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nvmadic · 1 year ago

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GUILT AND SHAME - 04

link to last part: [x] synopsis: after a messy dispute revolving around your toxic boyfriend, schlatt takes matters into his own hands and puts your safety over his. some feelings are unearthed that need dealing with. words: 5,472 warnings: light drinking

Despite originally intending to go straight home, you made a spontaneous decision to prolong your trip by an extra day, much to Ted's insistence. Both Ted and Schlatt, after enduring the exhausting demands of filming episodes for Chuckle Week, were fortunate enough to find respite in a well-deserved day off. Ted eagerly assumed the role of a seasoned tour guide, unveiling an array of hidden culinary treasures and introducing you to lesser-known, yet captivating, local attractions. With meticulous attention, he skillfully navigated you away from the swarming tourist hubs, ensuring that you soaked up the genuine essence of the city firsthand.

The day was imbued with a bittersweet aura, carrying an underlying sense of urgency that compelled you to savour each passing moment, as you knew it would be quite some time before you'd reunite with Schlatt, given his overwhelming schedule. Every minute held a precious weight, and you conscientiously immersed yourself in the present, cherishing the shared laughter, heartfelt conversations, and secret glances that wove a delicate thread of connection throughout your day. Torn between the fervent desire to express your affection and the imperative to keep it hidden, you delicately tiptoed a tightrope of restraint, mindful not to arouse any suspicions in the discerning eyes of Ted. Every stolen touch, every lingering gaze had to be discreet, artfully concealed behind the façade of friendship.

As the evening gradually advanced and Ted sought solace in the confines of his bedroom, a newfound aura of privacy enveloped the space. Liberated from prying eyes and the burden of pretence, you and Schlatt nestled intimately on the sofa, cocooned beneath the comforting embrace of a shared blanket. His touch was exquisitely tender, as though he held your body as delicately as fragile glass, ensuring not a single crack would mar your being. Enveloped in his arms, he cradled you against his chest, exuding a profound tenderness. He made up for the day's absence of affection in a single, all-encompassing gesture. The sensation of his lips meeting yours was akin to quenching a parched thirst on a sweltering, humid day, each kiss like a sweet and refreshing gulp of cool water.

Upon your departure, as you turned the key in the lock and stepped back into the familiar embrace of your own space, a curious mix of emotions washed over you. A sense of emptiness seemed to intertwine with the comfort of being home. It was as if a fragment of yourself had remained, tethered to the precious moments shared with Schlatt. Yet, as the days progressed, the weight of his absence became more bearable, for you eagerly anticipated his nightly calls, yearning for the sound of his voice.

In those cherished moments, he would casually recount the events of his day, graciously sharing glimpses of his experiences and expressing his earnest longing to conclude his recordings and return home. In every word he spoke, there lay a genuine interest in your world, as he consistently inquired about your day. His voice, soft and tender, carried a gentle yearning, almost as if he desired to be involved in your own experiences.

As the night grew late and yawns filled the air, a symphony of comfortable silences weaved through your conversation. It became increasingly challenging to bring the call to a close as time slipped away. The hesitation to bid farewell lingered in the hushed pauses as if both of you yearned to extend the moment, if only for a fleeting moment longer. Eventually, with a bittersweet sigh, you exchanged goodnight wishes, promising to reconnect tomorrow.

Schlatt eventually flew back home and spent the next few days dedicated to recuperating from the exhausting week of incessant social interactions and filming. Although it was poignant to long for his presence, there was a certain beauty in the introspective moments when you realized how much you genuinely missed him. There were moments when all you craved was to be in Schlatt's presence, to savour the tranquillity of shared silence and revel in the knowledge that you were existing in the same space. It wasn't about engaging in conversation or filling the air with words; it was the comfort of his company, the unspoken understanding that brought a peacefulness to your soul.

After a few days of rest to rejuvenate his weary soul, Schlatt reached out and extended an invitation for you to spend the evening at his apartment. The thought of a relaxed night, enjoying a movie and sharing a couple of beers, filled you with excitement. No longer bound by secrecy or interruptions, this was a chance to deepen your connection and explore the budding feelings between you. As Schlatt swung open the door, a subtle nervousness danced on his lips momentarily before transforming into a warm, genuine smile. "It's nice to see you again," he greeted softly, his voice carrying a hint of genuine affection. Eagerly extending his arms in a welcoming gesture, Schlatt invited you into a warm embrace. With a gentle, hesitant step, you moved closer, allowing his arms to envelop you in a tight, comforting hold. "Nice to see you, too," you reassured him, nuzzling your face into his sweatshirt.

