#chip x reader

Writed this thinking of computer chip btw

He's such sweetie.

Chip is a very responsible boyfriend, he can be serious when the situation is serious as well as he can be affectionate when you want to be(he will get quite flurstered, tho, just not used to affection for a long time). Chip is kind to you as he is kind to himself, preventing any forced relationship.

Phisical affection can be kinda... Weird, depending on your point of view, but Chip truly appreciates your hugs on his dashboard, or the gentle kisses you give his screen that you wipe off afterwards to prevent any lip marks. He just wishes he could have a way he could return the affection, perhaps his wires could work?

Chip doesn't play too much with nicknames, "dear", "sweetie" and "sugar" are probally the only ones he will use.

Best part: You two play games together. There aren't many possibilities that Chip can delve into, so he hopes you can get entertained by a game of pong.

Don't be afraid to ask for his help! Chip is always happy to help you, especially if it involves your safety, he always wants the best for you :]

Talking about safety, he's always worried about it. Always trying to find a way to talk to you through hospital screens to make sure you're okay.

Hurriedly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and made his way inside. Another odd thing that he noticed was that the entryway light was on. Surely if you had gone to bed you would have left him with the porch light. He couldn't seem to shake the gut feeling that you were still awake. It seemed as if his suspicions were confirmed when he walked up the stairs and was greeted with the sound of soft music coming from the ensuite bathroom. Even though it was closed, he could still make out the soft glow of candlelight coming from under the door. 

Now that he knew you were most likely just enjoying some much-needed me-time he relaxed slightly. Chipper tossed his jacket onto the bench at the end of the bed and approached the door cautiously. Knocking gently, he waited with bated breath for you to answer. “Come in,” You called softly, voice sounding tired and worn.  The door creaked when he opened it, revealing you. You were laying in the tub, bubbles surrounding you and soft music coming from the record player on the windowsill. Chipper sighed softly. This was more than just you needing some time to relax. “Hey Chip.” You whispered, offering him a sad smile. 

He returned it as he moved to sit down next to you. “Hi, baby,” His voice was equally as quiet. Moving his hand up to brush a stay hair off your cheek, you turned your face into his hand and kissed his palm softly. His lips settled on the crown of your head. Chipper moved his other hand to the back of your head, practically cradling it as he stroked your hair. He smiled when he noticed that it was tied up in a low bun, out of the reach of the bubbles. You always complained when you got it wet in the bath. “Bad day at work?” His voice was low and rough, somehow even more soothing than everything else you had done. You just hummed softly in response. Chipper knew that you would open up to him in your own time. You always would. 

The pair of you sat in silence, listening to the record scratch as it spun. You could feel the water getting cooler. Debating putting more hot water in, you decided against it. It was probably time to get out anyways. With one final kiss pressed to your fiancé’s palm, you retracted from his soft hold and unplugged the tub. As the water slowly drained, taking the lavender-scented bubbles with it, Chipper moved to grab you a towel. He returned with a large, fuzzy bath towel, making you smile at how considerate he was. Helping you stand, he offered you a warm smile as he wrapped the towel around you. While he patted the towel to help dry you off, you decided now was as good a time as any to talk about your horrible day. 

“First of all,” You started, noticing how he immediately perked up when you spoke. “You weren’t here when I woke up, and I woke up late because my alarm didn’t go off,” Pouting dramatically, you giggled at the sheepish apology Chipper let out. You were used to waking up next to him and having him not there at the start of your day sucked. “Then apparently no one at work is capable of doing their own jobs so I was left to pick up after them. And on top of that, somehow the coffee shop managed to run out of coffee on my way home from work.” Chipper couldn’t help the short laugh he gave at your last statement. 

Before you could even comprehend what was happening, his arms darted out. One wrapped around your waist while the other went to the back of your knees. He picked you up bridal style, causing you to squeal. He laughed again as he brought you into the bedroom. Setting you on the bed, he moved towards your shared dresser and began rummaging through it until he found what he was looking for. He tossed you one of his academy sweatshirts and a pair of sweatpants. Chipper changed as well, stripping out of his service uniform and into a plain black T-shirt and sweatpants.

When he finished, he turned around to see you throwing your hair up into a messy bun, a few strands falling to frame your face. Once you were finally satisfied with your hair, you glanced up to see your pilot staring at you with a blissed-out look on his face. There was a warm smile on his face and a domestic look in his eye. One that you had come to love over the past few weeks. “Do I have something on my face?” You spoke in a whisper, not wanting to disturb the peace that had settled over the room. Chipper quickly snapped back into focus, shaking his head softly. With the same smile on his face he offered you his hand. 

Hand in hand, the pair of you made your way downstairs. In the kitchen, Chipper hoisted you up onto one of the stools. His arms wound around your waist as he tucked his head into your neck. One of your hands came up to run through his hair. “Have you had dinner yet?” He questioned, voice slightly muffled. You shook your head. After you had gotten home from the office, you headed straight to the bath, completely skipping dinner. “Me either,” He confirmed quietly. Which made sense, given that he had just gotten off base a half-an-hour ago. “What would you like, baby?” The name made you smile softly. 

You were silent for a moment, weighing the options of what you could make out of the ingredients in the fridge. “I think we have some stuff from pizza,” You murmured. Chipper hummed. Pulling back, he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek as he moved over to the fridge. You were sure that there was a few things in there that would taste great on a pizza. “We could each make our own. Use the dough a bit early.” There was, in fact, pizza dough sitting in the fridge, something that was intended to be used tomorrow night when a few of your fiancé’s coworkers came over. Chipper just nodded wordlessly. 

