Let's have you lean a little onto that back leg, and put your left thumb in your pocket...  Then just look at Travis behind me...  No, chin a little more to your right.  There you go.  Intense stare, and…" you directed the tall man, as you kneeled on top of a nearby stool to compensate for his height.

"Can you roll up your sleeves a little, like so the hem goes about an inch below your elbow?  Then just do that exact pose again...  Yep, that's it.  No, stop giggling.  You're serious.  You're calm.  You're serious."

"Sorry." You’re unsure what is so funny, but he stifles his laughter, then settles into the same pose as before.

"Okay, then can I maybe get you on the stool?  Yeah, just sit like you normally would.  Push your right knee outwards a little more, then let's get your elbows resting on your knees.  Yep, and then clasp your hands together, and lift your head and look towards Trav, but not too much?  You're trying to showcase your hat, so only let your eyes look up at him, not your entire head.  Chin to the right.  Perfect."

"I feel like you're shooting a fucking porno of me," he tries to contain his laughter.  "It's like you're recreating that one face reveal photo of me looking up at the camera,"

"Just trust the process, J," you roll your eyes as the shutter snaps a few more times when he closes his mouth.  "Here, you wanna look?"

You open the camera's preview gallery and show the rest of the boys first, who burst into a roar of overexaggerated gasps and whistles.

"Holy shit, he's hot!" Charlie moans, pretending to fan off his face.

Schlatt pulls himself off of the stool and meanders towards you, reaching a hand out to ask for the camera.  Once you give it to him, and he clicks through the photos, he raises his eyebrows in approval.  "Holy shit, I am hot."

"You sure are, handsome.  Now get back in that damn chair, we have more porn to shoot," you tease.  He shakes his head, chuckling as the boys keep cheering him on, chittering in excitement for his newfound confidence after seeing himself on camera.

read the entire chapter here, or start from the beginning here.

[nymphomaniaa]

something about us [XXI] "seethrough" — a preview!

summary: this veryyy short snippet happens after a scene where the reader is just recovering after being roofied.

warnings: brief mention of a knife

notes: it's finally here! this preview is really short because literally any other snippet from this chapter would be major "spoiler" territory! aside from that... oh my god i'm so sorry for just dying for four months. it has been a very stressful few months, but i'm so glad i've finally been able to finish this chapter! i think a lot of you will like it purely because of the ending but... you'll have to sit through some gut wrenching things before you get there. sorry </3

“Hey,” Schlatt slowly walks forward, then kneels beside you, carefully watching your knife follow his face. “[Y/N], c’mon. We’ve known each other for years. I would never dream of hurting you. I’m here to help. We need to get you out of here. And I’m firing that son of a bitch as soon as possible. I promise, I just want to help you.”

You can’t even see him. Your vision is so dark and distorted, that all you can recognize of him is the shape of him in his costume, and his softened voice.

“J…”

“Yes, [Y/N]?”

“I can’t even feel my legs, J. I’m so scared. I feel like I’m gonna fall asleep.”

Schlatt takes a deep breath, trying to decide on what to do. “Okay. Just put the knife down, and I’ll take care of everything else. I know it’s hard… but you’re gonna have to trust me.”

Trust? When have you ever fully trusted someone? Every time you have put your full trust in someone, you have gotten hurt. How is now, of all situations, the best time to trust someone?

However, you’re running out of options, anyway.

You drop the knife onto the floor, hearing the clatter of the metal scrape the stone once again. Schlatt reaches over to tuck the blade back into its handle, starts picking up all your belongings, then places everything back into your purse. He holds your purse out to you. “I just need you to hold onto this. Then I’m going to pick you up, we’re gonna stop by Ted to get his keys, and I’m going to take you to his truck to lie down. Is that okay? Is it okay if I carry you?”