As you crossed the threshold into his apartment, Schlatt warmly welcomed you into his sanctuary. It was simply nice to finally see his apartment in person, and you were pleasantly surprised by the simple yet homely decor that adorned his walls. Framed photos of family and friends brought a sense of familiarity, while occasional candles and decor pieces added a touch of charm to the cosy ambience. While Schlatt had always maintained a sense of tidiness, it was clear that he had gone the extra mile to create an impressively well-kept space to impress you.

Lost in the moments of absorbing your surroundings, you were abruptly brought back to the present by the sharp crack and hiss of a can being opened. Startled, you turned your attention towards Schlatt and realized that he had taken the initiative and wandered off to the kitchen, already opening a beer. "Make yourself at home." He insisted, his voice floating back to you, slightly distant but filled with a warm invitation. The sound of the refrigerator door shutting with a succinct thump followed. With light and deliberate steps, you made your way to the inviting couch, your eyes immediately captivated by the beautifully arranged blankets adorning the cushions. Each blanket seemed to be meticulously draped as if Schlatt had invested time and care into ensuring their perfect arrangement.

As you eased yourself into the plush comfort of the couch, you surrendered to its embrace, feeling the weight of the world slide off your shoulders. The soft cushions welcomed you, moulding around your body, offering a sanctuary of relaxation. As you settled in, a sense of tranquillity enveloped you. Amidst the peaceful ambience, you could still discern Schlatt's distant presence in the kitchen. The muffled sounds of his rummaging reached your ears, a symphony of soft thuds as drawers closed and the delicate clattering of items being shifted.

After a momentary absence, Schlatt reappeared, his hands carrying a delightful array of snacks that he meticulously arranged on the coffee table. He carefully positioned a six-pack of cans alongside the tempting treats, pausing for a fleeting instant as he contemplated if it would suffice. Finally, he settled down beside you on the couch, his gaze reflecting a mix of anticipation and contentment. As his gaze shifted towards you, a faint trace of nervousness revealed itself on Schlatt's face. "I have a fantastic film in mind, unless you have something specific you'd like to watch," he said, his grin revealing a touch of excitement. His eyes danced around, subtly studying your features as if searching for a clue to your preferences.

You gently shake your head, settling it back onto the soft cushions of the couch, and gaze up at Schlatt. Sensing your relaxation, he reaches out with the hand closest to you, using his fingertips to tenderly massage your scalp. With an eager undertone, Schlatt softly declared, "We're watching Transformers then." Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand from your scalp and leaned forward, stretching his arm to retrieve the open can of beer. Taking a hearty swig from the can, he released a gruff exhale, the effervescent bubbles tickling his throat.

Eventually starting the movie, the two of you settled in sipping from your cans of beer and intermittently nibbling on the snacks. Amidst the unfolding scenes, Schlatt would occasionally pause the movie with his remarks, interjecting obscure and fascinating fun facts or drawing attention to subtle editing details. It almost seemed intentional, as if Schlatt strategically timed his interruptions to elicit laughter from you. With each witty remark or amusing fact, his eyes would twinkle mischievously, reflecting the joy he derived from making you chuckle.

As the night unfolded, a gradual intimacy permeated the atmosphere, drawing you closer together. You sought comfort in the secure enclave of his arm, nestled beneath a cosy fortress of blankets. With heightened senses, you became attuned to the serene rhythm of his chest, rising and falling in tranquil harmony, accompanied by the gentle cadence of his soft exhales. As you snuggled closer, finding comfort in his warm embrace, he hesitated to disrupt the delicate equilibrium by reaching for his drink. The allure of your shared embrace outweighed any thirst, and in that precious moment, he chose to forego finishing his beer, cherishing your touch and warmth.

As the movie neared its inevitable conclusion, your eyes briefly shifted to the coffee table, noticing the emptied ramekins and scattered cans that adorned its surface. At that moment, Schlatt's gaze found yours, his touch tracing a tender path along your arm. With a hint of tipsy mischievousness lacing his voice, he posed an innocent yet enticing question, "Want to do something fun?" The ambiguity of his intent added a layer of intrigue, piquing your curiosity and leaving you wondering what exciting adventure lay ahead.

Schlatt's question lingers in the air, his playful tone sparking a surge of anticipation within you. The possibilities, far-reaching and unknown, blossom vividly in your mind. You find yourself unable to resist the enticing invitation, your curiosity overtaking any lingering doubts or hesitations. With an insuppressible smile playing upon your lips, you lean in closer to Schlatt, causing the gentle touch of your arm against his to intensify. "What did you have in mind?" you inquire, a playful lilt colouring your voice, matching Schlatt's mischievous tone. Your gaze fixates on his face, searching for subtle hints, a flicker of desire that might betray his intentions. With an arched eyebrow and a teasing smile, you await his response, ready to embark on whatever thrilling adventure he has in store.

