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[cyberswift-story]

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[billa-billa007]

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[sukunasteeth]

Taking Care of a Tired Sukuna

Sukuna has had a long day.

Well, night.

Morning.

Fuck.

Working construction had been twisting up his sleeping schedule. At this point, Sukuna was starting to feel it in his body; in the strain in his muscle, and the aches and pains that randomly gripped him.  

They had him working on a new project that could only be done at night, while the public was off the main roads, and that meant his new work hours were starting from sometime in the middle of the evening and ending in the morning or the mid-afternoon. Being nocturnal wouldn't be so bad if his commute home wasn't during rush hour. The traffic was always worse when he just wanted to crawl onto his couch and fall asleep there. And when he does come home at the end of the day - he's aching, exhausted, and every bone in his body is vibrating with the noise from a jackhammer or the hum of a forklift.

Sukuna has always liked something that keeps him busy, interested, something that tests his strengths. So, he can't say that he hates the job, but he does wish that it wouldn't occupy so much of his time. He's wont to forget things when he's so wrapped up in a new task.

Like today, for example, when he finally swings his truck around the front of his apartment building, barely making it off the freeway without murdering someone, and he spots your car parked there in his spot.

He starts a bit, his sleep deprived brain suddenly spinning as memory serves him. 

That's right. You were supposed to come over today after he got off of work and spend the night- and he didn't plan a damn thing. There's no flowers in the backseat, he didn't stop to grab lunch for the two of you, he doesn't even have anything in his fridge for dinner tonight, besides a few forgotten beers tucked away in the side door.

As Sukuna searches for a parking spot much further down the street, he knows he should be disappointed with himself, but he can't help the touch of excitement that's suddenly dissolving the exhaustion from his muscles. Sometimes, Sukuna resents the fact that you manage to reduce him to this. He hates that he can't control that his heart skips a beat at the thought of seeing you again, like he's in some sappy romance novel.

But it was the hold you had on him, and he was starting to accept it.

~

You got to Sukuna's apartment about two hours before he was scheduled to be home. It was a day off for you, and you woke up with butterflies fluttering around in your chest.

You were giddy to see him. You always were. And not a single butterfly has died in your heart-space for him since the moment you met Sukuna, around two years ago. He has tended to each of them since then with his gentle but stubborn touch, although, he would never admit it.

You adored him for that.

It's still early in the morning when you use the key he had made for you to unlock his front door. Immediately upon stepping in, you're hit with how dark his studio is. The sun had risen over the horizon hours ago, and yet, the only hint of its light came from a small gap in Sukuna's blackout curtains. When you pull them back, you turn around and wince at the room behind you.

Yep, he's working too hard.

There's construction tools all over the house; sitting on the counter, in the sink, on his bed-stand, there's even a huge oil covered machine beside the front door that you nearly trip on in your trek over to the curtain. His coveralls and work clothes are strewn across the living room like he's been too exhausted to even make it to his bed at the end of his days, which is not very far from the couch. Meanwhile, his bedroom and the kitchen look nearly immaculate, telling you he hasn't cooked in days and confirming your suspicions about his sleeping arrangements. You wander over to his fridge and pop it open, sighing hopelessly when you're greeted with nothing inside.

Good thing he has you. 

~

By the time he makes it home, it's around one in the afternoon. You've got his laundry hanging on the clothesline outside, more in the washing machine, and all of his tools and odds and ends have been sorted and dusted clean. You've opened every window he has, and cool, fresh air sweeps away the oppressed darkness his apartment held before. Everything was back in equilibrium. 

When his keys jingle outside the door, you're just finishing up the last of folding his laundry. Sukuna steps inside, and your heart aches at how drained he looks despite the way his eyes widen as he peers around the room in surprise. His clothes are covered in dust from the construction site, and there's a smear of dirt on his cheek that makes him look like a chimney sweep. There's a tool in his hand that looks rather heavy, straining the muscles in his arm, but he seems to have momentarily forgotten to put it down. Half moon circles are embedded under his eyes, but they only bring out the intensity of his gaze. 

"Hi 'Kuna?" You chime, calling his attention to rest on you.

He blinks, taking a moment to process the situation. You don't recognize the glimmer in his eyes then, and part of you starts to sweat at the thought of him taking this all wrong. Sukuna had never been particularly picky with you, but vice versa, you had never done something like this for him before. He never gave you the opportunity, after all. Out of the two of you, Sukuna was usually the one who was always effortlessly put together.

"You... cleaned..." He notes. 

You swallow, "I did but I didn't move things around though. Just tried to put things back. Your laundry is right outside and I got you some groceries-" Sukuna drops the tool in his hand without warning, and you start talking faster, your voice raising a pitch as he starts towards you. "Okay, thinking back, I guess I should have asked. Maybe texted- no, you hate texting. Maybe called-"

“Did you clean the paint specks off of my air compressor?” He was standing in front of the machine beside the front door, which you painstakingly made sure not to ruin in your cleansing, despite having no idea what it was. 

When he looks at you for an answer, continuing to close the distance between the two of you. You swallow the rock in your throat. “Too much?” 

He’s made his way across the room and his surprised expression finally settles into a familiar hungry grin. He grabs you by the hem of your jeans, yanking you roughly towards him. You catch yourself on his chest, making a small noise of surprise. When you look up to scold him, Sukuna is an inch away from your face, his lips almost brushing yours, save for half a centimeter of space between them. He smells like sawdust and menthol, you can taste it in the close proximity as he greedily takes your breath away. 

“Off. Now.” He growls, but his fingers are already undoing the button clasped in the front of your pants. “I’m about to fuckin’ eat you, sweet thing.” 

~

You end up skipping lunch, but you're well satisfied a few hours later. A certain hunger: satiated. Sukuna is resting peacefully beside you. You can hear his even breathing against the sound of the cicadas outside, screaming in through the windows. Seeing him so content, sets your heart at ease and you release a sigh of relief. 

Now, to end the night, it was time to slip out of bed without him noticing to finish folding his laundry. 

Or so you thought. 

As you carefully peel back the blankets and try to sneak off the side of the mattress, a warm pair of fingers loop themselves around your panty line, effectively preventing you from going anywhere. Guiltily, you peek over your shoulder to see Sukuna glaring at you with half of his face still smushed into his pillow, genuinely disgruntled with the fact that you were trying to leave his bed. You can't help but chuckle.

"I'm just gonna go grab your laundry." You reassure him, brushing a tousled tuft of his hair out of his eyes. The knot between his brows deepens.

"Let me do that later. C'mere. " He tugs on your panty line, confident that you'll be submissive for him.

The sun outside was casting tall shadows on the walls of his bedroom and the glow was now deep and rich, telling you that it was preparing to set. You didn't want Sukuna's laundry on the balcony all night, which is what you were sure would happen if you didn't go and grab it now.

You hear a thread rip in your panty line interrupting your contemplation and, quickly, you grab his wrist, squeezing it as a signal for him to let go.

He continues to hold fast, his brow cocking in a silent dare.

"'Kuna, come on." You try, "Lemme take care of you-"

"You've been doing nothing but take care of me all day." He scoffs, like the idea of it is absurd to him. Rarely does Sukuna allow you the opportunity to show him as much care and adoration as you have today. Being doted on was not typically something he enjoyed. You knew that, and that's how you also knew that he was exhausted to his bones that day. "Get your ass back here."

There's a tug again, and another thread snaps somewhere. You pout at him, already having the foresight that this pair of panties wasn't going to last you long either. Your partner had the tendency to rip them off of you, and this wouldn't be the first pair to become a shred of what they once were. To be fair, he was also known for giving you his credit card and telling you to go buy "some things for him to see you in", so it would be at no cost to you. But, you happened to like this pair.

Sukuna watches you consider your options silently, unrelenting in his hold on your lace. When you peek up at his gaze, testing one more time, you know you've already lost.

"Don't make me chase after you." He warns, the promise of your inevitable surrender is evident in the predatory glint of his eyes. If Sukuna had a tail at that moment, it would be swaying back and forth, preparing for a pounce. "It's been a while since the last time I had you tied up. I do miss those sweet little bruises we left on your wrists."

You feel the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention upon his recollection. The last time Sukuna had you in ropes, you had to call off of work the next day. Your backside stings with the memory, but half of you can't help but ache for it too. Tied up in Sukuna's bed while he was forced to care for the boneless pile that was his girlfriend, drunk off of his lovemaking? That wasn't the worst place to be.

But, on the other hand, you could tell how exhausted he was with the new construction project at his job. You have a flashback of showering with him at the end of the night and scrubbing sawdust out of his hair. Having to gently prod and kiss him awake as he fell asleep standing up in front of you. You were adamant that you weren't going to do anything to tire him further tonight. 

Before you can properly give in, Sukuna must have decided that you were taking much too long to obey him. 

His other hand reaches over and winds around your lower waist, pulling you backwards into the soft cushion of the pillows and easily flipping the two of you so that he’s mounted above you. In your surprised stupor, he collects both of your wrists in one of his hands and pins them above your head. 

"You've forgotten how to follow directions again, kitten." His murmur is like velvet against your ear. His teeth graze over his favorite spot on the nape of your neck, where he’s already tortured it with his teeth and hickies. You didn’t realize how raw the skin was until he bites you there, drawing a whimper from your throat. 

 "Let's remind you."

[rafesangelita]

…BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB AU

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹🪵♡

BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB who owns a small construction company alongside jj and pope. he wakes up for work at four in the morning and doesn’t come back home until the sun is setting, all of the guys sharing a cold twelve pack of beer back at his place afterwards. he’s absolutely jacked, the years of heavy lifting and hard labor clearly showing in his physique. john b sold the chateau and decided to use the money to start up his business, the rest of his funds going towards his own mobile home, gas, and cigarettes. “you need a woman’s touch in here.” pope would walk into john b’s living room, the walls barren, the only furniture being a singular recliner and a small table in which his outdated television sat on. as much as john b wanted to explore that part of his freedom as a single man, he figured his rough and rugged exterior just made him damaged goods. and who would want that?

BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB who met you on the side of the road when you blew a tire and looked helpless as you tried to get cell service on the outskirts of the island. your pretty getup immediately caught his attention, the way your sundress clung tightly to your body had his tires coming to a screeching halt as you fanned yourself from the blazing heat of the sun. he cursed under his breath when your eyes fell on him, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “hey, there..” he greeted you awkwardly, a teasing smile adorning your lips as you saw the way he fiddled with the tool belt on his waist. “need some help?” in no time, john b had managed to change your tire, his swiftness and ability to make the task look so easy had undoubtedly drawn you in. the way he effortlessly towered over you made your cheeks heat, john b finally gathering up the courage to ask you out on a date.

BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB who got cleaned up real nice just for you. he called pope over to help him choose an outfit, the two of them ransacking his drawers and closet for something decent. “john, all you have is fifty year old jeans, work boots, and raggedy t-shirts..” pope sat back and scanned the wardrobe of what looked like a true hardworking man— maybe a little too hardworking considering there wasn’t not one dress shirt in sight. after settling on a bass pro shop t-shirt, worn out jeans, and well— his work boots, he was quickly making his way over to pick you up from your place. you had still lived with your parents, your mother smiling over at john b as he walked you over to his dingy work truck. ‘mama, go inside!’ you whispered, your cheeks hot as she giggled, watching the way john b opened and closed the door for you. “she’s in good hands!” he reassured her before driving off.

BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB who soon realized he was nervous for nothing once you two made it to the small bar on the cut. your eyes sparkled everytime you gazed up at him, that beautiful smile of yours making his heart skip a beat in his chest. a few beers later and he was looking at you with that knowing look in his eye, sending butterflies to flutter in your tummy as he reached for your hand, softly stroking your skin with his thumb. john b couldn’t remember the last time someone made him feel like this. truthfully, neither of you wanted the night to end, a feigned gasp leaving your lips when he proposed you should come back home with him. “what kind of girl do you take me for, john?” he was quick to apologize, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose for suggesting such a thing on the first date. you laughed. “i thought you’d never ask..” john b’s head immediately shot up at your words, both of you scrambling out of the bar.

BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB who’s so strong he fucks you standing up, slamming his hips into your own as you grow more and more delirious with each thrust. he’s reaching a depth that you’ve never felt before, your nails raking down his skin as he leaves a sloppy trail of kisses across your chest. you’re screaming his name like it’s the only word you know, his grunts and groans bouncing off of his bedroom walls. it isn’t until you’re slipping out of his grip that he pins you down to his bed, your fingers working through his curly hair as he hooks your legs to his waist. orgasm after orgasm, you lose count of the amount of times he has made you come undone. it isn’t until his hips are stuttering and you’re moaning out a ‘please cum inside me!’ that you feel him spilling into you, both of you desperately clinging onto each other as he empties himself into your needy cunt. after that night, for the first time ever, john b woke up to a full lunchbox packed and ready for him for the day.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Something's Gotta Give

Summary: Chip hitchhikes his way away from where his life fell apart. He meets a beautiful woman, you, and his brain, once again, becomes a potato.

Pairing: Chip Taylor x fem!reader

Category: fluff, smut (18+), angst

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, mentions of what happened in 68-kill, insecurities, jealousy, boss/employee relationship, happy ending

Word count: 18.7k

a/n: i love me some spencer reid but chip taylor is sooo pathetic it just gets me going

main masterlist

Additional warnings: unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), oral (m receiving), mild consensual degradation

28-year-old Chip Taylor was a mess, to put it simply. After narrowly escaping the chaos of Louisiana, he drove as far as he could on what little gas money he had, before resorting to hitchhiking. His path was aimless, following wherever someone would take him, until he somehow ended up in Colorado. In Aurora, he found a shelter where he could sleep while he searched for a job.

Now, with his face healed and dressed in some half-decent clothes—no longer stained with blood—Chip wandered the streets of Aurora, unsure of what his next move would be, but grateful for the temporary calm.

Chip quickly discovered that his search for work wasn’t going to be as simple as he’d hoped. Every place he walked into seemed to size him up before kindly, but firmly, turning him away. His stomach sank a little more with each rejection, though he tried to brush it off and keep moving forward.

At a diner, the older woman behind the counter smiled apologetically, her eyes flicking over his application. “I’m sorry, hon. We’re really looking for someone with experience in the kitchen. It’s just so busy around here, you know? Best of luck, though.”

Chip nodded, his heart sinking, but he mustered a smile. “Thanks, I understand.”

At a hardware store, the manager gave him a once-over, scratching his chin. “You ever worked with tools before? We need someone who knows their way around equipment, construction, that kind of thing.”

Chip shook his head, feeling the weight of his own uselessness. “No, but I can learn fast.”

The man offered a tight-lipped smile. “I’m sure you can, but we need someone who can hit the ground running. Sorry, pal.”

Even the local gas station didn’t seem to have room for him. The young guy at the counter barely looked up from his phone as he spoke. “Yeah, we’re fully staffed right now. You could leave your number, but… I wouldn’t count on anything soon.”

Chip stood there for a moment, the rejection almost stinging more because of how little the guy cared. He turned away without leaving his number.

By the time the sun began to set, Chip was exhausted from walking up and down the streets of Aurora, facing rejection after rejection. His new clothes felt heavier with every polite smile and apologetic glance, and he wondered how much longer he could keep this up.

Chip wandered across the neon-lit streets, his eyes catching the glow from a sign that cast an inviting red hue over the sidewalk. He stopped to take it in: Lovers of Today. The name was bold, practically daring someone like him to step inside and forget his troubles for a while.

He didn’t have a cent to his name, but at least he could probably score a glass of water, and the idea of sitting somewhere that wasn’t a shelter felt like a brief escape.

As he pushed the door open, the warmth of the dive bar’s dim lighting greeted him. The red neon heart in the window flickered, casting playful shadows on the walls. The smell of old wood, cigarette smoke, and stale beer hung in the air, but Chip didn’t mind. It was a welcome change from the streets outside.

He plopped down on a worn stool at the bar, letting out a soft sigh of relief as he surveyed the room. The bar was cluttered but lively, bottles lined up with care, their glass shimmering under the soft red glow. Music hummed low in the background, a melancholic tune that fit the slow pulse of the room. A man played pool in the back, his movements lazy and unhurried, while a few scattered patrons sat at tables, lost in their own thoughts.

“What can I get you, sweetheart?” A melodic voice pulled Chip from his thoughts, snapping him back to reality.

He turned to face the bartender, and for a moment, his brain seemed to short-circuit. There she was—easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. That realization sent a jolt of fear through him, more intense than any excitement he might have felt. Her soft, playful smile made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

You noticed his hesitation, his wide-eyed look, and leaned forward slightly, tilting your head. “…Can I get you anything?” you asked again, this time with a bit of a laugh in your voice, clearly entertained by his flustered state.

“Uh—um, yeah, just a water?” Chip finally managed, though he cursed himself for sounding so awkward.

You smiled, the amusement twinkling in your eyes. “Sure thing, sugar,” you replied, effortlessly cool as you turned to get his drink, leaving Chip to collect his scattered thoughts.

You placed the glass down in front of him with another smile. “Here you go.”

“Th-thanks,” Chip stammered, looking up at you with wide, innocent eyes, his nerves getting the better of him.

You winked, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, before turning to tend to your other customers. Chip couldn’t help himself—he leaned up slightly, watching you as you bent down to grab a beer from the fridge. His eyes lingered on your curves, his mind briefly distracted from the pit of anxiety that had been gnawing at him all day.

After you served the other patrons, you made your way back to the bar, your eyes flicking over the handsome, if not charmingly pathetic, man in front of you. His awkwardness was almost endearing.

“Anything else?” you asked, putting away freshly cleaned glasses.

“No, just water is fine,” Chip said, though the way he gulped and avoided looking at how your top clung to your chest told you he was flustered.

You sighed softly, setting down the glass you’d been holding. “Are you sure, sweetheart? You look like you’ve had a tough day.”

Chip’s shoulders slumped as he exhaled heavily, the weight of everything pressing down on him. “Yeah. I have, but I, uh… I don’t really have any money on me.”

You nodded thoughtfully, your gaze softening with understanding. “I see…” You turned around, and Chip’s heart sank, deflating even more as he stared at his water. He really was such a loser.

But then you spun back toward him, setting a nice cold beer in front of him with a wink. “It’s on the house, sugar,” you said, your smile making the tension in Chip’s chest ease just a little. “In exchange, you can tell me what’s got you so down?”

Chip blinked at the beer, surprised by the unexpected kindness. His lips twitched into a small, grateful smile as he glanced up at you. 

“Really? You want to hear about my day?” Chip asked, a bit incredulous, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. He wasn’t used to someone actually wanting to listen, especially not someone like you.

“Yeah,” you replied, offering a sweet smile that seemed to melt away some of the guardedness he’d been holding onto. “Tell me what’s got you so down.”

For a moment, Chip hesitated. Part of him wondered if he should just shrug it off, make something up, or dodge the question entirely. He couldn’t exactly spill everything—the illegal activities, the women, and all the madness that led to his escape from Louisiana. That was a story no one needed to hear. But maybe he could share the rest of it, the overwhelming feeling of being lost, broken, and more useless than ever.

“Well,” he began, keeping his gaze on the beer in front of him, fingers tracing the rim of the bottle. “It’s been a rough few weeks, to be honest. I, uh, kinda lost everything back home. Decided to leave, and… here I am, trying to start fresh, I guess.”

He took a sip of the beer, the cold liquid soothing his parched throat. “I thought I’d find a job, but, you know, turns out I’m not exactly qualified for… well, anything. Been walking all over town getting turned away.”

You leaned in a little, listening intently, your face soft with empathy. He glanced at you nervously, his words fumbling but flowing now that the gates had cracked open.

“I don’t know, it’s just… I keep messing up, everywhere I go. Feels like I can’t catch a break.” He paused, staring into his beer again, his voice lowering. “Feels like maybe I don’t deserve one.”

You frowned slightly, your heart tugged by the self-deprecating tone in his voice. “Hey,” you said, your voice kind but firm, “don’t say that. We all have rough patches. It doesn’t mean you’re not worth something. It just means things are tough right now. Doesn’t mean it’ll always be that way.”

Chip looked up at you, surprised by the sincerity in your voice. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t expected kindness from anyone, much less a stranger. His lips twitched into a faint smile, the first real one he’d felt in days.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, genuinely. “I needed to hear that.”

You smiled at him again, that same warm and genuine expression softening your features. “Anytime, sugar.” A slight pause lingered between you before you leaned in just a bit, voice dropping to a playful tone. “Tell me though, do you have any experience bartending?”

Chip shook his head quickly, a little embarrassed. “No, not really,” he admitted, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Hmm… are you strong?” you giggled, clearly having some fun with him.

Chip instinctively looked down at his arms, making you swoon just a bit as the way his muscles strained against the fabric of his sleeves caught your eye.

“I guess?” he said, though his voice carried uncertainty, like he wasn’t sure if he should be bragging.

You laughed softly. “Do you scare easily?”

“Uhhh…” Chip blinked, clearly unsure how to answer that, given everything he’d been through recently.

“Do you think you could be a bouncer?” you asked, leaning forward a little more. “Kick people out for being assholes?”

His brow furrowed slightly. “What are you asking?”

“I’m trying to offer you a job here,” you said with a smile, your words hanging in the air like an unexpected lifeline.

Chip’s eyes widened in surprise, his breath catching in his throat. “A job? Here?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had walked in hoping for nothing more than a glass of water, and now here you were, offering him a shot at something better.

You nodded, your expression kind but still playful. “Yeah, I need someone to keep an eye on things. It’s a dive bar, after all, and we get our fair share of rowdy customers. Plus, it’d be nice to have a strong pair of arms around, don’t you think?”

Chip felt a wave of relief mixed with cautious optimism wash over him. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it was a start. A chance. And right now, that was all he needed.

“I—yeah. I could do that,” he said, his voice steadier now. “I mean, I’ll do my best.”

You grinned, clearly pleased with his answer. “That’s all I’m asking, sugar. Can you start tomorrow?”

Chip stared at you in disbelief, unable to suppress the small, hopeful smile forming on his lips as he nodded. Maybe, just maybe, this was the break he’d been waiting for.

That night, Chip walked back to the shelter with a smile tugging at his lips, something that had been a rare visitor in recent weeks. The cool night air felt refreshing against his skin as he moved through the dimly lit streets of Aurora, replaying the events of the evening in his head. He couldn’t quite believe it—after days of dead-end rejections, here he was with a job offer. 

And it wasn’t just any job; it was from you. A beautiful, confident woman who had seemed to see something in him, even when he wasn’t sure what he had left to offer. Your kindness had caught him off guard, leaving him feeling a mix of gratitude and something he couldn’t quite place—maybe hope? It had been so long since he’d felt even a flicker of optimism.

But as much as he tried to bask in the good fortune of the moment, there was a nagging feeling creeping at the edges of his mind. Ominous, maybe. It felt almost too lucky to have met you and been offered a job so quickly. Nothing in his life had ever come easy, and now that something finally had, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a catch. 

Still, for now, Chip allowed himself to enjoy the victory. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his mind wandering to what tomorrow might bring. It wasn’t much—a job as a bouncer at a dive bar—but it was something. It was a start. Maybe he could pull his life together after all.

