for-writing-shit

[for-writing-shit]

chandler bing x reader (whose in the group)

The One with the Cookie Crumbs

Author’s Note ❥ I know I took too long before I finished this, and I apologize. I’ve been busy for the past days from school works and all. But I really hope this is what you wanted and If I didn’t fulfill your request, I apologize, I would be willing to try again.

paring(s) 𖨆♡𖨆 ⁑ chandler bing x fem!reader

Monica Geller x reader (sister)

warning(s) ᕯ none

Word count ⚘ 2.439k

“Ugh! Living with you is like being seventeen and having to share the same damn room all over again!”

Yelling was heard in apartment 20. The Gellers got into the scariest dispute in the entire building when they started arguing.

“What's so hard about eating your cookie without leaving crumbs everywhere?” The other Geller yelled back, which infuriated the other one. “Monica, I've had enough of this crap! And if I had a place to stay, I would move out!”

“Then go ahead, Y/N!” Monica snapped her head at Y/N, as if she were already kicking her out of their apartment. Y/N was taken aback by Monica’s abrupt outburst and felt a a knot in her throat. She never liked arguing with her sister. Y/N lowered her arms from her chest, her eyes wide open. The entire gang was gathered outside their apartment door, listening in on the heated argument that had been going on for 10 minutes. Just as Ross have had enough of all the yelling, when the apartment fell silent, he went barging through the door, knowing his sisters so well that it was best for them to separate for the time being. Whenever they get into a huge fight, it would take days, weeks, or even months for them to come to terms and be able to talk to each other again. “Y/N, it's fine. Go to your room.” Ross accompanied her to her room before turning back to Monica, whose face was now flushed from anger. Y/N strained her eyes and replied, “Fine.” through gritting her teeth, before walking inside her room.

“Again, Mon. Really?” Ross had his hands on his hips before deciding to approach his sister, whom he believed was constantly overreacting to the smallest details and mistakes Y/N causes. “Why can’t you two get along?” The frustrated eldest couldn't stop his sisters from constantly squabbling. “Hello? I handle the majority of the cleaning here.” Monica scoffed, rolling her eyes at Ross.

“Does everything have to be clean for you?” Ross made it obvious that he doesn’t want them to argue all the time, let alone have them broken up because of the tiniest mistakes. “Do you not know me? I want everything to be neat and ordered, yet she screws everything up.”

Monica rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her chest as Ross said, “I think you two should stay away from each other for a while.” She doesn’t want to be separated from her sister, but the continual arguments is killing all of them. “Yeah, right. How are we supposed to do that?” Monica mockedly stuck her tongue out and turned away from Ross.

“I’ll go.” Y/N suddenly popped out of her room, a bag across her shoulder, and another in hand. With a concerned look on her face, Monica turned her body toward her just to see how serious she was. “I’m moving out.”

“What?” Monica, who genuinely doesn't want her sister to move out, kept a worried tone but tries her best not to break character. “You said I should go ahead, then I’m moving out.”

“But where will you go?” Ross intervened in the middle before Y/N began to walk towards the door. “Anywhere but here.” She looked at the two for a minute, but tears started to blur her eyes. “Y/N, I didn’t mean for you to move out. All I'm saying is that you two should know how to get along when it comes to— you could stay with me for a little while, it’s like you’re taking a cool off of each other. But you don’t want to go apartment hunting again, right?” Even if Ross did his best to come up with something that would entice Y/N to stay, it seems like she had enough of Monica acting in her typical manner.

The door swung open as a few footsteps approached, and without hesitation, Chandler Bing, the one and only sarcastic friend offered, “I’ll take her.” Looking inside the apartment like a lost puppy. “What?” Ross and Monica exclaimed in unison. “That settles it then.” Y/N exited the apartment without saying anything, walking past Chandler to open the door to the other apartment in front of theirs. She only ever did that to see how her sister was going to react. And she was pretty sure she saw how upset she was.

Chandler gazed at Ross and Monica before quietly closing the door. “Are you really gonna take her in?” Joey asked in confusion. “Well, if they’re really in bad terms right now… I think it’s best if she stays with us?” Chandler shrugged his shoulders, unsure now whether Joey approved or not. “It’s not okay with you, is it?”

“No, no. I’m entirely fine with it. But we only have two bedrooms in there. Where’s she gonna sleep?” Joey raised his eyebrows and asked. Chandler's thoughts told him he needed to talk to Y/N first before anything else.

Before Joey and Chandler entered apartment 19, there was a loud thump, that alerted them, and when they did, Joey and Chandler hurried in to find Y/N on the floor, bawling her eyes out.

Chandler came over to sit with her on the floor to try and comfort her in any ways he can. “I just can’t stand how she bosses me around. But she’s still my sister. And I don’t want to move out of the apartment.” Her bags were flung on the ground, having to consider what she would do now that she had fled Monica’s apartment. “Maybe I just need time from all of the screaming.”

Chandler enveloped her in his arms and looked at Joey, who was standing in front of them. “That’s okay. You can stay here for as long as you need to.” Chandler reassures her quietly before pointing for Joey to retrieve the box of tissues from the tabletop. “It’s just so stupid to fight over the simplest things!”

“You’re gonna be fine. Chandler chuckled. “I could just sleep in the barcalounger.” Y/N withdrew her grip from him and finally raised her puffy eyes to gaze at him. “What? No, no. I don’t want to kick you out of your own room. You know, I could just stay at Ross’ apartment.”

Ross entered the apartment at that very moment, searching for Y/N. When Ross noticed them lying on the ground, he glanced confusedly at Chandler. “Hey, I talked to Monica. She’s said that you should just come back.” Ross announced which caused Y/N to roll her eyes. “I’m staying here. That’s final.” Ignoring the reactions of the other three men, she gathered her belongings back and entered inside Chandler's room.

“Well, guess she’s staying in my room.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° • ☆ .　 .

“Come on, you gotta talk to her.”

Ross had been begging Monica and Y/N for weeks, but it was difficult to get them to communicate. When Y/N eventually gave up and said, "Okay," Ross's eyes lit up. "Next week." Y/N continued to sip her coffee while reclining comfortably on the couch. "C'mon, Y/N. How are you going to make up?"

“I don't know, ask her.”

Chandler sat down next to Y/N as soon as he entered Central Perk. “Besides, Chandler is taking good care of me.” She turned to face Chandler and placed her head on his shoulder. “What will it take for you to forgive her?” Ross was down on one knee, begging Y/N to forgive their sister. “If she was the one asking me right now maybe I would have forgiven her. So stop apologizing for her, Ross. Nothing’s gonna change.”

“What’s not gonna change?” The three of them looked over at Monica, who had just walked into the coffee shop. Y/N grinned as she glanced at Chandler and then at her watch. “Oh, would you look at that! It’s time to go to work.” Y/N gave a mocking smirk before getting up from the couch. “Y/N, you're unemployed.” Ross stated the obvious.

“Working doesn't require having a job.” She grabbed her purse and went out of the coffee shop, knowing Monica was there. Although she didn't want to ignore her sister, but she was too upset to even look at Monica.

“Hey.” Chandler suddenly wrapped an arm around her shoulder, following her outside. “Hey,” she responded as she peered out into the streets of New York. “Do you wanna go back and order pizza? Hang out or something.” Chandler suggested, fiddling with his sleeves. “That’s a great idea right there,” Y/N said, pointing at his head as she dashed away, Chandler by her side.

Back in the apartment, Y/N and Chandler relaxed on the barcalounger with the lights off and the television on while Joey was not around, because of how Joey doesn’t want to share his barcalounger with anyone. They were laughing and eating together, enjoying one other's company. Y/N never looked for Chandler's presence; she was content with being friends and knowing Chandler as her brother's college roommate and best friend. Although now she learned to miss his presence and appreciates how he’ll try to cheer her up the best he could. She thought of when she could just break the partition that was keeping them apart after developing unexpected feelings for him.

Y/N had been staying with Chandler and Joey for about a month because of how her and Monica were still mad at each other. But she thought that maybe she’ll stay in apartment 19 permanently. "Can I ask you a question that will hopefully not make you uncomfortable?" Chandler tossed a chip into his mouth as he turned to face Y/N in the barcalounger. "Yeah, okay." Y/N got the remote, turned down the television so she could hear Chandler. "Are you planning to move out if you and Monica were to make up?” Chandler gazed down at his palm, waiting for her response. "I'm not sure. Well, I do know, and my answer is, no. But if you want me to move out then, so be it.”

"No, no. That's the thing. I don't want you to leave." Y/N, surprised and confused, gave him an uncertain smile. "Really? Why?"

“You know, I love having you here. We've never really had the opportunity to spend time together like this. You’re fun, and we have similar interests." It was as if he could read her mind, assuming that she would be happy to stay. Chandler swallowed a lump in his throat and turned his entire body towards her. “I don’t know, if this is gonna mess up everything we have right now, I only have one shot at this but… I genuinely like you, Y/N. As in, above and above friends. Sometimes I just want to tell you that so bad, maybe not have to put a pillow barrier between us on the bed. I don’t know, I’m sorry. Maybe I should just stop.” Chandler's smile never faded; instead, he avoided eye contact and slumped into the barcalounger. He feared he had made Y/N uncomfortable, who had been unable to speak up until now, she stood up and walked in front of Chandler and smile down at him.

She climbed on top of the barcalounger he was sitting on only to grip his face and close the distance between them. For Chandler, it was a miracle. And this was the moment they had been waiting for. "I would love to stay here with you, Chandler Bing." She took a time to stare at his gorgeous face before closing the gap once again.

“Ahem…”

Chandler choked on his own saliva when he noticed a figure next to them. “What in the world?” Ross exclaimed, causing Y/N to scurry off of Chandler's lap. Monica appeared from behind Ross with a plate of cookies. "Someone's here to talk to you."

“Hi, can we talk?” Monica asked, extending the plate of cookies to Y/N. "Only if Chandler and I can step outside to talk." Ross shot him a death gaze as he led Chandler outside.

Monica set the meal on the table while Y/N settled down. "Okay, so…"

“I understand that you’re upset. And I don’t know if you’re willing to come back to our apartment. But I wanna say I’m sorry. I’m sorry that’s I’m such a pain in the butt whenever you make tiny mistakes and I hated the way I treated you when you make little mistakes. I really didn't like the way I handled it. I'm sorry I screamed at you or even threw you out of the apartment. And I realized that it’s not worth losing a sister because of my obsession with everything being spotless. So, I just want everything to go back as it was. Can you forgive me?” Monica brought Y/N a glass of milk that she magically snatched from thin air.

"Thanks for the freshly baked cookies, Mon." But I don't really need this to forgive you. I forgive you since you have apologized. And I'm sorry, too. I understand that I'm a little—no, really—messy, but I still love you. So I don't want to lose you over cookie crumbs." Y/N put the milkglass down and put her hands together. "You do want to go back, right?” Monica hesitantly asked.

“Yeah, well. If you want me to.”

“I kinda have a visitor.”

“Who?”

“Rachel, Rachel Green?”

“Rachel?!”

“She took over your room.”

Y/N heaved a sigh and smiled. "Well, that's okay. "I'll stay here with Chandler." She stood up from the barcalounger and peered toward the door. "I'll be fine here." The door opened, revealing Ross and Chandler. "Alright, then, I'll see you." Monica and Ross proceeded to the door. "See you, Ross." Y/N waved to him. "Don't!" Ross gestured and shut the door, leaving Y/N and Chandler alone again. "You and Monica made up. But I guess Ross isn't too happy." Chandler wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek. "He'll get used to it." Y/N moved to face him and kissed his lips. "So, are you going back?"

"No, I'll stay here with you. Without the pillows between." As she clutched onto his neck, the scent of his perfume drew her into his embrace. "Is Monica going to be okay now that the other room is empty?"

"Yeah, someone took over."

"Who?"

"Rachel…"

Chandler looked at her confused before recognizing who she was talking about.

"Rachel Green?!”

[for-writing-shit]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

matthew perry august 19

warnings: swearing

I hid behind the couch and bit my lip. Joey had offered to take chandler out today, knowing I didn’t like lying to him. The two of us had created an elaborate surprise party for him. Joey took him to a Knick’s game while I put the finishing touches on the party. Monica was behind the counter, Rachel and Ross were in chandlers room and phoebe was in joeys room. Various others from chandlers work were hidden throughout the apartment. I heard the door open and the lights turned on.

“Surprise!” We all yelled as we jumped up. Chandler stared at us all, blinking owlishly at me as his nerves settled.

“Happy birthday chandler.” I said, walking over and wrapping my arms around him. “Sorry I couldn’t…” chandler kissed me softly.

“you couldn’t lie to me. I know.” He said. “Thank you.” We smiled at each other before chandler broke away to take off his jacket. “Wow. This is a turn out.” He joked, wrapping an arm around me.

“It was all (Y/N)’s idea.” Monica said, patting my shoulder. Chandler smiled at me again.

“Oh I can imagine." He teased me. Chandler started to make his way around the room, talking to everyone and introducing me to people I hadn't met before today. Eventually we ended up on the couch, leaning into each other. "Thank you again." He whispered, playing with my fingers. I smiled softly at him.

"You're welcome." Chandler kissed me softly. "It feels like the least I can do. You've done so much for me, this feels small in comparison." He shook his head and tugged me closer.

"It means everything." He assured me. "More than you will ever know." I nodded and leaned my head on his shoulder. "So where are the presents?" I faked shock and Chandler's face fell slightly.

"Presents?" I asked. Chandler nodded slowly. "At Monica's." He rolled his eyes and I laughed. "Figured you would want to open them in peace. Your coworkers don't know you as well as we do. Didn't think you would want to open anything in front of them and have to fake it."

"Oh they brought something?" He asked, surprise on his face. I nodded. "Didn't expect that. You guys sure. Them..." Chandler shook his head.

"There's receipts in case you need to return anything." I whispered. Chandler nodded. "Just don't go returning anything we got you. Rachel would have a fit." We giggled as Rachel walked past us. She rolled her eyes at us as she passed.

"So how much longer do we have to tolerate these stiffs?" Joey asked as he sat down next to me.

"Until we can force them out." I whispered back. "Sorry Chan. But they are."

"I don't understand how you can work with them." Joey said. Chandler laughed.

"I make jokes with you guys because my soul is dying there." He said. "I do need a new job though." I nodded and smiled as he kissed my temple. "Alright. I'm kicking them out. I'm bored." Chandler got up and went to usher his coworkers out.

"Well at least he's having fun." Joey said. I nodded.

"That's all anyone can ask for on their birthday." I agreed as I watched Chandler shoo the unwanted guests out.

"Alright! Present time!" He cheered as he headed towards Monica's apartment. I laughed as I followed him, everyone trailing behind me.

[for-writing-shit]

I’m super curious to see what Friends would be like. (I don’t know why I never thought to look up fanfic of it? But I love your stuff, so I know yours will be good.) I don’t know what even to request though haha. Reader inserts? Or established pairings? Chandler is my favorite. Maybe a reader insert with him? Reader can be a friend of Phoebe’s and maybe it’s a mistaken identity thing? Reader wants to ask out Phoebes funny cute friend. Phoebe thinks it’s Joey but it’s Chandler?

This was in my drafts so I figured I should post it! I hope you find this since you requested it ages ago :(

Wrong person

"Joey! I have news for you!" Phoebe sang as she entered the coffee house. She rushed over to him, shoving Chandler over on the couch so she could sit. Chandler dramatically moved down, making Monica and Ross laugh.

"Tell me! Tell me!" He said excitedly, his hands wagging in the air.

"My friend, Y/N loved meeting you at Monica's party and asked me to give you her number!" Phoebe cheered, handing over the piece of paper with the number.

"Wait Y/N?" Chandler perked up, causing everyone to look at him.

"Yeah, why?" Phoebe asked.

"Nothing! It's just that-that uh- I thought she and I were sorta connecting." Chandler shrugged, trying to not feel disappointed that she was interested in Joey instead. Of course, she was, the girls always picked Joey.

"Oh Chandler, I won't if you like her," Joey said, giving Chandler a comforting smile.

"No, it's fine. She clearly likes you so you should go for it," Chandler smiled, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Monica noticed his sad state and planted a comforting hand on his knee.

"Which one is she again?" Joey asked, the name not ringing any sort of bell.

Before Phoebe could answer, Chandler was daydreaming out loud. "She's the smart and funny one. She made that joke about Baywatch, who knew women even watched that show. She was drinking beer, but only cold. She works with Phoebe at the massage place."

"Thanks, man!" Joey said, not understanding why Chandler remembered every detail. "Didn't want to look stupid when I call her."

Chandler painfully laughed, watching as he walked out of the house with her number. Chandler pretended to grab a knife from the table and jab himself in the chest.

"I'm sorry, Chandler," Phoebe said.

"It's okay, I can't beat Joey."

~

Chandler walked into the apartment and found Joey sitting in the recliner.

"Hey man, how did it go?" Chandler asked, even though the question killed him to ask. He took the open recliner next to him.

Joey turned to him with an excited smile, like he was gifting Chandler a present.

"She doesn't want me!" Chandler looked at Joey confused.

"Then why are you so excited?" Chandler laughed, a part of him happy that she wasn't into Joey. He wasn't sure if he could handle seeing her in Joey's clothes and having to share a wall.

"Phoebe messed up, she wanted you to get her number!" Joey cheered, "She likes you, man!" Joey planted a congratulating slap on his shoulder.

Chandler couldn't help but smile, "really? She wants to go out with me?"

Joey nodded and handed over the piece of paper, Chandler quickly ran over to the phone.

~

The date was planned and Chandler was nervously pacing in Monica's apartment. He knew he was bad with girls and his fear of commitment held him back.

"Chandler it's the first date, you don't have to marry the girl," Monica explained.