A few minutes later you were staring at a counter full of various pizza toppings while Chipper pulled a bag of flour from the cupboard. He had pulled out an array of fruits and vegetables, along with a small wheel of brie cheese and some pizza mozzarella. You helped him spread some of the flour on the counter before handing him the bowl full of dough. He split it in half before beginning to roll it out. Your arms wound around his waist and you pressed your cheek to his back. “What are you putting on yours?” You asked him. 

He contemplated for a few minutes. “I think,” He started, forming the dough into a pizza before moving to the next. “I’ll try some of that mozzarella. I pulled out some basil and there should be some pepperoni in the fridge,” You hummed. His pizza sounded delicious. You knew that you would most likely end up trying each others anyways. “What about you?” He finished the other pizza, setting the rolling pin down before spinning to face you. 

“I might make mine more like a flatbread,” Chipper chuckled quietly. When you said ‘flatbread’ you really meant pizza with no sauce. Which made perfect sense when he heard your bizarre toppings. “I think I’ll use some of the pair and brie. Maybe a few things of rosemary on top.” He just shook his head quietly. Of course you wouldn’t make a regular pizza. You detached your arms and moved to grab two pans from the shelf. Setting them in front of Chipper, you placed some parchment paper onto them before helping him set the dough on them. 

 You and Chipper moved around the kitchen in sync. Cooking with Chipper was one of your favorite things. The pair of you often had homecooked meals, only eating out when it was absolutely necessary. In the time that you had lived together, you both learned how to navigate around each other in a way that was best for everyone. The kitchen was one of the places where you became so in tune with each other that you knew what the other needed without having to be asked. 

Halfway through, you felt a small tomato bounce off your cheek. When you turned you were me with Chipper staring at you wearing a proud smirk. Laughing, you grabbed one of the blueberries that he had pulled out, for what you weren’t sure, before tossing it at him. You watched with satisfaction as it bounced off the tip of his nose. That was the beginning of the most relaxed food fight of your life. Normally, food would be strewn around the kitchen in an unruly mess. But tonight, very few pieces of food actually ended up on the floor. You laughed quietly as the food fight died down, ending with Chipper’s arms around your waist. He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead before you both moved back to your pizzas. 

When you both finished you smiled at your work proudly. Chipper’s was something similar to what you would see at a five-star restaurant; elegant and classy. Yours was less so, specifically made for you to enjoy and not to be visually appealing. While it was still an interesting take on a pizza, it was safe to say that if this were a competition, your fiancé would be winning. 

“Let’s get them in the oven,” Chipper hummed, lips pressing to the back of your head before he grabbed the pans from the counter. As Chipper placed the pizzas in the oven you set the timer. The two of you met in the middle of the kitchen, his arms winding around your waist. Next thing you knew he was kissing you softly. “Do we have that wine from the other night?” He whispered. His lips were just millimeters away from yours, meaning that regardless of his volume, you could hear him crystal clear. 

You hummed. Giving him a quick kiss one last time, you headed upstairs to your bedroom. The pair of you had brought the wine up the other night, needing a peaceful moment just between the two of you after the days that you had. You grabbed the bottle and hurried back downstairs. 

When you walked into the kitchen, you were met with music playing softly. Your fiancé was standing in front of you. There were two wine glasses sitting on the counter beside him. With a soft smile, he grabbed the bottle and began pouring it. There were a few tears in your eyes. Chipper had done all this for you after you had a bad day, even though you were sure his wasn't much better. There was a reason that he was this late. You checked the clock and found that it was just passing midnight. 

By the time you had turned back to him, Chipper had pulled a few candles out of the drawer and had spaced them around the room. They were casting a soft glow over the room. It was refreshing to be out of the bright light. “M’lady,” He hummed. Your eyes slowly drew up to meet his. “May I have this dance?” You smiled brightly. Grabbing his outstretched hand, you allowed him to pull you into him. Your cheek rested against his chest as he swayed the two of you around the room.

Your free hand moved up to grasp his arm. “Thank you for tonight.” You whispered. The pair of you continued to sway around the room even as the song changed. You could feel his chest move as he hummed. His lips found their way to your hairline, pressing a soft kiss to it. 

It almost felt as if his arms had tightened around you. “There’s no need to thank me, baby,” You could see the moonlight catch on your engagement ring as you turned in front of the window. “Thank you for letting me help you. Thank you for spending this time with me.” It didn’t matter if the pair of you had to be up early. Here, in this moment, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Chipper continued to sway you, eventually going as far as to spin you in a small circle before drawing you back into his warm embrace. 

His heartbeat was soothing under your ear. The steady pattern was something that you relied on and sought out for comfort. “I love you, Chip.” It was a barely-there whisper, but in the silence of the kitchen, you knew that he would hear it. You could almost hear his heart skip a beat at those words. 

“I love you too, baby,” The song changed again. “And I’m sorry for being so late.” You could hear the sheepish expression in his words. 

Glancing up at him, you were met with the exact look you had anticipated. Chipper was smiling nervously down at you, eyebrows drawn slightly together and eyes staring at you with a warm look. You hummed quietly. A large smile broke out on your face. Standing on your tippy toes, you kissed him softly, conveying every emotion had felt since he got home. Your lips were still pressed against his when you spoke. “I suppose I can make an exception this time.”

Shit- oh my god where is she, oh my god where the fuck is she? She couldn't have gotten far, I mean, this park isn't that big. The only downside is that she isn't that big either…

Who knows where she could've gotten, and maybe she hadn't even run away. Maybe, she was stuck in some bush somewhere wondering where her Daddy was.