As he neared the shelter, his smile widened just a bit, despite that faint feeling of unease lingering in the back of his mind. For the first time in a long time, he had something to look forward to.

—

The next day, Chip walked into the bar, nerves buzzing in his chest as he stepped through the doors of Lovers of Today for his first day. The place was quieter now, with the neon signs flickering softly, casting their warm red glow over the room. Behind the counter, there you were again, moving gracefully as you set up for the night. Your presence instantly caught his eye, and before he knew it, that same anxious excitement was bubbling up inside him.

You looked up when he entered, smiling sweetly in his direction. “Hey there, sugar! Glad you made it,” you said, your voice warm and welcoming.

Chip swallowed, nodding as he approached the bar. “Yeah, of course,” he replied, his hands already feeling clammy with anticipation. He’d thought about this moment all night, and now that he was here, standing in front of you again, he felt even more flustered than before.

You gestured for him to come closer, pulling him next to you behind the bar. "Alright, so here's the rundown," you began, your tone casual but professional. You started explaining the basics of what you expected from him—keeping an eye on the patrons, making sure things didn’t get out of hand, and if someone got too rowdy, he'd be the one to step in.

But as you talked, Chip found it harder and harder to focus. You were standing so close that he could catch the faint, intoxicating scent of your perfume. It wasn’t overpowering, just enough to make his head spin a little, like a soft whisper of musk and something sweet that lingered in the air. The way you moved, the subtle brush of your arm against his as you pointed things out, made his concentration slip further.

“So, if someone refuses to pay or starts causing trouble…” you continued, but Chip’s attention wavered as his eyes darted to your lips when you spoke, then back to the glass you were polishing.

He blinked, snapping himself out of his haze for a moment. “Right, uh, got it,” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure if he had actually retained anything useful. His heart was pounding, but not from nerves about the job. No, this was something else entirely—something about you had his pulse racing.

You paused, tilting your head slightly, a knowing glimmer in your eyes as you glanced at him. "You listening, Chip? Or am I gonna have to repeat myself?"

“Sorry,” Chip stammered, embarrassed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m listening. Just—uh—it’s a lot to take in, I guess.”

You chuckled softly, leaning just a little closer. “It’s okay, sugar. You’ll get the hang of it. Just focus on keeping things calm, and don’t worry, I’ll be here if you need help.”

Chip nodded, forcing himself to concentrate, but the scent of you, the warmth of your presence, made it feel like the room was spinning just a bit. He knew he had to pull it together—he couldn’t let his head get lost every time he was around you. But right now, standing next to you, it was harder than he’d ever imagined.

Chip’s first night went off without a hitch. The bar’s steady rhythm felt almost soothing to him, and by the time his second week rolled around, he had settled into a routine. He’d met the other bartenders and bouncers, learned the ins and outs of the place, and even found himself relaxing a little more with each shift. Nothing too wild had happened yet—just the usual drunken antics that were easily manageable.

That was, until that one night.

It started out like any other, the low hum of conversations mixing with the clinking of glasses and the soft pulse of music in the background. Chip had been stationed near the entrance, keeping an eye on things, when the commotion began. At first, it was just muffled noise, some guy raising his voice near the bar. But then Chip heard your voice, calm but firm, cutting through the clamor.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t serve you anymore,” you said, keeping your cool as you leaned against the bar. “You’ve had enough for the night.”

That’s when the man—clearly drunk, clearly angry—decided to escalate things. His voice grew louder, slurred words laced with irritation. “You can’t cut me off, bitch! I paid good money, and I’m not done drinking!”

Chip’s body tensed as he watched from a distance, the sudden surge of protectiveness coursing through him. He felt his heart rate pick up as the drunk man leaned closer to you, his gestures growing more aggressive. Chip knew he had to step in. He had to protect you. 

No, he reminded himself, forcing his mind to stay clear. Protect the bar. That’s your job. But despite the internal reminder, the thought of someone yelling at you, someone daring to treat you like that, sent a surge of adrenaline through his veins.

He moved quickly, weaving through the tables and patrons until he was by your side. The drunk man was still fuming, his face red and twisted in frustration. Chip didn’t wait for an invitation.

“Hey,” Chip said, his voice low but firm, stepping between you and the man. “You need to calm down.”

The drunk guy’s eyes flicked toward Chip, sizing him up, before he sneered. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the guy telling you to leave,” Chip responded, standing his ground. His heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his voice steady, refusing to let the guy see any hesitation. “You’ve had enough. Time to go.”

The man puffed up his chest, clearly not interested in backing down. “I paid for my damn drinks!”

“You paid,” Chip agreed, “and now you’re done. Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.” He subtly shifted his stance, ready to intervene if the guy got any more aggressive.

For a moment, the man looked like he might push his luck, but then he glanced around the bar. Eyes were starting to turn his way. The whole scene had drawn enough attention that even he seemed to realize he wasn’t going to win this one.

With a final curse under his breath, the man shoved his stool back and stumbled toward the door. Chip kept an eye on him until he was out of sight, his muscles still tense and ready, just in case.

Once the man was gone, Chip let out a slow breath, the adrenaline ebbing away. He turned to you, still feeling the lingering need to make sure you were okay.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You smiled at him, clearly impressed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Chip.”

Chip couldn’t help the small, sheepish smile that crossed his face. “Just doing my job.”

“Still,” you said, leaning against the bar, your eyes softening a bit as you looked at him. “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

And just like that, all the tension that had built up in Chip’s body melted away, replaced with something else. A warmth, a quiet sense of accomplishment, knowing that he had done what he needed to do—both for the bar and for you.

—

Chip Taylor was no stranger to unhealthy obsessions. His life had been a series of poor decisions and misplaced emotions, but this—this crush, or what he feared had crossed into love—was different. It was deeper, more consuming, and incredibly stupid. He wanted to believe he was incapable of falling in love after only knowing you for a month. And not just any person, but his boss. Yet here he was, his heart doing that dumb little flip every time you smiled at him, and he hated himself for it.

But what was he supposed to do? You were everything. Kind, charismatic, caring, brilliant, sexy, funny, and nonjudgmental. It wasn’t like you were just some passing fancy. You had given him a chance when no one else would. You made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t doomed to be the screw-up he’d always been. And when you found out he was living in a shelter, you didn’t blink before offering him your guest room. Free of charge.

Chip had spent a lot of nights staring at the ceiling in that guest room, wondering how the hell he ended up in the presence of someone like you. With the kind of karma he had, he should’ve ended up with someone cold, manipulative, and cruel. But instead, there you were, offering kindness he didn’t think he deserved.

But that’s where the crush—no, love—came back to bite him. It was suffocating, this unspoken feeling gnawing at him every time you were near. The worst part? He had to watch night after night as men, women, and everyone in between flirted with you. It wasn’t like he could blame them. You were magnetic. You usually laughed off the flirtations with that casual grace you had, deflecting like a pro.

But tonight… tonight was different.

There was someone—a very attractive person who seemed to catch your eye. Chip had been half-watching from his usual spot near the entrance when he noticed it. The way you drifted toward this stranger more than once. The way your laughter was a bit more genuine, your eyes a little brighter. And then you touched their arm, leaning in closer to hear whatever charming thing they were saying.

Chip felt the sharp pang of jealousy twist inside him, the kind that makes your stomach drop and your chest ache. His grip tightened on the back of the barstool, the wood creaking under his hands as he watched the interaction unfold. He knew he was neglecting his job, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away from you and that person.

It was like a slow-motion train wreck in his head. His heart clenched with every laugh you shared, every glance you shot their way. And when you touched their arm, a part of him shattered. The universe, it seemed, had a sick sense of humor.

Of course you didn’t feel the same way about him. Why would you? He was just Chip. The guy who wandered into your bar broke, desperate, and hopeless. The guy you’d kindly helped, but that didn’t mean you saw him that way. No, his karmic retribution had arrived in the form of the most amazing person he’d ever met being deposited into his life—but only so he could feel the crushing weight of wanting something he could never have.

Chip stared bitterly as you continued to smile at the stranger, his heart sinking deeper with every moment. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, cursing the universe for dangling you in front of him like a cruel joke.

Good one, universe, he thought bitterly to himself, his hands still gripping the stool as if it could keep him grounded. Real good one.

He looked away, but the ache in his chest remained. It wasn’t fair. None of this was.

As closing time rolled around, Chip’s bitterness hadn’t faded. If anything, it had intensified, simmering under the surface as he quietly went about his tasks. His mind was still replaying the way you had laughed, the way you had touched that stranger’s arm, and it stung more than he wanted to admit.

Conor, one of the other bartenders, smirked as they wiped down the counter, throwing a teasing glance your way. “You gonna let that beautiful thing take you out, boss?” They shimmied their shoulders, their grin wide and playful.

Cody, who had known you longer, joined in with a chuckle. “Yeah, girl, it’s been way too long. You should go out! You never do.”

Chip’s stomach twisted into knots as he listened, pretending to focus on stacking the chairs, though he could hear every word. His heart braced for what he expected to hear next—how excited you were, how you couldn’t wait to go on this date with the person who had flirted with you all night.

He could almost hear it now: your voice light, maybe even a little giddy, as you talked about how charming they were, how nice it would be to go out with someone after so long.

He clenched his jaw, feeling the anticipation of heartbreak wash over him as he steeled himself for the worst.

But then you laughed—soft and genuine, but not in the way Chip had feared. “Oh, please,” you said, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “You both know I’m not looking to go on dates.”

Conor raised an eyebrow, still teasing. “Oh, come on. They were totally into you! You’re really just gonna let that walk away?”

You shrugged, nonchalant. “Yeah, I’m really just gonna let that walk away. It’s not my thing right now.”

Cody shook their head with a smile, but didn’t push it further. “Well, alright, if you say so.”

Chip, who had been silently bracing for a different outcome, felt the tension in his chest ease ever so slightly. He hadn’t realized how tightly wound he’d been, how much he had feared hearing you talk about someone else with excitement.

You weren’t going on a date. You weren’t interested in that person, after all.

But then again… you weren’t interested in anyone. Not them. And definitely not him.

His relief was short-lived, replaced by the sinking realization that while you weren’t swooning over anyone else, it didn’t mean you felt anything for him either. He was still just your employee. A friend, maybe. But not anything more.

He finished stacking the chairs, his thoughts still tangled, trying to come to terms with the bittersweet mix of emotions swirling in his mind.

—

It was the middle of another shift, the bar alive with the usual chatter and clinking glasses, but Chip’s mind was far from the job. He was distracted—more than distracted. His thoughts kept looping back to you, the strangers who flirted with you, and the nagging ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away. 

He’d been on autopilot for most of the night, his interactions with customers robotic, his movements stiff. Conor, ever the observant one, had noticed.

“Hey, man,” Conor said during a rare lull, when they were both by the back counter. They leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, eyeing Chip curiously. “You’ve been off lately. What’s going on with you?”

Chip froze for a moment, his mind scrambling for a response. “I’m fine,” he muttered, glancing away and hoping Conor would drop it. 

But Conor wasn’t one to let things slide so easily. They tilted their head, narrowing their eyes. “Bullshit. You’ve been acting weird for days. Is it the job? Or… something else?”

Chip sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of the question pressing down on him. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to say it out loud because that would make it real, and the last thing he needed was more complications.

“It’s nothing,” he tried again, though his voice lacked conviction.

Conor wasn’t buying it. “Dude, we work together, like, every night. I know when something’s up. Come on, what is it? You’ve been looking like a kicked puppy for days.”

Chip hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek as he weighed whether to say anything. But the more he tried to hold it in, the more it gnawed at him, until he couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

“It’s… it’s her,” Chip finally admitted, his voice low, almost ashamed. He glanced toward the bar, where you were laughing with a regular, completely oblivious to the conversation happening in the back.

Conor raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Her? You mean… Y/N… the boss?” They glanced at you, then back at Chip, their expression a mix of curiosity and something else—concern, maybe. 

Chip nodded, running a hand over his face, feeling like an idiot for even saying it out loud. “Yeah. I know it’s stupid. I know I shouldn’t—she’s my boss. But I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s… it’s driving me crazy.”

Conor’s expression softened, and they let out a low whistle. “Ah, man. That’s rough.”

Chip scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, tell me about it. It’s not like she’d ever go for someone like me anyway. I mean, look at her—she’s amazing. I’m just the guy she took pity on.”

Conor took a moment, looking thoughtful before they spoke again. “Look, man. I’m not gonna say it’s not complicated. She is your boss, and that makes things tricky. But…” They paused, leaning in a bit. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.”

Chip blinked, not expecting that. “What do you mean?”

Conor shrugged. “You’re not just some random guy, Chip. You’ve been here for a while now, and she clearly cares about you. I see the way she talks to you—it’s not the same as the way she talks to everyone else.”

Chip frowned, trying to process what Conor was saying. “You really think so?”

Conor nodded. “Yeah, I do. But you’ve gotta be careful. If you’re really into her, you can’t just keep bottling it up like this. It’ll mess with your head. Maybe it’s time to feel her out—see if she’d ever be interested in someone like you. Just… be subtle. Tread carefully.”

Chip’s heart raced at the thought. The idea of making his feelings known, even subtly, terrified him. But Conor’s words sparked a tiny flicker of hope that he hadn’t let himself feel before. 

“What if she’s not?” Chip asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the fear of rejection creeping in. 

Conor gave him a sympathetic look. “Then you know, and you can move on. But if you don’t at least try, you’re gonna drive yourself insane wondering ‘what if.’”

Chip mulled that over for a moment, glancing at you again as you poured drinks, completely unaware of the storm raging in his head. Conor was right—he couldn’t keep going like this, silently pining, letting it eat him alive. He had to do something, or the weight of it would crush him.

“Maybe,” Chip muttered, half to himself. “Maybe I will.”

Conor clapped him on the shoulder, offering a reassuring grin. “That’s the spirit. Just… don’t be a dumbass about it, okay?”

Chip chuckled softly, despite the turmoil in his chest. “I’ll try not to.”

As Conor wandered back to the front, Chip remained by the counter, his thoughts swirling. The idea of letting you in on his feelings terrified him, but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. And for the first time, Chip allowed himself to think that maybe he wasn’t completely out of your league.

The only question now was when—and how—to take that terrifying first step.

—

The night had been rough—one of those nights where everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. Rowdy customers, spilled drinks, broken glasses, and more than one argument that had to be diffused before it turned into something worse. By the time the last patron staggered out the door, the bar felt like a battlefield, and the two of you were left with the aftermath.

Chip glanced over at you as you wiped down the bar, noticing how much more subdued you were than usual. The playful energy you typically carried with you seemed drained, replaced by exhaustion that tugged at your features. You didn’t say anything at first, just sighed deeply, letting out a breath that seemed to carry the weight of the night with it.

“Man, sometimes this job really wears you down,” you muttered, your voice tired, your shoulders slumping slightly as you leaned against the bar.

Chip hesitated, watching you, feeling that tug inside him again—an overwhelming need to comfort you, to say something that might make you feel better. He’d been watching you all night, seeing how you held it together even when things got chaotic, but now that the crowd was gone, you looked more vulnerable than he’d ever seen you.

“You’re amazing at what you do,” Chip said quietly, stepping a little closer, his voice soft but sincere. “Don’t let nights like this get to you.”

You glanced at him, a small, tired smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Thanks, Chip. I try, but… it’s hard sometimes, you know?”

He nodded, unsure what to say next but wanting to fill the silence, to keep the moment from slipping away. The air between you felt different—quieter, more intimate, like the walls around both of you had come down just a little.

You sighed again, setting down the rag you’d been using to clean the counter. “I guess nights like this remind me why I don’t… go out much. Or really have a life. It’s just too much sometimes, trying to balance everything. Running this place, taking care of everyone, making sure things don’t fall apart.”

Chip blinked, taken aback by how candid you were being. He’d never heard you talk like this before. Usually, you were so in control, so confident, like nothing could rattle you. But now, standing here in the quiet aftermath of a long night, you seemed… tired. Maybe even a little lonely.

You leaned against the bar, your gaze softening as you stared at the worn wood beneath your hands. “I spend so much time here, making sure everything’s running smoothly, making sure everyone’s taken care of, that there’s just… not a lot of room left for anything else.”

Chip swallowed, his chest tightening at your words. He had wondered before why you never seemed interested in the flirtations that came your way, why you brushed off attention so easily. Now, it made sense. You weren’t uninterested in romance—you were just too busy being everything to everyone else.

“I didn’t know,” Chip said, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. “I guess I never thought about how much you have on your plate.”

You smiled, a little sad but genuine. “Yeah, well, that’s the life, right? Someone’s gotta keep this place going. And I guess I’m just used to taking care of people. I don’t mind it… but it doesn’t leave much room for… other stuff.”

Chip stood there, the weight of your words settling over him. He felt a pang of guilt for all the times he’d watched you flirt with customers and felt jealousy burn inside him. He hadn’t understood before—hadn’t realized how much you were carrying, how much you were sacrificing to keep things together.

But now, in this quiet moment, he saw you differently. Not just as the confident, flirtatious bartender who always had a smile and a witty remark, but as someone who was just as vulnerable, just as human, as anyone else. Someone who gave so much of themselves that there wasn’t much left over.

The silence between you stretched on for a moment, comfortable and filled with unspoken understanding. Chip didn’t know what to say, how to fix the exhaustion he saw in your eyes, but he wanted to offer something, anything, to let you know you weren’t alone.

“You’re really good at taking care of people,” he said softly. “But don’t forget to take care of yourself too.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a brief second, something passed between you—a quiet, shared moment that neither of you had expected. You smiled, a real smile this time, one that made Chip’s heart stutter in his chest.

“Thanks, Chip,” you said, your voice gentle, and there was something different in the way you looked at him now, something softer. “I mean it.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to say anything more, afraid of ruining the fragile connection that had just been made. He didn’t know what this moment meant—whether it changed anything between you, whether it was just a fleeting glimpse of something deeper—but it felt important.

As you both finished cleaning up, the bar seemed quieter than usual, the air between you charged with a subtle, unspoken shift. Chip walked out that night feeling closer to you than he ever had before, even if he still wasn’t sure what to do with the feelings tangled up inside him.

He felt like maybe you saw him, not just as an employee or a friend, but as someone who might be able to share a little bit of that weight you carried.

—

Chip got to work the next day extra early, sneaking into the bar while you were behind the counter, mixing drinks to prep for the evening. He didn’t want to risk bumping into you just yet—his nerves were already on edge from Conor’s advice and the conversation you two had—so he headed straight to the back. Inventory was the part of the job he knew you hated the most, so he wanted to take some of the load off for you. And… maybe if he took care of it (and you), you'd notice him in a different light. Maybe.

He was half-hidden behind stacks of bottles when Cody caught him.

“Chip?” Cody's voice rang through the storage room, followed by a soft laugh. “You know you won’t get paid for this, right?”

Chip startled, his fingers fumbling the bottle of sour mixer he was holding. It slipped from his hands, but luckily it was plastic and hit the ground with a soft thud. Still, he couldn’t help but glare at Cody, irritation mingling with embarrassment. “Your point?”

Cody leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and an amused smirk playing on their lips. “Why are you doing it, then?”

Chip exhaled sharply, setting the bottle back on the shelf with a bit more force than necessary. “Just helping out the boss,” he muttered, trying to sound casual.

“Uh-huh,” Cody dragged the words out, that knowing look never leaving their face. “Because you’re in loooove?” they teased, stretching the word out obnoxiously.

“No!” Chip squeaked, his voice shooting up a pitch. He felt his face flush instantly, and he inwardly cursed himself for the involuntary reaction. “I am not,” he added, more firmly this time, though he could hear how unconvincing it sounded even to his own ears.

Cody raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this far too much. “Uh huh. Sure, whatever you say.” They winked, their smirk widening. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. That woman is oblivious as hell, though.”

Chip’s shoulders slumped, his heart racing with a mixture of panic and frustration. “She’s not… it’s not like that,” he grumbled, though he knew Cody wasn’t buying it for a second.

“Sure, it’s not like that,” Cody teased, mimicking his tone. “Look, man, I don’t blame you. I mean, she’s great. But maybe you should stop hiding back here, doing unpaid inventory, and, you know, actually talk to her.”

Chip groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he shot Cody a half-hearted glare. “It’s not that simple.”

Cody shrugged, pushing off the wall and tossing him a sympathetic smile. “It never is. But, hey, I’m rooting for you.”

Chip watched as Cody walked out, leaving him alone with the bottles and his now much louder thoughts. Cody was right, of course, but Chip couldn’t help feeling stuck. Helping out with the busywork was a small way to get closer to you, but it wasn’t enough. 

He sighed heavily, staring at the neatly organized bottles in front of him. He knew he couldn’t keep this up, couldn’t just lurk in the background hoping you’d magically see him the way he saw you. Something had to give. But what?

Chip's question was answered moments later when you burst into the back, clearly not expecting to find anyone there. "Ah!" you screamed, your hand flying to your chest as you nearly dropped the empty glass you were holding. “Chip!” you gasped, still catching your breath. “What the hell?”

Chip jumped, just as startled. “Sorry, Y/N!” He quickly stepped forward, his own heart pounding. “I just… wanted to help. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and I—I know you hate doing inventory, so I thought I’d, you know—” His words were tumbling out, awkward and rushed, trying desperately to explain himself.

But you cut him off with a light, melodic laugh, and the sound of it stopped him in his tracks. “You’re a very sweet man, Chip Taylor. Do you know that?”

The way you were looking at him—it was new. Different. There was something softer in your gaze, something warm, and Chip felt his pulse quicken. He liked it. No, he loved it.

He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “Just trying to help,” he said with a casual shrug, though his insides were far from calm.

You smiled again, that affectionate, teasing grin that made his heart flutter. “Well,” you said softly, “I really appreciate it, but you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” Chip blurted, almost too quickly. He met your gaze, feeling the heat rise in his face. His words weren’t just about inventory anymore, and he wondered if you could tell.

You grinned, rolling your eyes in that way that made him feel like you were amused by his awkwardness but found it endearing all the same. Then, without warning, you stepped even closer, reaching around him to grab a bottle of vodka from the shelf behind him. In that brief moment, your chest pressed against his, and Chip was sure his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“Thanks, Chip,” you breathed, your voice low and soft, your minty breath brushing against his skin as you pulled away slightly. For a second, he could barely think—your scent, your closeness, everything about you had him utterly captivated.

Chip felt frozen in place, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “Yeah,” he stammered, his throat suddenly dry, “no problem.”

You gave him another warm smile, lingering just a moment longer before you took the vodka and turned to head back out to the bar. Chip stood there, still trying to process what had just happened, the lingering scent of you and the feel of your closeness imprinted in his mind.

As the door swung closed behind you, Chip let out a shaky breath, leaning against the shelf. His mind was spinning. That brief moment—your chest against his, the way your breath had ghosted across his face—felt like it had flipped a switch inside him. 

—

After that brief but electrifying moment in the backroom, Chip couldn’t help but start noticing everything you did. It was as if every little thing you did seemed loaded with meaning—whether you intended it or not.