Your brain is too tired to make a fully conscious decision. “Yes,” is all you say, before Schlatt hands you your purse, tucks his right arm under your knees and his left arm under your back, then lifts you up slowly. You’re surprised he’s able to perform a motor task like that while drunk, but as soon as that surprise settles in, you are completely knocked out.

read the entire chapter here, or start from the beginning here.

[nymphomaniaa]

something about us [V] "shot in the dark" — an outtake!

summary: schlatt feels bold while sharing a hotel room with you.

warnings: light angst.

notes: i sincerely apologize for chapter 19 of 'something about us' still not being released! life has been very cruel to me lately, cruel enough that i haven't had the time to really polish the new chapter. to apologize, i wanted to post this snippet i found in the depths of my storage, originally written in 2020. it was meant to be sandwiched somewhere chapter 5 and 6, but i removed it because it made the connection between the reader and schlatt feel way too rushed and unnatural. but it is definitely a noteworthy outtake, so i hope you enjoy it.

The two of you returned to the hotel room a few hours after the sun set. Shivers ran down your body as the cold ocean breeze outside cared less about your bare legs, so as soon as Schlatt opened the door for you, you immediately lunged for the warmth of your bed. You sighed, letting your face sink into the mattress, closing your eyes and taking in the sharp scent of cleaning agents and dust.

Schlatt sits next to you at the edge of the bed, groaning miserably from walking and being awake all day. He couldn't see you roll your eyes at the fact that he got to take a nap but you didn't. What could he possibly be tired from?

You lifted yourself off of the mattress and crawled to the foot of the bed. Schlatt had taken off his cap and tossed it onto his bed on the other side of the room, and now he was just sitting there, propping himself up with his lanky arms. You couldn't help but study the way his hair had perfectly framed his forehead whenever he took his hat off, and how his eyelashes fluttered whenever he looked at you.

Now that you noticed it, you two were sitting way too closely for you to be able to notice his eyelashes. But neither of you moved, sitting together, so close that if you even twitched, your arm would graze his arm, or his leg could push against yours. The looks exchanged between two people, alone in this room, started to make your face flush. The realization had hit Schlatt too, as he started to subconsciously lower his head to meet you at your level.

Quiet enough that you just barely hear it, he mutters, "...Can I kiss you?"

"What?" you blink back, confused.

"...Jesus Christ," he looks away sheepishly, immediately standing up, which shifts the weight on the mattress and almost tumbles you over the edge. "That was so fucking weird. That was so fucking weird, I'm so sorry. Please forget I said that."

"Wait," you stand up, but he steps further away from you, as if you were a growing flame he needed to avoid. You ignore his avoidance, putting your hand on his shoulder and pulling him back to face you again. He drags his head down, and illuminated by the dimmed skylights in the foyer, you can barely make out the way his jawline is tense.

"You're not... under the influence, or anything? Right?" you chuckled, partly from disbelief, and partly from the nervousness that comes with genuine concern.

"God, no. I don't do that. Not often, anyway," he puts his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, awkwardly averting his gaze from you.

"Schlatt," you trail your hand down from his shoulder to his chest, feeling the faintness of his racing heartbeat. "I mean, we only just met..." you whisper.

"I know," he sounds upset. "That's what makes this feel worse."

"Makes what feel worse?"

"Seriously just... just forget it—"

You stand on your toes and offer him a peck on the cheek, maybe as a gesture of comfort, but maybe because whatever he was feeling towards you was most definitely reciprocated. His eyes are as wide as golf balls as he stares down at you, almost glares down at you. A mischievous smile creeps up on your face, and with the open opportunity, you give him another peck on his other cheek.

"We... [Y/N], we basically just met," he takes his hand out of his pocket to place it gently over yours resting on his chest. "And you just got out of a relationship, this isn't—"

"Just—" you step closer to him, so that you can crane your neck up to meet his face. "Just kiss me."

His eyes, which were once darting all over the room, are now locked onto yours. Then, his glances are caught on your lips. Soon enough, he is unknowingly leaning down, far enough that his lips are millimeters away from grazing yours. As your eyelids drift to a close, he uses his free hand to gently touch your waist, then seals the deal.