A sly grin, laced with mischief, tugs at the corners of Schlatt's lips, revealing a hint of his playful nature. With a relaxed posture, he leans back against the plush cushions of the couch, his body language exuding confidence and ease. His piercing gaze remains unwavering, locked onto you with an intensity that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. The soft glow of the room casts intriguing shadows across his angular features, highlighting the subtle stubble on his jawline and the glint of curiosity in his eyes.

"I thought we could play a little game," he finally reveals, his voice laced with a tantalizing hint of mischief. The timbre of his voice sends a delicious shiver down your spine, while his hand, still delicately resting upon your arm, begins its gradual ascent, caressing your skin with a featherlight touch. You find yourself mesmerized by the subtle trail his fingertips trace along the curve of your shoulder, their gentle exploration leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. As his touch lingers on your collarbone, you feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins, the connection between you growing more electrifying with each passing moment. Schlatt's captivating gaze holds you captive, his eyes filled with a mix of playful invitation and unspoken intensity. The soft glow of the room casts alluring shadows across his chiselled features, accentuating the hint of stubble on his jawline.

Your heart quickens its pace, the anticipation mingling with a hint of curiosity as Schlatt's voice drops to a low, smoky murmur. "How about a game of pool? I've been practising," he suggests his words carrying an undertone of something more profound than a simple invitation to play a game. You meet his gaze with a playful glimmer in your eyes, nodding in agreement. "How about this? Whoever pots a ball gets to choose a shot for the other person," you suggest with a teasing grin, a hint of anticipation lacing your voice. The challenge is clear as you lock eyes, both aware of the underlying excitement and potential for mischief that this game holds.

Schlatt's eyes widen, a glimmer of excitement dancing within their depths, as he absorbs your proposition. His head tilts ever so slightly, a mischievous grin spreading across his face like wildfire. The air crackles with electric anticipation as he leans in closer, his voice laced with a tantalizing blend of anticipation and unspoken desires. His lips curl into a devilish smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief and anticipation. "Oh, sweetheart, you've got yourself a deal," he retorts, his voice dripping with playful allure.

Your heart skips a beat at the easy familiarity in his voice, the gentle pet name slipping from his lips effortlessly. It's a simple gesture, but it sets your heart aflutter and sends a rush of warmth coursing through your veins. Schlatt's lips graze yours in a tender, lingering kiss, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. As he pulls away, an impish glint dances in his eyes, and he rises from the couch with a sense of purpose.

Entering the kitchen with a mix of curiosity and anticipation, your eyes are drawn to Schlatt as he skillfully retrieves an array of half-full liquor bottles from his well-stocked cabinet. The melodic sound of liquid swirling and glass delicately clinking fills the air, adding an air of excitement to the atmosphere. With a playful smirk, Schlatt arranges the bottles on the countertop, creating a colourful display of possibilities. "Pick your poison," he teases, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he surveys the selection. "But don't get too excited, I'll be the one potting the balls," he adds with a cocky grin, savouring the anticipation of the upcoming game.

Taking a moment to find your footing, you revel in the delightful buzz of the alcohol coursing through your veins, injecting a newfound boldness into your movements. Your fingers delicately grip the cue, feeling the smoothness of the chalk as you apply it to the tip, ensuring maximum control over your shots. Your attention shifts to Schlatt, his gaze locked onto the neatly arranged triangle of balls, his intense focus a testament to his unwavering confidence. The room seems to pulsate with anticipation as he prepares for the break. With a powerful stroke, Schlatt sends the cue ball hurtling across the smooth expanse of green felt, the resounding crack echoing through the room. The balls erupt in a frenzied dance, colliding with calculated precision and finding their destined pockets with almost mesmerizing grace.

Confidence radiates from your very being as you approach the pool table, "Good luck," Schlatt says, a hint of mischief shining in his eyes as he aims to disrupt your focus. With a focused gaze, you assess the remaining balls, searching for the perfect target. Your eyes land on a vibrant striped ball, beckoning you with its alluring colours. Taking a moment to steady yourself, you grip the cue firmly, feeling the smooth wood against your fingertips. Your mind calculates the angles, envisioning the trajectory of the shot. In a seamless motion, you bring the cue back and forth, delivering a decisive strike to the ball. The room fills with the satisfying thud of impact, followed by a collective intake of breath as the striped ball embarks on its journey. It dances along the edge, defying gravity for a suspended moment, before succumbing to the gravitational pull and gracefully finding its rightful place within the pocket. A surge of elation washes over you, a victorious smile adorning your lips as you revel in the precision of your aim.

A triumphant smile spreads across your face, the rush of accomplishment fueling your competitive spirit. "Looks like I get to choose a shot," you declare, your voice filled with playful triumph. Schlatt's eyes narrow, a spark of amusement dancing in their depths. His expression carries a hint of surprise as if he didn't expect you to make such a skilful shot. "Alright, surprise me," he challenges with a smirk, his gaze fixed on you, his dark irises captivating and intriguing.