At home, things had shifted too. It used to be that you’d take your clothes into the bathroom when you showered, emerging fully dressed and casual. But lately, it had been different. Now, you would stroll around the apartment in a tiny towel, your damp hair clinging to your neck, droplets of water glistening on your skin. And every time you did, Chip’s brain short-circuited, turning into something the size of a pea. He'd try to focus on anything else, but his gaze always drifted back to you—your bare legs, the curve of your shoulders, the way that towel seemed dangerously close to slipping.

Then there were the groceries. You came home one day with bags full of food, seemingly innocent at first glance, until Chip noticed the trend. You had brought bananas, popsicles, cucumbers—foods that were all, well… suggestive. Chip tried not to notice, he really did. But it was impossible when you were sitting across from him at the table, casually peeling a banana and slowly taking bites in the most torturous way possible. The worst part was, you seemed completely oblivious to the effect it was having on him.

And then there were the popsicles. One hot evening, after a long shift, you sat on the couch next to Chip, legs tucked under you, enjoying a cherry popsicle. The way your lips wrapped around it, the slow, deliberate licks as you savored the cold treat—it was enough to make Chip feel like he was about to combust. He tried to keep his eyes glued to the TV, pretending he wasn’t completely fixated on the way the red juice dripped down your chin, but every glance made his heart race.

One afternoon, you were in the kitchen, casually preparing a salad. Chip, seated nearby with his phone in hand, was pretending—poorly—to focus on whatever was on his screen. But the second you pulled out an enormous cucumber from the fridge, all his concentration shattered. He told himself not to look, not to pay attention, but his eyes betrayed him, drifting back to you with every movement.

You stood there at the counter, holding the cucumber with ease as you peeled it, your fingers gripping the base in a way that made his breath catch in his throat. Chip tried to remind himself it was just a vegetable. A completely innocent act. But the way you were handling it, slicing it with such careful precision, each stroke of the knife agonizingly slow—it felt like some kind of sensual tease meant only for him, though you were completely unaware of his growing torment.

His heart raced as you absentmindedly brought a slice to your lips, biting into it with a soft crunch. The way your teeth sank into the crisp flesh of the cucumber, your lips wrapping around it, made Chip’s grip on his phone tighten. His palms were sweating, and he could feel his pulse hammering in his ears. He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t stop. 

You chewed slowly, blissfully unaware of the effect you were having on him. When you reached for another slice, it was like slow motion—the way you brought it up, your tongue brushing it ever so slightly before you bit into it again. The movement was subtle, but it sent a jolt through Chip that he struggled to suppress.

He swallowed hard, trying to shift his attention back to his phone, but it was useless. His entire focus was on you—on the way your fingers held the cucumber, on the soft sigh that escaped your lips as you savored the taste, on the way your eyes remained distant, clearly lost in thought while he was trapped in his own private torment.

Then, as if to push him further into the abyss, you grabbed the entire cucumber in your hand again, taking a bite straight from it. Chip's mind went blank, his breath hitching as he watched your lips part, teeth sinking into the cucumber’s firm flesh, your lips lingering just a bit longer than necessary. 

Completely unaware of his wide-eyed stare, you chewed thoughtfully, then shot him a playful grin, wiping juice from the corner of your mouth. "Want some?" you asked innocently, holding up a slice.

Chip nearly choked, his mind reeling. “Uh, no. I’m—uh, I’m good,” he stammered, his voice strangled with tension.

You shrugged, your smile casual and sweet. “Suit yourself,” you replied, popping another slice into your mouth with a satisfied hum.

Chip, feeling like he was about to combust, swallowed hard and forced himself to look away, but the image of your lips on that cucumber, the soft bite, the way your eyes sparkled without a hint of understanding of what you were doing to him—it was seared into his mind.

And he knew—there was no escaping this.

Before work one evening, you casually announced that you were trying a new stretching routine. Chip had been lounging on the couch, trying to unwind after the shift, but when you spread out a yoga mat right in front of him, his entire focus shifted.

You didn’t seem to notice his sudden tension as you knelt down and began stretching, starting with simple movements. But it wasn’t long before you bent forward, your fingers sliding toward your toes, your back arching as you stretched deeper. Chip’s breath caught in his throat as he watched, his heart hammering in his chest.

Your bottoms hugged every curve, and as you stretched, the material pulled tighter, highlighting the shape of your hips, the dip of your waist, and the way your legs seemed to go on forever. The soft sighs you let out with each motion—small sounds of exertion—sent shivers down his spine. 

Chip tried desperately not to look, to focus on the TV, on his phone, on anything else, but it was impossible. The sight of you in front of him, completely absorbed in your routine, was maddening. Every movement seemed deliberate, sensual, though you had no idea what you were doing to him.

You moved into a deeper stretch, bending down again, this time with your legs spread slightly apart. Chip’s pulse quickened, his fingers gripping the edge of the couch as he fought to keep himself calm. The way your body moved, so fluid, so confident, had him mesmerized.

And then you shifted into a backbend, your body arching gracefully, your chest rising, the soft line of your neck exposed. You groaned softly, a sound of satisfaction from the stretch, but to Chip, it was something else entirely—a sound that sent heat flooding through his veins.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, his pulse racing in his ears. His mind was spinning, trying to reign in his thoughts, but the way your body curved, the way your breathing deepened, was driving him wild. Every inch of you was in his line of sight, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop staring. 

You looked up at him briefly, giving him an innocent smile as you reached for your toes again. “You should try this sometime, Chip,” you said, completely oblivious to the chaos in his head. “It’s a great way to relax.”

Chip could barely respond, his throat tight. “Y-yeah, maybe,” he managed to croak, though the last thing he felt was relaxed. His body was tense, every muscle wound tight as he sat there, barely able to breathe, knowing that if you kept this up any longer, he might just lose his mind.

As you continued your stretches, Chip’s gaze flicked over every inch of you, burning with desire he couldn’t control, and he knew, deep down, that this slow torture couldn’t last much longer. Something had to give.

—

Later that week at the bar, Chip’s jealousy was reaching a boiling point. He had been dealing with it quietly for weeks now, keeping it buried beneath the surface as best as he could, but tonight was different. Someone had started flirting with you again—a regular, someone smooth and confident, who clearly knew what they were doing. And unlike all the other times, this time you seemed more receptive. Even if it was just for a brief moment, you laughed at their jokes, leaned in a little closer, your smile warmer than it usually was with other customers.

Chip could feel his stomach twist with bitterness, his jaw tightening as he tried to stay focused on his work. But he couldn’t. His eyes kept drifting back to you, watching as you exchanged banter with the customer, completely unaware of how much it was tearing him apart inside. 

For weeks, you’d been teasing him—whether you knew it or not—walking around the apartment in towels, eating suggestive foods, brushing up against him, filling his mind with all kinds of thoughts. And now this? Flirting with someone else right in front of him? It felt like a punch to the gut.

As the night went on, Chip found himself pulling away, becoming more distant, his usual tasks done with robotic efficiency but none of his usual energy. He stayed out of sight as much as possible, avoiding you, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He couldn’t bring himself to be around you right now, not when his feelings were so close to breaking free.

After the bar finally closed and the last of the patrons trickled out, you noticed the shift in him. You wiped down the last of the counters, glancing over at Chip as he quietly stacked chairs, avoiding eye contact. Something was off.

“Chip?” you called out softly as you approached him. “You’ve been acting weird tonight. What’s going on?”

Chip didn’t look up, muttering a quick, “Nothing.”

You frowned, stepping closer and gently grabbing his arm. “I know that’s not true,” you said softly, your voice tinged with concern. “Are you okay?”

Chip flinched at your touch, a surge of frustration boiling over. He could feel it all bubbling to the surface, and before he could stop himself, the words spilled out. “It’s just… it’s hard watching everyone else flirt with you all the time.”

His voice was low, almost bitter, and it surprised even him how much emotion was packed into that one sentence. He finally looked at you, his eyes dark with something more than just jealousy.

You blinked, clearly taken aback by his confession. “Chip…” you started, your brows knitting together in confusion. “That’s just part of the job. It doesn’t mean anything.”

But Chip wasn’t convinced. He shook his head, his frustration seeping through. “Does it ever mean anything to you?”

Your breath caught for a second, surprised by the intensity in his question. You hadn’t seen just how much all the casual flirting, all the little interactions with customers, had been affecting him. You’d always seen it as part of the business, part of keeping the bar running smoothly. But Chip wasn’t just a customer. He wasn’t just another person passing through.

You let go of his arm, your expression softening as you took in the frustration in his voice, the way he was holding so much back. “Chip, I don’t know…” you started softly. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough, his walls crumbling down as all the emotions he had been holding back started to bleed through. 

For a moment, the silence hung heavy between you, the air thick with unspoken words and the tension that had been simmering between you both for weeks. You were seeing him in a new light—one filled with longing, frustration, and something deeper. Something that had been building up inside Chip for a while, and it was clear he couldn’t keep it locked away any longer.

He looked away, unable to meet your eyes, his voice softening with vulnerability. For the first time, you saw just how much you’d affected him. You weren’t sure what to say next, how to navigate the mess of emotions swirling between you two, but one thing was clear: this wasn’t just about flirting anymore. This was about something much deeper, and now it was out in the open, there was no turning back.

—

Feeling that his crush on you had become unbearable, Chip found himself standing in the back room of the bar, leaning against the shelves as his thoughts spiraled. Every night seemed worse than the last. Every time you smiled at someone else, laughed at their jokes, or leaned in a little too close to a customer, Chip felt something twist painfully in his chest. It had become too much. His feelings were no longer a crush—they were an anchor, weighing him down, making him feel like he couldn’t breathe in the same room as you.

The problem was, these feelings were starting to get in the way of his work. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t pretend to just be your employee anymore. How could he when his heart was tangled up in you? Watching you flirt with customers, even in the most harmless way, made him feel like he was drowning. And worse—it wasn’t your fault. You were just doing your job, being yourself. But the jealousy, the frustration, the hopeless longing were making it impossible for him to do his.

And it wasn’t just at work anymore. At home, things had changed too. Chip had noticed that lately, you seemed more careful around him. For a while, you had been casual, carefree—walking around in towels, making playful jokes, teasing him without a second thought. But now? Now, there was an unspoken tension in the air between you. It was subtle, but Chip could feel it. You no longer strolled around the apartment with the same lightness, no longer lingered in the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel after a shower. You’d take your clothes into the bathroom again, your playful banter tinged with something more reserved, more cautious. 

It was like you could sense something had shifted in him, and in response, you’d adjusted too. Maybe you hadn’t realized just how much he was struggling with his feelings, but you’d picked up on something. And that made everything worse. The easy comfort of being roommates had vanished, replaced by a growing awkwardness that gnawed at Chip constantly.

He couldn’t escape it. Not at work, where he had to watch you be charming and kind to everyone else. And not at home, where your sudden carefulness only reminded him of how complicated things had become. It was like he was trapped, unable to breathe, unable to think of anything but you and the growing distance between you.

It was too much. The weight of it was suffocating.

He couldn’t keep living like this.

So, the only option he saw was to leave. If he couldn’t have you—if you’d never look at him the way he looked at you—then maybe he needed to get out before it broke him completely. The idea of walking away felt like a fresh cut, sharp and deep, but staying felt like a slow, agonizing burn. 

Cody and Conor were chatting by the bar, laughing about something when Chip walked up, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Conor was the first to notice Chip’s demeanor and raised an eyebrow.

“Whoa, man. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Conor teased, though there was concern in his voice. “What’s going on?”

Chip sighed, running a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. “I… I think I’m gonna quit.”

Cody stopped mid-laugh, their smile fading as they blinked at him in surprise. “Wait, what?”

Conor frowned, crossing their arms. “Man, you can’t just drop that on us. What the hell’s going on?”

Chip swallowed hard, his throat dry. He hadn’t wanted to admit how much he was struggling, but he couldn’t keep this to himself anymore. “It’s just—my feelings. For her. It’s getting in the way of everything. I can’t… I can’t do it anymore. Every night, it feels like I’m watching her with other people, and it’s driving me crazy. I don’t want to feel this way, but I do. And I think the only way to stop it is to leave.”

Cody exchanged a glance with Conor before stepping closer to Chip, their expression softer now. “Chip, I get it. Believe me, I do. But quitting your job because of it? That’s a big decision.”

Conor nodded, their playful demeanor gone as they looked at Chip seriously. “You’ve gotta think carefully about this, man. You’re not just giving up a job—you’re giving up on being around her completely. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

Chip felt his heart ache at the thought of not seeing you anymore, not hearing your laugh or seeing your smile every night. But at the same time, he didn’t know how much longer he could take the constant emotional rollercoaster of wanting something that seemed impossible. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” he admitted, his voice strained. “But I don’t think I can stay and keep feeling like this. It’s tearing me apart.”

Cody sighed, placing a hand on Chip’s shoulder. “Look, man, we’re not telling you what to do, but maybe don’t make any rash decisions just yet. Take some time to really think about it. If you leave now, it might hurt just as much as staying does.”

“Yeah,” Conor added, “and finding another job won’t necessarily fix how you feel. Your heart’s wrapped up in this. It’s not gonna just go away because you work somewhere else.”

Chip nodded, knowing deep down they were right. It wasn’t just the job—it was you. His heart was tangled up in you, and no matter where he went, those feelings weren’t going to magically disappear. Still, the thought of staying felt unbearable, and he couldn’t shake the idea of leaving, of starting over somewhere where he wouldn’t have to feel like this every day.

“I’ve even started looking for other jobs,” Chip muttered, his voice quiet. “Just to see if there’s anything else out there. Something to distract me from… this.”

Cody sighed, glancing at Conor before turning back to Chip. “Look, maybe there’s another way. Have you thought about… I don’t know… talking to her? Telling her how you feel?”

Chip shook his head, his face a mask of pain. “I can’t. She’s my boss, my roommate. It would just make things weird. I don’t want to mess things up even more.”

Conor raised an eyebrow. “Weirder than you quitting out of nowhere without explaining why? Where would you live then?”

Chip bit his lip, his hands balling into fists as he stared at the floor. He hadn’t thought about it like that. Leaving without saying anything would raise questions. It would leave things unresolved. 

Cody squeezed his shoulder gently. “Just… think about it, okay? Don’t do anything you’ll regret later. Talk to her if you can. And if it’s really too much to handle, we’ll support whatever decision you make.”

Cody and Conor had noticed things changing between you and Chip for a while now. They weren’t blind to the way Chip had started acting—more distant, more withdrawn, especially when you were around. His mood had shifted, and while he was still doing his job, there was a tension between the two of you that hadn’t been there before. 

And now, with Chip thinking about quitting, they couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was more to the story—something you hadn’t said yet.

It was a quiet afternoon at the bar, just before the evening rush. You were behind the counter, absentmindedly polishing glasses, and Cody and Conor shared a look before they approached. They weren’t going to be obvious, but they needed to get a feel for where your head was at when it came to Chip.

Conor leaned against the counter first, flashing you a playful grin. “So, boss, how’s it going with our boy Chip lately? He’s been acting a little off, don’t you think?”

You glanced up, your brow furrowing slightly as you met Conor’s eyes. “Yeah, I’ve noticed,” you admitted, setting down the glass you were working on. “I don’t know what’s going on with him. He’s been so… distant. Different.”

Cody, leaning on the bar next to Conor, raised an eyebrow, watching your reaction closely. “Different how?” they asked casually, though there was a clear curiosity in their voice.

You shrugged, not entirely sure how to explain it. “I don’t know… He just seems quieter lately. I’ve tried asking him if he’s okay, but he always brushes it off, says he’s fine. But it doesn’t feel like he is.”

Conor exchanged a quick glance with Cody before turning back to you. “You think maybe it’s something to do with work? Or… maybe something else?”

You paused for a moment, considering the question. Chip had been acting strange both at work and at home, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. “I don’t know. I mean, he’s been fine at work, mostly, just a little more distracted than usual. And at home… well, it feels like things are weird there too. Like there’s some kind of… tension between us. But I don’t know why.”

Cody leaned in a little closer, their tone softer now, as if they were testing the waters. “Tension? Like what kind of tension? You think maybe Chip’s feeling some kind of way about you?”

Your eyes widened slightly at the implication, blinking in surprise. “What? No, I mean… why would he?” You laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it now. “We’re just friends. Roommates. He’s probably just going through something.”

Conor smirked, crossing their arms and leaning in a little closer. “Maybe. But we’ve seen the way he looks at you, you know? Kind of seems like there’s more there…”

You hesitated, feeling a flicker of uncertainty at their words. You’d noticed Chip acting strange, sure, but you hadn’t really considered the idea that it might be because of you. “I don’t know,” you said, a little quieter now. “He’s never said anything like that to me.”

“Yeah, well,” Cody said with a knowing smile, “sometimes guys don’t say stuff like that because they’re scared of messing things up. But, I mean, if he did feel that way… how would you feel about it?”

You looked between Cody and Conor, realizing they weren’t just casually asking anymore. They were digging, trying to gauge your reaction, and it left you feeling a little off-balance. “I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “He’s an amazing person, but…”

Conor raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to finish. “But?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “But he’s never made a move, you know? We’ve been living together for a while, and I guess there have been a few times when I thought he might say something. Maybe he wanted something more, but he never opens up. I never know what he’s thinking.”

Cody nodded, a knowing look in their eyes. “Yeah, that sounds like Chip. He’s got a lot going on in that head of his, but he keeps it all bottled up. Doesn’t make it easy to figure out what he wants.”

Conor leaned in a little closer, lowering their voice. “But here’s the thing—you probably know him better than anyone. You’ve seen the way he is when he’s comfortable, and when he’s not. And if you’ve felt those moments—those times when you thought he might say something—well, chances are, he’s felt them too.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, thinking back to those moments. The times when you caught him looking at you a second too long, or when he seemed to shy away from getting too close. The way he acted differently around you lately, quieter, more distant, like he was trying to avoid something. Or maybe trying to avoid you.

“I just don’t get it,” you admitted, shaking your head. “If he feels something, why doesn’t he say anything? Why pull away?”

Cody smiled sympathetically. “Fear, probably. He’s scared of messing things up between you two. I mean, think about it—you’re his boss, his roommate, his friend. That’s a lot to risk if he’s worried it’s not mutual.”

Conor added, “And from what I’ve seen, it’s eating him up. Dude’s been in a weird headspace lately. He probably thinks if he says something, it’ll make things weird or worse, so instead he just… suffers in silence.”

You exhaled heavily, feeling the weight of their words settle over you. Maybe you’d been missing something, maybe Chip had been struggling with this for longer than you realized. But if he wasn’t going to say anything, if he was just going to pull away, what could you do?

“Should I… talk to him?” you asked hesitantly, unsure of how to approach something like this. It wasn’t like you could just march up to him and demand he tell you how he felt.

Cody gave you an encouraging nod. “I think you should. Just be honest with him. If you care about him—and I know you do—then don’t let this thing fester. He’s not going to be the one to start that conversation, so it’s gotta be you.”

You nodded slowly, feeling a swirl of emotions you weren’t entirely ready to confront. It was one thing to speculate about Chip’s feelings, but if you were going to talk to him—if you were going to open this door—then you’d have to be ready for what might come next.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice firm but uncertain. “I’ll talk to him. I just hope I’m not too late.”

Conor patted your shoulder, flashing you a supportive grin. “You’re not. Just don’t wait too long. Chip’s a good guy, but he seems like he might have a habit of retreating when things get hard. You don’t want to lose him.”

As they walked away, leaving you alone to process everything, you found yourself staring at the empty bar, your thoughts circling back to Chip. Maybe you had missed something, maybe you hadn’t been paying close enough attention. But one thing was certain—things couldn’t go on like this. Something had to change, and soon.

—

It was late, the bar now silent after the last customer had trickled out into the night. The air was still, thick with the smell of spilled drinks and fading laughter, but it was peaceful in a way that only came after a long shift. You wiped down the last glass, casting a glance over at Chip as he finished stacking the chairs. 

“Hey, Chip,” you called softly, breaking the quiet, “how about we have a drink before heading home?”

Chip hesitated, surprised by the offer. His heart leapt into his throat, immediately overthinking every possible implication. You just wanted to relax, he told himself. It was just a drink, no big deal. Still, he was nervous. Too nervous, given the circumstances. But after a second, he nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice.”

You smiled at him, that easy, genuine smile that always seemed to put him at ease, and it made his stomach twist with all the feelings he’d been trying to keep buried. He followed you to the back of the bar, where it was quieter, and you grabbed two beers from the cooler, handing one to him as you sat down at one of the small, dimly lit tables. 

The two of you clinked your bottles together lightly, the gesture casual, but Chip could feel the tension thrumming in his chest. He took a sip, trying to settle his nerves as you both sat in comfortable silence for a few moments.

“So,” you began after a while, your voice soft but curious, “how’ve you been? I mean, really been? I feel like we haven’t talked much lately.”

Chip blinked, caught off guard by the question. He swallowed, his fingers tightening around the neck of the beer bottle. “Uh, I’ve been… okay, I guess,” he said, trying to sound neutral, though his voice faltered slightly. 

You tilted your head, giving him that look that told him you could see right through him. “Come on, Chip. I know you better than that.”

Chip looked down, the familiar feeling of guilt creeping up on him. He knew he hadn’t been the same, but how could he explain that it was all because of you? That every time he saw you, every time you smiled or laughed, it felt like his heart was being ripped in two? He couldn’t tell you that—not completely. Not yet.

“I’ve just been… dealing with some stuff,” he finally admitted, his voice quieter now. “Got a lot on my mind.”

You nodded, sipping your beer thoughtfully. “I get that. We all have our moments, right? But if there’s something going on, you know you can talk to me, right? I care about you, Chip.”

Chip felt his heart clench at your words. The way you said it—I care about you—it was so simple, so kind, but it only reminded him of what he couldn’t have. He took a deep breath, deciding to let a little bit of his guard down. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking a lot about the future, I guess. What I’m doing here. What I want to be doing. And sometimes, it feels like I’m stuck.”

You leaned in slightly, your eyes soft with understanding. “I’ve felt the same way a lot over the years. Like, what am I doing here? Where am I going? It’s hard to figure out sometimes, especially when things feel complicated.”

Chip glanced at you, surprised at your openness. “You seem like you have it all figured out,” Chip said, his tone slightly teasing but genuine. “Running this place, handling everything so well. I’ve always admired that about you.”

You smiled, a little sadly. “Thanks, Chip, but trust me, I don’t have it all figured out. Sometimes I’m just as lost as anyone else. I just try not to let it show too much.”

There was a pause, a comfortable silence settling between you two as you both sipped your beers, each lost in your own thoughts. The conversation was quieter now, but there was an ease to it, a closeness that hadn’t been there before. 

After a few more minutes of silence, you set your beer down and looked at Chip, your expression shifting slightly, more serious now. “Chip,” you began, your voice softer, more hesitant, “can I ask you something?”

He glanced up at you, his heart immediately jumping into his throat again. “Yeah, of course.”

You bit your lip, seeming to choose your words carefully before finally asking, “How do you feel about me?”