It's a short, nervous kiss at first. But when he pulls away and sees you adoringly grinning at him, he feels enticed to kiss you again. For longer, this time. For himself, this time.

When he pulls away again, you chase him. Locked in another kiss, he notices the way you melt into his arms, and fully takes advantage of this moment to snake his other arm around your waist, greedily embracing you tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.

But eventually, he does. He snaps back into reality, and harshly breaks the kiss.

"No. This isn't right," he says a little louder than a whisper this time, with conviction, as if he were being tried in court. "But why do you—"

"I have feelings for you," you blurt out. "I feel so bad for falling for you within just the first few days of us meeting, but I just couldn't help myself."

He hesitates. "I think it's my loneliness making me feel something for the first attractive girl I've seen in months."

You feel conflicted. Does he not actually like you?

"Well, I think it's just my broken heart focusing on the good within you. But maybe there aren't a lot of bad things about you to begin with."

"You don't know me," he loosens his embrace with you, letting his arms fall to his sides. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

"You don't know me that well either, but you still feel a certain way about me, right?" you grin optimistically. You catch a gleam in his eye as he accepts your logic.

The whistle of the wind outside paired with the rhythmic waves of the tide calm the tension between you and Schlatt. His steady, nervous breathing, shows up in his voice. "Can we just... pretend? Like everything is fine between us?"

"Everything is fine, though. What do you mean?"

"Like, I'm not saying I don't like you or anything, but this is... this feels like a dream. I want you so badly, but there are so many things in the way that prevent me from getting into another relationship."

You feel like you have been directly punched in the gut by him. It doesn't help that he is walking away from you, returning to his spot on his own bed. He climbs on top of his mattress, and you try to follow by sitting next to him, but he doesn't even look at you.

"Let's just keep this secret for now, okay? That's all I'm saying. Let's just keep things casual."

He says this a little too nonchalantly. From one moment, he was kissing you, but in the next moment, you might cry.

"Okay," you sweetly whisper, hiding the way your throat feels like it's closing up. Your heart aches.

The room is too dark for him to see your face, so by the tone of your voice alone, he feels like he has done the right thing. He feels like you are on exactly the same page as him. How convenient! For him, at least.

"I mean, maybe I'll take you on a few dates to get to know you more, we can have fun together, and hopefully over time... y'know."

"...But can we still talk about this a little before you leave for New York?" you whisper.

He grins up at you, reaching a free hand towards your face. He uses his thumb to caress your cheek, and his other fingers gently massage your scalp.

"Yeah. Before I leave for New York."

[nymphomaniaa]

something about us [XIX] "two glass bottles" — a preview!

summary: this chapter will follow lunch club's last major filming day in LA. the events before this snippet involve the group exploring the griffith park observatory at night after spending the afternoon in santa monica. schlatt and reader are driving back to the offlinetv house.

warnings: just a bit of angsty miscommunication word vomit. mention of alcohol/sobriety.

notes: sooo i mentioned about a month and a half ago that i've been struggling to finish this chapter because this story loosely follows events that have happened in my own life, and this chapter is especially full of personal experience that was difficult to resurface after years of repressing them. regardless, it was pretty therapeutic for me to write this, and i'm really hoping i can finally post this full chapter soon whenever i have the time (i don't lol)

Schlatt is unnervingly quiet at first as he stares ahead, too.  The road is long and dark, and what lies ahead can only be revealed if he turns the engine on.  However, you both wait in silence for the longest few seconds of your life.  The both of you sit in unnerving darkness.

“To be honest,” he seems to try to get words out, “I mean, there’s nothing, like, wrong, but it’s more like…”

He dances around his thoughts for a moment, trying to come up with the right words to say.

“I guess, I just feel a little… y’know.”

He falters before he truly begins, and with an annoyed sigh, ends up taking his key out of his pocket, and using it to start the car instead.  “Yeah, I can’t do this right now, [Y/N],” he remarks with defeat, letting his foot off the brake to begin driving.