You make your way to the kitchen, the clinking of the shot glass against the countertop echoing in the quiet room. With deliberate movements, you pour a clear liquid into the glass, the transparent liquid shimmering under the soft glow of the overhead lights. As you return, your footsteps almost soundless, Schlatt's eyes never waver from your form, his gaze fixated on you with a mixture of intrigue and anticipation. A satisfied smirk plays at the corners of his lips as he leans against the wall, cue in hand, exuding a sense of relaxed confidence. The room feels charged with a subtle tension, the air thick with suspense.

"Bottoms up," you murmur, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you hand over the shot glass. Schlatt's gaze narrows slightly, a mix of curiosity and wariness evident in his expression as he takes the glass in his hand. Without a moment's hesitation, he brings it to his lips and downs the liquid in one swift motion. His features contort briefly, a faint grimace tugging at the corners of his mouth, but he quickly suppresses it with a gruff exhale. He firmly plants the empty glass onto a nearby surface, his brows furrowing in mild surprise. "I didn't realize I had sambuca," he mutters, shaking his head as if trying to rid his taste buds of the lingering flavour.

As you lean over the table to line up your next shot, a playful grin dancing on your lips, you unintentionally press your behind against Schlatt's crotch. A jolt of electricity courses through your body at the accidental contact, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. However, Schlatt surprises you by stepping back, a mix of playful banter and confidence, yet conflicting with underlying nervousness evident in his voice. "Stop trying to distract me, sweetheart, it's not going to work," he jests, his tone laced with a hint of enjoyment from the fleeting touch. The moment hangs in the air, charged with a blend of tension and anticipation before the game resumes with renewed energy.

As you refocus on the game, a surge of anticipation courses through your veins, infusing your every movement with a heightened edge. The clack of the cue against the ball resonates through the room, a resolute symphony of determination. Your shot is executed with precision, the ball rolling across the green felt, but alas, it falls just short of the intended hole. Schlatt steps up to the table, his presence commanding and confident. With a masterful stroke, he forcefully strikes the cue ball, unleashing a powerful ripple of energy that reverberates through the room. The balls scatter and collide, their rapid movements accompanied by the abrupt clattering of their impact. Amid the chaos, a solid-coloured ball gracefully finds its way into a waiting pocket, eliciting a satisfied nod from Schlatt.

With a flicker of movement, he disappears from view, only to reappear moments later, clutching a shot glass filled with liquid gold. The radiant glow of the golden elixir dances under the warm ambience of the room, beckoning you closer with its alluring shimmer. He holds the glass delicately, his gaze fixed on you with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. As you meet his gaze, you can sense a subtle haze of alcohol swirling within. With a gentle yet deliberate motion, he extends his hand, offering you the shot glass. As your fingers intertwine, a subtle spark of electricity passes between you, sending a tingle of anticipation through your veins. Without hesitation, you raise the glass to your lips, the sweet aroma wafting into your nostrils, heightening your senses. The liquid dances across your tongue, its potent flavour bursting on your taste buds, momentarily overwhelming your senses with its intensity.

"Honey Whiskey," Schlatt smiles, his fingers gently wrapping around the shot glass as he takes it from your hand. He sets it down with a satisfied grin, his eyes lingering on the slight grimace that dances across your face. The taste of the potent liquor lingers on your tongue, leaving a mix of sweetness and warmth.

As Schlatt lines up his second shot, you can't help but admire the focused intensity on his face. His brows furrow slightly, showcasing his determination, while a subtle curve graces his lips. His commanding presence looms over the table, his tall frame exuding confidence and ease. With practised precision, he pulls the cue back, his movements fluid and calculated. The sound of the cue striking the ball fills the room, the force behind it evident as the ball rolls effortlessly across the felt, knocking a solid. It slows down, teetering on the edge of the net, its journey seemingly suspended in time. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch with bated anticipation. Every second feels like an eternity as the ball hovers on the precipice, defying gravity. And then, with a gentle final nudge, the ball succumbs to gravity's pull. It rolls, ever so slowly, until it finally finds its destination, sinking into the net with a satisfying clink.

Schlatt's cocky demeanour shines through as he turns to you, a self-satisfied smirk playing upon his lips. With a confident swagger, he closes the distance between you, wrapping his arms around your form. The warmth of his embrace engulfs you, creating an intimate connection between you. His teasing words fill the air, laced with a hint of playful charm. "We can stop now," he jests, his voice brimming with faux chivalry, "I wouldn't want to show you up. That wouldn't be very gentleman-like of me." His embrace tightens, pulling you into a comfortable side hug.