Chip froze. His heart pounded in his chest, his pulse loud in his ears. This was it. The moment he’d been avoiding, the conversation he’d been dreading and longing for all at once. His hands tightened around the bottle, and for a second, he wasn’t sure if he could find the words. But he couldn’t avoid it any longer. 

“I—” He hesitated, feeling the weight of the question settle heavily over him. He could feel your eyes on him, waiting for an answer, and he knew he had to give you one. “I care about you. A lot. More than I should.”

Your brow furrowed slightly. “More than you should?”

Chip took a deep breath, his throat tight. “Yeah. You’re my boss, and my friend, and… I don’t want to mess things up between us. But it’s been hard. Really hard. I’ve been trying to ignore it, to push it down, but it’s just—” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s hard watching you, being around you, and not being able to say anything. Because I know it’ll change things, and I don’t want to ruin what we have. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel the way I do.”

There it was. Not a full confession, but enough to crack open the wall he’d been hiding behind. Enough to give you a glimpse into how much he’d been struggling with his feelings for you.

You sat back, processing his words, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy, filled with everything that had been left unsaid for weeks, months. Finally, you let out a soft breath, your gaze meeting his.

“I didn’t realize,” you said gently. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Chip nodded, his eyes downcast. “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything. I didn’t want to make things weird.”

You were quiet for a moment longer before you spoke again, your voice softer now. “Things aren’t weird, Chip. Not for me. I just… I wish you would’ve told me sooner.”

Chip looked up at you, his heart racing. There was something in your voice, something in the way you were looking at him that made him think, for the first time, that maybe he hadn’t been wrong to feel the way he did. Maybe there was more between you than just friendship and work. Maybe things weren’t as impossible as he’d thought.

"Why?" Chip asked, his voice barely above a whisper, uncertainty lacing every syllable. His heart pounded in his chest, torn between hope and the fear of misunderstanding everything.

You smiled softly, and in that moment, Chip felt the world shift, the air between you charged with something different—something real. Your eyes met his, filled with a warmth and sincerity he hadn’t allowed himself to believe was possible.

“Because then I could have told you sooner that I feel the same way,” you said, your voice gentle but sure.

Chip stared at you, his mind struggling to catch up with what you’d just said. Feel the same way? His heart skipped a beat, his pulse thundering in his ears as your words sank in. He had spent so long convincing himself that you were out of reach, that his feelings were one-sided, a hopeless crush he’d never be able to confess.

But now—now—you were looking at him with that soft, genuine smile, and everything he’d been holding back for so long felt like it was about to come crashing down. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of it all. “What… what way do you feel?” he asked, his voice quiet, filled with disbelief. He needed to hear it again, just to be sure, just to know this wasn’t a dream or some misunderstanding.

You grinned, the warmth in your eyes making his pulse race even faster. “I really like you, Chip,” you said softly, your voice steady but filled with affection. “And right now, I really want to kiss you.”

Chip’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening as the words hit him with full force. His heart seemed to skip a beat, the reality of the moment sinking in. He had imagined this—dreamt about it, wished for it—but hearing it, actually hearing it, was something entirely different.

“You… you do?” he stammered, the disbelief still lingering even as his heart swelled with hope.

You nodded, stepping closer, closing the space between you. “Yeah, Chip. I do.”

The air between you was charged now, thick with anticipation and a tension that had been building for so long. He could feel the warmth radiating from you, the soft hum of something electric as your gaze held his. His mind was still spinning, but there was no mistaking the look in your eyes, the way your lips curved into that gentle, inviting smile.

For once, Chip didn’t overthink it. He didn’t retreat into his head or worry about the consequences. He didn’t think about you being his boss, his roommate, or the fear that had kept him silent for so long. All he could think about was you—standing there, telling him you felt the same way he had for so long.

So, without another word, Chip leaned in, his breath shaky but his heart certain. His lips brushed yours, tentative at first, like he was testing the waters. But the moment your lips touched, everything fell into place. The hesitation melted away, and Chip deepened the kiss, his hand gently reaching up to cup your cheek as he pulled you closer.

The kiss was soft, tender, but filled with everything you both had held back for so long. It was like a floodgate had opened, all the emotions, the longing, the unsaid words finally spilling out in that one moment. Chip couldn’t believe it was happening—that after all this time, you wanted this too.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting against his, you were both slightly breathless, a quiet, giddy laughter bubbling between you.

“I can’t believe we waited so long to do that,” you whispered, your hand still resting on his arm.

Chip smiled, his heart still racing. “I can’t believe this is real.”

You chuckled softly, your thumb brushing gently over his arm. “It’s real, Chip.”

You both stood there for a moment, the weight of everything that had been unsaid between you now lifted, leaving only the warmth of something new, something real. Chip felt lighter than he had in weeks, months, honestly ever. 

He smiled softly at you, his voice filled with quiet sincerity as he whispered, “I think I want to kiss you again.” 

And when you smiled, leaning in for another kiss, it felt like the start of something he’d been waiting for all along.

But this next kiss was different. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was filled with the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long, finally unleashed. You gripped his biceps, feeling the strength you’d been secretly drooling over for months, your fingers curling around the muscle as if you couldn’t get close enough. 

Chip’s hands slid down to your hips, and with a sudden, heated movement, he yanked you into his lap. The shift was quick, fluid, and before you could even react, you were straddling him, your chest pressed against his, the air between you charged with a hunger that neither of you could deny anymore.

“Whoa, there, cowboy,” you laughed breathlessly, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, your lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss. Your hands stayed on his arms, but your body trembled with excitement, anticipation coursing through your veins.

Chip grinned, that boyish, almost shy smile you’d grown so fond of breaking through the lustful haze in his eyes. “Sorry, got a little carried away,” he murmured, though his hands stayed firm on your hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

You laughed again, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “I didn’t say I minded,” you teased, leaning back in, your lips brushing his with just enough pressure to drive him wild. You could feel his heartbeat under your palms, could sense the way he was holding back, still cautious despite the fire burning between you.

Chip groaned softly, the sound vibrating between your lips as his hands tightened on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “You’re making it really hard to behave,” he whispered against your mouth, his breath warm and ragged, sending shivers down your spine.

“Who said I want you to behave?” you whispered back, the words sending a surge of heat through him. You could feel him tense beneath you, his grip on your hips tightening as he kissed you again, this time with more urgency, more need.

Your hands slipped from his biceps to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss as you let yourself melt into him, the heat between you intensifying with every second. Chip’s hands roamed from your hips, sliding down to your ass, his grip firm, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

The bar was quiet, the world outside forgotten as the two of you lost yourselves in each other, in the kiss that had been building for so long. It was like the floodgates had opened, all the pent-up tension, the unsaid words, the longing finally released in this moment.

And as you kissed him again, his lips soft yet demanding against yours, you realized just how much you had wanted this—how much you had wanted him. 

“God, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Chip murmured between kisses, his voice low and rough, sending another thrill through you.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, your heart racing. “Me too, Chip,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. 

When your fingers crept up the bottom of Chip’s shirt, brushing against his skin and tangling in the soft hair on his stomach, you felt him shiver under your touch. His breath hitched, and for a brief moment, he seemed to freeze. His hands, which had been resting firmly on your ass, loosened slightly as if his mind caught up to what was happening.

“We—um, we probably shouldn’t do this here? Right?” Chip's voice was shaky, caught between desire and hesitation, his words more a question than a statement. 

You paused, leaning back just enough to look at him, the playful gleam still shining in your eyes. “My bar, my rules,” you whispered, your voice dripping with mischief. Without giving him time to respond, you leaned forward, licking a slow, deliberate line up the side of his neck, feeling the way he trembled under your lips.

Chip let out a low groan, his eyes fluttering shut as your teeth dug into the sensitive skin of his neck. He gripped you tighter, trying to catch his breath, his mind spinning. The line between right and wrong blurred as the heat between you intensified. 

He swallowed hard, as his thoughts unraveled with every kiss, every bite, the world outside forgotten as your lips sent electricity coursing through him. Your teeth scraped lightly against his neck again, making him gasp, his body arching beneath you. He felt like he was losing himself in you, in this moment, and he wasn’t sure he cared anymore. The tension, the need that had built up for so long was too much to ignore now.

"Fuck," Chip groaned lowly as you finally settled fully on his lap, his body responding instantly to the pressure of you pressed so intimately against him. You could feel just how much he wanted this, wanted you, his breath hitching as his hands gripped your hips tighter, trying to steady himself.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “You gonna let me take care of you, Chip?” Your voice was soft, sweet, but dripping with a seductive promise that made his head spin. 

For a moment, Chip couldn’t think—his mind spiraling as your words sank in. Take care of him. All he’d ever wanted was for someone to see him, to really see him, and care about him in the way you were offering. It was overwhelming, the idea that you could feel this way about him, that you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

His chest tightened, a mixture of desire and something deeper bubbling up inside him. He nodded slowly, his voice hoarse when he finally spoke. “Yeah… yeah, I want that.” His words were barely audible, filled with need and vulnerability all at once.

You grinned, your lips brushing against his neck again as your hands slid up his chest, feeling the way his heart pounded beneath your fingertips. "Good," you whispered, your tone filled with a confidence that sent a shiver down his spine. "Just relax. Let me take care of you."

Chip swallowed hard, his body trembling slightly as he let go of the tension he'd been holding onto for so long. He felt your hands on him, the warmth of your body pressed against his, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t feel like he had to hold back. He didn’t feel like he had to be in control or guard himself.

You moved against him slowly, teasingly, your body swaying in just the right way to make him lose all sense of restraint. Chip’s breath came in ragged gasps, his hands clutching at your waist, his mind lost in the haze of sensation. The idea that you wanted to take care of him—him—felt unreal, like a fantasy he'd never dared to hope for.

“God, you feel so good,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire as you rocked against him, his head falling back as he gave in completely. 

You smiled, feeling the heat of the moment rise as you saw just how much you were affecting him, how vulnerable he was beneath you, how completely lost he was in the feeling of being wanted. You leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “I can make you feel a whole lot better.”

Chip blinked, confusion flashing in his eyes as he tried to process your words. His brow furrowed, and before he could even ask what you meant, you were climbing off his lap. He squawked in protest, his hands instinctively reaching for you, not wanting the moment to end.

But any protest he had died on his lips when he saw what you were doing.

Your knees hit the floor, and his heart nearly stopped. His breath hitched in his throat, his entire body freezing as he watched you kneel between his legs. The sight of you looking up at him, that wicked, playful glint in your eyes, made his mind spin. He couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe what you were about to do.

Your hand slid over him, pressing firmly through the denim of his jeans, and Chip’s breath left him in a shaky exhale. His hands clenched the arms of the chair as he looked down at you, his pulse roaring in his ears. The feel of your touch, even through the fabric, sent a jolt of electricity through his entire body.

“Y/N…” Chip breathed, his voice breaking as his mind struggled to catch up with what was happening. He wanted to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. His body reacted before his mind could, his hips shifting under your hand as he swallowed hard, his throat tight with anticipation.

You grinned up at him, your hand moving slowly, teasingly, as you kept your gaze locked on his. You could see the way his breath quickened, the way his body tensed, completely at your mercy. "Relax," you whispered, your voice soft and commanding all at once.

Chip could only nod, his mind spinning as he let go of the last shred of control he had. He watched you, unable to look away, as your fingers began working on the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper echoing in the quiet room. His breath caught in his throat as your hand slipped beneath the fabric, the feel of your skin on his sending a shockwave of desire through him.

This was what he had wanted—what he had dreamed of for so long. But now that it was happening, it was almost too much, too overwhelming, and yet, he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect. 

Of course, everything intensified when you pulled him completely free from his jeans, the fabric sliding down his hips as you worked with deliberate care. Chip’s breath hitched in disbelief as you wasted no time, nuzzling in at the base of him with a teasing smile, your warm breath against his skin sending a shockwave of sensation through him. His hands gripped the arms of the chair tighter, his knuckles turning white as he tried to process what was happening.

He couldn’t believe his luck. This—this—wasn’t something that ever happened to him. He was usually the one giving, always wanting to please, whether or not he wanted to receive in return. But now, you were turning everything on its head, taking control in a way that left him utterly helpless and overwhelmed with pleasure.

His mind raced, torn between the urge to let go completely and the instinct to pull back, but the moment your lips brushed against him, soft and teasing, any thought of retreat vanished. His body betrayed him, responding instantly, hips jerking slightly as a low groan escaped his throat.

"Fuck," Chip muttered, the word drawn out, his voice rough with desire. His head fell back against the chair, his mind clouded with the heat of the moment, the feel of your hands, your mouth, completely undoing him.

You looked up at him, your eyes locking onto his as you moved slowly, deliberately, taking your time as if savoring every second. The sight of you kneeling before him, your lips teasing, your hands firm but gentle, was enough to drive him wild. His heart pounded in his chest, his pulse racing as you took him further, inch by inch, your touch making it impossible for him to think straight.

Chip’s breathing grew ragged, his fingers flexing uselessly on the chair, trying to find something—anything—to hold onto as you worked him over. He could barely string a thought together, his mind reduced to a haze of pure sensation, and it took everything in him not to lose himself entirely.

“You’re… you’re really doing this,” he mumbled, his voice breathless, as though he still couldn’t believe it was real. And, God, he didn’t want you to stop. 

You smiled up at him, your eyes gleaming with mischief as your hand tightened around him, sending a fresh wave of sensation crashing through his body. "And you taste really good," you teased, your voice low and sultry, laced with a sweetness that made Chip’s breath stutter in his chest.

Before he could even process your words, you leaned back in, this time with a newfound determination. You wasted no time, your mouth enveloping him in a way that sent his mind spiraling into a dizzying blur of pleasure. Chip’s body tensed, a strangled moan escaping his lips as he leaned his head back against the chair, gripping the edges so hard his knuckles turned white.

It felt like his brain was melting, the heat of your mouth, the way you moved with deliberate, agonizing precision, unraveling him inch by inch. His vision blurred, his breath coming in ragged gasps, each one more desperate than the last. Every sensation, every touch, was heightened, the world around him fading away until all he could feel, all he could think about, was you.

You were relentless, going to town on him like you were on a mission, and Chip could do nothing but surrender to the waves of pleasure rolling through him. His hips bucked involuntarily as you worked him over, your lips, your tongue, moving in perfect sync with your hand. It was almost too much, and yet, not enough all at once. He couldn’t get enough of you.

"Fuck," he groaned the only word he seemed to remember, his voice rough, almost breaking as you pulled another shiver from deep within him. His mind was gone, lost somewhere between reality and bliss, his only tether to this world the sensation of your mouth on him. 

Chip was falling apart, his body trembling under your expert touch, and the more you moved, the more he let go. Every moan, every gasp, every choked sound he made only seemed to spur you on, pushing him further and further until he was right on the edge, teetering dangerously close to losing himself completely.

He didn’t care anymore if he was too loud, didn’t care if the world outside the bar was still spinning. He could barely even remember where he was, his entire existence narrowed down to this one moment, to you, to the way you made him feel like he was coming undone at the seams.

It was overwhelming, the pleasure hitting him like a tidal wave, crashing over him in relentless waves until all he could do was let go. His hands fumbled for purchase, his fingers tangling in your hair as he groaned your name, the sound breaking off into a desperate plea as you pushed him closer, and closer to the edge.

And when Chip finally couldn’t take it anymore, when the pressure that had been building inside him finally broke, his body tensed, and a low, guttural moan escaped his throat. His voice was thick with desperation as he warned, "I’m going to come—"

But before he could get there, you pulled away suddenly, your hand gripping him firmly at the base, cutting off all sensation. His entire body jolted, and a broken, frustrated cry tore from his lips. "Why?!" he whined, his eyes wide, desperate, and full of disbelief.

You smirked, your voice teasing yet full of promise as you whispered, “Because I’m not done with you.”

Chip's frustration was palpable, his body still thrumming with need, every muscle coiled tight as he struggled to recover from the abrupt stop. But the moment he saw you rise to your feet, that playful gleam still in your eyes, and begin to slowly remove your top, his breath caught in his throat. 

His eyes widened as you peeled away the fabric, revealing your skin inch by inch, and the irritation that had been burning inside him vanished in an instant. Instead, all he could do was stare, his gaze locked on you, completely entranced. The soft glow of the dim lights in the bar cast a warm glow over your skin, and Chip's heart raced in his chest as he took in every detail.

"Fuck..." he breathed, his voice a low rasp, filled with awe and desire. The sight of you—standing there, unashamed, confident, and wanting him—was enough to make his mind go blank all over again.

“Do you know any other words, honey? Or are you fucked stupid already?” you teased, your voice dripping with playful dominance as you hovered over him. The wicked grin on your face sent a shiver down Chip’s spine, and his mind struggled to keep up with the sensation coursing through his body.

“I–uh…” Chip stuttered, completely flustered by the combination of your words and the feel of your body pressed against his. His mind was hazy, his thoughts scattered, and he couldn’t think straight. His lips parted, desperate for words, but all that came out was a needy, “Y/N, please…”

You smirked, clearly enjoying the effect you were having on him, your hands sliding over his chest as you leaned in close. “I’m glad you still have your manners, my dumb boy,” you cooed, your tone both sweet and condescending, the words sending another wave of heat rushing through his veins.

Chip thought he would hate it—the way you were teasing him, degrading him just enough to make him feel like he was completely under your control. But instead, it had the opposite effect. His heart raced faster, his skin flushed, and every word you said made his desire for you burn hotter, stronger. He was already so far gone, so completely consumed by the moment, that he didn’t care anymore. He wanted more—needed more of you, no matter how you gave it to him.

His eyes locked onto yours, wide and desperate, his voice barely a whisper as he choked out, “Please… don’t stop.”

Your grin widened, your fingers trailing down his stomach, teasing him as you took your time. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear as you stepped closer until you were right in front of him. 

His hands instinctively reached for you, but you gently pushed him back against the chair, keeping control, your gaze locked with his. "You're going to sit back," you whispered, your voice low and commanding, "and let me take care of you."

Chip’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his pulse racing as he nodded, his eyes still glued to you. His body was already on fire, every nerve on edge, but now the anticipation of what you were about to do was almost unbearable.

You grinned, clearly loving the effect you were having on him, the power you held over him in this moment. With a slow, deliberate motion, you began to slide your bottoms down, letting them drop to the floor, exposing yourself completely to Chip. His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as he stared up at you, utterly entranced by the sight.

Without a word, you climbed back into his lap, the heat of your bare skin pressing against his as you kissed him, deep and slow, savoring the way he responded. Chip groaned into your mouth, his hands moving immediately, instinctively, to cup your breasts. His touch was needy, desperate, his fingers squeezing gently as he explored you, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as you moaned in his mouth.

The feeling of his hands on you, the way his breath hitched as you kissed him, made your whole body hum with anticipation. You could feel how badly he wanted this—how badly he wanted you—and the way his touch became more urgent, more insistent, only fueled your desire.

You pressed your body closer, grinding against him as your lips moved together, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. Chip's moans grew louder, his grip on you tightening as he lost himself in the sensation, every inch of his body responding to your touch.

He pulled back for just a second, breathless and wide-eyed, his voice hoarse as he whispered, "You're perfect... so perfect."

You smiled against his lips, your voice teasing as you whispered back, "Good boy."

“Fuck me, please, please, please,” Chip cried out, his voice ragged and desperate, his entire body trembling beneath you. The words came out in a rush, his need overtaking every ounce of restraint he had left.

You leaned in close, teasing him with a soft, mocking coo, “Oh, my stupid little baby, I will. You don’t have to cry.” You grinned wickedly, swiping your thumbs under his eyes, even though there were no actual tears, your touch just enough to send another shiver down his spine.

Chip lifted his arms obediently, his breathing heavy, and you helped him out of his shirt, tossing it aside as you admired the way his chest rose and fell with each labored breath. The tension between you was electric, the air thick with anticipation as you positioned yourself above him, his hands gripping your hips like he was holding on for dear life.

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you finally sank down on him.

Chip let out a guttural moan, his head falling back against the chair as you took him in completely, the overwhelming sensation making his entire body tense beneath you. His hands tightened on your hips, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he tried to process the rush of pleasure flooding through him.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice barely audible as you began to move, your body sliding against his in a slow, teasing rhythm. You could feel the way his muscles tensed, the way his grip on you tightened as if he was trying to keep himself grounded, but the more you moved, the more he lost himself in the sensation.

You smiled down at him, your own breath hitching as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "There you go, baby."

Chip’s response was nothing more than a broken moan, his mind completely gone, lost to the feeling of you, of the way your body moved against his, of the overwhelming pleasure that had been building for what felt like forever. And as you rode him, slow and deliberate, Chip could only cling to you, completely at your mercy, and loving every second of it.

“Does it–ahh–does it feel good for you?” Chip whimpered, his voice shaky and breathless, his eyes wide with need as he looked up at you. His hands gripped your hips tighter, desperate to make sure you were feeling even a fraction of the intensity that was flooding through him.

You smiled down at him, your breath catching as you moved against him, your body sinking deeper with each slow, deliberate motion. “Oh, baby,” you purred, leaning in close enough that your lips brushed against his ear, “it feels fucking amazing.”

Your words made Chip’s body jolt beneath you, a needy groan escaping his lips as you continued to move, each motion slow but firm, driving him wild. The way your body enveloped him, the heat and friction between you both, had his mind spinning, but hearing that it felt good for you—really good—made his heart pound even harder.

"God, you're perfect," he whispered, his voice hoarse, his hips bucking up instinctively as you continued to ride him, his need to please you overriding everything else. "I just want to make you feel good."

You smiled, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the muscles tense beneath your fingers as you leaned in close again, your lips brushing against his. "You already are, baby," you whispered, your voice breathy and filled with a teasing warmth. "You're being so good for me."

Chip whimpered at your words, his mind overwhelmed by the heady mix of praise and raw sensation. Every nerve in his body was on fire, his control slipping with every second. He barely knew what he was doing, lost in the whirlwind of desire, but somehow, in a blur of movement, the positions had shifted.

Suddenly, you were laying down on the table, your back arching slightly as Chip found himself on top of you. His breath came out in ragged gasps, his body trembling as he thrust into you, more instinct than thought guiding his movements now. His hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he moved, his rhythm uneven but full of intensity.

“Fuck,” Chip breathed, his voice rough, almost broken. He couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe how good it felt to be this close to you, to be buried inside you, moving with reckless abandon. He wanted to last, to savor the moment, but the way you felt beneath him, the soft gasps that escaped your lips, were driving him wild.

Your hands slid up his arms, gripping his shoulders as you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper. “That’s it, Chip,” you murmured, your voice sultry and filled with encouragement. “Just like that.”

Your words only fueled the fire inside him. Chip’s hips snapped forward harder, more desperate, his body completely giving in to the pleasure as he chased the high that had been building between you. He could barely think, barely breathe, but he didn’t care—he was completely lost in the moment, in you.

The table creaked beneath you, your bodies moving in sync, every thrust sending a wave of electricity through both of you. Chip’s forehead rested against yours, his breath hot and ragged as he continued, his need to please you overtaking everything else.