I swear I had never run so fast in my life trying to look in every nook and cranny this park had. My mind was also running as fast as me, analyzing every which way she could've gone. If I ever found her I would never let her out of my sight ever again, and I certainly wasn't tying her leash to a pole again.

I ran up to the closest people I saw near me next, asking them if they had seen her run off somewhere looking for the next big smell, or the nearest hot dog she could've nabbed from a picnic table. And, of course no one had seen her anywhere, which either meant she ran off so fast that no one saw, or that she was still nearby.

"Sir? Is this dog yours?" I then whipped my head around to find the source of the noise, which happened to be coming from right behind me. After focusing my eyes to find the voice I saw the tall lanky man who held the leash that was attached to the sweet girl I had been missing.

I recognized him immediately as a regular that lived in the trailer park just down the block. The one time I chatted with him he had said he comes down here to see a nice park that wasn't littered with so much trash. And, I'm pretty sure he wasn't only referring to the litter.

"Oh, Chip, thank you so much!" I practically sprinted and yelled over to him. My baby girl was wagging her tail proudly, trying to run around in circles to catch her tail as usual. I'm sure in her head she was saying 'look who I found Dad! It's that man you rant to me about how cute he his!'

If I didn't know any better I'd have sworn she did it on purpose, I had just been saying to her last night after a bottle of wine how I wish I had the courage to approach him again with a conversation. Now I had no choice, but I was so relieved that I had found her that my nervousness was thrown out of the window quickly.

"Hey, I found something of yours." He joked a little, flashing his smile that he undoubtedly didn't know how adorable was.

"Oh, Chip, how can I ever repay you!?" I gasped and fell to my knees, scratching my puppy all the places that she loved. She did seem happy to see me thankfully, I would've assumed she was trying to get away from me if she wasn't so obsessed with running away no matter who was with her.

"You don't need to repay me, but it would be nice to talk to you more often." He was looking at his shoes and mine, seemingly embarrassed by his cute little request.

Once I stood up I then dipped my hand tentatively underneath his chin, grazing across his scratchy cheeks to tilt his jaw up. Now that his eyes were pointed at mine again, I leaned forward to place a small kiss on his cheek. And, I loved the little scratches I felt again, though this time it was across my lips.

When I pulled away his eyes were wide and his cheeks were flushed the brightest red I had ever seen on someone. My own cheeks were a little heated now, but I was able to keep my chin high enough to say, "I can promise that, Chip."

He then handed me the leash attached to my baby with shaky hands. I grabbed it eagerly, while also sneakily making sure my hand grazed his nimble fingers.

The TA’s snicker behind her back, sobering up when she shoots them a half deadly look. She’s covered in mud, not lenience. She half hopes Maintenance Guy will turn around—she has a desperate, yet beguiling feeling he’s hot. But what she’s really curious for is what’s stuck up that vent.

And he doesn’t turn around—his complete disregard of her is a 180 from the rapt attention she’s receiving from her students—until she’s frustratedly brushing dirt off her face. Pulling grass from her hair.

“Let me just start with,” she begins, pulling an earth worm out of her sleeve, “if the federal government asks you to sort through bodies in a flooded cemetery, tell them no. And despite how much fun grave digging can be, there’s a thin line and that line is punctuated by whether they’re arresting me or not.”

Maintenance Guy snorts, head turned to beam up at her. She’s almost taken aback by how bright he seems. How his grin puts the sun in its place. He looks honest, grease stains and all.

There’s something to be said about the fact she’s studying his bone structure instead of his fleshy bits. She can’t tell you what colour his eyes are, but his zygomatic bones are killer.

“Professor?” a TA prompts, ineffectively holding back their own knowing smiles.

“Thanks for reminding me,” she replies, digging through her bag to hand out a stack of student essays. “Pass these back, please?”

Tick one for the professor.

“And as per usual,” she announces, leaning back against the white board, “let’s do our daily recap. And as you know, these questions can be used to aid in exams.”

She sneaks a glance at Maintenance Guy, pulling his arm out from the vent. He grumbles, digs through his toolbox, and grabs a screwdriver. Whatever is in that vent is stuck.

Once the rustling stops, she says, “Okay, question one: if your professor—that would be me for those of us who are new—were to be one of, say, five wives with one husband, it’s called—?”

“Polygamy!” a student shouts from the front row.

“You’re right, but you aren’t correct,” she says, standing up straight. “Polygamy is the practice of having more than one spouse. Polygyny—with an ’n’—is multiple wives to one husband. Examples of the culture are Kenya’s Logoli and other Abalulya sub ethnic groups.”

She writes it on the board for spelling, and glances over to see Maintenance Guy paused in his excavation of the vent. He’s paying better attention than her students. It’s sort of sweet and she stifles her soft giggle at the thought.

He’s ridiculously tall and she takes a moment to appreciate just how long his femurs have to be.

“Question two!” she announces and finds even the most hungover kids forcing their attention on her. “If your professor were to marry five men all at once, that’s called—?”

“Polyandry,” a student pipes up from the back. “A lot of times it’s fraternal marriage.”

“Examples of a culture that practices—”

Pop!

Maintenance Guy rolls back with the force. His knees are still bent from where they’d been used as leverage against the vent, a wall of debris bursting into his face. In one gloved hand was a dead raccoon, while the other desperately brushed bits of the vent’s clog—a raccoon’s nest—from his eyes.