A playful glint dances in your eyes as you scoff, playing along with the charade of fake gallantry. With a gentle push, you jestingly push Schlatt away, your playful banter filling the air. "That's fine," you retort, a coy smile gracing your lips, "if you keep potting balls, I won't be able to bend over the table to hit anything." The puckish insinuation lingers in the air, suffused with a seductive undertone that ignites a playful spark. Schlatt's ardent gaze locks onto yours, a flicker of amusement dancing within the depths of his dark eyes. His lips part, poised to respond, but a brief hesitation stifles his words. Instead, a knowing smirk curves his lips, his gaze momentarily tracing the contours of your body before returning to meet your eyes. The air between you crackles with unspoken tension.

A gentle heat spreads through your body as Schlatt's hand brushes against the small of your back, leaving a lingering sensation that sends a shiver down your spine. You can't help but feel a flutter in your chest, a mixture of excitement and anticipation that intensifies with each passing moment. As he ventures deeper into the kitchen, your mind swirls with a potent blend of emotions, unsure if it's the electric tension between you or the intoxicating effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins that fuels the rising heat within you.

Once again, Schlatt reappears, a shot glass held delicately in his hand. The translucent liquid within seems to shift and shimmer, captivating your gaze. With a mix of eagerness and a subtle hint of apprehension, he extends the glass towards you. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you accept the offering, raising the glass to your lips. As the liquid hits your tongue, a sharp, bitter taste assaults your taste buds, leaving behind an intense sensation akin to swallowing acetone. The burn travels down your throat, eliciting a grimace as you swallow the potent concoction. Schlatt's lips curl into a combination of amusement and a faint grimace as he observes your reaction. There's a hint of satisfaction in his eyes as if he relishes in the mix of surprise and amusement that his concoction has provoked.

"I'll let you play now, otherwise I'm going to be sober," he remarks with an innocent tone, taking a step back from the table. However, he doesn't stray too far, lingering nearby. The warmth of his presence envelopes you, a tangible reminder of his proximity. As you prepare to line up your shot, the sheer size of the table requires you to lean over again, unintentionally pushing your rear upward into the air. The suggestive posture draws a mischievous glimmer to Schlatt's eyes as he appreciates the view. As you focus on perfecting the angle of your shot, meticulously pulling the cue back and forth, you're suddenly aware of the large presence of Schlatt behind you. His hand, warm and gentle, caresses the curve of your hip, sending a shiver of anticipation coursing through your body.

"Go away," you playfully retort your tone a mix of feigned annoyance and longing. Although you need full concentration, there's a part of you that doesn't want him to leave. "Alright, alright," Schlatt chuckles softly, his touch reluctantly retreating from your body. He takes a step back, allowing you the space and concentration you need for your shot. Despite the light-hearted exchange, the absence of his touch leaves a subtle longing in the air, a desire for his presence to linger just a little while longer.

With unwavering determination, you position yourself, aligning your body and mind for the impending shot. The weight of the cue in your hand feels familiar, providing a sense of stability and control. Your focus narrows, blocking out any distractions as you immerse yourself in the challenge before you. Thoughts of strategy and precision consume your mind, mapping out the path of the ball in your imagination. As the tension mounts, a surge of adrenaline courses through your veins, heightening your senses. You inhale deeply, savouring the momentary calm before unleashing your precise stroke, the cue gliding smoothly through the air. The resounding crack of the cue meeting the ball fills the room, a harmonious echo of determination. The ball, propelled by your skilled stroke, dances across the table, gracefully navigating its way past obstacles. With every calculated movement, the tension in the air intensifies, building towards a climactic moment. And then, as if guided by an invisible hand, the ball finds its mark, slipping into the pocket with a satisfying thud.

A triumphant smile graces your lips as you turn to meet Schlatt's gaze, your eyes locked in a captivating exchange. The room seems to pulse with an electric charge, the air heavy with a blend of desire and playful challenge. The flicker of anticipation in his eyes reflects your own, creating an intoxicating dance of unspoken attraction.

"You're not too bad yourself," Schlatt comments, his voice tinged with a husky blend of admiration and amusement. His gaze lingers on your form, unabashed desire evident in his eyes. The typically laid-back demeanour he exudes teeters on the edge, his natural confidence bordering on a brashness that can barely be contained. With each step he takes closer, the space between you diminishes, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, creating a tantalizing sensation that sends shivers down your spine.

A surge of exhilaration rushes through your veins as he closes the distance between you, his touch sending sparks of anticipation dancing along your skin. The gentle brush of his hand against your arm ignites a trail of sensations. As he leans in, his lips find yours in a fiery, passionate collision. The kiss is electric, a whirlwind of intense emotions and pent-up longing. Your bodies meld together, responding to the magnetic pull that draws you closer, as the world around you fades into a blur of sensations. The heat between you intensifies, creating an all-encompassing vortex of passion and fervour. At that moment, nothing else matters but the intoxicating dance of your lips and the undeniable connection that binds you together.