“Am I—ah—doing good?” he managed to choke out between thrusts, his voice barely a whisper, filled with a raw vulnerability. He was desperate for reassurance, desperate to know that he was making you feel as good as you were making him feel.

Your nails scraped lightly down his back, sending a shiver through him as you smiled up at him, your voice low and sultry as you whispered, “So good, Chip. You’re amazing.”

Those words sent Chip over the edge. His body tensed, every muscle tightening as he lost himself in the rhythm, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. The only thing on his mind now was you, the way your body moved beneath his, the way you felt so perfectly wrapped around him. 

"I’m gonna come, Y/N," Chip groaned, his voice strained, trembling with the intensity of everything building inside him. His movements grew more erratic, his hips snapping harder against you as he fought to keep control, though he knew he was seconds away from losing it completely.

You could feel how close he was, his body trembling with the effort, his breath ragged and uneven. Your hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him even closer as you whispered, your voice dripping with need, "Give it to me, baby."

Those words, that permission, sent him spiraling over the edge.

With a broken, desperate moan, Chip’s body tensed, his hips bucking one last time as he lost himself completely in the pleasure. His entire body shuddered, waves of heat crashing over him as he buried himself inside you, giving you everything he had. 

His breath came out in short, gasping pants, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as the last of the tension drained from him. He was shaking, overwhelmed by the intensity of the release, and for a moment, he could barely think, his mind blank as he clung to you.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice hoarse and trembling as he tried to catch his breath, still lost in the haze of everything that had just happened.

You smiled, your hands sliding up his back in a soothing gesture as you held him close, your own breath still ragged from the intensity of it all. "That’s my good boy," you whispered, your lips brushing his ear as you ran your fingers through his hair.

You and Chip sorted yourselves out, getting cleaned up and dressed before stepping back into the quiet night, the air cool against your flushed skin. As you began walking home, Chip felt a warmth settle in his chest that had nothing to do with the physical heat between you earlier. His heart soared when you casually grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. That small, intimate gesture made him feel like everything had changed—for the better.

But then, suddenly, a cold realization hit him, causing his steps to falter. “Oh my god,” Chip said, his voice full of panic as he looked at you with wide eyes. “You never came!”

You burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the quiet street, and you stopped walking, tugging him into a hug. Chip immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, but still looking slightly panicked. “What’s this for?” he asked, confusion lacing his words.

“You’re the sweetest man alive, Chip,” you said through your laughter, pulling back just enough to grin up at him. You leaned in, giving him a soft, lingering kiss that made his mind spin all over again. When you pulled away, Chip’s lips followed yours instinctively, still looking dazed and concerned.

Before he could speak, you brushed your thumb over his cheek, whispering, “I was only worried about you.” Then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you tickled his sides, making him jump and giggle, his worry dissolving into laughter.

“But,” you added, your tone turning teasing again as you looked up at him with a wink, “if you want to go again, you can sleep in my bed tonight.”

Chip’s eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open in shock and excitement. Without missing a beat, he nodded, completely floored by your offer. And then—he was off. Grabbing your hand, he tugged you down the street, practically dragging you along as he picked up the pace.

You couldn’t help but laugh maniacally as Chip half-sprinted down the street, pulling you behind him like a man on a mission. You’d never seen him move so fast in your life, and it only made your laughter echo louder.

Chip glanced back at you, his face flushed with a mix of excitement and affection, but his steps didn’t slow. He wasn’t going to waste any time getting home tonight—not with the promise of you waiting for him. And as you both hurried through the night, hand in hand, the laughter between you felt like the start of something new, something neither of you were going to let go of anytime soon.

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[devsgames]

HOT GAMEDEVS DON'T GATEKEEP

Inspired by this post by @midwinterhunt, here's a compilation of all the game dev resources I have come across, most of which I use fairly frequently. Most of these are free, some are paid but fairly cheap. Feel free to add your own resources. ✌️

Important reminder: When using basically any works or programs someone else created in your games, make sure you thoroughly understand the licenses and terms it has been shared with. If you don't know what the terms are, reach out to the resource and ask. Don't be lazy about this; it's not only dishonest but it can come back to bite you.

Engines

Unity - Best suited for mobile and multi-platform.

Unreal - Tailored for shooters and high-fidelity experiences.

PICO-8 - Virtual console for simple games

Godot - Open source and free!

GameMaker - Good for 2D games

Bitsy - Great little engine for making simple games and experiences

Construct - Never used but have heard nice things

Scratch - If you've never coded before, this is the best place to start. Great for young devs and those who want to get their feet wet.

Adventure Game Studio - Best suited for adventure games

RPG Maker - Best suited for top-down classic JRPG style games

Twine - Text-centric games like Interactive Fiction

Assets

OpenGameArt - Many assets, various licenses, and plenty of CC0 content.

Unity Store - For Unity only. Some free.

Unreal Store - For Unreal only. Some free.

Godot Asset Library

Jean Moreno's Toon Effects - Some of the best effects available on the Unity store. Unity only but I've used them in basically every project.

Steamworks.net C# Wrapper For Unity - Unity only C# wrapper for integrating Steam compatibility to your game

Itch.io - Plenty of free art assets and game dev resources

Kenney - Kenney makes tons of open-source assets for devs to use.

Art

Mixamo - Generates rigs for your humanoid models and lets you apply a library of free humanoid animations to them. Super helpful for prototyping. Adobe.

Blender - Free, open source and fully featured 3D program.

XNormal - Free offline normal map generator

Normal Map Online - Free online normal map generator

Crocotile - Cheap tool for building 3D models from sprite sheets

MagicaVoxel - Free voxel modelling tool

Piskel - Free online sprite drawing tool

Aesprite - Paid sprite drawing tool

TurboSquid - Not always great quality, but can be good source of free placeholders.

Textures.com - Limited texture downloads per day but free for personal use.

Pexels - Free stock photo resource. Most are free for commercial use. Check licenses.

Clipstudio - Good for illustration or graphic design. One time payment.

GIMP - Image editing program a-la Photoshop. Free.

Audio

Audacity - Free and fully-featured DAW/audio editor.

sfx.me - Free 8-bit synth-style sound effect generator for games.

CastingCallClub - Easy forum to find amateur voice talent for your project (p.s.: you should pay them).

FreeSound.org - Free sounds, searchable by license. A go-to for my audio needs.

Incompetech - Royalty-free music by Kevin McLeod.

Scott Buckley Music - Royalty free with conditions. Generally more on the cinematic side of things but very good stuff!

SoundCloud - 'Search -> By Track -> Filter: Use Commercially' leads to songs posted with allowance of commercial use. Always reach out to the artist to understand their terms and confirm that it's okay to use with your project.

Project Planning

Keymailer - Handy for mailing keys to influencers (don't expect a lot of traction unless you're paying for some of the features though).

Trello - Kanban board. Great for organizing tasks, managing bugs, etc. Free.

Notion - Private text and wiki page editor. Good for project organization, note taking, and fleshing out ideas. Free.

Obsidian - Alternative to Notion, with similar features.

Miro - Free whiteboard for organizing thoughts, images, brainstorming, etc.

Wave - Free Bookkeeping site. Great for keeping finances organized.

[wolfsclothing6]

Weight of Desire

2k special

Gabriel Sanchez had spent years living a life that felt perfectly adequate but deeply unremarkable. Middle management at a tech firm, a reliable boyfriend in Lucas, and a comfortable apartment in Manhattan. By all accounts, he should have been happy. But the truth was, Gabriel hadn’t felt alive in years. Even his relationship with Lucas, once fiery and passionate, had dulled into predictable rhythms—dinners, Netflix, the occasional half-hearted kiss before bed.

When the email arrived—Opportunity Awaits: A New Experience—he clicked on it out of nothing more than boredom. The promise of something new was enough to intrigue him.

Moments after filling out the form, Gabriel felt his body seize. A warmth spread through his limbs, but it wasn’t the kind of comfort he’d expected. It was heat, heavy and consuming. His vision blurred, and then everything went black.

Gabriel woke up gasping.

The first thing he noticed was the weight—his body was impossibly heavy, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His skin felt foreign, rough against the fabric of the sweat-soaked sheets beneath him. When he reached up to run a hand through his hair, he stopped short, staring at the thick, dark fingers that weren’t his own.

His heart raced as he stumbled out of bed, the entire room unfamiliar. The walls were cracked, the air thick with the scent of frying oil and stale sweat. A cheap, warped mirror hung crookedly on the wall. Gabriel approached it, his legs unsteady beneath him, and froze when he saw his reflection.

The man staring back at him was large, with dark, ruddy skin and a heavy, rounded face. His body was immense, rolls of flesh spilling over his waistband. His arms, thick with muscle buried under fat, flexed as he clutched the edge of the mirror.

He wasn’t himself.

The ID card on the nightstand told him his name: Javier Castillo.

---

The city felt different in Javier’s body. The streets were harsher, the air colder. Gabriel’s movements were slower, deliberate, as if the weight of Javier’s life clung to him like a second skin.

That afternoon, Gabriel found himself standing in the back room of a greasy diner, staring at an enormous stack of dirty dishes. His arms ached, his back throbbed from the weight of the day.

Paul, his wiry manager with a perpetually sour expression, barked at him from the doorway. "Javier! I told you those tables need to be cleared now, not when you feel like it!"

Gabriel straightened, instinctively opening his mouth to respond. "I—I’m—" But the words stuck. Instead, what came out was, "Lo siento, jefe. Es que estoy—uh—trabajando, pero—"

Paul’s face twisted in irritation. "What the hell did you just say? Speak English, man!"

Gabriel’s cheeks burned. He tried again, forcing himself to speak slowly. "I... I work... too much," he said, but the words felt clumsy, wrong.

Paul rolled his eyes. "Just clear the damn tables, Castillo."

As the manager stormed off, Gabriel clenched his fists. He wanted to shout, to explain that he wasn’t Javier, that this wasn’t his life. But the weight of his reality—the weight of Javier’s life—pressed down on him.

Days turned into weeks, and Gabriel became more attuned to Javier’s life. The grind of menial jobs, the whispers of coworkers in Spanish he could barely follow, the way strangers looked through him on the subway.

But there were moments of connection. At a construction site, Miguel—a fellow worker—brushed against him while handing him a tool. The contact was fleeting, but Gabriel felt it like a spark. Later, Miguel invited him for drinks.

At the bar, the air was thick with the smell of beer and sweat. Miguel leaned in close, his hand resting on Gabriel’s thigh. "¿Cómo estás, güey?" Miguel asked, his voice low and teasing.

Gabriel tried to respond in English but stumbled. "I... uh... I’m tired... no sé cómo decirlo..."

Miguel chuckled softly. "No importa, hermano. You don’t gotta explain."

When Miguel’s lips brushed against his ear, Gabriel let out a low, shuddering breath. They didn’t make it back to the apartment. Instead, they found themselves pressed against a brick wall in an alley, Miguel’s hands gripping Gabriel’s waist, his mouth hot and demanding against his neck.

For the first time in years, Gabriel felt wanted—not for his polished appearance or polite charm, but for his body. For the raw, unpolished truth of it.

---

As Gabriel lay tangled in sweat-stained sheets the next morning, Miguel’s arm draped across his chest, he stared at the ceiling. This life, as exhausting and unforgiving as it was, had awakened something in him.

He didn’t know how or why this had happened—how he had ended up in Javier’s body, or what it all meant. But for the first time, he didn’t feel like a spectator in his own life.

Tell me if you want them to be Reaccurring characters I love to write more about Gabriel(Javier) and Miguel

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 18

(Epel and other flowering Earth/Plant Nymphs have a symbiotic relationship with the bees of Twisted Wonderland. Where the flowers don't create seeds for the Nymph, they can still be benefited by the introduction of pollen from other flowers the bees visit, as it helps their immune systems to fight off plant related pests and infections. The immune system of a Earth/Plant Nymph is not the same as the blooded creatures of Twisted Wonderland because most Nymphs of all kind have no true blood.

Fun fact: Trees are rather carnivorous and will crack open bones with their roots if close enough for the marrow. They can consume meat very quickly. This is true for the Tree Nymphs of Twisted Wonderland.)