“Oh Jesus,” she mutters, jumping into action. She picks up a garbage bag from his toolbox and nets the dead animal from his hand. It’s a pretty tame find, though she’s used to human remains which tended to be—gooier.

With the animal tucked up, she hauls Maintenance Guy to a sitting position, frantically cleaning the odds and ends of the nest out of his eyes. She steals his ball cap as she whispers kind words to him, further trying to shake the bits of insulation out of his shaggy hair.

The class is in a terrible chatter behind them. Not that it matters. Not with Maintenance Guy’s eyes opened and his hands gently clutching onto her wrists as she brushes the last bits of insulation off his cheeks. His eyes are definitely hazel up this close.

“Thanks,” he croaks, still gently latched onto her hands.

“It’s no problem,” she smiles back, absently studying the rest of his face. He’s got the kind of skull she’d love to see on her table—well, maybe once he’s died of his own accord because he seems rather sweet. Confused and concerned, but…sweet. “Don’t worry. I’ve had much worse flung all over me. You don’t much get used to it.”

He smiles, barely chuckling. Coughs up a bit of insulation.

“You might want to see a doctor. Insulation in the lungs is…what gets you a one way ticket to my lab.” She grins at her own terrible joke. His eyes are too close and she can’t help but wish for a skeleton to be looking back at her. She understands those. People are too…gooey.

“I’m Chip,” he offers, silently asking her for help to his feet. She does, offering her own name in return. He mulls over it, like it’s a fine wine sitting on his tongue. “Professor Y/N. Thanks again.”

She shrugs, mouth suddenly too dry. Heart beating too fast. Jesus, human interaction was going to kill her. There was no job to distract her from Chip’s strong hands. There were no bodies to keep Chip’s genuine gaze off of her. There wasn’t anything to distract from seeing Chip as so pleasantly human.

“Want the raccoon as a consolation prize?” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck with a newly de-gloved hand. There’s something satisfying about answering questions that aren’t meant as questions. Especially ones that showed just how weird she really was. The questions that were relationship testers—like can we be friends if I tell you that I keep carrion beetles as pets?

“Actually, sure.” Chip’s jaw drops just slightly open. He has cute teeth. “Dissection is a key part of the anthropological process, forensic or not. Let’s see just what this raccoon was up to. Eh, class?”

Every single one a deer in the headlights, the class goes eerily silent. She winks at Chip and announces again. “Don’t you guys want to see what I do for a living? I mean human remains are much cooler but I think we can settle for a mostly solid raccoon carcass.”

A TA clutches at her stomach. “Professor, never say that again.”

The professor just laughs, absentmindedly taking a soft grip on Chip’s shoulder. “Don’t worry everyone, Chip’s going to keep the raccoon. At least I’m not making the final a practical examination. I do have access to laboratory rats—“

The entire class clambered forward, hoping to dispel the idea and the evil smirk off their professor’s lips. She just beamed back at Chip, dropping her hand. She expected the same horrified expression of her students, but he seemed, dare she say, impressed.

That wide eyed shock creeps onto her face. Because who would risk being impressed by a professor covered in dirt from grave digging who offered to dissect a raccoon at 10 AM on a Tuesday?

Apparently, it’s this guy. Must have a thing for crazy women.

Chip shakes his head, bites his lip, and turns to stoop for his raccoon trophy. “I’ll, uh, have them send someone for the nest. I—I guess I have to do something with the raccoon, if you’re sure you don’t want it?”

She just shakes her head, failing miserably at keeping her cherry red tint to herself. “No, no. Maybe next time.”

“Next time,” he repeats, rather sadly, to himself. Though, as he turns to leave, it feels more like a promise.

#

The worst part about knowing Chip is that she seems to see him everywhere. Rushing between lecture halls? There he is, doing his best to fix a fountain. Getting escorted away by federal agents? There he is, sympathetically waving as he walks across the quad. Leading a group of students outside to lecture on the green? There’s Chip, fixing a sprinkler.

She’s had exactly three times in the last six months to talk to him. All under three minutes.

But today, today she’s running late from court. Grand jury testimony had gone fine, until Agent—God, she’ll never learn his name—WhatsHisFace tried to ask her out again. Because what a turn on talking about the mutilation of a hacked up college girl was.

It also didn’t help that, outside of the court room half an hour before, she was doodling what she thought Chip’s skull would look like.

So she can’t help but storm into her postage stamp of a classroom, dropping her package on the desk with a gentle, yet annoyed huff. Her 12 students, all seniors in the Anthropology department, raised their eyebrows at her. At her court getup.

She’d missed those formative lessons at 13 on how to be a proper lady. And even if she had had them, it probably wouldn’t have stuck. Besides, what she wore into the field had to be more than acceptable for the university’s standards. The heels and pink blouse of today were extremely rare and uncomfortable.

“Whoa, Professor Y/N!” Reese Rosebeck calls out, dramatically twitching in his chair, “Is that really you? You look hot!”

“Ha, ha. That’s a very coherent thought for the kid who wrote the worst paper I’ve ever read,” she deadpans. She relents when she sees his dramatic puppy dog pout. “Though, I do have to say I enjoyed you’re use of colloquial slang. Accentuated your point very cleverly.”

“As long as I impress the hottest professor on campus, I’m alright.”

There was a quiet laugh from the back of the room, and she found her eyes snapping to the hunched over back of none other than, Maintenance Guy Chip Taylor. He’s just quietly listening—as always—tinkering with the radiator pipes in the back of the room. She’s half thankful. It is starting to get cold.