“No, hey,” you reach out, placing your hand over his forearm, which softly drops into his lap the second he feels your touch.  Maneuvering his way out of a parallel parking spot with just one hand, he ignores your fingertips pressing into his skin, telling himself he just needs to focus on driving, and maybe he can stave off his thoughts, at least for tonight.  “J, seriously.  I can tell something’s on your mind,” you press further.  “Did something happen?”

“No, nothing’s like… wrong or anything, I’m just…  tired and I wanna go home and pass out.  That’s all it is.  I mean, we had two shoots today.  Can you blame me for being a little cranky?”

You don’t mean to glare at him.  But a lie is a lie.  And lies are not something you wholeheartedly tolerate, especially not from someone like Schlatt.  Maybe he’s on too high of a pedestal in your mind at this point, but no matter how you try to picture the podium, he’s standing there with a trophy of guilt firmly gripped in his hands.  And all you could think about is whether or not it’s your fault that he’s feeling like this, because if it weren’t, he wouldn’t be stubbornly avoiding you, right?

Your hand withdraws as you sit back into your seat, crossing your legs as you listen to the faint flow of the air conditioning kick in.  “Fine,“ you surrender.

“Fine?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“...Okay.”

He’s stunned into hesitation at how quickly you gave up on prodding for more information.  It’s uncanny, almost, for you to be so quiet after obviously caring about something.

It takes ten minutes of Schlatt driving in awkward silence for him to contemplate that maybe, there isn’t actually any point in hiding from you.  He could tell that you had some degree of attraction and admiration for him – you weren’t exactly stellar at keeping it a secret.  The off-camera flirting, your body language, the soft side you reveal around him, the way you show him your commitment to everything he has ever thrown at you professionally…  He knows there’s something there.

It takes ten more minutes of Schlatt driving in silence for him to arrive at the OfflineTV house.  He slowly pulls into the driveway.  The moment he puts the car in park, the pressure in his head is making its way out of his mouth before he even realizes it.

“I was sad, okay?  I was sad this morning when you left.  There,” he states bluntly.  “And now I’m irritated because… ‘cus I don’t know why I feel this way.  We were drunk and you said it was okay, so I thought it was fine, but then afterwards you left and you haven’t mentioned it at all today.  And I feel like you’re trying to pretend it didn’t happen, and I’m trying too but…  I feel like an asshole because how could you have known any better?  You were drunk.  I was drunk.  Just…  fuck, dude.  I’m sorry.  I’m just…  I’m sorry.”

He’s staring at the parked car in front of him, with both his hands on the steering wheel, and his car still running.  He’s tracing his eyes along the letters and numbers on Cooper’s license plate.  He’s counting how many rooms of the OfflineTV house have their lights on.  

“You were trying to be sober.  I don’t know why I didn’t think about that in the moment.  All I could think about was how grateful I was to be able to hold you with no consequences.  No complicated feelings, no nothing.  Just…  just you.  God, I’m a fucking dick.”

He’s observing the building redness in his knuckles.  He’s doing everything to avoid looking at you when he’s about to directly address you.  

“And look, [Y/N], I like you and all as a friend, y’know, you’re so pretty and talented and smart and you’re just— you’re the whole package.  But I don’t know if I’m…  I don’t know how I feel about taking it beyond that.  I don’t wanna fuck up anything between us.  I don’t wanna ruin what we have.  You’re so special to me, and you deserve the absolute best, and I just don’t want you to be hurt.  I’m not the best.  I’m not what you need.”

He is a deer in his own headlights.

“I’m an asshole.  You just like me because I’m nice to you.  But I’m just a regular guy.  At the end of the day, I could take advantage of you without ever knowing it.  And I’m just not confident that you’d be able to speak up for yourself against someone like me.  I just can’t let you do that to yourself in good conscience.”