Warnings; multiple yanderes, platonic and romantic yanderes, mostly fluff focused chapter with a strong dash of angst and toped off with a bit of dodgy humor from Floyd, food focused chapter (fried food, fruit, meat, sweets), Floyd has no chill, Hellcat, Dragon, Vampire Bat, Shinigami, Nemean Lion, Gnoll, Harpies, Selkie, Shadow-man, Minotaur, Sphinx, Raiju, Cervitaur, Unicorn, Kelpie, Water Nymph, Cecaelia, Mermen, mention of Drider

~~~~~~~~

Despite the stress earlier on in your already delicate balancing act of life, the rest of the week passed quietly. Even getting your stitches removed went without a hitch and you were somewhat able to return to your daily life. Though you had been cleared to walk on your leg for more than a day, Malleus had been insistent on keeping you off of it until he was certain.

In the early morning you awoke before the rest of your ever present nestmates. Malleus had reluctantly agreed to let you walk around a bit the night before and you were eager to get back to moving around on your own. Despite how kind Silver was to be carrying you around, your classes were not his own and he had an education to attend to. Not to mention the fact you refused to allow Malleus to join you for classes.

You slowly slid out of the nest, taking care to not wake the Dragon that had curled himself around you as you all slept. During your gentle extraction from the nest, you managed to scoop up the still sleeping Grim without waking him. His little paws stretched out somewhat as you cuddled him close. You grabbed comfortable clothes and easily snuck away from the Hoard and the Dragon that guarded it.

It was nice to have some time to yourself, even in those small moments. It had become a little more than suffocating to live the way these monsters did.

The faint sound of a videogame could be heard as you quietly padded down the steps and past the main lobby where Ortho and Idia played a co-op platformer. They were so immersed they didn't even glance in your direction as you walked by.

It was early enough that you could still justify sneaking around a bit, wanting to get to making the things you knew you missed. Grim was still in a deep sleep as you quietly grabbed a blanket from one of the couches and wrapped him up in it before setting him on the table in the kitchen gently. He curled up much like a regular cat with his wings tucked in at his sides, snoring softly.

It began with acquainting yourself with the new deep-fryer that Idia had constructed for you, noticing it was mostly a hands-off kind of tool unlike the ones from your world. Once you got it heating to get the thick oil to the right temperature, you set to gathering up the ingredients you would need. Your cupboards had been restocked with a wider variety of spices and food-items thanks to Sam and paid for by the elder Shinigami Papa Hades.

You were going to start the day with breakfast and then move on to the other meals. Thankfully, you didn't have classes that day and intended to ask several of the various monsters you had met to come to your dorm. The reason you were inviting them was simple as you intended to put them to work helping and tasting the foods. Due to your own experience in the kitchen and what you were lacking from home, you already had plenty of foods in mind that you needed to make for your own comfort. Beyond just the fryer, there was the standing mixer that you planned to use to make a donut dough and glaze for the donuts.

The first task you set to was shredding the potatoes and forming them into patties to be fried. While you worked on shredding, another pair of hands joined your work. Clearly the three Shinigami of the Dorm did not need much sleep, nor did they sleep often as Papa Hades silently began to aid you in your cooking endeavors.

It was nice to work with someone who knew what they were doing, his only moments of unguarded curiosity being when you began frying up the shredded potato patties. You figured he was curious as he had not touched the new fryer despite the fact that Idia had been the one to make it. The other possibility was that he didn't wish to use it before you did and without knowing the primary purpose of it. He also seemed curious as you chose a particular cut of pork-belly, cutting the meat so that it had clear stripes of marbling before tossing it into a pan to begin cooking.

Various savory scents began to permeate the air as you flipped the patties to fry on the other side, an ever familiar sound of yapping and scratching drew your attention. Ruggie's familiar sandy-brown hide made you smile as you opened the door to greet the hungry Gnoll. He wasn't the only one waiting. Standing with Ruggie was a mostly asleep Leona who looked like he was regretting getting up.

"Morning you two. I expected Ruggie, but good to see you too, Leona."

"I'm only here because Ruggie never shuts up about the food here and you still owe me that meal your promised."

"Well, then be prepared to be here all day, seeing as Crowley said everyone should have no classes today. I'm making a full feast for every meal today and something tells me there's going to be more than a few visitors. Come in, but please try to be quiet because Grim is still sleeping."

Ruggie muffled his own excited yapping even as his tail wagged at max speed at the idea of a day of feasting. Even Leona seemed pleased by your words, taking deep breaths of the food you already had cooking as they entered the kitchen. Papa Hades only spared the two a single glance as he returned to his task, already having made more than enough for double the amount of visitors you technically had to feed.

You were bold enough to snap a quick picture of the Nemean Lion cuddling the Hellcat to send to Falena, having gotten the number of the Sunset Savana King. Surely it was rare to see Leona deign to be protective of any young especially after his fumble with Cheka, and you figured the Lion King would appreciate the domestically comfortable photo of the less than domestic Leona. Even Ruggie seemed amused by your quick photo as he chuckled softly and the Lion's ears twitched in response to the sound.

Leona surprised you by walking over to the table, sitting down in one of the chairs closest to Grim and settled down for a nap. He seemed to pause with his head resting on his arms before he reached out and pulled Grim over to him, careful not to wake the kit. Once he got his arms situated around the sleeping Hellcat, he was quick to join the slumber.

You were taking the potato hot-cakes out to cool when your phone buzzed impatiently in your pocket. It was Crowley saying he and the other staff members were on their way over to discuss the idea of you starting a Magicam account of your own. Apparently he already told Vil and the Harpy would be arriving around midday with Rook to discuss how to proceed. Though you hadn't expected the decision to be so quick, you had figured Vil and Rook would be involved as they were the ones who seemed more knowledgeable on the various platforms. Luckily, there was going to be plentiful food for these interlopers as you had made extra as well, given your excitement to use the new cooking tools you had been gifted.

A sudden thumping noise paired with the sound of quick steps told you the rest of the Hoard woke up and had taken your absence in the nest as a sign of danger. Malleus was first to enter the kitchen, his emerald green eyes glowing in the early light of the morning. That glow seemed to dim somewhat as his sight landed on you and he began to relax as he took in your uninjured and relaxed appearance. The Dragon was followed by his two retainers and teacher who all seemed to calm upon seeing you cooking away.

"Good morning, Malleus. Be sure to keep your voice down, Grim and Leona are asleep."

He glanced at where the Lion and Hellcat slept, then back to you with a nod.

"I am glad to see you are uninjured, (Y/n). It was... concerning... to wake without you and your cub tucked away safely in the nest. I trust you aren't straining your leg?"

"My leg is fine, Malleus. I've been itching to move around and try out some of these new gadgets in the kitchen. I will say now, however, I intend to be making meals and treats all day, so you may want to pace yourself if you choose to partake. I do hope you'll like what I'm going to be making."

Lilia was quick to join the conversation, bouncing over to you with a pleased smile as he wrapped his wings around you. The Bat nuzzled your neck and hummed with a kind of content joy that made you wonder why he was being so cuddly that morning. Curious if he was seeking more blood or not.

"Though I do detest early mornings, it is always a pleasure to see you, (Y/n)."

"Flattery gets you nowhere, Vanrouge."

"It isn't flattery if it's the truth. Good to see you walking again, though. You seemed so ready to burst with boredom!"

"You try sitting around for a week and see how bored you get."

Lilia just chuckled and let you return to your tasks, sitting at the table as you finished up cooking with Papa Hades. While you transferred the plentiful food to their proper serving dishes, Idia and Ortho entered the room with the five staff members you recognized in tow. Ortho was quick to set the table with Idia's aid, Sam jumping in to help out as well as he got a good look at the delicious smelling feast. From fresh fruits to the pancakes stacked high, even Crewel, Trein, and Vargas seemed rather enthused at the prospect of a good meal.

You grabbed one piece of bacon and walked over to Leona and Grim, holding the warm cooked meat close to the nose of Hellcat who woke with a loud snort. Leona was also quick to rise at the smell of food and eyed the meat in your hands with a more than interested look. He didn't argue as you picked up the blanket and kit from his arms, missing the almost smug look the Lion gave to the seething Dragon behind you.

Grim was quick to eat the nicely crisped piece of bacon and purred excitedly from the quickly melting fat of the meat. Seeing Grim get to have the first bite of that feast sent Ruggie into a loud cackling protest, wanting to take as much as he possibly could. Clearly the others were of a similar mind as everyone took their seats, Malleus once again making a clear show of sitting next to your place at the table and keeping others from taking the chair-high-chair hybrid.

You were eager to see what the others thought of the hash-brown patties and thankfully got first pick for most of the food at the table before the others got to it. Papa Hades took his seat at the head of the table, Crowley sitting across from you and excitedly serving himself a decent share of the food. Grim was eagerly using his tiny paws to stuff food into his face, his little tail waving as he bit into the warm hash-brown and immediately purred loudly. The others had a similar reaction to the fried food, all seeming to savor the crisp golden outside and warm inside.

"So crispy, so fluffy..! Is this what you wanted to make so badly with that oil fryer you had me create?"

"One of the things. I'll be making several foods today with that fryer and even some sweets. Trust me when I say, you haven't lived until you've had some of these foods. Of course, everything in moderation, I won't lie and say they are fantastic for your health if you have too many or too much all at once. You will be wanting the recipes and your own fryer for Ignihyde though. Plus, I plan to use that electric churn you made to make ice-cream at some point, something tells me that one will be popular too."

It was while you were talking with Idia that Leona began to understand just how much good food he had been missing out on. Ruggie had tried many times to get the lazy Lion to come with him in his morning and evening trips to Ramshackle and Leona had sent him away with a bored response. Now he could see just why the loud Hyena man religiously made daily excursions to your dorm and he couldn't believe how foolish he had been to not accompany the Gnoll earlier.

Sam seemed to savor every bite of the food and you were happy to return the favor of a meal to the Shadow-man. He had fed you during your cycle and had been your rock during such an emotionally charged week. Now you could share in the labors of good food and that meant so many foods were suddenly back on your menu.

~•§•~

Lunch was starting to roll around and Trey had already arrived at your behest. He brought Riddle, Ace, Deuce, and even Cater along to help out. Cater was quick to start on dishes and avoided directly talking to anyone other than Trey and Riddle. You knew that eventually you would have to confront Cater and get all of this resolved, seeing as the Nymph was quite different from when you first met him as a result of his own actions and realization of the harm those actions have caused.

Trey was not only excited to try out the sweets you were intending to make, but was also excited to make food with you again. The standing mixer did most of the hard work for you and Trey was eager to ask Idia about it. Naturally, the timid Shinigami tried giving short answers at first but quickly became excited to explain the intricacies of the machines he made using your ideas and recollection of their functions.

Even as Ace and Deuce worked on cutting out the ringed pastries, you were interested in making more than just sweets. You had time in-between making icings for the donuts and actually frying the dough to just take a moment for yourself. After breakfast, Divus talked in depth with you about what he and the other staff had agreed upon in terms of making and managing these photo accounts for you.

He told you of the one photo that had circulated most of Twisted Wonderland and the negative impact it had as a whole due to the fact you looked so uncomfortable and unhappy in the photo. Apparently several activist groups had gotten ahold of the photo and decided to use it to fuel the fires of removing you from Night Raven College. Your idea to have your own photos was unorthodox, but it couldn't do more damage than the first had especially considering the fact you already had a target on your back.

To some extent, you wondered about deciding that Cater should be in charge of the account, seeing as Cater had previously been very interested in Magicam and other such social media platforms. According to Trey, Cater hadn't touched the app after you were attacked and had since withdrawn from others, most of whom likely blamed him for your injuries. Looking at the crimes committed against you, Riddle was technically more dangerous to you than Cater had been, but Cater caused a cascading event that left you in constant danger.

"Hey, Trey?"

"Yes, (Y/n)?"

"Why won't Cater talk to me?"

The Kelpie flinched at this and looked away with a sigh before turning to fully face you, seeming somewhat stressed by your question. It was a fair question, but Trey didn't know how to best approach the topic with you. Cater was Trey's close friend and the two had been near inseparable for the years they spent in school together.

"He... Cater blames himself for your injury. Others blame Cater for your injury. Sage Island has become a hot-spot for poachers, species enthusiasts, and- ahem- 'Humanfuckers' due to that photo Cater took."

"... Humanfuckers?"

"Various species that have idolized and sexualized Humans as a whole. It wasn't so prevalent or considered all that harmful when Humans were extinct, but now there is a confirmed Human living here..."

"The Humanfuckers came out in droves."

"Yes. Many have made what they call 'pilgrimage' out here to try and find you. Many have contacted Cater for more... revealing... photos of you. Some even try to threaten Cater to make him do what they want. He's deleted the Magicam app from his phone, but some are desperate enough to dox him for more photos of you."

You felt more than a little repulsed by the idea of these monsters trying to take sexually charged photos of you and hearing the mistreatment Cater recieved made you feel a twinge of guilt. Sure, Cater played a dumb game and won a dumb prize, but that didn't mean he deserved to have every aspect of his life uprooted. It certainly didn't mean you deserved the same, but your life had already been uprooted the moment you fell into this world. Cater wasn't a monster, but he was being treated like one.

"Okay."

Turning on your heel, you abruptly ended the conversation with Trey as you made your way to the Water Nymph that seemed more than a little forlorn. He visibly flinched when you reached out your hand and touched him, seeming to want to be left to his own dark thoughts. You persisted.

"Cater?"

"..."

"Cater, turn to face me."

The Nymph turned to face you, his green eyes refusing to meet your own. His face was very different from what you remembered when you first met him. Where he once seemed to never stop smiling, all that remained of that previously cheerful look was a sullen expression and sunken eyes. Now he faced you, you could see the apparent change that had overcome the Water Nymph.

What could be considered bruises littered his translucent skin and made it more than obvious to you that someone had been beating on him. His once vibrant hair seemed dull in color as he avoided looking you in the eyes and slightly shook as if afraid of what you would say to him. He had thinned compared to how he had been prior, now seeming to be almost a shell of his former self. His eyes were dark and almost looked bruised, a distant look on his face as he refused to meet your gaze.

"Cater, please look at me."

His eyes flicked up once to your face before darting to the side again, unable to hold eye contact with you.

"I'm sorry," Cater's voice was a soft whimper instead of the loud and boystrous tone it once held, his eyes welling up with tears, "I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I didn't know... I didn't think... It's becuase of me that...! I'm sorry. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry-!"

There was a kind of genuine pain in you upon seeing the once outgoing and social Nymph reduced to a poor-excuse caricature of a social outcast. Your hands moved before you really had time to reflect on what Cater was actually saying, pulling the distressed man closer to you. He flinched and almost writhed as if burned by your touch, but you held fast to the struggling man.

It took several moments for him to stop trying to pull away and several more seconds for him to return the gesture. As your arms wrapped around the shaking body of the Nymph, you felt the tears rolling from his eyes against your shoulder. Shuddering sobs were pulled from the raw throat of a wounded man. His skin was an unusual texture compared to your own, almost like a jello or some kind of gel bead beneath your touch.

"I'm sorry..."

"I know. Cater, you need to stop blaming yourself now. What has happened cannot be undone, and what happens in the future is out of your control."

He pulled away at this, shaking his head and trying to wipe away his tears as if he were angry with himself for crying on your shoulder. You could see the rough way he almost scratched at his own skin in an attempt to keep his emotions down and contained.

"But it's all my fault! I thought a few stupid likes from people I don't even know were worth bothering you. Now, because of me, you've been attacked, you're not safe to spend any time alone, all of your injuries are my fault-"

"Cater."

He flinched again, but stopped his rapid-fire speaking, still refusing to lift his gaze. You gently grabbed his hand with your own, lifting it up until his palm rest against your non-dominant arm. The skin was still discolored and marked from the deep wound that had cleaved through it and he visibly shuddered at the feeling of your scar.

"You didn't cause this injury. Riddle did this. Mr. Rule-Enforcer-I-Know-What's-Best-For-You himself. You didn't do this. You didn't hire the Wolves that attacked me, we already sussed that idiot out and I'm told he is now facing trial for his actions and possible execution in the Queendom of Roses. Cater, you made a bad decision and it hurt someone other than you, but driving yourself into the ground and taking on all of the blame is genuinely unfair."

"But the others are right, I'm a wretched-"

"I don't give a singular fuck what the others say. They aren't me. They do not speak for me. I speak for me. And I am saying- no, I am begging you to stop hating yourself for what you didn't realize. If we hate ourselves and punish ourselves forevermore, we do not grow past it. We can never become a better person when bogged down by the mistakes of our past. Mistakes that cannot be changed or undone. You need to decide to get better, to move on knowing you are not the same person who made those mistakes."

"But, I-"

"They were and are a part of you and your past, but you aren't that same Nymph. You aren't who you were yesterday. We grow and learn and come to realize what we did in the past was the mistake of someone who didn't know any better. Now you know better. Healing takes time and effort to be better, I envy those who can move past their mistakes in mere hours, but most can't. I don't hate you. I'm not happy I can no longer be left alone, but I don't hate you. Cater, if you didn't do it, others would have. I assume others already have. I don't doubt that other, less introspective students, have taken photos of me for a bit of extra cash and clout even after the one you took."

"Please..."

"I don't hate you, Cater Diamond. I don't want you to hate yourself so deeply. Forgive yourself for what you didn't know and what you didn't realize before the hate you feel for yourself consumes you. You're not a bad person. A little misguided, and a little lost, but not bad. You have a good heart, sometimes you forget to listen to it."

The second hug was less of a fight than the first, Cater melting into the affectionate gesture quickly. He finally started to take deep breaths and with that deep breath came a relaxation of his tensed limbs. Stress and the heavy burden of his actions rolled from him slowly, but so long as they continued to fall away any progress forward was enough for you.

"Sorry doesn't fix everything. Your actions going forward show if you have changed or not. Now, if you really want to help me, then help me by forgiving yourself. I want you here. Trey wants you here. Even Riddle wants you here. You deserve forgiveness as much as anyone else. So come with me, help me make this meal, and try to forgive yourself the mistakes you made before you knew better."

"Okay... Okay. I can... I can try."

~•§•~

You finished up the fried chicken with Cater as you waited for the dough to finish proofing, letting it rise in the warm peudo-oven also made by Idia. Once the dough proofed enough, you would start frying the donuts but had to wait until then. A polite knock came at that side door and you were happy to see the familiar polite simper of the tall Eel-man Jade. Behind him stood his compatriots Azul and Floyd who happily joined Jade as you invited them in.

"Come in, come in! I hope you three brought empty stomachs, because I have a few new foods for you all to try!"

"Oya, your kindness knows no bounds, (Y/n). Thank you for inviting us over despite my recent failure."

"You didn't fail me, Jade. We didn't know what was waiting for us. Besides, I figured I may as well extend the invite since so many others are already here."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I mean the dorm leaders of Ignihyde, Pomefiore, Heartslabyul, Diasomnia, and Savanaclaw are already here. I asked Silver to invite the Housewarden of Scarabia, but he hasn't gotten back to me yet about them."

"My, that is quite the arrangement. We were happy to accept the invitation."

"Good to hear."

You easily moved among the several students that were all mingling around the large table, Idia hiding by Ortho and Papa Hades. Many cast nervous glances at the large Shinigami but even the ancient man didn't seem too put off by the hesitant behavior of the others. You set out the large plate of fried chicken, grabbing a leg for Grim and feeding the little cat.

Azul could feel the way his mouth watered at the absolutely delectable scent from the chicken in front of him. Truthfully, had had chicken in the past and was somewhat fond of it, but it never smelled this good before. He was curious as to the taste of the food but nearly wept upon his first bite.

Warm breading paired with the crisp skin of the meat as it danced on his tongue an played a symphony with his senses almost made him audibly moan out. Food could actually taste like this? The things he could do with something that tasted this good, even beyond the Octolounge and just for his own stomach, had Azul's mind racing with the best contract he could ever write.

"You're looking kinda love struck or even turned-on, Azul. Like Jade whenever he talks about little Shrimpy! Got something in mind?"

"We need to ensure Octavinelle is next to guard her. Whatever it takes."

"So you are horny-"

[trying-harder-then-u]

Philip wasn't used to all the stares he was getting from his workers; for god's sake, he was the CEO, and they should be paying respect to him, but instead all the builders to whom he paid the salary just stared in confusion and pity at the tall man in his suit guiding the investors around the construction site.

His black suit, thin build, and clean-shaven appearance drew a harsh contrast to the men that watched. The bored faces of the investors showed that they were just as interested in this as he was, so it was a respite when he managed to excuse himself to go to the bathroom.

Stumbling along, dirt and dust caking his boots, he finally ran into the manager of the property, a bulky man with a short fuse. "Where is the bathroom?" he inquired, only greeted by a judging glance as he stared down. "It's employee only; the public bathroom is a block away." Philip was shocked by the never-ending argument, but he made a mental note to find some recourse for the attitude. He picked his way through the clogged city blocks, finally coming to the public bathrooms.

As he walked into the graffiti-covered stall, he felt his disgust build as he saw a strange liquid covering not just the floor but the bathrooms and walls as well. and judging from the smell, he could tell where this liquid came from. Knowing that he didn't have time to waste, he quickly rolled up toilet paper and wiped down the seat of the toilet. After a few seconds, he went to chuck it when he stepped into a large puddle of cum, glaring at the gunk stuck on his heel. Using the wall to support him as he tried to scrape it off, he only managed to get it on his clothes before finally feeling more drip from the roof on top of his bald head.

Now thoroughly disgusted, he went to leave but found he couldn't; he seemed to be...

rooted to the spot? Phillip's whole body began to shiver as his eyes moved rapidly in his sockets. The shivering began to localize on his legs as a cracking sound filled the air. Did the door seem to grow bigger and bigger, or was he getting smaller? He remembered from the view that his height had gone from 6 feet 3 to 5 feet 6. His mind kept screaming as his body tingled, his thin arms tingled, and he began to thicken along with his legs, a small gut growing out.

His pale skin soon would change too as his skin darkened and tanned, matching that of his many workers. changed rapidly now, his once clean, shaven body growing hair all over and his slightly below-average "tool" shrinking a few inches. Finally able to leave, he felt his head fuzz as if his thoughts were being yelled at him through glass, but he did begin to panic when he didn't return to his investors but rather to the man. "Where have you been?" Phillip thought he was yelling; he couldn't hear anything, though. Looking down, his clothes also changed to a plain tee and some shorts; he truly looked just like a worker now.

The next 5 hours, his body went on autopilot, working harder than his old body ever had, but when the work day finally ended, he kept walking to a house he had never seen, climbing stairs after stairs before finally coming to a door that reeked of cum and sweat. Opening in, he saw a young Latino man, no pants, and busy playing some kind of video game. He somehow knew that this was the man whose cum had covered the bathroom that had caused all this.

glancing over the man—his boyfriend? No, that can't be. He was married, and his thoughts were getting harder. Mmm, Phillipe could see the bulge in the other man's underwear, and the other man obviously could see Phillipe's eyes. "Why don't you come help Daddy out, baby?" excitedly he moved forward and began stripping his BF. "That's it, ik you liked the stuff you found in the bathroom you slut, come get some from the source" as he greedily sucked away his memories. Natural, his Spanish accent? attractive to the ladies, not like he needs it with his boyfriend around. His memories shifted fully, and Philip was gone. He was Philip, a Mexican immigrant working hard so his hot boyfriend could play games. His life was difficult with working and then doing all the chores, but at least he got some good dick. and not a person would miss who he was...

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Construction Dog Co.

Each one of these dumb brutes belongs to me! They once had their own lives and careers, but I replaced all that with the blind obedience of a dog. My words dictate their reality, so they'll believe anything I say. That's why it seems perfectly normal for them to wait like this every morning. They'd kneel there all day if I let them, but they need to work eventually!

"Get off your knees, dogs! Hop to work! It's the only thing you're good for!" I yell it with venom, but I relish seeing my words soaking in into their minds. With just a simple command, I've convinced them all that they are animals, good only for hard work and manual labor.

The men rush to their feet, scrambling to pick up where they'd left off yesterday. I don't bother understanding the minor details of their day to day responsibilities. I have different boys programmed to manage all that crap for me. I really only bother watching them sweat their days away.

Being the supervisor can get a bit boring, especially after hearing, "Thank you, boss. I love you, boss," for like the seventh time in a day. It kind of loses it's meaning after awhile.

That's why I often use them for entertainment. Watch this!

"Hey, you two!" I call, pointing at two sweaty workers nearby, "You're in love with each other. Make out!"

Despite being hot and exhausted, the two men drop their tools and perk up. When they meet each other's eyes it's like they're seeing one another for the first time. They practically slam their bodies together in a race to each other's throat, and within seconds the two guys are lost in a world of dirt, saliva, and lust.

I do this with my men often, but who could blame me! I handpicked each one of them because they were strong and hot. If they're going to be hypnotized work slaves, then I need to enjoy how they look.

"You too aren't doing anything else but each other for the rest of the day," I command with a laugh, "Got it?"

"Yes, sir," their replies are moaned out between breaths.

A lot of my laborers were straight before they met me, but these two were creeps about it. I think I found them at the gym, hitting on girls between every set. I obviously enjoyed erasing their raunchy personalities. I find it even more enjoyable watching them grope and slobber over each other, knowing that those bodies would've never done that before I came along.

Those jagoffs are just the beginning of my day! I leave them after they've tumbled to the ground, humping each other like the dumb animals they are.

"You there!" I point to a different guy, quietly stacking blocks nearby, "Get over here and clean the floor as I walk. These Timberlands are brand new and I don't want mud on them."

"Yes, sir," the worker answers and rushes over, throwing himself to the ground before me.

I chuckle and study the poor loser in front of me. With just a few short words, I have him scrubbing a place for me to walk like I'm his king. I scoff in disbelief when I finally recognize who the guy was.

"Wait, are you that jerk from the bank?"

"Yes, sir," he admits quietly, keeping his head lowered towards his work.

"Well shit, you've come a long way! Can you believe that a week ago you were some fancy banker who tried to deny me a loan?" I give his head a little nudge with the toe of my shoe, "This is a much better place for you...uh... Robert...or was it Roger?"