"Just be yourself! She already likes you so the hard part is already done," Joey said, thinking he was giving words of encouragement.

"Chandler, you'll do great," Phoebe encouraged, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Be your charming self and you'll be okay."

Chandler nodded as he tried to soak in their words. He hated how nervous he got when it came to women. Why couldn't it be easy like it was for Joey?

Chandler checked his watch and nodded to himself. "Time to go, wish me luck!"

Chants of good luck filled the room as he walked out of the apartment, walking to the coffee shop.

~

He saw her through the window, sitting beautifully on the big couch. He walked in, catching her attention. She smiled and stood up, he could feel his heart racing from the smile alone.

"I heard you've been asking about me?" He flirted, even though it sounded like a joke. He smiled when she let out a breathy laugh.

"Guilty," she said, together they took a seat. Both were a bit shy as they sat in a quick moment of silence. "Thanks for calling me. I thought Phoebe already knew who I was talking about."

"Eh I don't blame her. Joey usually is the one who gets the calls," Chandler's voice faded out as he thought about it. "But I'm honored to have been the chosen one."

She laughed at his joke, causing him to smile. She shifted so her body was facing him, and just like at the party they jumped right into a conversation.

~

Chandler flew through Monica's apartment with a huge smile. Everyone turned to the open door and questions began to fly.

Before he answered any, he placed his hand on his chest and dramatically declared,

"I'm going to marry that girl!"

[for-writing-shit]

Hiii! Hope ur doing well!!i LOVED the chandler bing storyf its ok i would like to request a c bing story where the reader is laready a part of rhe group and they like eachother with fluff ty

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting ❤️

Crushing

Chandler was used to having bad luck with girls. He spent most of his time running from relationships and only finding comfort with Janice. Most girls he could shove off, but there was one girl that always felt out of his reach.

Y/N

She was a friend of the group and a co-worker of Monica. The first time Monica introduced her, Chandler was in love. He was smitten. She and Chandler clicked immediately, and the chemistry was obvious. Their flirty looks didn't go unnoticed by their friends.

Joey thought she was attractive, as he did with all females, but he knew this girl was meant for Chandler. She understood all his jokes, sometimes beating him to the punchline.

Monica purposely introduced Y/N to Chandler. She thought Y/N was the perfect girl to help Chandler get out of his shell and learn how to fear being in a relationship.

Y/N was attracted to Chandler when their eyes met. He was tall and cute and always made her smile. Monica warned her that he was awkward around girls but to give him a chance. But she didn't need to be convinced to fall for Chandler.

It was obvious to everyone they liked each other. The gang noticed the innocent flirting happening both ways.

"Chandler that shirt looks really nice on you," Y/N said as she softly touched the shirt on his arm. Chandler stiffened but made sure not to move. Nervous under her touch but not having an issue as her fingers rubbed up and down.

Rachel eyed the two as she smiled to herself. It was a simple button-up, and truly Rachel believed he'd worn it a thousand times before.

~

Y/N was telling a story, standing at the coffee counter. Monica listened intensely, and Chandler stood behind Y/N, one arm on the counter as he leaned in to listen. Monica couldn't help but notice how good they looked next to each other. The way Chandler had his arm practically around her, her body trapped in my his like he was protecting her from the back. Barely any space between them.

Monica acted like she didn't notice when Chandler's free hand moved to Y/N's hip, his attention on Joey as he joined. His mind was busy but yet he still had a hand on Y/N, like it was natural.

~~~

"When do you think you'll ask her out?" Ross asked as he took the open spot next to Chandler on Monica's couch.

Chandler looked around the room in a panic, "Who?"

"Y/N, we all know you like her," Ross shrugged, looking down at the newspaper with a teasing smile.

"Who's we?" Chandler asked

"Everyone dude. And she probably does too. So ask her out!"

"I'm sorry, do you know me?" Chandler scoffed, "No way I can do that."

Ross sighed as he turned to his best friend, "do you think I'd push you to ask her out if I thought it would end badly?"

"Well I don't know. You got divorced three times, I don't know if you have a good understanding of women." Chandler joked, his smile dropping as Ross glared.

"Enjoy living with Joey forever," Ross said, standing up as he headed to the kitchen.

~~~

Chandler gave it more thought and tried to convince himself he'd live if she said no. His mind thought back to all the horrible interactions he had with girls and tried to fight them off.

He knocked on her apartment, a flower behind his back.

She opened the door, smiling immediately as he came into view. "Hi, Chandler."

Chandler smiled at how beautiful she looked, handing her the flower. "This is for you," his hands clamped together as she took the flower. "And I came here with more than just that!"

Y/N was used to a shaky and jittery Chandler so she tried not to seem too worried. "Yeah? Something in your pockets?" She joked back. His laugh rumbled through his chest and a warm feeling covered her body.

"I wanted to see if you'd like to go out sometime? On a date," he asked nervously. His eyes twitched as he already started to panic. Before he could spiral, she spoke.

"I'm free right now," she offered

Chandler gulped. "You know I only prepared myself to get this far," yanking at the collar on his neck. "Can I come back in an hour after I rehearse in the mirror?"

Y/N laughed, fully believing it was a joke but Chandler stood there sweating. "Oh yeah! That's fine," she said, letting the man breathe in his sweater vest.

"I'll see you in an hour," he said with a smile, pretending to take off a hat as he bowed. She laughed, watching him walk off before she closed the door.

[for-writing-shit]

Helloooo I love your fics sooo much!!! Could you do promt 5 with Chandler bing pls thank you!!<3

Of course!!! I love writing Chandler ❤️ I hope you enjoy. I’m so so sorry for the huge delay! I’ve been in such a writing slump lately.

Prompt 5: you don’t deserve someone like that

Giraffe

Chandler Bing x reader

You met Monica at her first chef job, you were the restaurants hostess. You’ve since drifted from that career to try find a way to make money from your art.

You’d always been a creative person. Your apartment was normally a little chaotic with unfinished projects all over.

The point was you’d been part of the gang for a while. You lived in Phoebe’s building too.

The 7 of you were all talking in the coffee house.

Chandler was smiling at you “So just to recap — you tried to bake a cake, set off the fire alarm, and somehow… painted a giraffe?”

You laughed “It was supposed to be a tree! But then you know the cake batter went everywhere and I tried to clean it off the canvas and it looked like a giraffe, and I just went with it. Art is about improvisation.”

Joey very seriously agreed “Yeah, like when I forget my lines and just talk about sandwiches.”

You nodded “exactly.”

Rachel laughed “Honestly, y/n, I don’t know how you survive a single day.”

“It’s easy? Just invest in good paint and a fire extinguisher.” You joke.

At that moment, the door opens. Dave — tall, athletic, charming if you didn’t look too closely — walks in. He strides over and kisses you quickly but firmly.

Dave mumbled “Hey, babe.”

“Heyy,” you smiled. You’d been dating for 6 months.

Chandler suddenly mutters under his breath “And here I thought this day couldn’t get any worse. I stand corrected. Standing… corrected.”

Ross awkwardly greeted Dave “Uh, hey, Dave.”

Dave nodded at them.

You were oblivious to Chandler’s pained sarcasm, and turned to him brightly

“Chandler! Did you ever finish that weird painting you started?” You asked

Chandler grinning weakly “You mean the one where I accidentally glued my hand to the canvas and called it modern art? Yeah, it’s hanging in my apartment next to my dignity. Oh wait—that’s gone too.”

Phoebe perked up “Ooh! We should all do an art night again! But no super glue this time.”

You smiled and nodded.

“Can we paint naked ladies?” Joey spoke up

Rachel: “Joey!”

You nodded.

Everyone laughs lightly, but Chandler’s smile falters when he sees how tightly Dave grips your waist, and how you flinch slightly.

[Later that night — y/ns Apartment.]

Chandler hesitates outside her door, a pizza box in hand. An excuse, really — ‘dropping off the leftovers.’ He raises his hand to knock but hears muffled arguing inside.

“Why do you have to act like such a spaz in front of everyone? It’s embarrassing, y/n.” Dave yelled

Your voice sounded small “I was just telling a story, Dave… I didn’t mean to—I was just having fun with my friends-”

“You never think. You just act. Maybe if you shut up once in a while, people would actually take you seriously. People would probably like you more if you talked less- I mean how embarrassing do you think it is for me being with you-“ Dave spat

There’s a loud noise — like something being shoved off a table. Chandler stiffens, heart pounding.

Your voice was soft and scared “I’m sorry.”

Chandler’s jaw tightens.

“That was my vase for the art show next week.” You say sadly, as you pick up the pieces of the shattered vase. It had taken you two weeks to make.

“Oh right, the art show. Because you’re the next Picasso, huh? Get real, y/n. It’s a hobby. Grow up.” Dave yelled.

“It’s not just a hobby. It’s what I love—” your voice was broken.

“Yeah, well, maybe if you loved something that actually made money, you wouldn’t be stuck in this dump.” Dave was awful.

There’s a loud clatter — like a chair being knocked over or thrown Chandler flinches.

Without thinking, he bursts in- you never lock your door despite everyone telling you to.

You were on the floor next to a broken chair and were holding the bruise now forming under your eye.

Chandler spoke in a sarcastic tone “Special delivery! One large pizza and an even larger sense of concern!”

You were trying to hide your face and your tears.

Dave was pissed and his voice gruff. “What do you want?”

“Dave I think you should leave…” Chandler said.

You rushed to try smooth the situation “Chandler, it’s fine. Really. We were just… talking.” You were afraid Dave would hurt Chandler.

Chandler was shocked, eyebrows raised “Ah yes, talking. That classic conversation style where you verbally body slam someone you’re supposed to love.”

“Maybe you should leave.” Dave spoke through gritted teeth.

“Look Dave, I’m gonna give you five minutes to leave this apartment. And don’t think about coming back. You don’t get to treat her like shit…I’ll call the police you psycho.” Chandler spoke.

You’d never seen him so brave. And to your surprise Dave left.

Immediately you hugged chandler and broke down crying.

Chandler held you. He didn’t speak. He just let you be.

“You don’t deserve someone like that.” Chandler whispered.

[Later — Central Perk, after they leave together.]

[Everyone’s gathered. Y/ns curled up next to Chandler on the couch, cradling a coffee cup. You’re quieter than usual, but safer. Joey is loudly arguing with Phoebe about the rules of “Sandwich Record Attempt.” A game they had just invented

You lean into Chandler’s shoulder, and for once, he doesn’t make a joke. He just rests his head lightly against yours, promising, silently, that you weren’t alone anymore.

[y/n’s apartment a few nights later]

The apartment is a mess — paintbrushes everywhere, half-finished canvases leaning against walls. You are on the floor, cross-legged in sweats, mixing colors. There’s a soft knock.

“Come in! It’s open!” You yell

Chandler peeks his head around the door, holding two mugs of hot chocolate. “I bring gifts. Also, a warning: if you drink both of these, you will immediately slip into a sugar coma.”

You laugh, wiping your hands on your sweats “Perfect. That’s how I want to go.”

He hands you a mug and sits down beside you without thinking — close, but not too close. Always careful with You now.

“So… I see the art hurricane has made landfall.”

You shrug slightly embarrassed “Yeah. Sorry. I know it’s a disaster.”

Chandler smiled “Hey, it’s your disaster. Which means these are all gonna be in a museum one day.”

You look at him for a long moment, something unreadable in your eyes. “Why are you always so nice to me?”

“Because if I’m mean, you’ll hit me with a paintbrush. And I’m very delicate.” Chandler jokes almost automatically.

You smile, but it fades just a little. You sets your hot chocolate down, fiddling with a paint rag in your lap. “No, seriously. You don’t have to… fix me.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He was being so weird after the other day.

“I’m not trying to fix you, y/n. I’m trying to be here. You don’t need fixing.” He says.

The room feels smaller somehow, filled with all the things unsaid.

“You saw what Dave was like.” You whispered “and I did nothing…”

Chandler nodded softly“Yeah.”

You spoke up, voice cracking. “I thought… I thought it was my fault. That if I just tried harder you know. And maybe this is all stupid-“

Chandler cut you off immediately “It’s not your fault. None of it is. You’re a great artist and don’t need losers like that telling you otherwise.”

You swallow hard, your fingers curling in the rag. Chandler sets his mug down and leans forward slightly. “You deserve someone who sees the way you light up a room when you talk about your art. Someone who doesn’t make you smaller just so they can feel bigger.”

[A few days later — Central Perk.]

Monica, Ross, Joey, Rachel, and Phoebe are already there. Chandler and y/n walk in together, laughing quietly about something. Your cheeks are pink, and Chandler looks lighter, like a weight he’s carried for years is finally starting to lift. You stop to talk to someone and chandler goes to sit down with the group.

Phoebe is grinning immediately “Well, well, well. Look who’s walking two inches closer than normal.”

Joey smirks“Yeah, someone’s got a crushhh.”

Chandler speaks “Crush? No. What you’re seeing is just me… gravitationally falling into another human being. Very natural. Very dignified.”

Rachel then asks “Seriously, what’s going on with you two?”

“We’re just… spending time together.” Chandler shrugged.

[Later — Monica’s Apartment.]

The whole gang is hanging out, eating pizza. Chandler and y/n end up sitting next to each other on the floor, sharing a plate. At some point, Chandler feels your hand lightly brush against his.

He freezes — heart racing — but when he glances over, y/n just gives him this small, steady smile, like you’ve been thinking about it for a long time too.

Slowly, carefully, you link your pinkies together.

Chandler stares at your hands for a second, then looks up at you. You raises an eyebrow, teasing and smiling. “Problem, Bing?”

“No problem at all.”

[Scene: Your Apartment — Late Night.]

You and Chandler are sprawled out on the couch. A terrible old movie plays on the TV, forgotten. Your head is resting on Chandler’s chest, and his fingers are lightly tracing patterns on your arm without even thinking.

It’s quiet. Comfortable. Too comfortable, maybe — because Chandler’s heart is pounding.

“Sooo… hypothetically speaking… if a guy was, I don’t know, deeply in love with a girl… when would be the right time to tell her?” Chandler spoke nervously.

You smile into his chest “Depends. Is the girl smart?”

“Very.”

“Is she oblivious?” You asked.

“Painfully.” Chandler squinted as he spoke

You giggled not getting his hints “Aw, poor girl. I hope she figures it out.”

Chandler closes his eyes for a second, like he’s physically restraining himself from slamming his head into the coffee table.

“Yeah. Fingers crossed.” He says.

A beat. Then he shifts slightly so you’re looking up at him. He’s not smiling now — not really joking. “I’m not really talking about ‘a guy,’ y/n.”

You blinks at him, confused for a second — and then your eyes widen, everything slowly clicking into place.

“Oh.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, stunned.

Chandler watches her, his heart practically trying to escape his chest.“Yeah. Oh.”

You sit up and stare at him. “You…?”

Chandler then began his typical nervous ramble. “I just — I didn’t know it would happen. One day you were Monica’s chaotic artist friend who spilled red paint on my shoes, and then you were… you were this person. This incredible, terrifying, brilliant person who made me want to be… better. And I just — God, this is the part where I say something smooth, right? I’m supposed to say something smooth.”

You laugh slightly. “You’re doing great.”

Chandler was half laughing, half desperate “I love you, y/n. I’m wildly, pathetically, head-over-weird-socks in love with you.”

He looks like he’s bracing for you to run. Instead, you let out a small, shaky laugh — and then, very softly, cup his cheek. “Good. Because I’m wildly, pathetically, head-over-chaotic-mess in love with you too.” You smiled.

Chandler lets out a stunned, breathless laugh. You lean in, kissing him — slow, a little clumsy at first, but absolutely right. He kisses you back like he’s been waiting forever.

Chandler has a stupid smirk on his face when you pull away. “So does this mean I’m allowed to make you pancakes in the morning? Because I’ve been practicing my ‘artistic’ pancakes and they are… horrifying.”

You laugh “Only if you make one shaped like a giraffe.”

“For you? I’ll make a whole zoo.” He smirked

You laugh again, forehead to forehead.

[for-writing-shit]

Hey my pookie!! Please do prompt 19 with Chandler Bing.. Dankie 😁🫶

19. Person B is insecure about their scars, person A makes them feel better about this.

Of course, random stranger- 👀

I’m not great at the advice…

You had been friends with Monica and Phoebe for ages. And by extension Rachel, Ross, Joey and Chandler.

It had been pouring with rain in New York and Chandler and I were soaked through. We ran into his apartment.

I saw chandlers gaze rather fixated on my chest, I glanced down at my white button up work shirt it was clung to my bare skin and rather see-through.

I flushed red and glanced around grabbed his blazer from the counter and put it on.

“Sorry-“ he said looking around. I shook my head with a small smile, brushing it off.

I looked out the window. “You mind if I camp out the storm?” I asked

“Yeah- yeah of course.” He nodded. He looked me up and down. He smiled a little

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head. And I couldn’t help but smile. “It looks better on you.” He smiled nodding his head to the blazer. I blushed.

We talked a couple times but we were never as close as the other members in the group.

I was shivering from the wet clothes. “Do you wanna borrow something?” He asked tripping over his words a few times.

“I can just go get something of Monica’s-“ I say and he brushed it off. “She’s with Richard,” he said.

“I could-“ I started but he interrupted me. “It’s fine y/n really.” He said.

I smiled at him. “That would be nice.” I said and he went into his room closed the door and when he came back he had changed into pjs and handed me an old t-shirt and some blue plaid pajama pants.

“Thank you. Now I have my Halloween costume too.” I smirked, going into his room to change.

“Are you sure? I think there’s gonna be too many kids dressed up as awkward loser this year-“ he stopped his ramble when I walked out in his clothes. All a little big.

He stared “wow.” He let out.

“Not such a bad costume now is it?” I smirked.

“I should stop buying clothes, now that I’ve seen this they’ll look terrible on me forever.” He said.