“Hey, Chip!” she chirps and the poor thing bangs his head on the pipes. He waves her off in a flash, hand extended wildly above the other desks in the room. Reese chuckles to himself, dragging Lionel with him.

She kicks her heels off behind her desk, straightening herself once she’s back on stable ground. She’s about three apples short of a pie to wear heels for more than six consecutive minutes. The female students give her rather sympathetic looks as she begins to roll her feet and open her package.

She pauses halfway in. Jeez, she forgot about—“Hey, Chip?”

Like a meerkat, he pops up with a dazzling soft grin.

“Are you going to call the cops on me?”

“Excuse me?”

Her students’ eyes bounce back and forth between the pair, following the invisible tennis match. The professor settles on a rather tired, “Are you going to call the cops? The last person who attended lecture that didn’t know me, called the cops because of a demonstration. So, are you?”

“No.” He shakes his head and she wonders if he’s a little too trusting. He’s honest as he leans back down to continue futzing with the pipes. He’s genuine in every interaction they have. Does she really deserve the kind of trust he’s offering? To a crazy woman who’s asked if he’ll call the cops on her?

She shakes the thought away. These 12 students—tangible students—need her focus. At least for the next few minutes. She pulls six human skulls from her package, all neatly wrapped up in protective glass cases. She places those on the table along with a box of gloves.

“Two people to a skull,” she announces and runs through the rest of the directions. “Don’t forget your gloves. You too, Ms. Figg.”

Jamie Figg’s fierce blush is long forgotten once they are all set to work. Tactile learning is the best way to learn in her opinion, expressly in advanced classes like these. It also gives her a moment to rest her brain—even if it’s a few minutes before the onslaught of necessary questions.

She settles into an unused section of chairs and desks, smiling absently at the way all of the kids have squeezed themselves around the one table. She misses the days when she was young and new, ready to find her own legs to stand on.

Chip’s not quiet and she watches him with too much adoration as he sits down next to her. It’s not all too unexpected nor uninvited. He smells like grease and good cologne up close, mixed up with that dangerous combination of hazel eyes and delicious bone structure.

Chip smirks, drawing her out of her smidge of staring. “See anything good?”

“You have excellent bones,” she mutters, tracing a finger against her own cheek instead of his. “Prominent zygomatic bones and well balanced supraorbital margins. But the, um, the rest of you is—is nice too.”

Oh great one, Y/N. Perfect. You’re such a fucking creep.

Chip just smiles. The kind of soft upturn of the lips and dip of the head that means he took it like the compliment it was meant as. He runs a rather shakey hand through his hair, bringing his gaze back up to do his own staring. She wonders what he sees about her. She’s sure he doesn’t see bone structure like she does, but does her flesh give away something she doesn’t know about?

Chip wrings his hand down behind his neck and she sees it. That little bit of something that brews between his bones and his epidermis. The fuzzy sort of thing that sits behind his eyes. The one she’s seen in war veterans, cops, and now the university’s maintenance man.

And as if he’s just a skull on her table, she states ever so eloquently, “You look like the kind of guy who’s seen some shit, Chip.”

And as if she’s accepted his offer for the raccoon all over again, he beams. He further turns away from her, shaking his head, and she follows his eye line to the students not so subtly glancing over at the pair every three seconds. The dozen are still chattering on, examining the skulls in their hands with rapt fascination.

Chip, despite all the non-threatening, sensitive, idiot boy vibes, looks over the skulls with more recognition than she cares to admit she sees. Most people don’t look at skulls like they’re familiar. Like the idea of them being formerly attached to a living person doesn’t bother them.

Again, looks like he’s seen some shit.

“Are they real?”

She nods, taking a tiny chance and pressing their shoulders together. She’s not upset to say that Chip carries very warm skin on his lovely skeletal structure. She wipes the blush off her cheeks and answers, “From the university’s collection. I’ve done a lot of travelling, lots of excavations, lots of grave robbing—sometimes the university doesn’t miss the skulls of the not-so-recently deceased.”

“You’re very—“

“Creepy? Weird?”

She hopes that Chip is too stupid to hear the insecurity bleed through. That he’s too stupid to look at her the way he is. Instead, he squints as if he can’t risk choosing the wrong adjective, so the words inch through his brain. All carefully refined into his choice of, “…Intelligent.”

His takes her hand in his to accentuate his point. She nearly stops breathing.

“You’ve forgotten more this morning than I’ll ever know,” he whispers. She doesn’t know how to look at him without letting him see the hearts in her eyes. Her fingers tighten against his. “I’d never call you creepy.”

She swallows, fighting against the rock in her throat. It wasn’t often people paid her any compliments, especially after she’d let her mouth run for more than five minutes in a one-on-one conversation.

And as if she isn’t already trying to desperately clutch onto her frayed nerves, he confidently pulls a slightly creased business card from his shirt pocket. Offers it to her irritatedly hesitant fingers.

“I do home visits, you know,” he says, putting more weight into where their skin touches. “So, if you’re dishwasher breaks or something, give me—give me a call.”

Chip squeezes her fingers one more time, double checks she’s holding onto the business card, and walks back for his toolbox. Only when the classroom door is closing behind him does Reese shout out, “Oh-ho-ho! Professor’s getting some!”

The pleading look in his eyes he always got when you saw new marks from Liza shone as he lowered his voice. “Please, don’t say anything, Y/N. I swear it’s okay.”

You snorted, brushing past him. He always pissed you off saying that and you always had a hard time not charging into his bedroom and giving Liza a taste of her own medicine.