The world around you melts away, leaving only the two of you entangled in a passionate embrace. Schlatt's hands, guided by both desire and a hint of recklessness, traverse the contours of your body with a familiarity that sets your skin ablaze. Every touch is a symphony of pleasure, each caress igniting a cascade of electrifying sensations that leave you breathless. As fervour takes hold, the game is forgotten, its subtle existence eclipsed by the explosive burst of passion that consumes you both.

As you pull away, a mingling of emotions floods your senses, swirling within you like a tempestuous storm. Your breaths come in shallow gasps, your chest rising and falling with the intensity of the moment. Your eyes meet Schlatt's, searching his gaze for a glimpse into his emotional landscape. In the depths of his eyes, you catch a spark of intensity, a reflection of the myriad emotions that swirl within him. Nervousness flits through your veins, a delicate tremor that accentuates the gravity of the situation. The vulnerability that accompanies an intimate connection dances on the edges of your consciousness, weaving its way into your thoughts. A tinge of self-doubt tugs at the corners of your mind, silently questioning if you're ready to fully embrace the depths of what this moment may hold.

Lust, with its alluring pull, courses through your veins, casting a hazy veil over your senses. The simmering heat that pulsates between you is a magnetic force, drawing you closer with an irresistible pull. Desire rises within you, an intoxicating blend of raw need and longing. Your body yearns for more, craving the touch of his hands, the taste of his lips, and the euphoria that awaits in the depths of passion. Happiness, too, dances within your being, a flickering flame that warms your heart. The connection you've forged, the palpable chemistry that funds the air, carries with it a sense of joy. At this moment, all worries and cares seem to fade away, replaced by an innate bliss that radiates from within.

Heart pounding, you take a moment to steady yourself, allowing the swell of emotions to settle. You meet Schlatt's gaze once again, determination shining in your eyes. You know what you want, even amidst the whirlwind of sensations coursing through your being. And with that certainty, a playful smile tugs at the corners of your lips, a silent invitation to continue on this exhilarating journey together. As you reach out, your fingers intertwining with Schlatt's, you take a step forward, closing the gap between you. A renewed sense of anticipation fills the air, igniting a fire within you that refuses to be extinguished. At that moment, you both surrender to the waves of desire, exploring the uncharted territories of pleasure that lie before you, ready to delve into the depths of this intimate connection.

"I want you, Schlatt," you speak with underlying nervousness, although sure of your own words. A surge of vulnerability intertwines with your resolute desire as you voice your innermost desires. Your words hang in the air, heavy with anticipation and a fragment of nervousness that lingers like a delicate mist. Schlatt's eyes lock onto yours, a sea of emotions swirling within their depths. Surprise passes through Schlatt's features, momentarily breaking through his typically confident facade. His gaze softens, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability that mirrors your own. There's a pause, a fleeting moment where time seems to stand still as he contemplates his response.

A breath escapes his lips, the sound carrying an undercurrent of raw need. His gaze never wavers from yours, locked in a captivating exchange that transcends the barriers of words. The air around you thickens with anticipation, the atmosphere pulsating with magnetic energy. Schlatt's voice, tinged with a husky vulnerability, resonates with a fervent intensity as he finally finds his words. The admission spills forth, baring his desires with a breathtaking honesty that leaves you captivated. "I've wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you," he confesses, the weight of his words hanging in the air, charged with the weight of his longing.

With a rush of exhilaration coursing through your veins, you lean in, closing the physical and emotional distance between you and Schlatt. The taste of alcohol lingers on your lips, intertwining with the budding passion that brews within. Your kiss is passionate and hungry, a meeting of lips that speaks volumes, transcending the confines of words. It's a dance of tongues and desires, a symphony of the senses that leaves you both breathless.

link to the rest of my work [x]

#chuckle sandwich #chucklesandwich #jschlatt #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #schlatt x you #schlatt x reader #schlatt #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #schlatt fluff #jschlatt fluff #guilt and shame

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intern3tdumpster · 2 years ago

Text

MAN IM EATIN THIS SHIT UP

The Cage | Chuckle Sandwich MMA!au

Chapter 1

✎Blurb: Having built a reputation for themselves by dominating the ring and defeating opponent after opponent, Y/n Hunter is well known in the sports of Mixed Martial Arts. Charlie fresh out of college is finally joining The Octave in pursuit of his dreams; joining the MMA Championships. With the help of Schlatt, their team manager, and Ted, Charlie’s old coach, will Hunter be able to train Charlie to win his Championships and become Breakthrough Fighter of the Year or will bad blood from the past knock the team out of the ring before Charlie even has a chance to put his hands up.