My cheeks tinted pink. We were friends. He flirted with Monica and Rachel and phoebe too right?

“So what do you wanna do?” I asked

“We could-“ his eyes darted around the room.

Soon enough we were on the recliners facing each other. A little table in the middle. Trying to throw coins into the cup.

“Is this what you and Joey do all day?” I asked.

“Well n-“ he paused. “Yeah,”

I chuckled. I threw the last one in. I put my arms up and smiled. “I win!”

Chandler smiled at me. I sat back down. His face softened, and then turned into a frown.

I glanced around “what?”

He leaned forward and took my arm and pulled it towards himself. My face fell when I realised he was looking at my scars.

I pulled my arm away. I never wore t-shirts for this reason. With the rain and everything I just forgot. I wrapped my arms around my legs and looked away.

He was quiet for a long time. I sat there tears in my eyes.

“Hey-it’s okay.” He said softly.

“It’s not, it was a long time ago and I regret it. And god you were the last person I needed seeing this.” I wipe my face.

“What- what does that mean? I’m not gonna make some stupid joke about it-“ he said kneeling on the floor in front of me and turning my chin to look at him.

“That’s not it.” I said.

“Look y/n I know we’re not best buddies but I care about you and you can talk to me.” He put a hand on my cheek. “Why am I the last person-“

“Because I was stupid and thought you might actually like me- and now I’ve ruined it-“ I couldn’t help a tear rolling down my cheek.

Chandler froze. He used his thumb and wiped my cheek.

“I’m gonna go call a cab.” I say standing up and he scrambled to his feet.

“No y/n please don’t go! I’m sorry it’s just- you like me?” He asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I asked feeling insecure and pathetic.

“No no I don’t think you heard me you like me…” he smiled, poking at my sides. “You hear that I like you it’s no big deal but you, liking me.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “There it is!” He exclaimed. I rolled my eyes and it faded again.

I kept holding my arms trying to cover up now.

“You can talk to me about it when you’re ready, but just so you know…scars and everything you’re still like wayyy out of my league.” He exaggerated and I smiled.

“You really like me?” I asked softly.

“Really, really.” He squeezed his eyes shut. I smiled.

“Now can I kiss you? Because this whole soap opera, you in my clothes, and confessing your love, it has me a little antsy.” He spoke.

I nodded biting my bottom lip slightly. He leaned in and I pulled him the rest of the way by his shirt collar. Having to go on my toes. We kissed his hands in my hair and the small of my back.

We broke apart when the door opened and Joey stood there wide eyed. I flushed red. And he pointed at us.

“Joe! It’s Joey!” Chandler exclaimed

I stood frozen. Almost wanting to laugh. “Dude!” He exclaimed

I glanced at Chandler.

“It finally happened I’m so proud of you man!” Joey gave Chandler a hug.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You told him you liked me?” I asked.

“Oh you have no idea, I mean you’re nice, but the talking blah blah blah!” Joey exclaimed wide eyed.

I laughed. Chandler was now blushing.

He nudged Joey “right sorry.” He cleared his throat and went into his room giggling.

I leaned my head on chandler’s chest laughing. “You’ve got a crush.” I teased lightly.

“Oh shut up,” he put a finger on my lips. I smiled.

“Make me.” I smirked and quickly his lips were on mine and I laughed as he kissed me passionately.

[for-writing-shit]

Hiii love! I was wondering if u could u could do a c bing imagine where the reader and him are best friends but then chandler gets feelings for her and thinks about confessing but she gets a boyfriend then her boyfriend breaks up with her then chandler tells her how she feels and lotss of fluffy thx alot!

I took some creative liberties with this, but I do hope it lives up to your expectations 🫶🫶

We Can’t Be Friends

Chandler Bing x reader

TW: Idiots in love, Chandler pining, angsty fluff, reader is oblivious.

            »»————-　⚜　————-««

“Is there a reason you’re standing on a ladder in the middle of my apartment building, or is this just a regular Wednesday afternoon for you?” Chandler Bing’s sarcastic voice rings out as he sets the groceries down on his kitchen table.

He finds the scene in front of him highly amusing. His best friend, Y/N L/N, on a seven foot ladder, arms outstretched in the air with a lightbulb in her mouth. She freezes at the sound of his voice, her eyes widening which only makes her position much more funny. Chandler chuckles at her ‘deer in the headlights’ look.

She stops what she’s doing, removing the bulb from her mouth, “Joey said you had a messed up light bulb. I thought I could come and replace it for you guys,” she answers like it’s not a big deal.

Chandler smiles, walking over to her. He cranes his neck up as she’s still pretty high above him, “And what would you have done if said ladder would’ve toppled over and neither of us were home?”

“Called for Monica,” Y/N shrugs. “She says her ears are permanently equipped to hear my voice because I’ve been talking her ear off since the day we met in the second grade,” she says with a devilish grin.

“Why don’t you let me do that?” He holds his hand out for her to come down. “It is my apartment.”

“No,” Y/N replies stubbornly, turning back to the task at hand. “I came over here to do this before either of you would get home. It was supposed to be a surprise, but you coming home early ruined it.”

“I’m sorry my presence is such a burden,” he places a hand on his chest in mock offense.

“If I was a couple steps lower, I’d kick you.”

Chandler smirked, shaking his head. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Impossible in a 'thank you for replacing our lightbulb' way or a 'please get off the ladder before you break your neck' way?" Y/N quipped, expertly twisting the new bulb into place.

"Somewhere in between," Chandler muttered, stepping back as she climbed down the ladder with practiced ease.

Y/N hopped off the last rung and turned to face him, a triumphant grin lighting up her face. "See? No neck-breaking required. Light’s fixed, and you didn’t even have to lift a finger. You’re welcome."

Chandler let out a soft laugh, folding his arms across his chest. "Thank you, Florence Nightingale of home maintenance. How can I ever repay you? I mean, the heroism it must’ve taken to risk your life for our dim kitchen—truly inspiring."

"You're welcome," she replied, her grin turning devilish. "And as for payment, I’ll take a lifetime supply of sarcasm. Oh, wait—you’ve already got me covered there."

"Touché," Chandler said, a mock-serious expression on his face. "But really, how does someone like you even know how to change a lightbulb? This feels suspiciously like you’re trying to one-up me."

"Someone like me?" Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly toward him. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Someone who claims they can’t even put furniture together without an emotional breakdown," he teased, tilting his head.

"That’s different," she argued, her tone playful. "Furniture comes with instructions that read like a secret code. Lightbulbs? They’re simple. Unscrew the bad, screw in the good. Even Joey could manage it."

"Low bar," Chandler said, chuckling.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. "Anyway, maybe I’m just full of surprises. Ever think of that?"

Chandler’s smile faltered slightly, his gaze softening. "Yeah," he said quietly. "You definitely are."

Y/N didn’t notice the sudden change in his tone, too busy gathering her bag from the counter. But Chandler noticed. He always noticed. It was part of the problem.

She wasn’t just full of surprises. She was full of life. Full of little quirks and moments that made his chest tighten in the best—and worst—way. Like the way she scrunched her nose when she laughed at one of her own jokes or how her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved.

And it wasn’t just her quirks. It was the way she made him feel like the most important person in the room, even when she was just teasing him about his bad hair days or his overuse of sarcasm. With Y/N, he didn’t have to try to be someone else. She just got him.

But she’d never see him as more than her goofy best friend. Why would she? She was Y/N—gorgeous, funny, brilliant Y/N. And he was just... Chandler.

He shook the thought away as she turned back to him, her expression teasing.

"Alright, Mr. Bing, I’m off to save the world one lightbulb at a time," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Don’t let the fame go to your head," he replied, smirking.

"Too late." She paused, her eyes narrowing playfully as she looked at him. "You’re staring at me again. Should I be concerned?"

Chandler blinked, startled. "What? No, I wasn’t staring. I was, uh... admiring your ladder-climbing technique. Very professional."

"Uh-huh," she said, clearly not buying it. "Well, if you need anything else fixed, you know who to call."

"Yeah, I’ll just dial 1-800-WONDER-WOMAN," he joked.

"Exactly," she said with a wink before heading for the door.

Chandler watched her go, his heart doing that annoying flutter thing it always did when she was around. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t even have to try, and she had him completely undone.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Chandler sank onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

She made his heart race. Every look, every smile, every sarcastic jab—it all sent his mind spinning. And it wasn’t just physical, though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice how beautiful she was. It was everything about her.

The way she always remembered the little things, like his favorite kind of coffee or the exact way he liked his popcorn during a movie night. The way she could make him laugh even when he felt like the world was falling apart. The way she believed in him, even when he couldn’t believe in himself.

And then there was the way she flirted with him—or at least, what he thought might be flirting. He wasn’t sure. She could just be naturally charming. Either way, it drove him crazy.

"You’re impossible," he muttered under his breath, echoing his earlier words.

But the truth was, he didn’t want her to change. He loved her just the way she was—completely impossible and entirely unforgettable.

He just wished she’d see him the way he saw her.

            »»————-　⚜　————-««

Chandler was lounging on his recliner, flipping through a magazine without much interest, when the door to the apartment burst open. Y/N strolled in, her face practically glowing with excitement.

"Guess what!" she announced, practically bouncing on her heels.

Chandler glanced up lazily. "You’ve finally realized that standing on a ladder unsupervised was reckless and are here to formally apologize?"

She rolled her eyes, dropping her bag onto the counter. "Nope. Try again."

He arched an eyebrow. "You’ve decided to give up your lifelong dream of replacing lightbulbs professionally?"

"Wrong again," Y/N said, plopping down onto the couch with a grin so wide it made Chandler’s stomach twist in a way he tried to ignore. "I have a date tonight!"

The words hit Chandler like a bucket of ice water. His mouth went dry, and his grip tightened on the magazine. He forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "Oh," he said, his voice slightly higher than usual. "That’s... great."

Y/N, oblivious as always, missed the strain in his voice. She tucked her legs under her and beamed at him. "I know, right? I met him at the coffee shop yesterday while I was waiting for Rachel. He was ahead of me in line, and we started chatting because he noticed I was humming along to the music playing. Turns out, he’s a fan of musicals too!"

"Musicals," Chandler repeated, his tone laced with a sarcasm she didn’t catch. "Sounds like Prince Charming."

"Doesn’t he?" she said, her eyes lighting up. "And get this—he didn’t just know Les Misérables and Phantom of the Opera. He brought up Funny Girl! Like, how many guys know Funny Girl?"

"Well, I guess he’s a real unicorn," Chandler muttered under his breath, glancing toward Joey for backup.

Joey, seated at the kitchen counter eating a sandwich, shot Chandler a wide-eyed look that clearly said, What is happening right now? But he stayed quiet, watching the scene unfold like it was the latest episode of a drama he couldn’t look away from.

Y/N kept talking, oblivious to the growing tension in Chandler’s posture. "We ended up talking for like twenty minutes! His name’s Ryan, and he’s a graphic designer. He’s super funny and really easy to talk to. Oh, and he loves coffee almost as much as I do, so that’s already a win."

Chandler forced another smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "Wow. Coffee, musicals, and he’s funny. Did you also find out if he rescues puppies in his free time?"

Y/N laughed, missing the bitterness beneath his words. "I don’t know about puppies, but he did mention volunteering at a local art center. How cool is that?"

"Very cool," Chandler said through gritted teeth, staring down at his magazine like it might offer some kind of distraction.

Y/N leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. "I mean, I know it’s just one date, but he seems... different, you know? Like, maybe he could actually be someone worth getting to know."

Chandler swallowed hard, the knot in his chest tightening with every word she said. He hated how much he cared. Hated how his chest ached at the thought of her with someone else. But most of all, he hated how obvious it probably was to everyone but her.

"Well, I hope he’s everything you’re looking for," Chandler said, his voice dripping with forced cheerfulness.

"Thanks, Chan," Y/N said, smiling at him. "I’ll let you know how it goes. I’m meeting him at that little Italian place down the street. You know, the one with the candles and the live music? It’s so cute!"

Chandler nodded, barely listening now. His mind was too busy imagining this Ryan guy sitting across from Y/N, making her laugh, holding her hand. The thought made his stomach churn.

Y/N glanced at the clock and jumped up. "I should get going if I want to change and do something with my hair before tonight. Wish me luck!"

"Good luck," Chandler said, his voice flat.

"Not too much luck," Joey added with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N laughed and waved them off before heading out the door, leaving the apartment far too quiet in her absence.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Joey turned to Chandler, his eyebrows raised. "Really, dude?"

"What?" Chandler snapped, tossing the magazine onto the coffee table.

"That was brutal," Joey said, shaking his head. "You looked like you were gonna explode every time she said his name."

"I did not," Chandler argued, though his flushed face said otherwise.

Joey pointed a finger at him. "You like her."

Chandler’s jaw tightened. "I do not like her. She’s my best friend. I’m happy for her."

"Yeah, sure," Joey said, leaning back in his chair. "That’s why you were practically growling every time she talked about this Ryan guy."

Chandler groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, fine. Maybe I do like her. But what am I supposed to do? She’s already going on a date with this... graphic designer, coffee-drinking, musical-loving saint."

"Tell her how you feel," Joey said simply.

"Yeah, because that’s worked out so well for me in the past," Chandler muttered.

Joey shrugged. "What’s the worst that could happen? She doesn’t feel the same way? At least you’d know instead of sitting here, torturing yourself."

Chandler sighed, slumping back in his chair. "Yeah, well, I think I’ll stick with torturing myself for now. Thanks for the advice, Dr. Phil."

Joey rolled his eyes, but the conversation ended there. Chandler’s thoughts, however, were far from over.

He didn’t know how long he could keep pretending he didn’t care. But for now, he’d fake a smile and hope she didn’t notice the cracks forming underneath.

            »»————-　⚜　————-««

Chandler stood frozen, his jaw clenched as the laughter from the kitchen spilled into the living room. Rachel and Joey exchanged looks, both of them clearly bracing for the inevitable fallout.

"Seriously, dude," Joey whispered, leaning closer. "You gotta get it together. You’re about one snarky comment away from making things weird."

Chandler ignored him, glaring at the kitchen door like it had personally offended him. When Y/N returned, her date trailing behind her, Chandler’s fake smile reappeared.

"Well, Ryan," he said, crossing his arms, "looks like you’ve survived the first outing with the Great and Wonderful Y/N. How’s it feel? Like scaling Everest?"

Ryan blinked, clearly unsure if that was a joke or not. "Uh... it was great, actually. She’s amazing."

Chandler’s jaw tightened further, but he forced a laugh. "Amazing, right. Of course, she is."

Y/N frowned, catching the edge in his tone. "What’s your problem, Chandler?"

"My problem?" Chandler said, raising his eyebrows in mock innocence. "Oh, I don’t have a problem. I’m thrilled. Ecstatic. Overjoyed that you’ve found someone who appreciates your encyclopedic knowledge of musicals."

Ryan chuckled nervously, glancing between them. "Um... maybe I should—"

"No, you’re fine," Y/N interrupted, turning her glare back to Chandler. "Chandler’s just being... Chandler."

"Yep," Chandler said, his voice tight. "That’s me. Just being me. The guy who’s always here. Always around. Always—"

"Chandler," Rachel hissed from the couch, cutting him off.

Ryan took a cautious step back. "I think I should probably head out. It’s getting late, and..." He gestured vaguely toward the door.

Y/N sighed, her frustration with Chandler momentarily giving way to an apologetic smile for Ryan. "I’ll walk you out."

As soon as the door closed behind them, Rachel smacked Chandler’s arm. "What is wrong with you?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Chandler said, feigning nonchalance.

Joey snorted. "Dude, you basically growled at the guy. You’re acting like a jealous ex-boyfriend, except you’ve never even dated her."

Before Chandler could respond, the door opened again, and Y/N stormed back in.

"Okay, what the hell was that?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

Chandler threw up his hands. "What was what? I was perfectly polite."

"Polite?" Y/N repeated, her voice rising. "You were rude, Chandler. Snarky and rude for no reason!"

"I wasn’t being rude," he argued, though even he didn’t sound convinced. "I was just... making conversation."

"Right," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Because making someone feel uncomfortable in my home is your version of small talk?"

"Well, excuse me for not rolling out the red carpet for Mr. Perfect Coffee Shop Guy!" Chandler snapped, his frustration bubbling over.

Y/N froze, staring at him in disbelief. "Are you serious right now? What is your problem with Ryan?"

"I don’t have a problem with him!" Chandler shot back. "I have a problem with... this whole thing!"

She blinked, clearly taken aback. "What thing?"

"This thing where you meet some random guy, and suddenly he’s all you can talk about, like he’s God’s gift to humanity, and—and—" Chandler faltered, running a hand through his hair.

"And what, Chandler?" Y/N demanded, her voice softer now but no less intense. "What are you trying to say?"

Chandler hesitated, the words caught in his throat. He wanted to tell her. Wanted to lay it all out there, to finally say how he felt. But the fear of ruining everything—of losing her—was too strong.

"Nothing," he said finally, his voice flat. "It’s nothing."

Y/N scoffed, throwing her hands in the air. "Unbelievable. You’re acting like a child, Chandler. A jealous, immature child."

"Jealous?" he said, laughing bitterly. "I’m not jealous. I just think maybe you should be a little more careful about who you bring into your life."

Her eyes narrowed, and her voice turned icy. "Thanks for the unsolicited advice, Dad. I think I can handle my own life."

"Fine," Chandler snapped. "Then go ahead. Date him. Marry him. Have his stupid little musical-loving babies. See if I care!"

Y/N’s face flushed with anger. "You know what, Chandler? Forget it. I don’t have the energy for this." She turned on her heel and stormed toward her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

The apartment was silent for a moment before Rachel let out a low whistle. "Wow. That was... something."