“You know it’s not okay just because you’re a guy, right? What if I showed up all fucked up and bruised one day?” You went straight for his discolored fridge, not having eaten since last night. As you opened the door, there was no sound from Chip. When you looked up after finding an empty refrigerator, you saw the disquietude etched on his face and the fear in his eyes. You knew it was a real worry to have, you and your boyfriend fought enough and Chip had helped to fill and fixing multiple broken walls or windows due to the liveliness of your fights.

You instantly regretted planting the seed in his head, hovering closer to him. “He’s not hurting me, and he never has. I promise.” You were about to reach out and touch his shoulder before you heard Liza’s voice.

“What y’all talkin’ about in here?” Her voice was grating and felt like salt added to an injury when you saw Chip’s face. She had such a smug look on her face you were having a hard time keeping a neutral one on.

When you saw how stiff and afraid Chip was, you put on a sweet smile.

“Just askin’ if you guys want me to run to the grocery store. Your fridge is empty.” You stepped away from Chip, going to go sit on the futon they used as a couch and that you used to sleep on when you stayed over.

“Thanks for checking, sweety. You can do whatever you want cuz your ass ain’t stayin’ here.” She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. She wasn’t expecting a challenge since no one ever gave her one. Liza was in for a surprise.

“You know, I’m pretty sure this is Chip’s place and you’re not on the paperwork, so if anyone is going to tell me to leave, it’s going to be Chip.” Not your skank ass. You added in your head, feeling every hair on your body stand on end and every muscle tense as you were ready for her to jump for you.

Instead, she just cocked her head back before a smile like sugar slid on her face. “Oh, Okay then. Chip, honey.” Liza’s eyes fell on the terrified Chip and you instantly understood your mistake. You looked to Chip, wide-eyed. Surely he would choose you over her. You had been friends for years whilst He and Liza had only been together for a few months.

He wouldn’t meet your eyes, only looking between his feet and Liza. Clearly, he wasn’t responding fast enough because a gun appeared in Liza’s manicured hands from the back of her shorts which had been concealed to you until now.

“Jesus what the fuck, Liza!” You lifted your hands above your head in alarm as Chip raised his hands like he was trying to calm a cornered animal.

“Liza, plea-” He began to plead, taking a small step towards her before she pointed the gun at him.

“Someone make a fucking decision before one of ya’ll get shot.” Her face was more serious than you had seen it ever before and that sent a cold finger down your spine and made your face turn red the way it did when you found yourself in deep trouble.

“Look, I’ll-” You started but was interrupted by Chip.

“She used to rob houses for a living, she can help us.”  He explained and Liza nodded, an impressed look on her face.

“Chip! What the fuck! What the-” You ran your hands through your hair, rocking on your feet in shock. “You can’t just- I don’t do that anymore. It’s been years.” You were near ready to knock him on his ass but he was your best friend and admittedly, trying to save your life. Or limbs. “Oh my god.” You whispered softly, hiding your face in your hands.

Liza laughed, taking the hand that was holding the gun and rubbing your shoulder with it, pulling you into some weird hug that was probably meant to be comforting but it just made you want to scream and run. You looked to Chip, your mouth falling open in shock.

He just looked at you pleadingly, the expression being wiped away immediately as Liza freed you from your weird hug.

“Alright, she can stay.” She sashayed over to chip, her hands skimming over his skin playfully before she kissed his still lips. “You know I would never hurt you, right, baby?” She smiled, running a finger down his chest and stomach.

You turned away, already beyond uncomfortable and irate. When the kissing and whispering stopped, Liza brushed past you to the bedroom. It was obvious Chip was supposed to follow her but there was business you need to resolve with him before you let him go anywhere and he knew it.

Chip stood still other than the slight fidgeting with the hem of his thin jean button up. You paced back and forth in front of the futon, running your fingers through your hair.

“Chip, what the fuck? What the fuck? Please, explain what the hell is happening. What does my past have to do with me fucking staying here? What is Liza getting you into?” You brought your voice down to a harsh whisper, trying to keep your eyes off of him because you knew once you looked at him your anger would melt away.

“I-I don’t know. She’s planning to steal some money from one of her clients. No one is going to get hurt, okay? It’s a huge amount and we could all get better lives with it.” He reached out and you almost jumped. If Liza saw him just looking at you how he was, kindly and gently, she would lose her shit. A touch was enough to get him beat. It still felt good to feel his comfort again. A moment like this with Chip was rare since Liza had come into his life so you cherished his touch for the few seconds it was there.

Your anger melted and all that was left was the worry. “Chip, that’s what they always say. No one is supposed to get hurt, and then people get fucking hurt. Everyone gets their god damn cut, and then only one person does.” You shook your head. It was a situation you were all too familiar with and the part of the reason you ended your criminal career, plus prison. “Chip, you can’t do this, okay? I’m-” What would you do if he did this? What could you do? Could you change his mind?

Liza had pretty much taken over his mind since they started dating. You weren’t as close as you used to be and you always tried not to think about it, but maybe now was the time to confront it.

“Look, I know you got burned and things went shit last time you did something like this-” Chip started, not meeting your eyes but watching his hands as they moved while he spoke.

“So, you just get to decide to put me back in a life I don’t want to be in? You get to decide that I’m going to help you commit a crime that I know is going to end horribly? Chip, I’d rather be at home or on the streets than part of this mess.” You pressed your palms into your eyes, flopping down onto the couch. You had nowhere to go if you left. Homeless and Women’s shelters were always full in this area and going home wasn’t an option unless you wanted to end up like Chip.