"Reggie, sir," he quickly corrects me.

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore," I scowl at him, "Forget your name. You're just a construction dog, now. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who are you?"

"I'm...I'm just a construction dog." I can tell he believes it now, too. I'm probably the only one here that knows his real name, and I'll definitely forget it within a few days.

"Good boy," I pat him on the head, "Now, you're going to stay ahead of me and keep clearing the floor for me to walk."

Reggie mumbles "Yes, sir," and crawls forward to scrub away the dirt in my immediate vicinity. Continuing on my tour, the poor guy struggles to keep up on all-fours, but a good work animal must get used to that position.

By the end of the day, my entire pack of men is sweaty and exhausted. I usually make them all work the maximum shift with no breaks, so it makes sense for them to be tired. Still, they are programmed to come and kneel before me, waiting to be dismissed. They're all a bit antsy for a rest, but I like to test their patience.

"Alright, boys. You're dismissed for the night."

With a collective groan, they climb back to their feet, marching off to the bunk house.

The bunk house is where I keep them when they aren't working. It might seem tight but each guy has enough room to sleep; although, I make them share because I don't want to purchase anymore bunk spaces. I don't really like to spend any money on them. They have access to the porta-john out back, but otherwise they aren't allowed to go anywhere else. I also only gave them the clothes they work in, so they sleep in them too.

Needless to say, it stinks in there. Between the heat, body odor, unwashed clothes, and lack of showers, they've created quite the stench. I avoid their home as much as I can, but sometimes my curiosity gets the best of me. This is the first time I've seen it in weeks.

"Come on boys, don't look so glum!" I chastise them, "Smile! Act like you're happy to see me!"

I watch as a switch goes in each of their minds. Slowly, they snap out of their foggy eyed depression, and light up. The energy of the room transforms as reassuring smiles spread across each of their manly faces.

"That's better! You boys are a tight-knit team! You love each other!" I add, "You don't mind the back-breaking work, or the smell, or anything as long as you're together."

The men become even more at ease, relaxing into the arms of their coworkers. My heart is warmed a little, seeing them getting along with each other so well. They're acting like energetic little puppies now.

I'm ready to leave them for the night. It's time for me to return to my luxury condo down the street, but before I do, I catch sight of one of my workers. An idea springs into my head.

"You, there. Come with me."

"Yes, sir," he answers, though he seems genuinely disappointed to be leaving his buddies.

I lead him outside and hose him off to remove at least some of the mud and sweat. We walk all the way to my apartment. Luckily, he's mostly dry by then so I take him inside.

"Is this going to take awhile, sir?" he asks nervously, "I'm pretty tired and my bedmate is going to sleep soon."

"Shut up and get on the bed," I command.

His mouth snaps shut and he obediently approaches my soft king bed, crawling onto it like I told him to. I sigh when I notice that the stupid oaf still tracked a lot of mud in. I'll have to make him clean it all up later.

"Now, you aren't going to speak or move unless I tell you too," I instruct, "But you will realize that anything I do will be exactly what you want: no matter what I do..."

He gazes back at me numbly.

"Tell me you understand."

"I understand, sir," he instantly repeats.

Tonight is going to be a long night for him. Too bad he still has to wake up early and report to work. I'm already planning on sleeping in. I don't mind keeping my workers waiting for a few hours while I rest. It's my company after all, and they're just dogs for labor...

[seat-safety-switch]

A lot of people at Home Depot are getting froggy at my comparison of them to the Third Reich. This is, of course, a media fabrication. The Nazis had easy access to working tools, and lumber that was straight. What I actually called them was “a group of useless, tin-hat fascists that can’t even stock a fucking lightswitch.”

Back when I was a kid, small hardware stores were all over the place. You could get on your bicycle and ride over to the local lumber shop, and a weird old guy would tell you what stuff to buy, occasionally implying that he was your real father. Then you’d ride home, and finish your project, happy in the knowledge that at least you could control the construction of a potato cannon or low-dimensional-stability, non-permitted birdhouse.

At some point, buoyed by the renovation-crazy era of reality television, the big hardware giants started rolling in. They’d buy out or crush all of these little hardware stores. Why would you go to two of them, they’d ask, when you can get all your stuff here, in one trip, for cheaper? This would be a great thing indeed, if I didn’t have to go to three different big-box hardware stores in order to satisfy literally any weekend project shopping list.

At least with Abnormal Ed’s House of an Unusual Amount of Paracord, you’d know what you were getting into, and if you shopped at his place a lot, he’d probably start stocking the stuff you need. With Home Depot, you’re not even a blip on their immense Excel spreadsheet of Raw Data Pure Data Good Data. With an international reach, your insane hyper-local desires (limited to your house) average out to nothing against the demands of everyone else. There’s no way you can potentially influence them to start offering something unprofitable like, say, white spray paint, or hammers that aren’t made of tinfoil, without taking hostages.

What can we do about this? Other than building a time machine and going back to save small hardware stores – which would probably require buying some parts at Home Depot, which means we’d be wasting a beautiful Saturday afternoon driving all over the city just to pick up red and black wire – the only thing we can do is convince them that an even larger, angrier, hardware store is coming to kill them.

I got the idea when I had a bunch of sparrows flying into my kitchen window. You cut out some silhouettes of bigger birds and just paste them on there. They think a bunch of giant crows are hiding behind the window, and steer clear. It took a lot of time to construct an entire elaborate replica of a hardware store megaconsortium in the empty parking lot next to the Home Depot headquarters, and it was very hard to paint the Chinese ideographs for “HILARIOUS FUN DOESN’T STOCK UNPROFITABLE ITEMS RENOVATION DEPOT” while holding on to the 60th storey of a Potemkin building made entirely out of old cardboard boxes, but I managed to pull it off. You could hear the lifetime middle managers shrieking in fear of their new competitors from blocks away, and by the time I got home, the local Home Depot had finally decided to stock both light fixtures and light bulbs.

[stubz]

late shift

Shuttle for Mars is departing now. Please keep hands, feet, tails, and other appendages clear of the yellow line.

‘Nice, finally get off work on time for once! Man is it empty, way less busy than the 5:45 one…

Are they sleeping? Please tell me they’re sleeping…’

“Snnrk…”

‘Oh good they are, oooh lots of empty seats next to them! Nice.’

The young human sits across the large figure and looks around.

‘Wonder why everyone else is sitting so far away from this guy? He’s not that much scarier than a Alteauh…OH! He’s an Orc! An actual Orc, oh this is so cool! Wait. Calm down, control yourself. Orc’s are people too, not some exotic animal in a zoo….he’s sooo cool looking tho!’

The human smiles and takes out their headphones and listens to some music and take in the view they see through the shuttle’s windows. From time to time they peek at the orc, can’t helping themselves from people-watching him.

Like what most humans imagined, he was huge. Easily more than 7 feet tall, with large calloused hands bigger than their head. He had large tusks but unlike the stereotypes he was well trimmed with well relatively kept hair. It would have neater had there not been dust in it. The orc wore dirty cloths and work boots. Beside them what looked like a tool box and bag.

‘Must be a construction worker or works in a trade’ they mused

‘Poor guy, he’s gotta be exhausted to sleep here. At least he gets to go home now.’

The shuttle shakes and with it so does the sleeping giant. Rocking side to side.

'That's not good.' They nervously slide off their headphones.

The turbulence increases until the sleeping orc leans too far and starts fall face first off his seat.

“OH SHIT!” Diving to their knees they manage to catch his head and shoulders.

“Mm?”

“You okay?” Damn he's heavy!

“Mmm…sorry.” Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he slowly got back into his seat, the turbulence now gone.

“No worries, I just didn’t want you to hit your head.”

“Heh, wouldn't be the first time I’ve done it.”

after rubbing his eyes a bit more and a crack of the neck he looks at them, brain finally working to some degree.

“…wait. You caught me?”

“Uh-huh”

“But you’re so small! Are you hurt?”

“You're not the first sleeping giant I’ve caught. I’m alright.”

“I am so sorry for that. I just finished working a 12 hour shift fixing the 1st and 3rd engine rooms and couldn’t help myself from dozing off.”

They whistle. “12 hours? No wonder you’re tired! If I were you I’d be in a coma.”

“Ah but surely you have a difficult job yourself. How else would you be able to catch me?”

“No, nothing like yours! I just work at a youngling centre.”

“The one on the ship?”

“That’s the one.”

“...YOUR ONE OF THE BRAVE WARRIORS WHO RISKED THEIR LIVES TO PROTECT THE CHILDREN??!”

“…you’ve heard of us?”

“Every orc and warrior worth their blade knows of your valiant deeds!! Tell me, what is your name??”

“Kim, uh and you are?”

“Fenrir. It is truly an honor to meet someone of your bravery and intelligence."

"Likewise! I've heard that the orc species are a true warrior race."

For the rest of the trip the two talked. Kim sharing how her and Max built such a safe room in the centre, which lead to the two realizing how similar each other's planets are.

"You have wind whirlpools as well? I thought they only existed on Bantor!"

"Well we call them hurricanes and tornadoes but yeah. Do you guys have hail?"

"Not where I grew up but nearby farther up they get a week or two of light hail showers during the fall. What about animals? Do you have reptiles bigger than an adult with large teeth and live in rivers? We call them darthrang."

"Oh we call them crocodiles!"

"Amazing! To think that your species live in a world much like mine!"

When the shuttle finally reached it's destination the two went their separate ways. A few days later they meet again, this time on the later shuttle. They sit and talk and create a routine of sorts where they became each others travelling companion for the trip to Mars.

One day however, Fenrir stopped coming. The human was saddened as she enjoyed his company but was soon surprised when seeing him at the centre.

"Kim! I've been transferred to stay on the ship so I won't be taking the shuttle to Mars anymore."

"Oh...well, as you know I only go home at the end of the week so maybe we can hang out now. Like eat lunch together or have a drink after work...or something like that!"

"Actually we'll be seeing each other everyday now. But if you don't get sick of me then yes, lets each lunch together."

"Great! But why will I be seeing you everyday?"

"Because after telling my family about you and the centre they've enrolled my nieces and nephews and younger siblings here...and I offered to drop them off and pick them up."

It was then that Kim noticed the dozen of orc children hiding behind Fenrir. The tallest and what looked the eldest of them stepped forward.

"Hello, I am Athea, uncle Fenrir said your one of the ones who saved the centre."

"Yes, my name is Kim. It's great to meet you AtheaaAA!" The orc girl pulled the human into a tight hug, lifting the adult woman off of her feet.

"Thank you for saving Nova." she mumbled into her chest.

'Ah, the Captain's daughter' Kim thought. "I was just doing what any teacher would do."

After a moment the human was put down and lead the children into the centre. The day went well. Fenrir's young family members were quickly won over by the humans, first with the saving of the centre, then with how they understood how wonderful their planet was rather than terrifying or deadly.

They were also greatly intrigued by how such a small species could survive in a planet that was thought to only be habitable to orcs.

"How can you carry us?" asked Thor, one of Fenrir's youngest brothers. "We're much bigger than a human child."

"Yeah but your not bigger than my cousins who are teenagers. Also just last month I had like 10 kids climbing on me. Two were tighalaxes."

"Your joking!"

...

"It that tumpon?!"

"Hm? We call it maafe, but it's also known as peanut stew, do you want some? It doesn't have any meat in it though."

"Guys Max has tumpon!! Can you tell Fenrir where we can buy the ingredients?"

"Of course. Finally I'll finish what gran gave me without having to gain 10 pounds."

And thus the first day ended on a high note! Now if only Kim could figure out why the children looked at her and nodded while talking to Fenrir...

So this based off of a post by @llamagoddessofficial about humans meeting actual space orcs. Sadly I can't find the actual post. but yeah, here u go, space orc and human meet cute

[radiance1]

HAHAHHAHHAHDHASDHSADASHDASDKHBASDHSDBHSABHBASDBASBDJASDHBSABDHSABDHBASHDASDBHADBBASHDBSAHDBASHd.

Anyways.

Teddy Bear Danny au again les go.

So, established that in this au Danny is a teddy bear. But I think we'll flesh it out a bit more? Like, outwardly, his appearance is that of a teddy bear but he's still flesh and all that?

Maybe his flesh took on the qualities of whatever his Teddy Bear was made of before the fuse an allat, maybe he even lost his skeleton or sum.

But anyways, so. I want Danny to just be like in Gotham for one reason or another, maybe he was abandoned by the Fentons on accident when they went to Gotham for some ghost hunting thing.

Maybe he was a stowaway and then got left behind because he got lost.

Whatever the case, I can't help but think of him becoming an inventor just because. Like, he was just wandering around as one does after being accidentally left behind by one's parents, he breaks into a house (Really, they left the window open, and it was raining, cut the kid sum slack) and then finds a broken appliance that he just. Fixes up.

For literally no reason other than he could.

Then he steals some of their food and hides when he hears someone coming. Somehow, probably because of ghost powers, he managed to remain out of their sight the whole time and then dips when it stops raining.

Maybe Danny even carries around a little tool that the Fenton's made so that they don't have to carry around a toolbox. Like, a one in all tool kind of thing.

Maybe Danny wanted to fix up somebody's thing, then when he finished and came back his parents just, weren't there.

So, a teddy bear just wanders around the neighborhood and fixes up people's stuff for free, nobody knows it's a teddy bear or why someone makes it their personal mission to just break into people's houses just to steal some food and fix up broken appliances, but nobody is really complaining about it.

Again, nobody knows who's doing this. But they know they do a fine goddamn job of it. Maybe they just, start leaving out their broken items in one specific area after a while along with some food, it took Danny a while to realize that people are deliberately leaving out stuff for him to fix as well as food, but he's not complaining.

He just gets to fixing up their stuff and eating the treats they leave behind, then leaves before anyone catches sight of him. Maybe one day someone leaves him a toolbox as a gift, and while Danny is flattered, really, he can't really pick it up because. Well. The size is a problem.

A few days later, and he's left a smaller one after slapping on a note written with very messy handwriting explaining how it's too big for him. Which Danny very gladly takes.

Maybe he even finds himself a little hardhat toy that he uses to complete the look. Like a little construction worker or something. Eventually, Danny becomes a famous local little cryptid who fixes up various things basically for free in exchange for food, but nobody has ever seen him and only works out of sight and all that.

Honestly, everyone is just happy it isn't a new upstart villain or whatever, even if they haven't seen the little guy. Some theorize that he's actually just some random Gothamite kid, some theorize that he's actually a spirit who just really likes to fix things up for whatever, some think he might actually be a fairy who decided to bless Gotham with some minor convenience after the absolute hell of it being, well, Gotham on a whim.

Whatever the case, every civilian who knows about him is pretty thankful of him existing. Because they don't have to spend a bunch of money on, you know, fixing their stuff.

[the-forbidden-pookie]

Unknown motives

Tw: SFW, written with a fem reader in mind, attempt at comedy, fluff with a dash of something else, slight use of profanity, reader is short for plot reasons.

Pairing: Anton Ivanov x reader

#Free Palestine🇵🇸

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sorry," the large man says as he approaches you "I got held up by this strange guy asking if I wanted to play cards or something on my way here... Hm? You haven't started interviewing our president yet, have you? Don't forget to lower the mic stand a bit."

You blink up at him in surprise, and suppress an eye roll. You can't help it, everything about him was giving... the same vibe you see in the old capital era movies, the frat boy types. Still, you respond cordially enough "Huh? Oh you mean the reporter lady from earlier? No she left already, I'm the new part timer." You say confidently, deciding you'll end this conversation quickly if you looked sufficiently assertive. The work site was plenty noisy too, surely he'll get annoyed from talking out here soon enough.

The man's hand was on its way to the back of his head, his eyes trained away from you before he halts and looks back "A new part timer? Who the hell hired you?"

"I hired myself." You say simply.

"Ha, you hired yourself? Really now? And who made you think you were qualified enough to work here?"

You don't bother giving your real reasons "The field of construction calls for me." Is what you say instead.

"Calls for you, huh?" To your surprise , the man takes your words seriously, and you notice a name tag that introduces him as Senior Staff and On Site Project Manager Anton Ivanov. Wow, what a mouthful, no wonder he seems to know who exactly does and doesn't work here.

"You look like a runt... Can you handle the job? Do you even know how to tell apart a Gauging trowel from a Margin trowel?"

You blink owlishly back at him, startled out of your thoughts "A what now?"

"Exactly my point! How about I test you, then? First, go get me a torque wrench."

"Ahaha" you laugh awkwardly "Uh yup! I totally know what that is!" Why is there no connection in this place? I need to Google this! You panic internally.

"Oh really? Well then go get one. It's right by the tool box in the west warehouse." He points at said building "I'll be waiting here."

You quickly turn away before he sees your expression descend into panic "Mhm, be right back boss man!"

"Hah, what's with that look?... Wait... Hey! Come back here!"

You ignore him and use your small frame to your advantage and easily weave through construction workers left and right, most of them admittedly much bigger than you. Still, you disappear into the crowd and easily loose anyone trying to stop you. Once you make it to the warehouse, you go ask someone on duty about the tool, and find a bear gentleman squinting at a clipboard.

"Excuse me sir." You interrupt politely "The project manager sent me to grab a tool for him, can you tell me where-" you pause. What did he call it again? You stare at the fellow in front of you as he stares back. Once it became apparent you weren't going to finish the sentence any time soon, he points at a collection of crates in one section of the warehouse

"I'm busy so help yourself kid." He says, then leaves before you can correct him about you not being a kid.

Welp.

You go look though the crates, hoping any of them would be marked or named, and while some of them are, most of those are in Russian.

You don't speak Russian.

You sigh, and decide nothing will get done if you keep standing here, so you grab a random heavy tool, and lug it back to Anton, who surprisingly did wait for you where he said he would.

"I'm back! Did you miss me?" You pant from the exertion, trying to hide the toll this is taking on you with jest "Is- is this it?"

Anton looks dumbfounded for a moment before speaking "...That's a welder's mask, kid. The kind bear Thirens use."

You look down "So that's what the glass part is for... Hey I'm not a kid! You're just way too tall!"

Anton smirks, amused with your response "You're not a kid, huh? Then how old are you, shorty?"

You look away. "Hmph. You should never ask a lady about her age! It's improper!" You dodge the question. You may be an adult, but there's a non zero chance that once you show him your ID he thinks you're presenting him with a fake one and kick you out immediately. You'd rather not give him the chance. "So how do I go about properly signing up to join Belobog Heavy Industries anyway?"

Anton chuckles, seemingly getting a kick out of this "Ha! It's funny that a shorty like you can call herself a lady. You're barely at half my height. Anyways, if you wanna work here, I'll have to assess your experience and qualifications first."

You are certainly not looking forward to that.

"... Isn't there someone else that can do that...? Maybe someone I don't have to crane my neck all the way up just to look at their face?" You sweat drop.

Anton laughs, thoroughly enjoying this situation "Nope, not a chance. You're stuck with me, shorty. Now, quit complaining and tell me what you can do with those tiny arms of yours."

You crouch down and grab a random rock, then stack a few more on top of it. Once done you stand back up and point at your creation. "Construction...?"

Anton raises an eyebrow, looking the most baffled you've seen him all day, and that's saying something. He stares at your attempt before he lets out a disbelieving laugh "Construction? You call that... whatever it is, construction? I'm not sure if I should be impressed, concerned, or just downright baffled."

You don't hesitate "Which one's more likely to get me hired?"

"Anton crosses his arms, looking you up and down as he seriously consideres your question. His earnestness is starting to get to you.

"Hm, I suppose I'd be impressed, because it takes a lot of audacity to call that thing construction. So I'm going to give you a chance."

He grins slightly.

"Spend the day around the site today but don't go past any yellow lines without permission. If you still want to join us afterwards, come find me and my bro at the end of the day at my office. We'll discuss your new position in the company then, shorty."

You can't help it, caught off guard by his genuine offer, you let out a huge, surprised smile, no sarcasm or barbs in sight "Wait really?!"

You can vaguely tell Anton is taken aback by your response, but he quickly covers it up with a smirk "Of course. It'd be fun to have someone so short around here to tease, it's not like I can mess with the president after all." He says jokingly.

At your resulting glare, he chuckles and ruffles your hair with his large hand.

For a second, you feel dumbfounded at the overly familiar act, but you quickly regain your composure and push his hand away "Sorry head pats are reserved for friendship level 8 or higher."

"Oh? 8 or higher, huh? That's a pretty high number. I guess I'll have to work my way up to earn the privelage then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the work day comes to a close, you make your way to Anton's office, directed by the scowling red head girl that often came to check on you throughout the day. She awkwardly waves off your genuine thanks.

I guess everyone here looks scary but is actually nice? You wonder.

"Hey there, shorty." Anton perks up from his slumped position as he sees you come in. You notice his desk and seat appear comically small when compared to his size, it doesn't help that the office room is rather cramped. "Did you have a fun day of "construction" today?"

You sigh "I tried to help, but everyone kept telling me I'd just get in the way." You say as you unceremoniously drop in a guest chair by his wooden desk "Please hurry up and give me an official position at the company."

Anton's smirk softens as he sees your dejected expression.

"Heh, I can see you really want to fit in here, huh? My bro and I really appreciate that kind of spirit. Alright, I'll do you a favor and give you an official position."

He seems to think for a moment before speaking "How about you become the company's official short stack? We do lack a mascot."

Your eye twitches involuntarily "My dude you are giving my fist an erection. Are you trying to get socked in the face?"

Anton doubles over his desk laughing, a full body laugh with his shoulders shaking and his mouth gasping for air. Well it was a very good line wasn't it? You inwardly give yourself a pat on the back for causing that reaction. Finally when the bursts of laughter subside and he can actually breathe again, the taller male leans down and gets close to your face with his signature smirk on.

"Ha! I'd like to see you try. Besides, you're too short to land a proper punch, anyway."

Anton's smirk fades into a more serious expression this time as he considers your question. He taps his chin in thought.

You deadpan. Bro cannot be acting all nonchalant after he almost went into cardiac arrest from your joke "Back on topic," you say impatiently "any real positions I can fill up?"

He looks you up and down for what feels like the millionth time this day, before speaking "If I'm being honest, the only jobs you could fit would probably be serving food at the cafeteria or maybe assisting in office work, hardly something that would feel like construction work."

"Hmm, let's see..."

You try not to pout "But just today I saw a girl shorter and definitely younger then me, she was working hands on and-"

"The president," Anton interrupts "has many years of experience, she also may not look it to your untrained eyes but she has a lot of practical muscles that make up for her size disadvantage."

You blanch That was the President?! I'd been calling her girlie-pop all day! I think I even called her pookie once?!

Suddenly, all the strange looks the staff were throwing you throughout the day made a lot more sense.

"That said..." Anton brings you back out of your thoughts "How about we start you off as an assistant? I'll have you work under me, and I'll show you the ropes around here, it would also count as a training period. If you prove yourself competent, I'll consider promoting you to an official position."

Your eyes gain a shine to them at the offer he went of his way to give, and you feel a bit remorseful at all the attitude you've been giving him "Wait, wouldn't that be troublesome for you?"

Anton shrugs lightly, that smirk returning to his face.

"Troublesome? Nah, I'd get a kick out of having a pipsqueak like you following me around. And who knows, maybe you can learn a thing or two from a professional like me." He says, pointing proudly at his chest.

You deadpan yet again. "I take back the good thoughts I started having of you, what was I thinking?" You tell him as you shake your head in mock despair.

Anton laughs at your blunt response, clearly enjoying the banter. "Ha! There's Shorty's short temper kicking in again. Come on, don't be so uptight . I'm just messin' with ya."

He grins widely, clearly finding this whole situation amusing. He then playfully ruffles your hair with his hand.

You push his hand away again "My head isn't for patting unless you're level 8 friendship I said!"

Anton laughs good naturedly, and obediently removes his hand.

"Ha! Still going on about that friendship level thing? Fine, I'll keep my hands to myself for now. But just know, I have plenty of other ways to bother you, Shorty."

"I've known you for only one day and yet I don't doubt that one bit."

Anton crosses his arms and leans against the nearby wall, looking down at you.

Still, you can't resist messing with him right back, so you get up and walk away "Nevermind I'll go see if the convenience store down the street is still hiring-"

"Oh, you have no idea. Stick around, shorty, and you'll see what I mean. You haven't experienced true torment yet." His voice has a teasing quality to it and you can tell he puts extra care in making that obvious to compensate for his naturally intimidating size and face.

Anton quickly scrambles off the wall and grabs your arm, halting your retreat "Oh no you don't. You're not getting out of this that easily." He smirks, as if he wasn't floundering less then a second ago. His grip on your arm is gentle yet unrelenting "You're stuck with me, Shorty. You already accepted the job as my assistant, remember? You can't back out now."

You sigh dramatically, and hear as Anton laughs at your theatrics. You then remember the two of you haven't properly introduced yourselves to each other yet "I guess I have to be a woman of my word." You say in mock reluctance as he lets go of your arm "It's a little late, but my name is Y/n by the way, L/n Y/n. What's yours?"

His smirk slowly fades into a genuine smile "Oh, we never did properly introduce ourselves, huh? Hah, guess we were so busy bickering we forgot about the formalities." He extends his hand for a handshake "Name's Anton Ivanov. Remember that, ok Shorty?"

You grasp his hand, his grip strong and sturdy "Like I said, my name's Y/n. Since we're on the more serious topics, is there a contract I need to sign or am I in a trial period for now?"

Anton shakes your hand gently before responding, seemingly very aware of how much bigger his hand is as it is engulfs yours. If you didn't know better you'd think he's nervous to accidentally hurt you. "Yeah trial period's a fitting name, and no contract signings just yet. We'll see how you do working under me before we worry about paperwork. So, Shorty, are you ready to get started as my assistant?"

"How early does the work day start here?" You ask, forcefully dragging your eyes away after they started staring at his chest a bit too long. You can't help it tho! It's more comfortable for your neck to stare at that region!

Anton scratches his chin thoughtfully, considering your question and blissfully unaware of your internal turmoil.

"Hmm, work usually starts around 6 in the morning. We like to get an early start here at Belobog. Why do you ask?"

You gulp "Wow, bright and early with the sunrise huh?"

Anton valiantly tries to suppress a chuckle at your reaction. He fails, but you suppose it's the effort that counts.

"Yep, bright and early. We don't like to waste time around here. And hey, don't worry about adjusting to the early hours, you'll get used to it soon enough, shorty."

"I sure hope so." You sweat drop, then your eyes drift to the arm sized device strapped to his arm. "Is that the main tool you use?" You motion with your chin towards the machine he still has strapped to his arm despite the work day being already over.

Anton follows your gaze, and he brightens considerably at your question. "This is my bro, it's a pile driver." He says seriously, and it doesn't take long to realize he's not joking.

He grins, looking down at his arm-mounted weapon affectionately "My bro and I go way back, and it got my back in both work and combat." He says proudly.

"I guess you could say it is, in a way, like family. It's been with me through a lot."

He pats the pile driver, a fond look in his eyes.

Your eyes soften "Well, can't wait to see you and your bro in action once I officially start!" You exclaim, mentally cataloguing the pile driver as Anton's Emotional Support Companion in you head.