Chandler groaned, collapsing onto the couch. "I blew it, didn’t I?"

Joey nodded solemnly. "Oh yeah. Big time."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "You are such an idiot, Chandler. Why didn’t you just tell her how you feel?"

"Because it’s not that simple!" he protested.

"Actually, it kind of is," Joey said. "You like her. She likes you. But instead of saying something, you just make everything awkward."

"She doesn’t like me," Chandler said, his voice defeated.

"How do you know?" Rachel challenged.

"Because she’s out there, dating other people!"

Rachel sighed, sitting next to him. "Chandler, she’s dating other people because she doesn’t think you’re interested. You hide behind sarcasm and jokes, but she’s not a mind reader. If you don’t tell her, how is she supposed to know?"

Joey nodded. "She’s not gonna wait around forever, man."

Chandler leaned back, closing his eyes. He knew they were right, but that didn’t make it any easier. He’d spent so long convincing himself that Y/N could never feel the same way, and now he didn’t know how to undo it.

"Maybe tomorrow," he said finally.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "You keep saying that, and one day, tomorrow’s going to be too late."

But Chandler didn’t respond. Instead, he stared at Y/N’s closed door, wishing he had the courage to knock and finally tell her the truth.

            »»————-　⚜　————-««

The apartment was quiet except for the hum of the TV, where Joey was flipping through channels aimlessly. Chandler sat slouched in his recliner, arms crossed, looking miserable.

Y/N stood outside the door, clutching a tin of cookies to her chest. She had spent hours baking them—a peace offering after their blowout argument last week. It wasn’t like her to let things fester, especially with Chandler. But every time she thought about his weird behavior and the biting sarcasm that had set her off, she’d hesitated.

Finally, though, she decided enough was enough. Taking a deep breath, Y/N pushed the door open and stepped inside. She opened her mouth to announce her arrival but froze when she heard Chandler’s voice.

"You know, Joey, I really screwed this up," Chandler was saying, his voice low and defeated.

Joey glanced up from the TV, alarm flashing across his face when he saw Y/N by the door. He gestured wildly, trying to signal Chandler, but Chandler was too lost in his thoughts to notice.

"I mean, what was I supposed to do?" Chandler continued, throwing up his hands. "She comes in here, all perfect and funny and amazing, and I just... freak out. I can’t be around her without feeling like my heart’s going to explode. And then she goes on a date, and I act like a total jerk because I’m—" He stopped, groaning. "Because I’m in love with her. There, I said it. I’m in love with her, and it’s the absolute worst."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her grip tightening on the tin of cookies.

Joey, still frantically gesturing, tried again. "Uh, dude—"

"What, Joey?" Chandler snapped, glancing over.

Joey’s eyes widened even further, darting toward Y/N.

It clicked. Chandler’s face drained of color, his expression twisting in horror. "She’s right behind me, isn’t she?"

Joey nodded rapidly.

Chandler turned slowly, like a man bracing for impact. When his eyes landed on Y/N, who stood frozen in the doorway, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide, he let out a weak laugh. "Uh... surprise?"

Y/N stepped closer, her lips pressed into a thin line. "You’re in love with me?"

Chandler’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. "I, uh... okay, yes. But before you say anything, let me just explain—"

"Explain what, Chandler?" she interrupted, her voice surprisingly soft. "That you’ve been acting weird because you have feelings for me?"

"Yes! Exactly!" he said, seizing on her words like a lifeline. "I’ve been avoiding you because I didn’t want to mess things up, and then you started dating Ryan, and I lost it, and—"

Y/N didn’t let him finish.

She closed the distance between them in two quick strides, grabbed his face with both hands, and kissed him.

For a moment, Chandler was too stunned to respond. But then, as the realization hit, he melted into the kiss, his hands hesitantly coming up to rest on her waist.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N smirked up at him. "You know," she said, her voice teasing, "we could’ve saved a lot of time and effort if you’d just told me this sooner."

Chandler blinked at her, still trying to process what had just happened. "Yeah, ditto."

From the couch, Joey let out an enthusiastic clap. "Finally!"

Chandler and Y/N turned to glare at him in unison.

"Shut up, Joey," they said together before bursting into laughter.

Chandler rested his forehead against Y/N’s, his smile soft and genuine. "So, you’re not mad?"

"Mad?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow. "Chandler, I’ve been waiting for you to say something for months. Do you have any idea how many times I almost kissed you first?"

"You almost kissed me?" Chandler repeated, his eyes wide. "When?"

"Remember the night we stayed up watching bad horror movies, and you let me fall asleep on your shoulder?"

Chandler nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Wait—you wanted to kiss me then?"

Y/N shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Maybe."

He laughed, pulling her closer. "Well, I guess I’ll have to make up for lost time."

Y/N smiled, leaning into him. "You better."

Joey cleared his throat loudly, reminding them he was still there. "So, uh, are we gonna talk about how you’ve been in love with each other this whole time, or...?"

Chandler groaned, burying his face in Y/N’s shoulder. "Why is he like this?"

Y/N chuckled, wrapping an arm around him. "He’s got a point."

"Of course he does," Chandler mumbled.

"Thanks, man!" Joey said brightly.

Y/N shook her head, looking up at Chandler. "So, now what?"

Chandler grinned. "Now, I stop being an idiot and take you out on a real date."

She raised an eyebrow. "Does this real date involve cookies?"

He glanced at the tin still sitting on the counter. "It does now."

Joey stood, clapping them both on the shoulder. "I’m proud of you, man. And just so you know, I called dibs on being your best man at the wedding."

"Joey!" Chandler said, his face turning red.

Y/N just laughed, lacing her fingers through Chandler’s. "One step at a time."

Chandler smiled down at her, feeling a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. "Yeah. One step at a time."

As they sat on the couch together, sharing cookies and teasing Joey, Chandler realized that for the first time in months, everything felt right

[for-writing-shit]

The One with George Stephanopoulos

this chapter made me want pizza and alcohol okay bye chandler bing x female!reader summary: its been a few months since you moved to the city and you're settling in pretty well with your new group of friends word count: ~4.5k warnings: mentions of black mold, alcohol, a little snooping, but its harmless fun <previous next>

"What would you guys do if you were omnipotent?" you ask suddenly during a quiet afternoon in the cafe.

"Probably make myself immortal," Monica says, looking up from her crossword. "And be able to time-travel, I've always wanted to do that as a kid."

"Ooh, time travel would be sick," you say. "I'd want to immediately know how to play the bass."

"Oh, that's good, that's good." Rachel smiles, handing you your latte.

"What about you, Phoebe?" you ask the woman sitting on the floor.

"I would want, um, world peace. No more hunger. Good things for the rainforest." She grins before quickly adding, "Oh, and bigger boobs!"

"Well, see, you took mine," Ross says. You giggle, holding your warm mug and leaning back into the couch next to Chandler, who quickly removes his arm from behind the couch. "Chandler, what about you?"

Chandler shrugs. "If I were omnipotent for a day, I'd make myself omnipotent forever."

You scoff and roll your eyes. "Lame."

Rachel also tches. "See, there's always that one guy. 'If I had a wish, I'd wish for three more wishes.'"

You laugh again and turn as the door opens. Joey walks in and you hit him with your burning question. "Joey! Joey, what would you do if you were omnipotent for a day?"

He blinks at your question and answers, "Probably kill myself."

Your eyes widen and you breathe out a laugh. "Sorry?"

"Hey," he starts as he takes a seat beside Ross. "If little Joey's dead, then I've got no reason to live."

You shake your head and take a sip of your drink.

"Uh, Joey." Ross's first mistake was to try and help. "Omnipotent."

Joey's eyes widen and in the most sympathetic voice you've ever heard him use, he says, "You are?"

You choke on your drink, laughing into your mug and almost spilling coffee on yourself. Chandler places a hand on your back while Phoebe hands you a napkin, taking your drink from you. You laugh again, wiping your face, and look at Joey.

"Dude, you're so funny. Do you know that?"

Joey smiles and shrugs. "People say that I am."

You clear your throat and lean back in your seat again. Chandler has an arm across the back of the couch again, but this time he doesn't move it, something everyone but you catches on to.

His arm doesn't move for the next thirty minutes either. Eventually, you notice but think nothing of it. Ross does it with Phoebe and there's certainly nothing there. Your newfound friend group talks about nothing and everything at once as the afternoon grows later. After a while, you glance at your watch and realize you need to head out, even though you don't want to.

With a groan, you sit up. "I've got to head out."

"Why?" Monica wonders.

You sniff and start to get your things together in your tote bag. "My window is leaking in my bathroom and kitchen, so my super is going to check it out. Also, there's this weird substance on my windowsills that looks like dirt, but I swear to god if it's black mold I'm going to kill someone."

"Well, good luck," Chandler says, watching you take out your walkman and put the headphones around your neck.

"I'll be back in an hour or so," you tell them and start your mixtape. "See you guys later."

And then you head out. Chandler watches you through the window--which isn't creepy because it's so big. He watches you take out your lighter and light a cigarette before walking on your way. For someone who moved to the city a few months ago, you already seem very much at home.

The second the door closes, Joey moves to sit by Chandler and says, "Chan. If you don't ask her out, I'm going to."

"Yeah, why haven't you asked her yet?" Monica asks. "With the way your arm was behind her for an hour, someone would assume you guys are dating."

Chandler scoffs and shrugs, feeling his neck heat up. "I--I don't know. I think she's too cool for me."

"She's too cool for all of us," Ross says.

"I think she's into you." Phoebe pokes his leg and smiles. "She's always around you."

"Yeah, because I was the first person she met here and she's my friend."

"So? I think you'd have a shot." Phoebe tells him. "Her aura is brighter around you."

Chandler isn't sure what that means, but he shrugs anyway. "I--I don't know. I really think she's cool, I don't want to mess this friendship up."

His friends nod in understanding but Joey asks, "So, does this mean I can ask her on a date?"

"No!" he blurts out, perhaps too loudly because someone at a neighboring table turns to glare at him for a moment.

"Woah, okay, man." Joey holds his hands up in surrender. "I know now to mess with your girl."

Heat rushes to Chandler's cheeks and he huffs, feeling very uncomfortable. "Whatever."

~*~

An hour and a half later, you return to the coffee shop pissed out of your mind. You angrily open the door and let it slam shut behind you. Monica, Phoebe, and Ross are still here and all look at you when you approach. You're frowning, something they've never seen you do before, and your head looks like it's about to explode.

"Woah, what's up?" Monica asks as you dramatically sit between Ross and Phoebe. "You look pissed."

"Because I am," you snap, shedding your jacket. "There's black fucking mold in my apartment."

"Oh, gross!"

"No, it gets better," you add, looking between your friends while your heart thumps rapidly in your throat. "It's not just my apartment. It's the entire goddamn floor."

"Oh no!"

"That's awful."

Phoebe puts her arm around you and you lean into your side, feeling yourself calm down quickly as her scent of patchouli envelops you. "I asked how long it would take them to fix it, but the super said I had to move out for a week."

"For a week?" Monica asks.

You nod. "Yeah. I hate to ask, but could I maybe stay with you and Rachel? I'll chip in with food and stuff."

Monica smiles and says, "Yeah, of course. Phoebe was actually going to be spending the night too, we can have a girls' night."

"Oh, that's fun!" Phoebe exclaims, smiling.

You grin and feel your anger slip away. You're lucky to have these people as your friends. "Thanks."

~*~

Later that night, you're making drinks with Phoebe and Monica while dressed in your pajamas. You went to your apartment to pack your things and you're glad you did your laundry yesterday.

Rachel is out with her friends and you want to assume they're nice, but they give you snooty rich-girl vibes. Plus their screaming only made you more angry than you were before, but now that you've taken two shots of rum, you feel a little better.

You fire up the blender again on your famous Tiki Death Punch--which is really just a strawberry and pineapple daiquiri--while Phoebe gets the glasses out and the door opens.

"Hey, Rach," Monica greets, finishing up the cookie dough. "How was it with your friends?"

And then, in unison, you, Phoebe, and Monica scream, mocking what Rachel and her friends did. You giggle and take off the lid to analyze your work before unplugging the blender and moving toward the glasses. But when you look back up, Rachel does not look amused and you hiss through your teeth. "Anyway, you want some Tiki Death Punch?"

"What's that?" Rachel asks, sounding exhausted.

You finish pouring the third glass and answer, "Well, it's rum and--"

Rachel doesn't even let you finish before she's taken the pitcher from your hands and is sticking a straw through the liquid.

You blink at your empty hands. "Okay."

"We thought that Phoebe was staying over and Y/N is staying here for the week, we'd have kinda like a slumber party thing. We've got trashy magazines, we've got cookie dough, we got Twister."

"I brought Monopoly and Balderdash," you add, glancing at the phone as it rings.

"And I brought Operation," Phoebe says, walking towards Rachel, who looks miserable. "But, um, I lost the tweezers so we can't operate. But we can prep the guy!"

You smile at her enthusiasm.

With the phone in her hand, Monica walks towards Rachel and says, "Uh, Rach, it's the Visa card people."

She groans and rolls her eyes. "Oh, God, ask them what they want."

"Could you please tell me what this is in reference to?" Monica asks into the phone before lowering it down and addressing Rachel. "Um, they say there's been some unusual activity on your account."

"But I haven't used my card in weeks," Rachel says, sounding even more exasperated now.

"That is the unusual activity." Rachel stands and pinches the bridge of her nose as Monica adds, "Look, they just want to see if you're okay."

"They want to know if I'm okay? Okay, they want to know if I'm okay. Okay, let's see." Slowly, you take a sip each time she says okay. "Well, let's see, the FICA guys took all my money. Everyone I know is either getting married or getting pregnant or getting promoted and I'm getting coffee. And it's not even for me! So if that sounds like I'm okay, okay, then you can tell them I'm okay. Okay?"

You swallow your last sip and see that half of your drink is gone.

Monica slowly licks her lips and lifts the phone to her ear. "Uh, Rachel has left the building. Can you call back?"

"Alright, come on!" With her voice breaking and tears in her eyes, Rachel unfurls the game mat and says, "Let's play Twister."

"Oh, Rachel!" You walk over to her and lead her to the couch as she wipes her tears. "Come on, babe, it's okay, you're fine."

"No, I'm not!" she exclaims, sniffling. "Everyone I know is being more productive than I am."

Monica sits on the other side of her and rubs her arm. "Oh, come on. You should feel great about yourself. You're doing this amazing and independent thing!"

But she just rolls her eyes and asks, "Monica, what is so amazing? I gave up, like, everything! And for what?"

"You are just like Jack!" Phoebe exclaims from her spot on the table.

Looking at her, you squint. "Pheebs, I'm a little tipsy, but what are you talking about?"

"Jack from 'Jack and the Beanstalk'," she answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "See, he gave up something, but then he got those magic beans. And then he woke up and there was this--this big plant outside of his window full of possibilities and stuff. And he lived in a village and you live in the village."

Rachel holds up a hand to stop her. "Okay, but, Pheebs, Pheebs. Jack gave up a cow. I gave up an orthodontist. Okay? I--I know I didn't love him, but--"

"Oh, see, Jack did love the cow."

You sigh and take another long sip of your drink.

"But, see, it was a plan," Rachel continues. "You know? It was clear. Everything was figured out and now everything's just kinda like..."

She flails her hands around, searching for the word, and you suggest, "Floopy?"

"Yeah."

You put your hands back on her arm and say, "I've been there."

"Really?" she asks, looking at you.

You nod. "Yeah, I'm there right now. I mean, I want to be a famous screenwriter and probably a director. But I live in a shitty apartment with black mold and I work as a hostess." You laugh at yourself and continue. "I live, like, three thousand kilometers away from home in a whole new country. I was supposed to go to school for nursing because my mom and my dad are both doctors, but I changed my major halfway through and moved here." You smile at her and rub up and down her arm. "And I'm happy I did because I met you guys. And, sure, I kind of hate my job and I don't have any time to write and I pour oil down my drains to fuck with my landlord. But I'm doing my own thing, doing what I like. Not what everyone else is doing. Does that make sense?"

Rachel shrugs, but then she nods.

Monica puts a hand on her shoulder. "Yeah. I mean, you've just gotta figure at some point it's all gonna come together, and it's just gonna be...un-floopy."

But then Rachel sighs and says, "Okay, but, Monica, what if--what if it doesn't come together?"

Monica rocks back and forth, searching for an answer, before quietly saying, "Pheebs?"

Phoebe puts her drink down and starts, "Well, 'cause you just like...I don't like this question. Y/N?"

You think about this question every night in bed, but you don't have an answer. And so you look around, muttering things under your breath so the heat will be off you.

"Okay, see, see you guys? What if we don't get magic beans? I mean, what if all we've got are...beans?"

Yeah, that's a thought that crosses your mind in the middle of the night too. And so you loudly slurp up the rest of your drink and pick up the pitcher. "I need more rum."

~*~

An hour and two pitchers of Tiki Death Punch later, you're all sitting in various positions in the living room. Phoebe is lying on the floor with her head on the ottoman and her hair over her face. Monica is eating cookie dough right out of the bowl with the wooden spoon. Rachel is lying across the couch with her legs in your lap. You're on your third drink and you're not even sure you can finish that. God, you're depressed, you really should get in touch with a pharmacist to get back on Prozac, but that's a hassle with the American healthcare system. Why can't it just be free like the rest of the world?

Rachel, who is changed into much comfier clothes, sighs and says, "I'm sorry, guys, I didn't mean to bring you down."

"No, you were right," Monica says, smushing the dough. "I don't have a plan!"

There's a knock at the door and that's the first time you've felt happy in forty-five minutes. "Thank Christ, food."

Rachel gets up to get the pizza and Monica says, "Phoebe?"

"Huh?" She flips her ponytail out from her face.