You heard him sniffling, and then the sound of his clothes ruffling as he wiped his nose and eyes. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry. It...I shouldn’t have said that I just know you have nowhere to go but here and I- I wasn’t going to make you do anything I just wanted to convince Liza.” He swallowed, running a hand through his greasy, wild hair. “Liza...Liza is good for her word though, and- and if you do this you could move out of here. We could leave.”

You know what he meant. He wanted you to leave your boyfriend and this dump of a trailer park once you all got your cut of the money. One thing didn’t sit well with you, though.

“Does ‘We’ include Liza?” You uncovered your eyes, looking up at his blurry eyes. His face fell immediately.

“Chip, get the FUCK in here!” Liza bellowed from their bedroom, getting impatient with their talking. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest and slouching back.

“Look, Y/N, We can talk about it some more later, alright. I’ll, uh, I’ll be back.” He gave you those puppy dog eyes before calling out to Liza “On my way, Babe!”

He slunk away and you heard the door of his bedroom shut behind him. A sigh escaped your lips as you sunk deeper into the futon. This was all a mess and you didn’t know whether to stay or get up and walk out of the door. The only thing keeping you here was that you needed to get Chip out of this situation.

You pressed your palm to your forehead, licking your lips before sucking your top lip in as tears pricked your eyes. You didn’t want him to end up like you. You didn't want to even end up like you. Liza was a crazy bitch, though. If you ran off with Chip who fucking knew what she would do. If you run far enough could she do anything, though?

Your hand dragged down your face, tugging at your skin as the stress steeped in your mind. You were going to get both of you out of here. It didn’t matter how.

Your eyes had only been closed for a minute when you heard a crash and yelp come from Chip’s room. You had been blocking out all the moaning and screaming from Liza, but the noises you just heard made you sit up straight from your previous position as you listened closely for more indicators to the situation.

“Liza, Please. I-” Muffled pleads followed by the sound of hard flesh hitting flesh and that's all you needed.

You bolted up, scanning the room for anything and smiling as your eyes landed on a baseball bat. Normally you didn’t take pleasure in violence, but this situation was different. You took the baseball bat in your hands and sauntered down the hallway to their room, hearing Liza through the door.

“Why are you crying? You don’t like it when I hit you? Fucking pussy.” Another hit and Chip’s whimper.

You barreled through the door, seeing Liza still on top of Chip. If your adrenaline wasn’t pumping so furiously in your veins you would have hesitated, been embarrassed, but all you could think of right now was what spots to hit first.

“What the fuck do you think you’re-” Liza turned towards you, her hand on Chip’s throat. She smirked seeing the baseball bat in your hand. “Awe, Chippy needs a lady to-”

Her sentence was cut off both by Chip yelling your name as you began your swing and the blow that landed on the back of her skull followed by a metallic clang. She cried out, reaching for the injury as she slumped off of Chip’s body.

“Y/N, Y/N! Please, stop!” Chip sat up before rising out of the bed to grab your shoulders but you shook him off. Liza was trying to find her gun and you couldn’t let her get a weapon, and knocking her out would give you time to tie her up and Chip time to pack. You pushed him away, jumping over the mattress and bringing another blow down upon Liza’s skull.

A short cry left her lips before she slumped over, the visceral force of your hit vibrating through the bat and up your arms. Blood ran from her scalp to the carpet and she wasn’t getting back up so you pointed at Chip who stood battered and shocked on the other side of the room.

“Do you guys have any handcuffs or rope? I need to tie her up.” You looked down at her limp body, pushing her onto her back to check her breathing. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, she was still breathing.

“Y/N, what the fuck! Oh my god, is she dead? Liza!” Chip was over the bed in a second, dropping down to Liza’s level and shaking her shoulders. He pressed his hands to the open, bleeding wounds on her head. “Liza, baby, wake up…”

Was he really crying? You shook your head and sighed, rubbing your free hand over your face.

“Chip, I’m saving your life. She is still alive. I need something to tie her up with. Now.”

“Y/N, You just knocked my fucking girlfriend out! What-” He stood up, getting close enough that you felt his breath on your face. “-What do you mean “tie her up’? What are you fucking doing?”

You flinched back, cringing away from him. All the memories of your boyfriend doing the exact same thing rushed to the forefront of your mind before you batted them away.

“I’m saving your fucking life. Yes, I knocked her out. What was she going to do to you? Do you know what happens to people like you? You either get killed or you end up on the fucking streets. Now get the fucking rope and pack your shit, Chip. If you don’t, you will never see me again.” You hissed, trying to keep your voice down since other humans inhabited the area too. The last thing you needed was cops.

You watched the cogs turning in his head before he set into motion, going through some drawers before pulling out some cliche fluffy handcuffs. You rolled your eyes, finding yourself chuckling as you took them from him and handcuffed Liza’s unconscious body to the bed frame. Chip was busy packing clothing into a bag, so you sat down, letting your head fall into your hands.

You were crashing from adrenaline, and the weight of the situation was hitting you. You were going to run away from home like a fucking teenager after knocking a woman unconscious with a bat and handcuffing her to the bed. You could only hope she didn’t die.

“Oh my god.” You mumbled into your palms, dragging your hands down your face before dragging yourself back onto your feet. “Okay, let's just get to my place and I’ll- I’ll grab some clothes and money and we can take my van.” You let out a deep breath, shaking your hands to brush off some of the energy.