"So, I hear Belobog Industries has dorms for all staff members, are newbies like me included or do I need to find my own lodgings around here?" You change the subject, because while you didn't mind hearing more about Anton and getting to know him better, you did still have an objectif in coming here "I wanna know if I'll need to make moving arrangement soon."

Anton's grin widens at your enthusiasm and what he reads as genuine interest in the company.

"Ha! That eager to get in on the action, huh?" he guesses "You're going to fit right in here."

He pats your head lightly, and you're starting to understand it's meant to be a playful gesture rather than a condescending or even teasing one.

"And don't worry about lodging. We provide dorms for all staff members, including newbies like you. You don't need to worry about finding a place to stay."

"Well that's convenient," you say as you bat his arm away, almost by reflex now "I guess I better go get my stuff sorted by tomorrow then." You say as you shift to get going, before a loud bang outside Anton's office door startles you both, and a tall woman comes barreling in.

"Anton!" She all but shouts "I got it! I cracked the code uncle Khors left behind!"

Next to you, Anton is initially startled by the sudden entrance, but he soon regains his composure. He throws a look at you, as if making sure you're not scared off by the taller woman's antics, then turns back to her, his face a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

"Grace? You cracked the code? That's great, but we need to tell the president before you -"

But this Grace person is no longer listening, as her attention is now in on you "Huh, I didn't know it was bring your kid to work day? Wait who's kid is this?"

You deadpan "For the last time. I'm an adult."

At your claim, she looks you up and down and it's quite obvious she doesn't believe you. "A highschooler maybe." She murmurs under her breath.

Anton quickly interjects before she can say more, and you can hear the hint of annoyance in his voice as he speaks "Grace, Y/n's not a high schooler..."

You finally sigh and take out your ID card, at least Anton seemed to believe you so you didn't think he'd take it for a fake ID.

"Oh you poor thing!" The woman says after thoroughly comparing your face to the image on the card "who malnourished you?"

"I'm not malnourished." You say with a tired sigh, but it's not like you can explain your situation, so you don't think you come off as very believable.

Anton gives Grace a sarcastic look as she tries to save her mistake. He rolls his eyes, but a small smile still forms on his face.

"Well!" Grace says "Whatever you two are discussing can wait, let's get her to the cafeteria before it closes, someone is in desperate need of a big meal-" At Anton's warning look, Grace amends "Uhh that person being Anton! A bear sized fellow like him definitely needs to eat lots!"

"Nice save there, Grace. Real subtle."

I don't know what these two's relationship is, but they seem close. You wonder internally.

And as Anton glances at you, it seems he misreads your pondering expression as one of doubt about yourself because he says: "Don't you worry, Shorty. You're fine. I've met actual malnourished people, and trust me, you're in the clear."

...why is he such a green flag?! You have to admit to yourself it'd be quite the shame if he is dating Grace.

"But it's true that we're all hungry" Anton continues while nodding "Grace is right, and let me tell you, the cafeteria food here is really good. I wouldn't want you to miss out on it, shorty."

You nod back, liking the idea "Alrighty then, please lead the way." You go for a polite voice but at Grace's giggle you wonder if you over did it.

Anton grins and gestures for both of you to follow him.

"Aight, I'll show you the way to the cafeteria."

He starts walking and motions for you and Grace to fall in step beside him.

Grace starts telling you both all about the mysterious code the former president of Belobog Industries had left behind, and while fairly sure the information should remain confidential, it wasn't like you could stop the woman on her tirade, you notice Anton doesn't even try.

Then again, they probably think I haven't a single clue of what she's talking about.

As the three of you near what you assume is the cafeteria, Grace stops dead in her tracks. "Oh gosh I'm so sorry, I know I was the one that suggested coming here but I just got an alert and I need to go back and check on my children!" Grace exclaims showing a notification with a warning symbol for an icon. By children, you figure she's talking about machines or software code.

Anton hardly looks surprised. He shakes his head "Hah, typical Grace. Don't worry about it, we can grab food ourselves. You go take care of your babies."

Anton pats her on the shoulder reassuringly "Just make sure to eat something later, okay?"

Grace nods, and you expect her to hurry off towards her workstation but instead she moves to your side and whispers in your ear "My intuition tells me you're a good person, so good luck, I'm rooting for you!" And as you blink in surprise, the woman is already rushing off. You realize that at some point you'd made the judgement she was wholly focused on her mechanic creations and had little attention to her surroundings, but that had to be untrue. She read the situation in seconds and seems to be setting you two up on a date of sorts.

Anton on the other hand watched the entire exchange with one eyebrow raised.

As Grace runs off towards her creations, he turns back to you with a slightly quizzical look.

"What'd she whisper to you?"

You give him a sly smile "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Anton gives you a playful glare in return and crosses his arms "Oh, now you're just teasing me. Come on, spill the beans Shorty. Let me in on the secret."

You skip ahead and push the cafeteria double doors open "Oh wow this place smells great, it's suddenly making me feel so hungry! We better get some food quick!"

Behind you, you hear the taller male let out a hearty chuckle at your unsubtle change of topic "A convenient case of selective hearing, huh? Okay, I'll let it slide for now."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After filling your trays with food the two of you choose somewhere to sit, and with the cafeteria mostly empty it was like you had the whole place to yourselves.

Time to satisfy our empty stomachs.

Or so you thought.

You barely get to sit down before Anton gets a call, and he immediately gets up to take it. You wonder for a few seconds if it would be rude or not to start eating without him, however the call doesn't take that long.

"Sorry about that." Anton says, but when you look up to face him it's like looking at a different person. His attention is still on his phone and the set of his shoulders is stiff, but most of all, his smile is nowhere to be found "Something came up, you can start without me and uh- I'll be right back."

He's gone before you can get a word in edgewise.

Well, now you've been subjected to the inconvenience of eating alone in a cafeteria. At least it's mostly empty. You take exactly two bites of your delicious burger (it seems he was right about the food in this place) before you're interrupted, by Grace again this time.

"Hey! You're Anton's girlfriend!"

You almost choke-

"Where did he go- I think I messed up and I need his help before Sweet Pea finds out!"

Wow... Where do I even start with this one...

You decide to go with the basics "I'm not his girlfriend. I don't know someone called him away I think. Why are you afraid of a vegetable finding out about your mistake...?"

"So he's not here? Oh no." The woman turns on her heel and leaves.

You don't hesitate and follow after her, you'd rather not have to sit alone in a cafeteria, you just hope no one will put away your food while you're gone.

The real problem tho, is how much taller and faster she was. By the time you make it to the double doors you have no clue which direction she went in.

I think she went this way last time?

You pick a direction and at some point the smoke alarms start beeping in the halls, and you hear footsteps somewhere in the building rushing to and fro. Sure enough, you find yourself in a technician's lab at the end of the route. The only problem is, Grace is not here.

You walk in.

It doesn't take long to figure out what was causing a commotion, as the smoke alarm was beeping on and off above a smoking machine component. You step closer and take a look.

Hmm I'm not familiar with this model, but...

Your head turns towards the computer setup on the desk, warning and error messages flashing on the monitor. You sit down and crack your knuckles.

Let's give this a go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anton comes back to the cafeteria, finding you right where he left you.

"Heyo Shorty, sorry that took a while, wha- you're not eating yet?"

"Ah- I nibbled at the burger a bit, but I didn't wanna start without you so..." You lie smoothly.

"What the- I told you you could start," Anton says plopping into his seat "now I feel bad for making you wait so long." He says with a- is that a kicked puppy face? You didn't even know it was possible on him.

You instantly start feeling bad "Oh no worries, I didn't even feel the time pass!" I was fairly occupied anyways "Oh! I heard a lot of noise out there, what was going on?" You smoothly switch subjects, grabbing a hold of your burger and taking a bite.

"Hn? Oh yeah, the smoke alarm was ringing in multiple branches but there wasn't a fire in any of them, the system was pranking us I guess." He stabs his steak and starts cutting it "I tried to go back right after but Grace came to find me cuz something was acting up, so I go on a detour to her lab, we got there and whatever she needed a hand with just righted itself so I hurried back." He takes a bite of meet and waits till he's swallowed it to continue "You sure I didn't take too long?"

You smile "Really it's fine, it wasn't that long at all."

For the first seven to ten minutes of you two sitting together again, you both give your undivided attention to your food filled trays. Finally, after devouring an entire burger you break the silence "I'm gonna be honest with you, Anton, I had you all wrong when I first saw you this morning." You say between mouthfuls of fries, keeping one hand in front of your mouth whenever there's food in it and you need to talk.

Anton grins at your admission, taking a sip of his drink before replying "Hah, yeah, I can tell. You were giving me the eye roll of all eye rolls this morning. I take it you've changed your opinion of me now then?"

"Well, you have a very imposing build and with your resting scowl face I thought you'd be... Well nevermind, turns out you're someone who helps those in need... you also got a nice laugh." You end softly.

You hear a utensil drop, and you look up to see Anton's fork fell onto his steak, but more interesting was the deer caught in headlights look he was giving you.

Just as fast as it comes however he pushes it away, regaining his composure in record speed "Ha! I can see why you thought that. I do have a bit of a mean mug when I'm not smiling, though I've been told my laugh sounds like a bear's roar, so the nice laugh bit is definitely a first!" He grins at you, and you wonder if the lighting is playing tricks on you because you think there's some light redness at the top of his cheekbones. He then continues "But you're right, I do try to be helpful and kind, especially to those in need. And I'd like to think my sense of humor isn't half bad either."

You're not sure how to respond to that, the man has been nothing but forthcoming and honest with you all day while you've been... not.

Instead, you glance at the wall clock and say "I think I need to head out soon." As you clean off the last of your fries. "I came here for a job interview but I somehow ended up meeting you and uh- I really enjoyed it! I just wouldn't wanna walk back home too late in the dark y'know?"

"Anton looks at the time on his phone and nods in understanding."

"Yeah, it is getting late. It's not safe to walk around at night, especially for short stuff like you. I don't want you getting lost between the cracks in the sidewalk or something." He gives you a playful smirk.

You go to reply, deadpan tone and expression at the ready when he interrupts you.

"But... if you want, I could always give you a ride home. I have a company car parked nearby."

You hesitate " ...you already payed for the meal, which I'll totally pay you back for by the way! So I don't want to trouble you more..."

Anton shakes his head and waves off your concerns "Nah, don't worry about it. It's just a meal, it's no trouble at all. And don't worry about paying me back either, consider it a welcome to the company gift." He grins, then leans in closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially "Besides, you wouldn't be troubling me. It's my pleasure to help you out, Shorty."

You sweat drop "What's the point of me giving you my name if you'll just keep calling me that?"

Anton chuckles at your reaction, clearly enjoying teasing you "Oh, lighten up a bit. I like giving nicknames to people. It's a nice way to bond, y'know? Besides, it's kind of fitting, don't you think? Given your, uh, petite stature."

You glance at his emptied out tray, the mountains of food he'd heaped onto it already gone "Well, the bonding experience can wait till tomorrow, if you're done, shall we get going?"

Anton leans back in his chair, patting his stomach with a satisfied smile "Yeah, I'm all done. Let's hit the road." He stands up and stretches, then motions for you to follow him "Come on, Shorty. Let's get you home safe and sound."

You follow after him "Tell me honestly, Anton." You say as he grabs his tray to place it on the racks nearby, when you go to grab yours he beats you to it and smoothly takes that one as well, stacking it on his.

"I could've carried that!" You whine.

Anton's infuriatingly attractive grin makes another appearance "Oh, I know you could've carried it. But I'm just being a gentleman, shorty. Can't have you doing all the hard work before you even start tomorrow, you'll get even tinier!" He ends, his tone is teasing as usual but his eyes softened up considerably, and the look he's giving you has your insides turning to mush.

You flush. "Uh- as I was saying, are you maybe a bear in disguise? Because you just cleaned off a mountain of food alone."

Anton laughs at your flushed expression and your playful accusation, the way he's keeping his composure somehow just feels unfair, though you guess for someone working in construction keeping his cool would be a must.

"Ha! Bear in disguise, huh?" He replies "Nah, I'm just a guy with an appetite. You know, working here, I need the extra energy." Then his grin turns cocky "Plus, it takes a lot of food to fuel all this muscle." He gives a playful flex, showing off his bicep with a smirk.

You give a playful eye roll "Oh wow, and you're so humble too!" You say flatly "What a catch wow!"

Anton lets out a hearty laugh at your sarcastic remark and gives you a playful salute "Oh, you know it. I'm the total package. Good looks, charm, wit, and the appetite to match." He grins, clearly enjoying the banter, which you've come to enjoy as well.

"But I'll have you know, there are quite a few women here who think so too."

You deadpan "Good for you. Give me there number, I'll help set you up."

Anton chuckles, then scratches his chin in mock thoughtfulness, then his expression turns into a grin and he gives you a playful nudge.

"But why would I need their number when I've got yours, Shorty?"

You blink "Huh? But I never gave my number...?"

"Yeah, not yet you didn't, but I have good intuition. Call it a sixth sense." He taps his temple with a wink. And it's telling me a certain cute Shorty is interested."

You flush harder "Well your sixth sense must be malfunctioning this time." You say walking ahead, trying to keep him from seeing your beat red face. Unfortunately, with how much taller he is, he catches up by the next second.

When he's by your side, he wastes no time laughing at your flushed face "Hah, you're forgetting who you're dealing with, Shorty. These long legs of mine give me an unfair advantage."

You don't reply.

"And are you sure my sixth sense is malfunctioning this time? Cuz you're lookin' real flustered."

"You're imagining things, maybe it's time to visit the eye doctor?" You huff.

"Oh? Is that so? Hm, maybe my eyes aren't as sharp as they used to be. Let me have a closer look, just in case."

He places one hand on your shoulder to halt your walk and leans in closer, making a show of examining your face.

Your eyes go wider then your older sister's saucers "Hmm strange, I'm getting a clear view of your rosy cheeks right now, and my sixth sense is telling me it's not from the cold."

You consider how to get the upper hand in this situation, but with your muddled mind it gets a bit tricky. You end up going with the first thing that comes to mind "You're right, it's from the heat, it's really getting hot in hear for some reason-" You start, before realizing belatedly how suggestive that sounded "Uh- wait no-" You flush further.

Anton grins at your unintentional innuendo, and raises an eyebrow, playing along "Oh really? Getting hot in here, hm?" He looks around, feigning innocence "Huh, seems like a comfortable temperature to me. Maybe it's just you, Shorty."

You cover your tomato colored face with your arms "Oh enough already, you win so just stop!"

Anton laughs and puts his hands up in mock surrender "Alright, alright, I'll stop. Can't have the cute shorty overheating on me now, can I?" in a quieter, more gentle tone, he adds, "But seriously, your blush is adorable."

You groan "Anton!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anton pulls up outside your house in the company car and turns to you with a smile "Here we are, shorty. Home sweet home."

You nod "Thank you, and sorry for the trouble."

Anton shakes his head and waves off your apologies "No trouble at all, I enjoyed the company. Besides, I couldn't just let you walk home alone in the dark." He grins, then adds in a playful tone, "Especially not when you're such a cute Shorty."

You deadpan "Don't make me take it back." You consider something then say "Give me your phone for a sec."

Anton raises an eyebrow, but obediently hands you his phone "Sure, but why do you need it? You gonna put your number in without me asking?"

"Nice try. I'll give you my Inter Knot contact for work stuff. You're not high level enough to get my number yet."

"High enough level, huh? Am I just a lowly level one in your eyes right now?"

Not looking up from your typing you reply "You made it all the way up to level three on day one, Congrats! But your nickname for me is shorty, I don't know how to feel about that yet."

Anton laughs, seemingly amused by your rating system for him "Only level three? Damn, I was hoping for a higher rank. But you're right, the nickname 'Shorty' might be deducting some points."

He grins, then adds with a wink, "Maybe if I find a better nickname, I'll rank up higher in your eyes... or maybe I'll just keep calling you 'Shorty' just to annoy you."

You deadpan "Well that would be very in character for you wouldn't it?" You say handing him back the phone.

Anton takes it back with a smirk, clearly unrepentant for his nickname choice "Hah, you know me so well already, Shorty. I gotta admit, your deadpan face is just too fun to tease." He leans in closer, unable to resist poking at you further "Besides, the way you turn all tomato-red whenever you're flustered is just priceless."

You push his face back with your hand "Goodnight Anton, see you tomorrow." You say as you unlock the cat door and head out.

"Haha, goodnight, Shorty. Get some rest. Sweet dreams."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And as you lock the car door and leave, Anton checks his phone, leaving the Inter Knot app to check the CCTV footage he has access to. The one that clearly shows you entering and leaving Grace's lab. He barely mumbles out "Till tomorrow then... Y/n. Hopefully I'll figure out what you're really up to soon."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hmm did I manage to make the reader subtly mysterious? 🤔 Tell me guys if y'all want a part two. LavenderLily you can tell me directly 👀

And as always, Free Palestine ❤️ 🇵🇸

[nicnak20]

Behind the screen; Charlie Mayhew:

*Dr. Mayhew likes to keep things strictly professional at work, especially with his colleagues. But when he sees a familiar face behind a screen on a certain site, he becomes more friendlier and more open to trying new things.*

The fluorescent lights of the hospital hummed a monotonous tune, a soundtrack to Charlie and Yn’s shared workday. Yn, perched at her counter, a small fortress of sticky notes and half-empty coffee cups, with charts of this patient or that patient scrambled all over, watched Charlie as he helped Mrs. Davison from the Neo unit navigate the intricacies of the new printer. His patience was remarkable, his tone even and kind, even as Mrs. Davison’s frustration mounted.

Yn had noticed this pattern with Charlie. The way he held the door for everyone, not just the women. The way he offered his extra pen to a flustered resident. The way he remembered everyone’s names and asked about their weekend. It was a gentle, quiet kindness that radiated from him, a subtle warmth in the often sterile environment of their sometimes grim hospital.

She admired it, genuinely. It was a stark contrast to her own carefully constructed walls. Because while Charlie was all open smiles and helpful gestures, Yn lived a double life after 5 pm. The moment her laptop lid snapped shut, a different version of Yn emerged. She wasn’t the meticulous data analyst anymore. She was ‘NyxShadow,’ a formidable nurse in the sprawling online realm of ‘XXXentertainment.’

XXXentertainment was her sanctuary, her creative outlet, the place where she wielded a digital sword and commanded armies of horny doctors or patients. It was a world of intricate lore, passionate community, and thrilling adventures. It was also intensely private. Her online persona was separate, deliberately so, from her real-world identity. The thought of her colleagues, especially Charlie, discovering her online escapades filled her with a peculiar blend of dread and embarrassment.

What would they think? The quiet, focused Yn, leading raids against mythical doctors and nurses who wanted every inch of her, and negotiating 'treatments' with other online patients? It felt absurd, vulnerable. The online world offered a freedom and a sense of power that her everyday life, confined to sterile tools and heart monitors, often lacked. She cherished that separation.

Their hospital had a tradition of Friday night after-work drinks at the pub down the street. Yn participated, mostly staying on the periphery of conversations, observing. Charlie was always in the thick of it, his laughter booming, his arm occasionally slung around a colleague’s shoulder in friendly camaraderie.

Sometimes, their eyes would meet across the crowded table. Charlie would smile, a genuine, uncomplicated smile that made Yn’s stomach do a little flip. She would offer a small, polite smile in return, then quickly look away, a strange nervousness fluttering in her chest.

These moments were fleeting, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. They talked about work, about the weather, about the new season of that popular TV show. The conversations were pleasant, surface-level. There were no deep dives into personal lives, no shared secrets, no lingering gazes. They were simply colleagues, existing in the same professional orbit.

One Friday, during one of these gatherings, the conversation drifted towards online gaming. Yn felt a cold sweat prickle her skin. Lisa from rehabilitation was excitedly describing her latest mobile game obsession. Charlie chimed in, mentioning a strategy game he occasionally played to unwind.

“What about you, Yn?” Lisa asked, turning her bright eyes towards her. “Do you play any games?”

Yn’s mind raced. Lie? Be vague? A wave of panic washed over her. She managed a small, almost imperceptible shake of her head. “Not really,” she replied, her voice a little too quiet. “Don’t have much time.”

Charlie, who had been about to take a sip of his beer, paused and looked at her. He didn’t press the issue, just nodded and turned back to the conversation. But Yn felt his gaze linger for a split second longer than necessary. Her heart pounded in her chest. Had he suspected something? No, it was her own paranoia, she told herself.

The night continued, the conversations flowing around her. Yn felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Relief that she hadn’t been forced to reveal her secret, and disappointment that she couldn’t share this vibrant part of her life, even with someone as kind as Charlie.

As the evening drew to a close, and people started to head home, Charlie found himself standing next to Yn near the exit.

“Goodnight, Yn,” he said, his smile warm.

“Goodnight, Charlie,” she replied, managing a slightly more genuine smile this time.

He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Have a good weekend.”

“You too,” she said, and with a final nod, she stepped out into the cool night air.

The distance between them felt vast, despite the few feet that separated them. The unspoken spaces, the unseen worlds they each inhabited, created an invisible barrier. For now, that barrier remained intact. Charlie would continue to be the kind colleague, and Yn would continue to be the private warrior queen, their separate lives occasionally brushing against each other during office hours and awkward after-work drinks, but never truly colliding. And that, for Yn, was exactly how she wanted it to be. For now.

***************************************

One night after his shift ended, Charlie found himself wandering into a familiar adult website, out of sheer boredom more than anything. He scrolled through videos, when suddenly, there was Yn up on the screen - dressed in the trashiest candy striper uniform, bent over a hospital bed as a well-endowed actor entered her from behind. Charlie was shocked. Yn? His reserved, prim-and-proper nurse colleague? Doing porn?

Over the next few days, Charlie couldn't help but notice Yn differently at work. He'd catch a glimpse of her curvaceous figure as she moved down the halls in her tight scrubs. Or see how her ample cleavage peeked out from the V of her shirt as she leaned over patient charts. She was gorgeous, and now he knew she was not so innocent as she appeared.

One evening after their shift ended, Charlie found an excuse to approach Yn in the dimly lit parking garage. "Hey Yn, got a minute?" he asked casually.

She looked at him quizzically. "Sure Charlie, what's up?"

With a smirk he continued, "Well, I know it's none of my business, but I happened to see your... extracurricular activities the other night. On that website."

Yn's eyes went wide, her face flushing with embarrassment. "Oh my god... I'm so sorry you had to see that! It's just something I did once, for the money. I'm mortified you know now." She looked like she wanted to melt into the floor.

"Hey now, no shame," Charlie said gently, putting a hand on her arm. "You're smoking hot, Yn. That body of yours is wasted on the patients. I can appreciate it."

Yn let out a nervous laugh, glancing around to be sure no one else was nearby. "Well, I suppose it's a weight off my chest that you know. I was so worried someone from work would find out."

Charlie leaned in closer, his eyes roaming over her body unabashedly. "You know, if you ever wanted to continue appreciating those assets in a more...up close and personal way, I'd be happy to help with that. Strictly professional of course."

Yn bit her lip, considering it. She had known Charlie was an attractive guy, even if she never let on before. "I... I guess we could do that. Just this once, and you have to promise it stays between us."

"Scout's honor," Charlie grinned. "My car?"

They quickly got into his SUV, pulling off into the dark corner of the garage. Charlie wasted no time, reaching over to palm Yn's large breasts through her shirt. She let out a soft moan, arching into his touch.

"Damn Yn, you're so fucking hot," he groaned, tweaking her nipples. "I knew you'd be packing a perfect body under those scrubs."

With a shaky hand, Yn reached for his zipper. "I'm glad you like it, Charlie. It's been too long since I've gotten some action."

Charlie lifted his hips as she pulled his hard cock out, his eyes nearly rolling back as she took him into her warm mouth. "Ohh fuck yes, your mouth feels amazing," he panted.

Yn bobbed her head eagerly, sucking him off with gusto. It had been ages since she'd done this and it felt so good to let loose. Her body ached to be touched and Charlie's thick cock filled her perfectly.

She worked him deep in her throat, slurping and moaning like a whore as he bucked his hips, using her mouth. He groped at her big tits, pulling the cups of her bra down. Yn whimpered around him, sending vibrations through his shaft.

"Unnngh Yn, gonna cum!" Charlie grunted a warning before spilling his heavy load down her greedy throat. She gulped it down dutifully, licking his cock clean.

"Thanks Charlie," Yn said, tucking him back in his pants and sitting up with a satisfied smile. "You're a real friend."

"No problem," he chuckled. "Anytime you need another release, you know where to find me. It'll be our little secret."

Yn grinned and climbed out of the car. "You're a bad influence. But don't think this means I'll let you slack off on the job. I still outrank you."

Charlie laughed as she sauntered back to her car, giving her a little wave. He had a feeling this was just the beginning of a beautiful, dirty friendship.

*I was working on two blurbs at once! Hope the person who requested this enjoyed it!!!!*

[winters-on-the-wing]

if the marauders and company were theatre kids here’s what i think they’d do:

james -> 100% an actor. he always ends up getting cast as the charming ingenu male and people eat it up. he’s filipino. so he’s amazing when he gets cast in musicals especially, because he can sing a heartbreaking ballad like no other.

sirius -> also an actor, but he usually gets cast as the villain because he has SERIOUS acting chops. he brings intensity to roles and he can genuinely terrify people by how realistic he acts. unlike james, he’s better in straight plays than musicals.

remus -> lighting board op. it’s one of the brainiest roles in the theater and he likes that he isn’t seen or perceived by audiences whatsoever, so he gets to do his own thing. he also is astounded by how color theory and different types of lighting shapes really finish a piece of theatre.

peter -> fly rail system. he’s trustworthy (lol) enough that everyone knows he won’t make a mistake and hurt somebody. he secretly loves feeling important while he pulls all the ropes.

lily -> stage manager. she can get a little intense when she has to make sure things get done, but she’s a kind stage manager at the same time, someone who all the actors and crew can trust. but she makes DAMN SURE that the actors respect the crew and that the crew respect the actors and she doesn’t tolerate petty rivalries, even though she herself is in one with james.

marlene -> set construction. she’s very skilled with power tools and she gets shit done. people scoff when they see her with a hammer because she’s a girl, but she can build a platform or a wagon or even a spinning platform twice as fast as any guy can, and she can do it on her own too. surprisingly, she’s a very quiet and independent worker. she loves to party and play around when the work is done, but when something has to get done, she is locked in.

pandora and dorcas -> they are THE costume design and costume construction duo. pandora has the creativity and dorcas has the practicality and resourcefulness to make pandora’s visions come to life. they are very conscious of how vulnerable costuming actors can be, and they take great care to make their costume shop a safe place. pandora draws up designs and concepts and dorcas makes the patterns and together, they sew costumes and spill tea. not a single thing they say during these tea spilling sessions leave the costume shop.