"Do you have a plan?"

She scoffs and says, "I don't even have a pla'."

Rachel swings the door open and a young teenage kid is standing there with pizzas. "Hi. One mushroom, green pepper, and onion?"

You almost burst into tears right then and there.

Rachel sighs. "No, no, no that's not what we ordered! We ordered a fat-free crust with extra cheese!" She also sounds like she's about to cry and lifts her fingers to her temple.

"Wait, you're not G. Stephanopoulos?"

"No."

"Oh, man, my dad's gonna kill me!"

Suddenly, Monica jumps across your legs and you almost piss yourself. Slowly, you and Phoebe follow as she asks the teenager, "Did you say G. Stephanopoulos?"

He nods. "Yeah, yeah, this one goes across the street. I must've given him yours. Oh, bonehead, bonehead." To be honest, him hitting himself in the forehead with the palm of his hand does make you smile a little.

"Wait, was this a--a small Mediterranean guy with curiously intelligent good looks?"

The kid nods. "Yeah, sounds about right."

"Was he wearing a stunning blue suit?"

"A--and a power tie?" Phoebe adds.

The kid shakes his head. "Nah, pretty much just a towel."

Monica's mouth drops and she leans on Phoebe for support like she's swooning. "Oh, god."

"So do you guys want me to take this back?" the poor kid asks.

"What? Are you nuts?" Monica seizes the pizza from his hand. "We've got George Stephanopoulos' pizza!"

While Rachel pays the kid, Monica rushes to the window and grabs the binoculars.

"Who is George Stephanopoulos?" you ask Phoebe.

But before she can answer, Monica shouts out, "I see pizza!"

Phoebe runs over to look, but you and Rachel stay by the pizza. You open it and almost start to salivate. You haven't eaten since lunch and you've been craving pizza all week.

"Who are we spying on?" Rachel wonders.

"You know the White House Advisor? Clinton's campaign guy, uh, the one with the great hair, sexy smile, and really cute butt?"

You laugh at her description and eat a piece of bell pepper. "No, but I wish I did."

Rachel nods. "Oh, yeah, the little guy! Oh, I love him!"

Together, you each take a piece of pizza and walk over to the window as Phoebe says, "Ooh, wait, I see a woman."

"Oh, please tell me it's his mother," Monica says.

You squint to try to see where she's looking, but it's too dark for you to see much.

And then Phoebe says, "It's definitely not his mother."

"Oh no."

"Oh, wait, she walking across the floor. She's walking, she's walking, she's going for the pizza." Angrily, Phoebe shouts out, "Hey, that's not for you, bitch!" Quickly, she covers her mouth and the four of you giggle. Rachel hands Monica her piece of pizza and you bite into your own.

Yeah, you don't need Prozac anymore, not if you have pizza and the girls.

~*~

A little while later, you're all out on the balcony. You're full of pizza and alcohol, but you're drinking water now. It's cold outside and there's a blanket over the metal chair you're sitting on and you're wearing the red sweatshirt Chandler gave to you a couple of weeks ago when you said you were cold. You forgot to give it back and maybe if you wear it you'll remember.

Monica comes back in with another pitcher of Death Punch and by now you're sure you've used up all your rum. But it's okay because you're having fun spying on his American politician with your friends.

"Are the lights still out?" Monica asks, climbing through the window.

"Yeah," Rachel says, binoculars still glued to her eyes.

"Well, maybe they're napping."

You scoff, straw halfway in your mouth. "Please, they're having sex, Mon."

"Shut up!" Monica and Phoebe shout at the same time.

You laugh, leaning your head back.

Everyone gets their drinks and sits back down when Rachel asks, "So what do you think George is like?"

"I think he's shy," Monica answers.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. I think you have to draw him out. And then...when you do, he's a preppy animal."

You all giggle and you feel like a schoolgirl again. You swat at her while she laughs and you laugh and so do Phoebe and Rachel.

Another half-hour later, you're all laughing and telling each other lies that you've told other people.

"Okay, okay I got one," Monica says and looks at Phoebe. "Do you remember that vegetarian pâté that I made that you loved so much?"

The vegetarian nods.

Monica snickers. "Well, unless goose is a vegetable!"

You and Rachel laugh while Phoebe screws her face up in disgust.

"Okay, fine, fine. Now I don't feel so bad about sleeping with Jason Hurley."

You sip on your water, having no idea who that is, but enjoying the way Monica's eyes widen. "What? You slept with Jason?"

"You were already broken up."

"How long?"

Phoebe shrugs. "Just a couple hours."

You laugh while Monica rolls her eyes.

Giggling, Rachel sits up. "Okay, okay, I got one." But since the pillow is leaning on the side of the wall, when she sits up, it falls to the balcony below. You smile as she continues. "Anyway. The Valentine Tommy Rollerson left in your locker was really from me!"

Monica looks at her friend. "Excuse me?"

Rachel returns to her original position. "Oh, hello? Like he was really gonna send you one." Monica rolls her eyes and Rachel adds, "She was a big girl."

You gasp and laugh.

"Well, at least big girls don't pee their pants in the seventh grade," she retaliates, leaning toward you and Phoebe.

Rachel gasps, "I was laughing! You made me laugh!"

As the two girls argue, movement catches your eye and you look across the street to where George lives and gasp, standing up. "Look, there he is!"

"Where?"

You blink, pointing at his huge windows. "Right where we've been looking all night."

Together, the four of you watch this man stand only clad in a towel. If you were sober, you'd feel bad.

"Oh, he's so cute," Rachel says.

"George, baby, drop the towel!" Monica exclaims.

In unison, you all chant "Drop the towel" and you're pretty sure he can hear you. Because then he does. And you gasp and all say, "Wow."

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you look away, giggling. "Okay, I don't know if Clinton is a good president, but I'll vote for him if that's his campaign manager."

The girls giggle and go back to their seats before you all can be arrested for spying.

"I have a question, Y/N," Rachel says, hopping back up on the ledge.

"What's up?"

"Are you interested in anyone right now?"

You raise a brow at the sudden question. "Well, now I'm interested in George Stephanopoulos."

Rachel rolls her eyes but smiles. "I can understand that."

Shrugging, you stir your water with your straw. "I mean, not really. I moved here a few months ago. I've been trying to figure my way around the city, I guess I haven't had much time to look at anyone like that."

"Then why are you wearing Chandler's sweatshirt?" Phoebe asks, smiling as she takes a sip of her drink.

You look down at the piece of fabric and rub it between your fingers. It's soft and thick and it reminds you of him. "He lent it to me the other week. I just...forgot to give it back."

"Okay," Phoebe says with a breathy laugh like she doesn't believe you.

You look at your friends and see that they all have the same expression--they suspect something. "W--what? No, it's not like that!"

"We didn't say anything," Monica assures you.

"You didn't have to." You take another gulp of your drink and feel some heat creep up your cheeks. "I don't know. He's my friend and I think he's cute, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now, you know?"

"Yeah, I do," Rachel agrees and you hear the truth in her voice. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," you tell them. "I mean. Chandler is funny and he's really sweet, but, like, mentally I'm not ready." Something dawns on you and you grab Monica's arm with wide eyes. "Does he have a thing for me?"

"No," she answers easily. "No, have you met Chandler? He's the most socially awkward person I've met."

Slowly, you nod, staring down at your drink. "Okay, okay. Cool. 'Cause I don't want to make things awkward." And then you're quiet, still staring at your drink, before you put it on the small, dingy table and stand up. "I'm going to use the bathroom."

"Are you okay?" Phoebe asks as you wobble over to the window.

"Yeah," you answer, slowly folding yourself to go through it. Your vision is swimming a little. "I'm just drunk."

"We all are," Rachel says and watches as you go back into the apartment. When the door closes, she leans close to her friends and says, "No one tell Chandler."

Monica places a hand on her heart. "No, for sure. She's totally justified, though, I wouldn't want to date someone directly after moving to another country."

Phoebe nods. "Besides, Chandler is a big boy, he can figure out his own feelings." But then she adds after a moment, "Well, maybe not, but that's his problem."

Rachel and Monica chuckle and go back to spying on Stephanopoulos.

~*~

Later, the boys come back from their hockey game. Before you can ask who won, you see Ross wearing a brace over his nose. Chandler tells you that he was hit in the face with a puck and ended up having to go to the emergency room for a broken nose.

But Ross seems in happier spirits than he was before and that you're grateful for.

Eventually, Phoebe, Joey, Monica, and Rachel are playing a game of Twister while Ross flicks the spinner. You're making some more drinks with the remaining rum for the boys to have, figuring they need it after their night.

"What's the legal drinking age in Canada?" Chandler asks, watching you pour the last of your rum into the blender before placing the empty bottle to the side.

"Eighteen," you answer, measuring the sugar with your heart. "Well, actually, it's eighteen in Manitoba, Québec, and Alberta. Everywhere else it's nineteen."

Chandler breathes out a laugh. "It's twenty-one here."

"Can't men be drafted into war when they're eighteen?"

He nods. "Yeah. It's messed up."

You hum and fire the blender up, keeping an elbow on it and closing your eyes. You've had a long day. You're still mad about your apartment and having to squat at Monica and Rachel's for a week. You know they don't mind, but you still feel bad. You'll cook them dinner a few times, that'll be nice. You would clean, but Monica is very particular about it so you figure it's best to leave it be.

Opening your eyes again, you turn the blender off and serve it up, giving one to Chandler first. You clink your glass of water with his and giggle as he smiles. You both take a sip at the same time when Chandler suddenly takes your wrist and holds your arm up.

"This sweatshirt is familiar," he says, teasing evident in his tone.

You smile and shrug. "Some guy gave it to me."

"Is that guy going to get it back?"

You shrug again. "Eventually."

Chandler tilts his head then and says, "You keep it."

"What?" you ask in disbelief. "No, Chandler, it's yours."

He shrugs, resisting the extremely strong urge to run his hand up and down your arm. "It looks better on you."

You scoff. "It does not."

He nods, smiling. "It does." His eyes trail up your figure before landing on your face. "It makes your eyes pop."

"It makes my eyes pop?"

"Yeah."

Smiling just a little, you pull the sleeves over your hands. "Thank you, Chan."

And as you walk away to give Ross his drink, Chandler breathes. He's not entirely sure how he feels about you. You're hot, you're cool, but you're also his friend. And he just basically said your eyes are pretty.

He takes a long drink of your concoction, something called Tiki Death Punch, and pours himself some more. As if that will do anything to calm his nerves. Nothing can calm his nerves when he's with you.

[for-writing-shit]

The One With the Bagel

uhhh this is super overdue but here it is for the new year!! i hope you guys like it!! also hope you guys have had a happy and safe holiday season! x. chandler bing x female!reader summary: after making plans, chandler bing shows the cool, alternative girl from canada around the city word count: ~2.9k warnings: none <previous next>

Chandler made good on his promise to show you around. Of course he did, how could he not? You gave him your number. Chandler may be stupid, but if he turned down the opportunity to hang out with you, he’d have Joey check him into a mental institution.

He didn’t call you right away, he figured it would be best to wait a few days. He wanted to wait at least three days, but he caved at two and a half and left you a voicemail on his lunch break.

He had rehearsed it many times and written it down several times. He wanted to get the words just right.

“Hey, y/n. Sorry to bother you, but if you still want to, I’m still open to showing you around the city. Or, well, parts. Um, yeah. I’m free this weekend, we can get coffee too or something if you want. But just let me know. Bye.”

When he hung up, he felt like the air had been pulled directly from his lungs and he immediately wanted to shoot himself. Why did he stutter so much? He knew why, but why? Why did he say ‘but’ so many times?

He did his best not to think about it for the rest of the day.

When he got home from work, exhausted as all hell, he had managed to forget about the whole phone call for at least an hour. But the moment he walked through the door, Joey called his name with a smirk and a strange look in his eyes.

“What’s with you?” Chandler asked, loosening his tie and finally being able to breathe again.

Instead of answering right away, his friend pointed to the phone and said, “She left you a message, man!”

His stomach dropped to his toes and he felt dread creep up his fingertips. Oh, God, what if you didn’t want him to show you around anymore? What if his quick reply freaked you out? God, if you never wanted to see him ever again Chandler couldn’t live with himself.

But still, he made himself walk towards the answering machine. It was blinking, so it was clear Joey hadn’t read it, but Chandler wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.

He looked up at his friend, who seemed excited, the opposite of how he felt.

Swallowing, he pressed play and your perfect voice sounded through the apartment.

“Hey, Chandler! Great to hear from you, I was wondering if you’d call.”

He blinked at the phone. Were you waiting for him to call?

“Sorry about not answering, I was at work and then the bartender was sick and I had to do it. Real cool to make the new girl bartend by herself after she finished her training.” You laugh and Chandler feels the corners of his lips quirk up. “Sorry, I’m rambling. But, uh, yeah, I’d totally be down for Sunday. And coffee sounds great. Just call me back when you can and we can figure out the details or whatever. Bye, Chan.”

The machine clicked, signaling you had hung up, and Chandler stared at the white box with a smile on his face and a warm, somewhat foreign feeling in his heart.

Joey shook his shoulders, a grin plastered across his cheeks. "You got it, man, you're in!"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," he said, shrugging Joey off of him. "So, like, should I call her back now or wait?"

Glancing at the time the message from you was received, Joey answered, "I mean, she called a couple of hours ago. Do it now, man, she's probably off of work."

He nodded, feeling his heart rate pick up again. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

But instead of grabbing the phone, he just stared at it. He stared at it for so long that Joey had to touch his arm to get him to look at him.

"You want to order a pizza first?"

Chandler nodded. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

And so, forty-five minutes and two-thirds of a pizza later, Chandler mustered up the courage to call you.

It only takes two rings for you to pick up.

"Hello?" Chandler has been waiting to hear your voice again for days and nothing can describe the pure amount of euphoria that rushes through his veins at your tone.

He keeps calm, however, and says, "Hey, y/n, it's Chandler."

Your tone lightens and he can practically hear the smile in your voice. "Oh, hey, Chan!"

A smile paints itself across his cheeks and heat rises up his neck and he tries to ignore Joey's excited looks. "Hey."

"You got my message, right?" For a moment, he hears some noises from your side of the call, almost like you're closing a plastic container, and he hopes he didn't catch you in the middle of eating. "I'm free on Sunday, is that cool?"

"Yeah, that works." He suggests meeting up at nine and when you laugh a little, his grin widens at your nervousness. "What is it?"

You laugh again and elaborate. "Okay, so, actually, I work the night before and we don't close until, like, one. So maybe ten? Instead?"

Chandler would hang out with you at three in the morning if you asked him to. "Yeah, that's fine."

"Awesome. So, around ten at Central Perk? Since it's really the only place I know in the city?"

A teasing smile pulls at his lips as he waves his roommate away before he embarrasses himself. "For now."

"For now?"

"Yeah. I'll show you around to all the good places."

"Even the Empire State Building?" Your voice is teasing and it makes his organs do gymnastics.

He chuckles and nods even if you can't see it. "Even the Empire State Building."

"Sick! See you then, Chan."

"See you then, y/n." He needs to come up with a nickname for you.

"Bye."

"Bye."

And then you hang up and Chandler places the phone back down. There's a beat where he makes eye contact with Joey before they both erupt into celebratory cheers and jump up and down together like they always do.

"Go Chandler!"

"Go me!"

~*~

Sunday comes both sooner and later than you expected. It's sooner because you worked a double the day before but it's also later because you've been looking forward to it ever since the two of you scheduled it.

But, eventually, ten o'clock rolls around and you're sitting at a table in Central Perk patiently waiting. You haven't been here for long, but since you always get nervous meeting up with new people, you grabbed a newspaper and started to do the crossword to calm your nerves.

You like Chandler, a lot. He's very sweet, funny, and he's pretty cute, too. You share a lot of similar interests, but since you've only had one encounter and a couple of phone calls, you still get anxious.

You're sure it will go away when you both make conversation.

Chewing on the end of the pencil, you rack your mind for the solution to this one question, but you can't quite remember the name, though it's on the tip of your tongue.

The bell above the door rings and you look up, smiling when you see Chandler. You wave him over and he quickly spots you, casually walking over.

"You do the crossword, too?" he asks with a small smile.

You nod. "Sometimes, yeah. Hey, I need your help with one. What's a prehistoric beast with a large bony frill?"

He tilts his head and asks, "How many letters is it?"

Glancing down at the paper, you count the little squares and answer, "Eleven."

He mouths some letters, and counts with his fingers, before saying, "Triceratops."

"That's what it is!" You quickly scribble it down in messy handwriting. "I knew that, I just forgot the word for it."

"Yeah, sure." He gives you a teasing smirk as you stand up, stashing the newspaper into your bag.

You raise a brow at him. "Wow, rude, Chan."

"I'm messing."

"I know." You smile at him. "So. You promised to show me where the good coffee is?"

He nods and moves towards the door, holding it open for you to go out of. "I did. You like bagels?"

"Of course I do, I'm not a monster."

Your humor always gets to him and he jerks his head down the street. "Come on. I'll show you a great place."

"Lead the way."

~*~

An hour later, you stand beside Chandler with a bagel in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

“Okay,” you say, walking past a couple holding hands. “It might have been a long wait, but you say it’s worth it?”

Chandler nods and smiles. “I promise you, it is.”

He leads you to a little bench by a flower shop and you take a seat laying the bagel across your lap.

“Coffee first,” he says to you.

“But you said the bagel is the best part.”

“Best for last?”

“I always do best for first.”

“Okay, well, drawing out the tension makes things better.”

You roll your eyes and hold out your coffee cup. “Clink me, Bing.”

A smile creeps onto his face and he can't help but say, "Is that a euphemism?"

Mirroring his teasing smile, you reply, "You wish."

He does.