For the first time in his life, he is trembling.

you guys will hate me for what comes next. i'm sorry. i had to leave it out in this preview because it will build up anticipation for you guys, but i'll be upfront by saying it's genuinely so gut wrenching and i'm sooo sorry. but feel free to read the story from the beginning here to prepare for the new chapter! thank you for always motivating me.

[nymphomaniaa]

something about us [XIX] "two glass bottles" — another preview!

summary: in this chapter, you and lunch club visit the griffith park observatory for one of your last shoots in los angeles.

notes: sorry for the long wait! chapter is finally out now! preview and link under the cut.

You had listened to their conversation under a sleepy haze, not paying much attention to the implications of it.  However, after a few moments of hearing those voices trail into the distance, you finally ease into your senses.  Schlatt’s arm is still wrapped lazily around your abdomen as your face is buried in his collarbone.  Your legs are intertwined with his, and the blanket that you remember being wrapped around you is doing little to provide you warmth, because it had been subconsciously stolen by Schlatt in the middle of the night.  It doesn’t even matter, though, because his natural body heat was enough to cause you to wake up in a thin layer of uncomfortable sweat.

As you tilt your head away from him, your eyes flutter up to observe his face.  He’s taking deep, heavy breaths while he sleeps peacefully.  He looks good with his facial hair grown in more since May.  His freckles are still scattered cutely on his face, as if his skin were a canvas capturing a photo of dandelions dancing in the wind.  He smells like his typical sandalwood cologne, mixed with a little bit of alcohol and a lot of natural musk. Even now, as you both lay here, he towers above you, engulfing you with his weight.  Schlatt’s lips are enticing, the tiny, slightly chapped cracks inviting you to crane your neck up a little bit, lean in and just…

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[nymphomaniaa]

something about us [XVIII] "what friends do" — a preview!

summary: in this chapter, schlatt celebrates his 21st birthday with reader and lunch club and offlinetv and friends.

notes: new chapter of ‘something about us’ is up now! had a lot of fun writing this since it pulls a lot from my own experiences, in both good and bad ways. preview and link under the cut.

“This,” you pull one bracelet out of the holder and present it to Schlatt in your palm, “is black onyx. I think the look and the meaning suits you.”

“Looks like just some regular old black stone to me. There’s a meaning behind it?”

Your mind traverses its library of memories to pull out a tidbit of information about this stone. “All crystals have a meaning, J. Even if you don’t believe in it. But black onyx is meant to symbolize new beginnings, specifically, persevering through new challenges with physical and emotional strength. Like... healing old wounds and all that.”

Schlatt places his free palm over yours, gently nudging the bracelet back towards you. “Wouldn’t this better suit you, then?”

He lifts his hand off of yours, letting you look down at the reflective bracelet. He’s not wrong in that the metaphysical properties of this crystal are very closely associated with the ups and downs you have been through within the past year, but you can’t help but think about the anecdote he once shared about how he was getting over a breakup a few months ago. Your mind is launched back to that night on the beach, where he lamented about moving across the country to pursue his career, which meant leaving his old life with his family behind. You wonder if he’s still navigating through the turmoil of that, similarly to how you are dealing with your own conflicts in your life.

“Well, if we’re getting friendship bracelets, we can both have the same one. I’ll buy these,” You reach toward the display again, grabbing another black onyx bracelet for yourself. “Maybe that’s what makes our friendship so special — the fact that we’re both going through new beginnings, together.”

His heart thumps at the sentiment. He is moved by that simple sentence, especially since his feelings for you are not only based on his admiration for your perseverance, but he doesn’t show it in his face. Instead, he pats you on the back with the hand that was on your shoulder, then smiles as you walk away to the counter to buy the bracelets. As he watches you speak with the vendor, he stares at the way your glossy lips move, the way your eyelashes flutter with excitement as you are making the purchase, and the way you meander back towards him with your bracelet already on your wrist. You slip Schlatt’s bracelet onto his left wrist to match, and the both of you walk out of the store with a newfound sense of connection.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works