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❄︎Chapter: 1/12 •*⁀➷ master list

❄︎Word Count: +1.9k

❄︎Fandom: Chuckle Sandwich Podcast

❄︎Pairing: Chuckle Sandwich x gn!reader, single separate romantic chapter for each

❄︎Age Profile: Y/n Hunter[Mid20s], Charlie[Early20s], Schlatt & Ted[Early30s]

❄︎Genre: mma!au, sports!au

⚠︎ Warnings: Swearing, Conflict, Injury

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The Cage. Its octagonal shape goes by many other names, but a cage is what it was. Where fighters of all expertise and practices go to truly test their strength, speed, and agility. Once you’re in the cage and the rattling fence gate is shut behind you, your only objective is to be the last one standing.

If you let The Cage get under your skin with even a sliver of fear, you can pretty much forget trying to fight in it. Charlie’s first memory of being locked in the eight walls was smeared with his own blood and sweat. And though Charlie was scared, he couldn’t back down.

“Mr. Schlatt, I expected this place to look more… beat up, of course, from what you told me.”

A giant sign board spelled out ‘The Octave’ in bright red text on the center of a dark wooden board that wrapped around the entrance and frame of the building.

“Oh Hunter, you underestimate me.” Schlatt opened the door for you to enter first. From the outside, this three-story corner building looked like nothing more than like the corporate buildings all over Boston. Although from the inside, once you make past the reception desks, one can quickly notice what sets this building apart from the rest. The walls were painted the cleanest shade of white and two opposite walls were lined with mirrors. Sections of the mirror broke for the windows to see through. Along the walls, organized spaciously were various training materials and equipment. There were racks of weights and for those weights were weight training machines. Treadmills were lined beside each other in front of the large windows. Aside from the locker rooms that were connected to the main training area, there were shelves for the trainers to store their belongings and benches to rest on after a successful workout. Hanging from the brightly lit ceiling were various kinds of punching bags all paced out to avoid any hindrance from each other. This place looked nothing like the old martial arts studio that you saw pictures of. “It wasn’t easy revamping this old thing, but I have my ways. And come on, we’re well-acquainted now, drop the formalities and just call me Schlatt.”

“Formalities?” You looked over your shoulder at him, “Says the man wearing a suit in a training gym.”

“Well,” He sheepishly looked down at his handsome navy blue suit before giving you a smug look, “I had to wear this ol’ thing to give a good first impression. What would you think if I showed up in sweats to pick you up from the airport.”

“Schlatt,” You turned, “I’m in sweats.”

“Anyways,” He smirked, walking past you “Let me introduce you to the team.” The two of you walked over to who you recognized as Charlie, standing up from one of the side benches. You had received his profile prior to arriving in Boston. “First we have-” You looked at Charlie, who stood up and looked back at you with an anticipating smile, readying his hand to greet you “-ME!” Both you and Charlie snapped your heads back at Schlatt, who had his thumbs pointing towards himself. “The biggest man here! As the team manager, I will be running this whole show. You wanna organize dates, and venues, arrange equipment, or work on a public profile, you talk to me.” This man had an aura of concrete confidence emitting from him, his above six feet tall stature and wide-shouldered build only added to that. “I’ve got connections everywhere and whatever you need, I’ll find the man for the job.”

You nod your head slowly at him, “I don’t doubt you.” You were undeniably impressed with the confidence and with how he seemed to be running The Octave. But you weren’t going to let him know that, should his head get any bigger.

“I’ll never give you the chance!” Schlatt turned to stand next to Charlie, “And this, you may already recognize, is Charlie, your new trainee.”

Caught off guard, Charlie straighten up and nervously chuckled at himself. Raising his all-of-a-sudden-sweaty hand to shake yours, he said “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” You smiled at him. Charlie may be an MMA fighter in training, but from his face, he looked more like a computer technician who would have taught coding to the students in your university. The nerdy glasses didn’t help either.

“I look forward to working with you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Wha..what?” Jittery, he rubbed the back of his neck, “I mean…I haven’t really done anything much noteworthy-”

Schlatt grabbed Charlie’s shoulders and gave them a strong shake, “The boxing skills this young man has are unmatched for his age. Undefeated throughout his high school and college sports program. Amongst the other youngbloods here, he’s only lost once, and that too by a draw.”

“Impressive! I’ve read that endurance is your strong suit and that for some time you were on the swimming team.” You added. From the profile that you received, Charlie was an all-rounder, well-practiced, and almost above average in all terms of skill. He was a good and quick learner and needed polishing in only a few existing skills. He’s been learning how to box from a very young age you learned. The main overlapping trait between boxing and MMA is that you can strike your opponent by punching them, but MMA allows a multitude of ways to defeat the other person in the ring. MMA is a demanding sport, the shift from boxing will be a lot of blood and sweat and you were determined to train Charlie to be the best of the best.