But he doesn't say that and instead taps his disposable coffee cup against yours and takes a sip at the same time as you do.

Taking a sip, you immediately flinch back at the searing burning sensation on your tongue. Chandler does the same thing and you both laugh.

"He did warn it was hot," you mutter, referencing the kind older man who cashed you out while you run your front teeth over your tongue.

Chandler smiles. "Yeah, he did."

After blowing on the liquid for another moment, you both clink your cups again and you take a sip. Chandler recommended the latte and you trusted his opinion. Sure enough, as soon as the slightly-cooled down liquid touches your tongue, you're glad you trusted him.

"Woah," you say, looking at Chandler.

He's smiling. "Right?"

You smile back, taking another sip of the delicious beverage. "This is so good."

"I told you it would be good."

"It's not just good, it's great."

"Exactly. None of my other friends think it's very good."

You frown just a little. "Really? I mean, Central Perk is good and all, but this is amazing."

He just shrugs. "It's okay. I have you to go with me now."

You smile at him and a strange and warm feeling flutters in your chest.

But before you can even think about it, Chandler is putting the coffee down beside him on the bench and picking up his bagel. "Okay. Try the bagel now."

Nodding, you place the coffee down and carefully unwrap a small section of the bagel that you can eat. You had gotten a bagel called an 'All-Nighter', which had two eggs, bacon, cheese, and some kind of chipotle aioli on a cheesy bagel. It sounded like actual heaven considering you hadn't eaten all day and your mouth waters as the delectable scent wafts up to your nose.

Once again, you and Chandler clink your own bagels--he got one called the 'Santa Fe' with egg whites, sausage, and salsa on a plain bagel--and take a bite at the same time.

You're not one to groan at food, but this sandwich is so good you almost do. It's messy and you're glad for the double layer of paper around it. It's cheesy, it's warm, and it's a little spicy. It's everything you've been craving.

"Holy shit," you say, mouth still a little full. "This is so good, Chandler."

He just nods, already taking another bite.

Licking a stray piece of sauce from your lips, you hardly swallow before you go in for another bite. Together, you and Chandler eat in silence, too busy consuming your own individual meals like it's the last meal. Honestly, you would want this bagel to be your last meal.

You finish first, licking your greasy fingers before using a napkin to wipe them. Carefully, you shove all your trash into the bag and take a couple more sips of your latte before it gets cold.

Chandler is soon finished and while he's wiping his hands, you say, "That was the best sandwich I've ever had in my life, Chan."

"I told you it would be life-changing."

"I'm so sorry for doubting you," you tease, smiling and stretching your legs out in front of you and taking in the scene. It's almost noon on a Sunday in Manhattan and the streets are, unsurprisingly, crawling with people, but everyone seems a lot more relaxed and chill on Sunday rather than a busy Friday morning when you're running late for work.

You and Chandler lapse into a pleasant silence where you both just people-watch for a few minutes while your meals digest. You watch the people go by and wonder what they're doing today and what plans they have. You wonder if they've ever had a life-changing bagel as well, you wonder how many of them are new to the city like you and how many know it well like Chandler.

He speaks up. “What do you want to go see first?”

Looking at him, you know the first thing you want to do. “Empire State Building.”

He smiles and stands, offering you a hand. “Come on, then.”

Taking it, you let him haul you up before dropping his hand almost immediately. For a second, disappointment fills his chest before he pushes it away. Together, he leads you to the Empire State Building, talking about everything and nothing all at once.

~*~

By the time it was getting dark, you had both wandered halfway around Manhatten. You had seen the Empire State Building, walked by the National Museum—where his friend Ross worked, which you thought was interesting—you had walked around Times Square, and by the Rockefeller Center.

“Is it true that at Christmas they have a huge tree?” you ask as Chandler walks beside you.

He nods, smiling. “It is. And they have an ice rink.”

This makes you stop in your tracks and you turn to him. He blinks and stands next to you, completely aware that there’s a giant smile on your face.

“Are you serious?” you ask.

Chandler nods slowly. “Yeah, I’m serious. What, do you like skating?”

“Uh, yeah.” You laugh and roll your eyes. “Chandler, I love skating. You know I did hockey for, like, years right?”

“No, I didn’t.”

You widen your eyes at him. “Oh. Well, I did.”

“I didn’t know you liked hockey.”

“I’m from Canada,” you say, starting to walk once more. “It’s a requirement. I got my first stick on my fifth birthday.”

“That’s so cool,” your friend says. “I love hockey.”

“What’re the teams in the city? I know there’s the Rangers, I just can’t remember the other one.”

“The Islanders,” he tells you. “But the Rangers are better. Joey and I go to the games a lot, but if I have an extra ticket, you can come too.”

“Thanks.” You smile at him, this cute little half-smile that makes his chest squeeze.

But he doesn’t think about it and smiles back, nods, and listens as you explain how you were the best defender on your team in primary school.

Eventually, you make it back to your apartment. Hell’s Kitchen isn’t as sketchy as it used to be and Chandler walks you up to your apartment building. It’s well past sunset, but the streetlights are bright enough.

“This is me,” you say, gesturing behind you to the building. “Thanks for walking me back.”

“It was no problem,” Chandler says, completely aware that you both walked right past his own apartment building twenty minutes ago. “I’m not far from here. Besides, I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t get mugged.”

“Considering I have three dollars in my wallet, I don’t think that’s a problem.”

Chandler laughs and you laugh too and you realize how much you love his company. He’s funny and he gets you. He’s fun to be around and he’s nice, something a little uncommon here in the city.

“We should do this again,” you hear yourself say. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” he replies. “Call me?”

He doesn’t mean to say it. It slips out and his eyes widen the words leave his lips but you just laugh gently and nod.

“I will.” Taking his hand, you shake it twice. Your rings are cold against his hand but he’s quickly distracted away from that when you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek. You have to lean on your tiptoes to do it and you’re already pulled away when he realizes what you’ve done.

Releasing his hand, you watch his neck heat up and panic rises up in you for fear you’ve gone too far. But then a small smile crosses his face and the knot in your stomach loosens.

Before the silence becomes awkward, you say, “Goodnight, Chandler. Get home safe.”

“You too,” he blurts out before cursing. But you just laugh that sweet laugh of yours and buzz yourself in, propping the door with your foot.

“Don’t get mugged on the way home, Chan.” And with another wave, you walk inside and let the door close behind you.

And Chandler is left standing alone in the streets of New York with a cheesy smile on his face. He scratches his chin but the grin doesn’t leave his face the entire time he meanders his way back to his apartment.

And his smile only grows wider when Joey mentions the lipstick stain on his cheek.

[for-writing-shit]

The One With the Girl from Canada

while im cleaning out my drafts, here's something from a few months ago. i really like this and i've written and are currently writing some more little chapters, so be on the lookout for them!! this is also posted on my ao3 if you want to go read it there too :) chandler bing x female!reader summary: new york city is a big place for a girl who lived in canada her entire life, but you manage. one afternoon, while getting some work done in a cozy coffee shop, a very handsome brunette asks to sit beside you. who are you to tell him no? word count: ~2.3k warnings: none i don't think lmao that never happens next>

Central Perk is a special spot for Chandler Bing. That's where he talks with his friends, it's where they all relax, it's where he met Rachel just a couple of months ago, coming in wearing a wedding dress and looking highly frazzled. It's got a nice, calming atmosphere, pretty good coffee, and the absolute best spot in all of Manhattan.

The area with the couch is where he and his friends always sit. Sometimes he feels bad for taking it, but nobody seems to mind, ever. And so he always sits there, usually on the couch when it is available.

When he walked into Central Perk one afternoon after work, he just wanted to grab a coffee and wait for the rest of his friends to show up eventually. He didn't expect there to be anyone there, no one ever was at this time on a Thursday.

But then he saw someone sitting in his spot.

Normally, he would have been upset, probably ask them to leave, nicely, of course, and pray to God that they left because he hates confrontation.

However, the person sitting in his spot was probably the most beautiful person he had ever seen. She looked like she had been there for a few hours, at least, because there was an empty plate with crumbs on it and a large mug drained, both sitting on the coffee table her feet were propped up on.

For a moment, Chandler stood at the counter and stared at her like some kind of creep. He had never seen her around and he knew he'd remember if he did. She wore gray jeans rolled up at the ankles to show off her colorful socks underneath a pair of black and white Converses. As his eyes traveled up her frame, he saw her wearing some kind of band tee and a tiny, silver necklace around her neck. She seemed to be writing something and, from what Chandler could tell, she seemed to be deep into thought. Her pencil scratched across the notebook and every so often, she would pause and read over it before promptly erasing something and writing once more.

He heard his name being said and turned around to see Guther holding out a coffee cup to him.

"Oh, thanks, Gunther," he told the worker, taking the coffee from him.

Chandler had never been good at talking to girls and more often than not chickened out on the opportunity to do so. But he didn't want to chicken out on talking to you.

And so, with confidence, he walked over to the area he always sat at and stood just beside the couch, next to your arm that was leaning on the armrest.

Before now, he didn't notice the headphones around your ears and the Walkman that sat beside you, but when he clears his throat and you don't react, he understands why. And so, again and a little bit louder, he clears his throat, gently tapping on your shoulder.

Your eyes tear away from the page in your lap at the touch of another person and you whip your head up to see a man standing beside you, looking at you with a smile. Perhaps too loudly, you exclaim, "Oh, shit, sorry!" and hastily pause your music and let the headphones rest around your neck. You blink up at the man and ask, "Yes?"

"I, uh." Chandler swallows thickly because even your voice is one from a dream. "You're, uh, kind of in my spot."

With a mischievous smile, you turn around in your seat like you're looking for something. "Oh, word? I don't see your name on it."

And then you smile at him snarkily and Chandler forgets how to breathe. But then he laughs, a bit awkwardly. Your sarcastic grin fades into a true one and you add, "Don't worry, I'll move."

When you start to gather your things, Chandler is quick to put a stop to it. He doesn't want you to move, not now, not ever. Not when he's just started to talk to you. "No, no, you're fine, I'm just kidding."

You stop your movements and look up at him. "Oh, alright. You can sit next to me, though."

Chandler doesn't have to be told twice. He sits beside you on the opposite side of the couch and takes a drink of his coffee like that will do anything to cure his jitters.

"What's your name?" you ask him, setting your notebook in your lap for just a moment. You wonder if he wants to have a conversation, but not many people in New York do.

He answers, "Chandler."

"Nice to meet you, Chandler. I'm y/n."

God, even your name sounds like something from a song.

"It's nice to meet you, too, y/n." He takes notice of the notebook in your lap and feels the urge to ask, "Mind if I ask what you're writing?"

With another grin, you say, "What if I did?"

Chandler can only wonder if your smile is contagious because he feels his lips curl upwards. "I mean, I'd still ask. I'm nosey."

You laugh and tilt your notebook for him to read. "It's a screenplay I'm writing."

Chandler's eyes widen. "You're a screenwriter? What, you make movies and stuff?"

"I wish." You scoff and feel a slight heat rise to your cheeks. "No, I write stories for movies and stuff. At least, I try."

"Is it not going so well?"

You shrug. "I don't know. Some studio called me up a few months ago, said they liked the idea I submitted and gave me a few months to come up with a first draft. And I've got two more weeks to finish it, so we'll see."

"I'm sure it's great," Chandler says and he means it. He can't write for shit, but something about you seems so...creative and special. "Even if I just met you."

You laugh again and close the notebook, stashing it away in the tote bag that rests on the floor. "Thanks, really."

"Of course." When you turn your body to face him, he sees what band is on your shirt and, even though he knows who it is, he asks, "What band is that?"

When he points to your chest, you look down and answer, "Oh, Nirvana."

"Oh, my God, I love them!"

"Really?" Your face breaks into a grin and you lean forwards a little. "What's your favorite song."

"'Heart-Shaped Box'," he says.

"Oh, that's good. I like 'Come As You Are'."

Soon, the conversation seems to flow quite naturally between the pair of you. He tells you about his boring job, something with a bunch of numbers and nothing exciting. You both compare bands and he realizes you're much more into rock and alternative works, but he guessed that the second he saw the leather jacket that rests beside you.

Joey is the first to arrive. Chandler glances up at the door when he hears the bell above it jingle and sees his roommate falter at the sight of you. You're not looking, rummaging through your tote bag for something and Chandler's eyes widen at the sight of the other person. If Joey flirts with you, Chandler will kill him.

Joey, clearly not catching on to Chandler's look from across the cafe, sees you and smirks, walking over.

"Hey, Chandler," he greets but doesn't look at his friend, eyes settling on you. "Who's, uh, your friend?"

You turn up at the sound of another person and spot the Italian-American smiling at you. You smile back and say, "I'm y/n."

"How you doin'?" Joey smirks and sits himself down on the high stool beside you. "I'm Joey."

"Hi, Joey," you reply, glancing at Chandler who quickly wipes the glare from his face and smiles at you. "You guys know each other?"

"We're roommates," he answers, motioning at his friend who is still staring at you.

You blink and shift in your seat. "Oh."

"I like your shirt," Joey says.

"You like Nirvana, too?" Your face brightens and Chandler almost melts.

But then his roommate says, "Who?"

And that look on your face is gone. Your smile falls and you look away back into your tote, mumbling, "Never mind."

Chandler meets his friend's eyes and shakes his head twice, brows furrowed. Joey always gets the girl. Chandler deserves to hope, at least.

You pull out a packet of gum and open it. You take a piece out and unwrap it before offering one to Chandler. He smiles and takes it, popping it in his mouth and shoving the wrapper in his pocket.

"Want some gum?" you ask the other man with darker and messier hair.

He takes one and thanks you. You return it with a grin and put the gum back in your tote, on top of your notebook.

Joey says your name and you look at him. "So, you live around here?"

You nod. "Yeah, I live in Hell's Kitchen."

"Oh, cool, cool. How long have you lived here? You grew up in New York?"

Immediately, you shake your head. "Oh, no, no, I didn't grow up here."

"Where'd you grow up?" Chandler asks, tilting his head

"Winnipeg," you answer, biting back a smile.

Chandler's brows furrow and Joey asks, "Where's that?"

"Manitoba." Your straight cracks a bit and you try to fight the smile that wants to paint itself across your lips.

Joey looks lost and asks again, "...Where's that?"

"Canada," you tell him, fully grinning now.

Joey gasps and Chandler tries not to roll his eyes. He figured it out when you said Manitoba. He says, "You're from Canada?"

You nod, turning your head to look at him. "Yep."

"Do you speak French?" Joey asks, touching your arm, clearly already friendly with you.

Turning to him, you answer, "Non."

Chandler laughs and you giggle, crossing one leg over the other.

"I speak Italian," Joey says.

You raise a brow. "Yeah?"

He nods and leans forward in his chair, smirking. "Sei bellissima."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're beautiful," he answers, voice a little lower than it was before.

Some heat rushes up your neck and you look away at your lap. "Oh."

Chandler glares at his friend, but Joey doesn't catch it.

Thankfully, before Chandler reaches over you to choke Joey, the bell dings and he glances at the door. Monica, Ross, Phoebe, and Rachel are walking in and while the rest of his friends make their way over, Rachel immediately goes to clock in for her shift.

They walk over and greet the other two and Phoebe is the first to address you. "Oh, wow, you're pretty."

You laugh out loud, blushing even harder at the compliment from a woman, touching your necklace. "Thank you. I like your skirt."

Phoebe giggles and swishes her skirt. "Thanks."

"This is y/n," Chandler introduces you to his friends.

"Hey." You lift your hand in a wave of sorts, feeling like you're butting in on their group. You should leave, but in a minute. You don't want to be rude.

Chandler's friends introduce themselves--Ross, Monica, and Phoebe, you repeat their names in your head to remember better--and then he gestures towards the coffee bar. "And the girl over there is Rachel."

"It's nice to meet you guys," you say politely, squeezing your hands in your lap.

"You too." Monica smiles. "I love your shirt, by the way."

"Thanks." You grin, basking in all the compliments.

Ross looks at Monica and asks, "You listen to Nirvana?"

Monica fixes him with a look. "Yes, because I'm cooler than you."

You chuckle at their interaction when Joey suddenly blurts out, "Ask her where she's from!"

You giggle at the man's antics and look at the others.

Ross smiles and asks, "Alright. Where are you from?"

"Winnipeg," you reply, still smiling. Chandler thinks he's going to swoon.

Monica is the first to figure it out. "You live in Canada?"

You nod. "I mean, I used to. I moved to Hell's Kitchen a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh, my god, so you just moved here," Chandler says.

"Why did you move all the way from Canada down to here?" Ross wonders.

"I'm a screenwriter and ended up getting a job down here," you answer. "Besides, Canada is boring, so I was looking for a change of scenery."

"Well, how do you like it here so far?" Phoebe asks.

You shrug. "It's pretty nice. A little colder, somehow, but I like it. There are a lot more people and a lot more things to do and see. I lived in Winnipeg my entire life so I kind of felt like I saw everything."

"I've always wanted to go to Canada," Rachel says, coming to hand out coffee.

You smile. "It's nice. Alberta is really pretty."

Mustering up some courage, Chandler says, "Hey, if you ever need someone to show you around the city, I'll be happy to help you."

And then you look at him and grin, nodding. "That'd be sick."

He feels heat start to creep up his cheeks, and he smiles back. "Awesome."

You look at the time on the clock and say, "I've got to head out, but it was great to meet you guys."

"Yeah, you too!" Monica says.

Taking a Post-it note from your bag, you write down your number and hand it to Chandler. He takes it and tries not to stare at it too hard. "Hope to catch you guys later."

Chandler's friends wave to you and you walk out the door, shrugging your jacket on before walking off. Chandler stares at the window for several seconds after you're gone and only snaps out of it when Monica says something.

"Chandler, how the hell did you get her number?"