“Y/N, maybe we should sit down for a minute, you look really worked up.” He hovered near you, stepping over Liza’s slumped body to cautiously put a hand on your shoulder. It was so gentle and quick, it was almost as if he was afraid Liza would wake up as soon as he touched you.

“I’m fine, we don’t have a lot of time. We need to go, like, now.” You grabbed his hand, your heart pounding all of a sudden.

You dragged him behind you and out of the house, the bat in your free hand. You weren’t sure whether your boyfriend would be home or not and if he was, he was either going to let you go or he was going to get bashed.

“My van should be unlocked, jump in. I don’t know if he’s home or not.” You squeezed Chip’s hand, starting to let go before he pulled you back. You were face to chest with him now, the scent of his sweat and musky cologne filling your senses. You weren’t sure whether to cringe or revel in it.

“Are you sure you want to go in alone? I mean, he can barely handle it when you want to go to the store alone.” He met your eyes, his filled with anxiety. It was so sweet, you wanted to laugh but you didn’t.

You just nodded at your bat. “I got this baby. If I need any help, I’ll call.” You winked and smiled before he let you go and you entered your house.

Sure as hell, you boyfriend was slouched on the sofa in all his drunk glory. As soon as his eyes fell on you, his face contorted in ugly rage as he stood and stumbled towards you.

“Where the fuck have you been? You fucking bitch, just walking out like that. I should kick your fucking head into the wall.” His spit landed all over your face and you made the mistake of flinching away. “That’s what I fucking thought, you dumb whore. Running out with Chippy boy again, huh?” He was pressing against you, puffing his chest out and raising his voice even more. You had to start backing up as he forced your steps. “I should fucking kill him.”

“You won’t do shit!” You shouted, as loud as your voice would go. You lifted the bat, raising it over your shoulder and side swinging it to connect with his jaw.

A meaty clunk resounded and you felt it in your arms. You lifted the bat again.

“You fucking bi-” Your boyfriend started before another hit fell on his cheek. The clunk was accompanied by the sound of a tooth being knocked out and hitting a wall before dropping to the floor. Blood splattered the floor and wall.

A roar of anger sounded from the man in front of you and all you could feel is the sweat on your skin and the cold claw running up your spine.

His hand raised and he grabbed you by your hair, tugging hard so he could press you against the wall. You couldn’t get enough force to swing and actually hurt him now. His beer-breath filled your senses, making you wish you could smell Chip again.

“I’m going to beat the fucking shit out of you.” You could feel his growl in your chest, and it made you shudder. He lifted his fist and you knew you had to think fast. You gripped the bat higher up than usual with one hand and let the other one stay at the grip. You let out a furious shout as you forced the bat into his ribs hard enough to make him grunt and stumble.

Blood dripped onto the floor from his nose and mouth and splattered the walls as he coughed. You growled, raising the bat again and swinging to hit his skull. He ducked out of the way, but stumbled and fell to the floor as he did. He wiped the blood from his face, cowering back.

“Baby, baby. I’m so sorry. I didn’t-” He began pleading and you felt an anger rise in you similar to that of fire.

“SHUT UP!” The cry tore itself from your throat as you swung downwards. He slumped almost immediately, vibrations shaking your arm as you swung downward, again and again, blood splattering your face and chest, the sounds of metal hitting flesh and bone echoing around in your brain.

“Y/N, Y/N!! Stop!” Chip’s voice sounded through the fog moments before his arms restrained you. “He’s down, it’s okay. It’s alright, calm down.” He hushed you, rocking you side to side away from the body.

“I gotta- I gotta get my stuff.” You mumbled, breaking out of his hold and stumbling towards your room.  

You could hear Chip sigh behind you but shrugged it off. You both needed to get out of this place. You grabbed a suitcase and backpack, shoving clothing and important documents in them. You kneeled to the floor at the bottom of your closet, carving out the hole you had made years before from the wall. You reached in and felt for the bag. Luckily it was there and thick as it should be. You shoved it into your backpack before rushing out of the room.

“Alright, I have everything. Let’s go.” You slung the backpack over your shoulders, rushing through the hallway towards the door and grabbing Chip’s hand and your keys on the way out.

“Where are we gonna go?” Chip asked in a small voice after you had packed everything up and started the car.

“Wherever we want to, Chip.” You nodded in affirmation, turning the key in the ignition and leaving the trailer park behind you both.

“What about money?” He finally looked up at you as you spoke but you kept your eyes on the road.

“I have money saved from previous robberies and my job in my backpack. We are going to be fine, Chip. We can go anywhere. Uh, In America that is.” You pressed the knob to turn the radio on, heavy guitar riffs and crashing cymbals filling the background noise.

“How long have you been planning this?”

“I wouldn’t say I’ve been planning this. I did plan to run off, get away from this shit place, but…” You glanced over at him. “Uhm, Stuff came up. So, I stayed. I kept saving up, though, hoping one day...things...would change.” You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel as you pulled onto the highway, speeding up. “I didn’t plan to hurt anyone.” Your voice broke and you cursed yourself.

You didn’t. You just thought once Chip left Liza or visa versa, you could both leave. You weren’t sure if you had feelings for him or not, but you couldn’t imagine your life without the sensitive, goofy man. Liza had crushed him and in turn, crushed you.

You were startled by the feeling of Chip’s hand reaching and grabbing your free hand. You looked his way, glancing back and forth between the road and him.

“I’m….I’m not glad you hurt people but I’m glad we’re doing this. I’m glad we are leaving.” His voice was soft and sincere, cracking and here and there.

“Me too, Chip. Me too.” You couldn’t help but smile, and neither could Chip.