“I –yeah, I did swimming for only a while,” Charlie started, “Well, I mean I guess I try-”

“He’s pretty much golden.” A new voice interrupted.

The voice came from behind you. Strutting towards you, approached a man standing just as tall as Schlatt, maybe even taller. He too was built wide from the shoulders and looked strong enough to easily carry Charlie on his back. He smiled at you and you would have smiled back at him but… it was fake. The grin tightly spread across his lips felt forced. His smile did not reach to crinkle his eyes. An unwelcoming tension grew with each step he took towards you. You tried to not fiddle with the loose strap on your duffle bag that hung from your shoulder.

He stopped right before you, and you felt like he was holding back the urge to tower over you. “You must be the new coach.” He held out his hand.

You looked at his hand for a moment before taking it in yours and shaking it. “Yes, I am. And you are?”

“Theodore.” You let go of his hand, “But I usually just go by Ted. I’m Charlie’s boxing coach. Well, old coach now.”

You furrowed your brows but nodded, “Y/n Hunter. But I just go by Hunter.”

Ted stared at you – almost glaring menacingly.

A beat passed.

And you weren’t going to be the first to break it.

Another beat passed.

He looked you down and then back up.

“Trying to scare the newbie?” Schlatt pipped in, leaning sideways towards Ted.

“No, no, of course not.” Ted chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “Just really excited to meet you.”

“Um,” C’mon man, don’t do this. Schlatt seemed to feel the tension in the air and he wanted nothing more than to stop whatever the hell was about to go down. He turned to you “We’ve…Uh – had quite a few people here excited to meet you – you probably know that you’ve all over the news and all the sports articles so –”

“But I mean,” Ted started again. His eyes wandered to the side, pretending to recall something important. “You pay the media them enough… and they’ll say that you know how to fly and shit gold.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You didn’t know what Ted was trying to do but you weren’t going to have any of it.

Charlie gave Schlatt a worrisome look, and Schlatt returned it with an equally worried and confused expression.

Ted shrugged casually, as though he didn’t just hit a nerve. Completely ignoring the other two, he maintained stern eye contact with you. “Nothing I –”

“Ted –” Schlatt tried to interrupt.

“–’m just saying. You pay the media enough and the headlines will say anything you want them to.” He laughed. But no one joined him.

Ted's joke seemed to pierce the cold air. The training room was deafeningly quiet. Everyone save you held their breaths; your chest rose and fell slowly as you fiercely inhaled through your nose. You’ve got to be kidding me, you thought. By coming all the way out to Boston, you were expecting to escape the self-absorbed assholes of the industry –away from the people who always questioned you and forced you to prove your raw fighting skills.

Ted gazed between Schlatt and Charlie before returning to you. “I don’t know what the hell people see in you Hunter. I don’t believe it.”

Your jaw clenched “Wanna find out?”

“Are you challenging me?” He took a step closer to you, glaring down at you.

“That’s enough.” Schlatt put his hand on Ted’s chest, stepping in between you two to keep you away from each other. Blood coursed through Ted, a deep red rose across his face and neck and he looked like he was ready to grab you by the collar and throw the first punch. Schlatt had seen enough fights break out within seconds during his youth and he really wasn’t in the mood to handle one at this time. Especially not one between the former and new coach in his team. “Knock it off.”

You felt Charlie’s hand on your should, pulling you back. He gave you an apologetic look but you shrugged his hand off. “I’ve seen enough of you shitheads who think they’re better than me.”

“Oh yeah?” Now Ted was looking past Schlatt, who still had his hand on Ted’s chest, “Well, I’ve seen enough of mediocre shit fighters who think they’re better than everyone else.”

“I don’t know what you think about me or have heard but –”

Schlatt tried to calm down Ted, muttering for him to stop but Ted’s voice bellowed over, “Don’t tell me what to think! You rich fucks skip climbing the ladder, you throw money at the struggles and show the world how hard it was to climb to the top. I don’t even think you can last a minute in a real match without rigging it, let alone win it.”

“Hunter, please don’t listen to him,” Charlie huffed, “I don’t know what’s gotten into him, this- this isn’t about you and he’s not usually like this–”

“We’ll see about that.” Unknowingly, your hands were balled into tight fists, clenching so hard that your knuckles threatened to tear out of your skin. Your nails were digging into your palms, leaving painful imprints for later. “I’m going to knock you to the ground and make you eat your words.”

Fixing the strap of your bag and grabbing it tightly, you stormed past Ted as he shouted more nonsense at you over Schlatts shoulder, who kept trying to shut him up. Charlie called out for you but everything went in one ear and out the other. Your skin felt hot and you felt your heart breathing at the base of your throat as though you’ve just finished running a mile. It was set. Not one day at the Octave and you’ve already locked horns with another know-it-all. Charlie tried to call you back but you were gone.

“Dickhead.”

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