He shrugs, looks at the bright blue Post-it note, and reads it.

here :) (xxx-xxx-xxxx)

He smiles and puts it in his pocket, trying to ignore the looks his friends are giving him. You're very cool and very pretty and Chandler can't wait to see you again.

[for-writing-shit]

Suit your taste | C.B x Reader

A/N: Not proof read. MDNI | 18+ only. This fic is in response to an ask:

"hellooo!!! Btw the aesthetic of ur page is just-😙👨‍🍳*chefs kiss* could you write a Chandler bing fan fiction where the reader and Chandler are best friends and the reader gets a boyfriend and Chandler gets jealous! Thank you have a good day<33"

-hope you enjoy this nonny! 💛

Hanging out at Monica's apartment has usually been a stress-free affair. Eat good food, and there's always food. Monica insists on you helping yourself.

"Just don't let Joey near this cabinet" she had said, her beautiful eyes, serious. You nodded, as Rachel chuckled behind you.

But you just had to be self-aware. While Joey and his food was a relationship you admired, you knew you wanted more. Not from Joey. But his other half. The one and only, Chandler Bing.

Aka your bestfriend since Monica took you home after a grueling shift at the resturant.

You fit in seamlessly into the group- your interest in cooking and your coordination with the kitchen helped her massively (she's impressed, competency kink goes brr). Not only that, yours and Rachels woes of waitressing had been a topic of great sympathy between the blonde and you.

Chandler came along unexpectedly. Your sensitive nature somehow not exploited by his humor, not in public atleast. In private?

Oh he went for it. And you gave it back as good as you got. Your duel of wit a secret between the two of you.

Ross caught y'all once but he was so into Rachel that he missed the subtle hint of tension in the room.

That or you imagined Chandlers eyes widening and his voice getting raspy. Or you were being your delusional self.

Coming back to the matter of your stress-

You had a date. Not with Chandler. While it made you sad, right now you were just stressed.

Dave was good. He made you smile. He held doors open for you. He subtly checked you out and complimented you in a way that made you feel wanted. That was missing.

Phoebe told you and the whole group-

"YN get laid, you just need to be pounded into the mattress and you're golden".

As unhinged it was. It was all you needed to say yes to Dave. If things went good- you'd get your night of passion. If they didn't, well, nothing to lose you thought.

The only catch? He was gonna pick you up from Monica's apartment. The same apartment where the whole group was gonna be in approximately 5 minutes.

Rachel was already here and showering. Phoebe sat next to you, figuring out how to change the channel (Ross sat on the remote and did not replace it like he promised, Monica still didn't know).

And then, the door opened, Ross entering the flat, Joey in tow.

"Hello guys, hot pizzas waiting to be devoured, courtesy Ross Geller- bon appetite!" Ross exclaimed setting the pizzas on the dining table. Joey opened one of them, tearing into the pizza.

"Mmhmm, delicious pie" he said, mouthful.

Phoebe got up to pick a slice asking you if you wanted one, you shook your head no. She sighed.

So, the girls knew of your crush on the resident sarcastic clown. And while Rachel and Monica wanted you to profess your undying love for Chandler, Phoebe just eh'd- "babe you can do better".

Unbeknownst to you, Phoebe tsked Ross behind you; "Where's Chandler Bing?"

"Why are you government naming him, Pheebs?"

"Because" she said, eyes squinting and then sighing, "YN is stressed about her date-"

"The date Chandler still doesn't know about?" Ross says smug

"Geller, smug doesn't suit you, where's he?"

"He's gonna be here in 5 minutes"

"Her dates gonna be here any minute now" Phoebe exclaims, whisper shouting.

"C'mon Pheebs, it's New York, and it's Dave" Ross says enunciating Dave like a prep schooler.

"And?" Phoebe, ever the goon, crosses her arms against her chest.

"Well, people get late and Dave sounds like a name that's late to places" Ross completed, pouty (and scared).

Just as you contemplated hiding in Monica's room the bell rang and your panic aside you noticed how the room went still. The residents (uninvited ones) went still too.

The door opened and in walked in, Monica. Keys in hand.

"Why'd you ring the bell!" Phoebe shouted

"Because I had to pee! And I couldnyfind my keys!" she says running towards the bathroom and getting in.

Cue the screams, Rachel could be heard saying, just a moment later- "Mon, this isn't your shampoo!"

"I didn't ask! I need to pee!" Monica exclaimed right back.

Ross scruched his face as Joey looked on, smug.

"Rach and Mon in the washroom together", he says, more to himself.

You scrunched your face at that. But then, your boy (not really but in your head the both of you were sharing his recliner as he fed you popcorn and you guys watched movies)

You boy, had similar fantasies, something he shared with you, when you cornered him.

Boy was be easy to bully and make blush.

The bell rang again,

Ross opened the door, Phoebe giddy as he looked at her smug again.

What was with your friends and these secrets smirks?

He opens the door and in walked in- your worst nightmare.

Chandler, with Dave in tow.

Chandler did not look happy as he stared at you and then looked away as Dave greeted y'all.

"Hello Joey, Ross, Phoebe" he nods sweetly at them to before zeroing in on you.

"And hello beautiful" he's now kissing your cheek

"Don't tell me your forgot your dates name, Dave" Chandler says, sitting on the dining table next to Phoebe.

"Oh hell naw, this woman right here- she's YN, been thinking of her too much to forget"

You giggle at his words, and can hear the boys groan and Phoebe sigh.

You can also hear the Monica and Rachel who were arguing in the bathroom go still and awww.

Your eyes meet Chandlers and he stares back and at your unwavering gaze, his eyes moved to Dave who was offered pizza and took it from Ross.

Your eyes didn't leave his. Unknown to you, Joey and Phoebe were looking at you, looking at Chandler.

Dave finishing his piece of pie, looked to you; "Let's roll?"

"Yeah, let me go grab my jacket"

As you, went into Monica's room to grab her denim jacket, you heard Phoebe slap someone.

When you can out, you found Dave confused, talking to Ross and Chandler nursing the side of his arm.

Joey was staring down at Dave.

"Let's go Dave" you sighed, done with your friends behaviour for the night, more than that, done w Chandlers stares and lack of well, words to you.

Come to think of it, he didn't speak much at all apart from prodding Dave. Then again, prodding new comers was his speciality. Stupid awakward charming dork.

As Dave and you made your way outside and walked down the stairs, you realized you forgot your purse in Monica's room.

"Let me go grab it Dave, I'll be with you in a sec"

You made your way upstairs but were stopped by Chandler mid flight.

"Chan?" you asked

"Hey, you- you what are you- Dave! Where's Dave?"

You sighed.

"He's downstairs, I forgot my purse, I know you get joy from tormenting my dates, but can we not, today?" you say making your way up, but as you reached the stair he was on her grabbed you.

"Your dates torment me actually" he whispers, given your proximity, you can smell the mint he loves to chew, post smoke.

"Chandler can you not? Don't dissect my tastes now, not before a date" you say, resolute on not letting him get into your head.

"You don't have great taste YN" he says, gently pulling, your hand on his chest, as he backs you up the wall.

"Insulting and rude and I'm getting late, Chandler." you say, hinting he needs to get a move on.

"I'm rude as hell, I know" he says and at your confused look, continues

"I don't know what are the right things to say most times. Hell, I don't even know what are the right things to say to you, the one I feel the most comfortable with, next to Joey but-"

You scoff.

"Like I said, I don't know the best. But I do know this, YN- and I hope you're listening, I like you. A whole lot. You're my best friend, my puzzle partner and God I'd love you to be more. I want you to give me a chance. Fuck these dates doll"

You laugh at his use of doll and nuzzle into his chest as he looks at you, smelling your shampoo.

"Did you just call me doll?"

"Yeah? I could also call you Barbie? But that's not a common pet name"

"You're a dork"

"Good thing that's your type"

"God Chan, I want to, I can't tell you how long I waited for you to say these words"

"What insult your tastes?" he says and you slap his chest, making him yelp.

Dave, calls up then-

"Babe? All okay?"

Chandler sighs, inconvenienced by your planned date between his unplanned confession.

"I have a date to see through Chan"

"No you don't"

"Chandler, let me go now-"

Just as you complete you sentence you bear Chandler-

"Dave, you want free pizza? YN and I just confessed to each other that we like each other, drinks and free food, on me- I'll even set you up with the weird blonde by the table ".

Silence.

Then,

"Okay" and you see Dave make his way up and he looks at you backed up against the wall by Chandler and just says-

"Cool" and walks by, turning back just to ask-

"We got more pepperoni?" he asks Chandler who nods. "T'was nice talking to ya, YN!" he says, walking backwards.

As he turns around and walks away, you look up at Chandler

"Kinda insulted he took it so well."

"Helps that Ross told him you don't put out on the first date, when he asked Ross for advice"

"Oh he was not playing around huh?" you say

"No he wasn't, and I wasn't gonna take a chance" Chandler says nuzzling into your neck.

"Chandler Bing, how dare you!?!" you hear Phoebe's dulcet tones, as Chandler takes your hand and drags you downstairs.

"How do you like burger and fries for our first date, my love?" as he sprints, ahead, hand gently but securely clutching yours.

[for-writing-shit]

𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄.

pairing(s): chandler bing x female!reader

summary: you and chandler's friends are adamant to get you together, both of you unaware of the other's feelings.

words: 1955

warnings/tags: friends to lovers, bit of hidden ross hate, insecurities.

author's note: this was requested through my requesting form!

“she’s in love with her best friend,” the statement breaks the rare quietness of the table where you sat with a book on your lap, ross with a newspaper, joey staring off into the distance after being shushed multiple times by either of you.

the couch dips beside you, an arm brushing your shoulders as chandler gets comfortable, his arm on the back of where you sat. his cologne is strong, new shirt sporting his frame as he groans, his date clearly hadn’t went well.

your bookmark finds purchase where you last read, ross folding the newspaper and chucking it onto the coffee table where chandlers scuffed shoe-covered feet rest. “who does?” joey asks furrowing his eyebrows from the armchair.

chandler gestures, confuddled features glancing between you and ross with furrowed eyebrows before sarcastically responding, “y/n is. who do you think? the girl i went out with!”

joey glances at you, embarrassed with a small realised ‘ah’ while ross sips his latte to hide his knowing expression. you clear your throat awkwardly, the lump in your throat stuck from the statement, palms turning sweaty.

because you were in love with your best friend, the very one whose fingers are currently instinctively brushing along your cardigan-clad shoulder, the one who is constantly in a phase of going on dates with girls before coming back to complain about them to you.

each date making your self-esteem and smidgen of hope smaller and smaller. naming flaws of each girl like he’s hunting for something to be wrong, and while he doesn’t even love you back, if you were to date how did you know it would be different?

he didn’t go out with friends but he doesn’t like commitment all the same. 

“what makes you say that?” ross finally asks after a beat of silence. “all she talked about was him. rick this, rick that. get this, she said they’re planning on renting a place together soon and they have a pact that if they’re fifty and not married they’ll marry each other.”

when it’s silent apart from chandler’s self-deprecating laughter, he gestures to the three of you, “like how ridiculous does that sound? i went on a date with a girl married off in a few decades.”

very loosely you reply with a small laugh you hope chandler doesn’t notice is taking effort to muster up, ross and joey overturning it with their own remarks while he stands, hair messy as he runs a hand through it, “anyone want anything?” he points at the empty mugs before looking at you specifically, “another tea?”

you nod while the others reply with a ‘no.’ you open your book back up, smiling at him appreciatively when he walks past your legs, hand squeezing your shoulder on his journey to the counter.

“oh-!” your book falls back to your lap as you turn on your spot to face him but chandler already is aware, not looking back as the waitress begins to serve him, “yeah, that berry herbal stuff, i know.”

with a heated smile you turn back into your spot, back melting into the couch as you try to stop smiling, but failing miserably. you re-read the first line several times before looking up to see joey and ross both watching you silently.

“what?”

“nothing,” joey replies, standing from his spot to steal chandler’s spot, head boredly shoved atop your shoulder to read along with you, only lasting ten seconds before huffing in defeat.

when chandler returns, he settles your new mug next to your previous one, nodding when you thank him before conversing with ross and settling on joey’s old space and you feel stupidly jealous at him not being close to you anymore.

you can feel joey’s chin move when he shakes his head at you and this time you decide to ignore it, taking one last glance at chandler before turning back to your book.

it was only hours later, rachel begging the boys to stay away from their apartment while the girls had a well-awaited girls night. it took six minutes into making cookie dough for monica to bring up, “so… chandler’s date didn’t go well?”

you look up from the cup of chocolate chips, aimlessly handing them to phoebe to pour into the bowl of cookie contortion, “huh? oh- yeah, he said.”

“do you guys ever wonder why chandler never enjoys these dates he keeps going on?” she adds, you know by her tone and topic of where she was headed, a daily battle you had with the girls so you shoot her a small look when rachel responds, “because he’s scared of commitment?”

“because he’s actually gay?” phoebe adds, chocolate flying from the bowl as she inelegantly stirs the cookie mixture once again. with a snort you reply, “you keep wondering about this monica, bring it up once more we might start thinking you love chandler.”

rachel grins, “oh, but how would that work since you already fill that position, y/n?” you shake your head, wiping your hands down the borrowed apron before making your way to the kettle to make more tea.

“you need to do something about it, y/n.”

you sigh, looking out the small window above the counter, “then why does chandler keep going on these dates?” you ask, it had been a thought constantly running through your own head you don’t bare discussing with your best friends.

when you’re met with silence you turn, the girls looking between one another, monica saying through laughter as if it’s the most obvious thing, “because it’s clear he loves you!”

it’s your turn to laugh, shaking your head as you gather the old mugs to refill with more hot drinks to battle the cold weather, “now you’re being even more ridiculous.”

“it’s worth finding out,” you don’t believe those words, tipping water from the warmed kettle into each mug as you continue with your back to them, “really, pheebs? worth risking the friendship? all our friendships? because if i admit my feelings and he doesn’t reciprocate it then we all know chandler won’t be able to act normal. the whole group will split.”

“but joey said-” rachel slaps a hand over her mouth, cutting herself off with her other hand reaching for your shoulder when you place the mug in front of her, “said what?” she shakes her head, “joey said we couldn’t tell you!”

“so everyone knows something but me?”

rachel groans, looking to monica’s warning look before quickly rushing out to you, “chandler was planning on asking you out after new year’s but ross talked him out of it!”

your jaw drops while monica punches rachel’s arm, scolding her as she grabs the bowl off phoebe to add more vanilla, “you can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?”, “she had to know!”

“what-? how-? i don’t-” you’re speechless, unsure what to ask when there’s multiple questions spinning around your head, “just after your breakup with amir, chandler said he felt something between you when he came round to see you.”

you nod, still quiet and looking to the flour-covered table while your mind fuzzes, “yeah, i know.” phoebe interjects, “you felt it too?”, “i thought he was going to kiss me but i realised it was most likely a way to just make me feel better for a moment.”

“you need to tell him,”

but you didn’t, you chickened out, as monica kept saying. and hushed conversations between your five friends would cease the moment you arrived – an incline into what they were discussing or would shoot each other glances when chandler took his usual spot next to you.

only a couple of days later, your eyes gaze along the news article chandler has perched in his own lap, your side pressed against his front while everyone watches the trashy tv show joey’s meant to be an extra in, having a miraculous number of four seconds screen time.

you all greet him when he enters, watching as he snatches the packet of chips from ross’ hands and sits on the arm of the chair rachel sits on, “seen it yet?” he asks, handful of chips at the go. the group grunt in what only can be considered no.

joey hums, turning to where you sit, pressed against chandler as you both read from the same paper while chandler’s arm takes its usual spot behind where you’re sitting. “how was girls night? it looks like the plan worked, huh?” he trails off with a proud smile.

everyone turns from what they’re doing, you and chandler in confusion and ross, monica, rachel, and phoebe in alarm. “what plan?” both you and chandler ask in unison, while the girls chide joey for constantly using his words before his brain.

realisation settles in joey’s expression as he registers what he presumed was a couple-y act was just your usual manners with chandler, friends. you and chandler look at one another, clearly out of the loop before you repeat, “what plan?”

“don’t get mad?” monica starts, more of a question than statement from her timid tone. “what plan?” chandler says a third time, through gritted teeth. ross shakes his head, unamused as clearly he was against whatever the plan was from the beginning.

“we were trying to get you to talk about each of your feelings so you can realise you both belong together,” rachel explains, trying to make it sound better than what it was; friends secretly trying to force their friends to admit their valid withheld feelings in fear of an impending ruined friend group.

“girls night we tried to get y/n to say, to herself more than us, that she does love chandler so she realised.” phoebe adds and you feel a shift, chandler’s arm faltering behind you with a tensity and a gap growing between you both when you sit forward awkwardly.

“and did you get her to?” joey asks, “yes, but she was still wary,” is replied.

your mind is overwhelmed, your friends talking as if you’re not in the room not helping, plus you can feel chandler’s eyes on you as he speaks through a throat bob, “i-is that true?”. you look back at his confused expression and sigh before standing up to trail towards the front door in a cowardly exit but chandler’s up past the sofa and shutting the door you just had began to open.

“let me go, chandler.” you start but he’s standing in front of you, “wait, let’s talk about this we need to talk about this.”

“now you want to talk about it? you hate talking about these things, feelings! that’s why you go on dates and come home to bitch about the girls while probably leaving them with the hope of a phone call back!”

it was a low blow, but chandler had never talked feelings but all of a sudden he needed to force it out of you and you felt your throat closing and tears threatening to build between your eyes.

“fine, then let’s not talk about it!” chandler snaps back, but doesn’t move from his spot so you reply with a sharp, “are you not gonna let me leave-?” your words cut off when chandler kisses you instead.

it’s an impending rollercoaster of emotions, from the initial embarrassment, to anger to shock to enjoyment as your hands instinctively land on his jaw, all worries meshing into nothingness as you know he loves you back. you’re aware chandler wouldn’t say it easily but the proclamation of kissing you through the realisation of your friends plans was enough.

“alright, get a room.”

chandler pulls away from you, thumb brushing your hip while turning to joey’s position, “shut up, you caused this!”

amorchai masterlist . taglist form

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[for-writing-shit]

ONCE AND FUTURE

[for-writing-shit]

my first offering to the merlin fandom, good god i'm so obsessed. look at what i've done to my boy.

[for-writing-shit]

how many secrets can you keep?

Summary: An arranged marriage to everyone's fav tsar

Part 2: crawling back to you Words: 10K Tags: Fluff & angst Warnings: women used as bargain to win wars ? Gifs stolen from: @goatsandgangsters Read on AO3 ******

The Palace was much bigger than you were told. As soon as you stepped off the carriage you were led to what would be your rooms. On the right was a big bed, a sitting area in front of a chimney and a bathroom. At the end of the room there was a door to the balcony. 

You stood on the balcony for what felt like hours thinking about all of this. An arranged marriage, a bitter laugh on your lips. Damned your father to have sold you off to Ravka and damned the King for buying you off in exchange for an alliance with Kerch. The irony of it all would drive you crazy.

“It is a nice view” a voice behind startled you. It was a man in ragged and dirty clothes. “Do you ice-skate?” There was a shit eating grin on his handsome face.

“No”

“Perhaps you will learn this winter” he pointed to the lake, “it becomes a ice rink”

“Does the tsar skate?”

His grin turned into a half smile, “he does, or tries to.”

“Who are you?” 

“A friend”

“Of who?” You looked him up and down.

“Hopefully yours”

“I don’t think I’ll be allowed to have male friends” you looked at him again, “not that handsome at least” a blush raced to your cheeks.

“Yeah, you should ask your fiancé” The stranger leaned against the balcony, next to you.

“When I meet him” a disdained sight left your mouth, “do you work here?”

“Yes”

“What do you do?”

“A little bit of everything but first and foremost I’m an inventor” 

“Of what?”

“Mmmm” he tapped fingers against his mouth, thinking, “ships, aircrafts” 

“Are you part of the army?” 

“Yes I am”

“Is it true that Ravka has flying ships?”

He laughed, “it is true, I invented them myself” 

“The groom is not supposed to see the bride before the wedding!” A beautiful red haired woman shouted from inside of the room. She was wearing a kefta and glaring daggers at the man next to you. 

“Your highness.” You bowed your head slightly to him.

“Please don’t.” He took a step forward, his hands raised awkwardly at his sides, uncertain what to do with them. “Please don’t ever do that again, it is just Nikolai.” 

You raised your eyes to see him and nodded.

“You can have all the friends you want” he smirked, “none of them will be this handsome anyway”

You nodded, suddenly ashamed of your bolt of honesty.

“Hey” he lifted your face to see him, “we will see a way to make this work.” He gave you a half smile that told you he was not comfortable with this either.

“I am sure we will.” You gave him one of your own, “Nikolai.”

And with that, his smile was complete.

***

The ceremony was beautiful, you had to thank Genya for all the attention to detail in the decorations as well as to your dress. The white and golden gown worthy of fairy tales had been a perfect choice.

You drank and danced with your husband and guests, and although every single member of Nikolai’s court treated you wonderfully, your smile could not quite reach your eyes. There was an unspoken sorrow in your heart, no matter how handsome and kind your husband was, you did not know him and yet you now had to devote your life to him.

You thanked the servant who helped you out of the dress, walked into your joint bedroom in your nightgown and your heart stomping out of your chest.

Your husband was taking off his jewelry when he spotted you through the mirror, a shy smile on his face.

“Hey” he greeted first.

“Hi” you walked to him, “would you like me to call someone to help you?” 

“No, thanks. I can do it.” He continued with the buttons on his jacket. Although the gloves made the task much more difficult.

“I can help you, then.” His hands laid nimbly at his sides as your fingers did the work efficiently. “You looked very handsome today.” You complimented, trying to get the conversation flowing.

“Thank you. I must admit I felt quite jealous, I don’t think I could ever look as good as you, my queen.” 

Your face flushed at his compliment, quickly finishing with his jacket and taking a step back, looking down.

“Are you alright?” 

You figured it was best to be honest about it. “I am nervous, Nikolai. I have never done this and I hope I can, well, please you.” Your face was crimson by the time you finished the sentence, but his’ was puzzled.

“Done what?” His brows furrowed.

“Consummate a marriage.” You looked away in shame.

He scoffed. “Neither have I, I’m afraid this is my first marriage.” 

His joke release tension from you, making you smile, “you know what I mean.” 

“I do, but you don’t have to worry about that.” His gloved fingers guided your chin to look back at him. “I have no intentions of doing it tonight, or any other night, as long as you do not want it. I do not find your fear desirable.”

A breeze of relief fell on you.

“I asked for your room to be ready for tonight, you can stay there as long as you like. This thing-“ his hand gestured to the space between your bodies, “will take time, and I have no intention in hurrying it.”

“Thank you. But I know why I am here, Nikolai. If this thing” you mirrored his gesture, “doesn’t work, just know I know my duty.”

He contemplated you for a minute before speaking again. “I will not bring a child product of fear and disdain into this world. It would not make a good king.” He leaned in and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. “Good night, my queen.” 

With that, you left his room for the night, grateful that you had not married an ape.

***

“I did not know I had married a little myshka.” Your husband smiled from the door of the library, bringing one to your own face.

“Moi tsar.” You teased, “what a surprise to see you this afternoon.” 

He walked to you, hands clasped on his back, looking at the books on the table.

“Ravka’s history and myths.” When you looked up he extended a bouquet of flowers to you. “Thank you!” 

“The least I can do for my queen” he sat in front of you, “how are your studies going so far?” 

“Good, the life of Saints is a bit confusing, but it is going well.” You took a quick look at your notes, leaving the flowers aside, “Hopefully I can get a good idea soon enough so I can join your court, maybe?”

“Oh” he smiled, “is that what you wish to do?”

“I think so.”

“Why?” He seemed intrigued.

“Well, I was on my way to become a scholar in Ketterdam, I think I could do decent work.” 

“I went to College in Ketterdam as well, quite a nice place.”

The declaration surprised you, “Oh? Never saw you there, I think.” 

“I doubt we frequented the same places, darling.” He smirked.

“What was your major?” 

“Law and politics.” 

“Same as me.”

“Yeah but I barely spent any time in classes.” 

“Were you a drunken moi tsar?” You teased.

He laughed, “I will not entertain this nonsense of accusation.” 

“You were!” You laughed as well. “That is why I never saw you there.”

“You are also younger than me!” He tried to defend himself.

“Just two years, I still could have seen you in some classes.”

He scrunched his nose, “good thing you did not”

“Why?” 

“I would have asked you out, of course.”

You scoffed, “I don’t think so”

“Are you joking?” a pretty girl who can do all of my homework? Darling you would have been my number one target.”

It was your turn to laugh, “then good thing you didn’t because I wouldn’t have done your homework.”

He shrugged, “I would have done mine with you, for sure.”

You blushed at his comment, feeling your face warm at the insinuation. “But we did not meet.”

He raised his shoulders, dismissing the missed opportunity.

“So… a law and politics advisor in my council. I like that. Right now it is filled with soldiers, Ravka is in urgent need of a brain there.” 

You matched his smile with your own. “I’d be honored.”

His eyes were kind on you, as if he was amazed to hear you want to be part of his life. “Please let me know when you feel ready and or if you have any doubts.” He took a look at his watch and then stood up. 

“Nikolai, I do have one question.” He looked back at you tenderly. “What is myshka?” 

A sweet smile lightened his face, “mouse, my little library mouse.” He leaned in to kiss the top of your head before leaving you for the day.

***

Time passes so slowly when you are in a trial.

“She bleeds again.” One of you maids said during your second month in the Palace. 

“You shouldn’t be running everyday, moi tsaritsa. Your eggs will fall.” the doctor ordered, little did he know you had barely seen your husband.

“It is not her bleeding we should be checking.” Some girl whispered during your breakfast at the patio, while you pointlessly drank all sorts of beverages to ‘help’ your fertility.

“He doesn’t like her because she is not noble” a whisper on your back, “neither is -“ she shut up when you looked.

“Your duty to the Lantsov Dynasty remains” a letter addressed to you from Queen Tatiana was stamped in your brain. You tossed it in the trash when you read it. 

“Nikolai wants you to visit the Hospital today and send the ill his regards.” Genya announced with a smile that brought sickness to your mouth at the mere thought that everyone in the Palace knew your husband’s wishes better than you.

Whispers and voices filled your days, until it was nighttime.

Because every night, you had dinner at the quietness of your chambers and then, you would stay awake to listen when your husband came into his room, next door from your own. When he did you counted the steps that accompanied and then waited in the hall to see who and when they left.

Every night your heart sank a little deeper, because every night the same person walked out of his chambers.

And not a single time General Nazyalensky could hold your stare.

***

You were not speaking to him. You were actually avoiding him.

You ran at breakfast time, ate at council time and read in your bedroom. It was not so hard considering he didn't try to find you either and he was away constantly. Away with her, your mind shouted.

A month or so went by since the last time you had seen your husband. Until one night a servant announced the King wanted to have dinner together.

You chose the most beautiful dress in Lantsov blue, simple but elegant, to drag yourself to the dining room. He was already there in his First Army uniform, smirking at you.

“My beautiful wife.” He stood and walked to you, bringing your knuckles to his lips and placing a soft kiss. He helped you in your seat before returning to his. “I missed you, I haven’t seen you in forever.” He complained with tenderness. 

You did not answer.

“I just returned from a trip with General Nazyalensky and Count Kirigin, can you believe he is crazy for her?”

You bit down a growl. The audacity of this man, you thought.

“I was hoping you’d join the council soon, how are your studies going?”

You did not answer.

“I am running out of ideas for a conversation here, darling. I think I need your help.” His tone was firm and you finally raised your eyes from your plate to his face.

You sighed, “leave us” The waiters left the room, giving you the much needed privacy. “Perhaps you should ask General Nazyalensky to join you for dinner.”

Every hint of amusement and his signature smirk were gone in an instant. “Why would I?” 

“Well if you can’t help to have her in your chambers every night then perhaps you should have dinner with her as well.” Your tone was also firm.

His eyes did not falter, “it is not what you think”

“Then explain it.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me”

“You have my word, dar—” 

Your scoff interrupted him. “Nikolai,” your patience thinned, “I would rather you behave like a jerk than keep up the good boy facade while you’re mocking me.” 

“Because I am not!”

You covered your face with your hands, it was the lie that hurt the most. “I knew this would happen and I only ask you to be more discreet.” You sighed, keeping your face down, “the whole damn castle talks about it and I am the idiot wife who can’t even do what she was brought to do. I can’t compete with her, Nikolai. She has it all, the beauty, the power, the king’s attention. It’s excruciating.”

“Look at me.” A firm order, your eyes caught his again, only that this time you did not see Nikolai, you were looking at the King. “You do not have to compete with her or anyone else, you are my queen.” His gloved hand captured yours on the table, drawing circles on your skin with his thumb while guiding it to his chest, you could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, “I swear to you, there is no one else, General Nazyalensky is not in my bed. You must believe me. I will do anything for you to believe me.” 

“Everything but the truth.”

His heart beat faster. “What can I do to make you trust me? What do you want?”

Tears pricked your eyes, “Your attention.”

“You have it, but now I will make sure you have no doubts about it.” He closed both eyes, then swallowed, defeated. “Would it be ok with you if I paid you a visit every night, and then returned to my rooms?” 

“That would be a place to start.”

“Although, the Second Army General will continue to make a brief visit afterwards.” 

“Can I be there as well?”

“No.” That was definite. It amazed you how easy he changed from Nikolai to The Tsar.

“This would be easier if you told me the truth.” 

An exasperated sigh left his mouth and he stood from his seat, “my word will have to do for now, myshka.” 

Removing your hand from his chest, he laid a tender kiss to your knuckles before leaving the room.

***

Later that night he knocked on your door, you opened it widely and he walked all the way to the couch in front of the fireplace. “How was your day?” 

You sat next to him, facing the fire, his arm extended on cushions and your shoulders. “It was alright. I have been looking for books or writings about your father’s reign but I haven’t found any.” 

His gloved fingers picked a strand of your hair to toy with. “I think I can help you with that, if you’d like?”

“Please.”

“Well, umm” his gaze was lost on your hair, “what would you like to know?” 

“Anything a member of your council should know.”

He thought for a minute or two, immersed in your hair, “I do not think he was a good king. All he did was send troops to borders, give power to the darkling and the apparat, I don’t think he cared for the needs of the working class.”

“And do you?”

“Of course. I’d be a fool not to, they’re the only ones who want me to keep my throne.” He gave you a lazy smile.

“Why is it different what your father did with the darkling than what you do with the triumvirate?”

He leaned back, getting more comfortable, as he weighed your question. “Because I am not relying on one person but a council of Grisha, and because they would never do the atrocities the darkling did.”

“Such as?” 

“Separating families, sending children to be abused by powerful men, even to the king himself…” 

“Nikolai,” you turned your whole body to face him, “that is an awful thing to say about your father.” 

He released a hopeless scoff, “good thing I am not.”

Your head leaned to a side at his statement, “so it is true?” 

“I am afraid so.”

“Well that is also important information for a political advisor.” 

He smirked, “and to my wife.”

“I don’t think she’d care as much as Fjerda.”

“Is that a fact?” He asked playfully.

“A hundred percent.” 

He leaned towards you, leaving a kiss on your temple, “That is good to know.” He mumbled against your hair.

“How was your day?” 

“Awful.” He looked at the fire. “There are a bunch of people wanting to Sanctify the Darkling and my wife hates me.” He looked at you with what you guessed was some sadness in his eyes.

“I don’t think she hates you.”

The tiniest of smiles tugged at his lips, “no?” 

“No. I think she is just insecure.”

“Well she shouldn’t. As a victim myself I would never inflict the pain of lies on someone else.”

“Thank you.” You whispered and his face warmed.

“Trust me, please.” 

You simply nodded. 

You both sat by the fire for a good while, his arm on your shoulders as you slowly dozed off.

The next morning you woke up in your bed, alone. The other side, as usual, untouched.

***

“It is not up for discussion” one of your maids had said. So now here you were, dressed in a beautiful gown, alone in the balcony while strangers celebrated your Birthday in the saloon.

The leaves on the trees had just started to fall, early signs of the upcoming autumn visible in the palace gardens. The night breeze stirred your arms, making you shiver. A warm jacket fell on your shoulders then, making you turn to find a man standing beside you.

“My apologies, moi tsaritsa. You seemed to be cold.” A tall man with dark hair said. “I am Count Anton Nerenski, your highness.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Count Nerenski.” You turned to the gardens again.

“Beautiful party, I assume that tulips are your favorite?” 

Since the whole Palace was filled with them it was a fair assumption, “No. Roses are.” 

“Then why haven’t I seen any?” He quipped.

You sighed, “because nobody asked me anything about this damned party.”

“If I had known roses were your favorite I would have brought you a hundred of them.” 

You turned to see him, there was tenderness in his eyes, “thank you Count Nerenski.”

“Please, call me Anton.” 

You smiled and he matched. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, Your Highness, Where is the King?”

You sighed, unable to hide your disappointment. He left in the morning and promised to come back before the celebration, yet he had failed his promise. “He is on an important business trip.”

“And how do you feel that he is away?” 

Your jaw tightened, your whole body turned to face him, “I do mind your questioning, and I am nothing but proud of the King’s work. As should you.” 

“My apologies, your highness. I didn't mean to offend the King.” 

“You have spent far too much time on this conversation apologizing, haven’t you?” You pressed.

He scoffed, “I have, and I am further willing to get on my knees if my queen requested so.” 

A blush crept your face, understanding the nature of his intentions. “I wish for no such thing.”

“Yet,” his features softened, “but the path you are on is a lonely one, moi tsaritsa, I wish to extend you my friendship if you ever need it.” 

You merely looked at him: he was a handsome man, taller than you, his eyes were the color of sapphires, and a full beard filled his face. Black hair fell to his shoulders, which were wide and built like a soldier’s. Was this how your life would be now? Men throwing themselves at you offering an affair to deal with your loneliness?

“Your beauty does not belong to a balcony, moi tsaritsa, you have not danced all night, would you like to change that?” Count Nerenski extended a hand to you.

“As caring as always Anton, but I am afraid I must steal my dashing wife’s first dance.” Nikolai’s voice took you out of your thoughts, your eyes instantly finding him. Your heart swelled on your chest at the sight of him, already taking off his First Army jacket and walking towards you. “I fear other men might try to take her for a swing, forgetting altogether that can be considered treason. Although, I would too forget protocols and loyalties at the sight of her.” Nikolai’s voice was cheerful, yet a slight treat could be found in it.

Nikolai removed Anton’s jacket from your shoulders, replacing it with his own and pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

Anton grabbed his jacket from Nikolai’s hand, “Your Highness” bowed towards both of you and returned to the saloon. 

“My savior” you looked up to your husband.

“Would you dance with me?” He offered, his hand lingering on your waist. “I’m afraid I have to remind everyone in this Country who your husband is before they try to steal you from me.”

“Are you jealous, moi tsar?” You teased.

He huffed, “of Count Nerenski? Don’t make me laugh, dear.” His fingers tapped your waist to the rhythm of the background music.

“Then laugh.” You dared, “laugh and take the jealousy off your face.”

“I’d be jealous if you had enjoyed his company.”

“I enjoyed the warmth of his jacket.”

He scoffed, “enjoying another man's warmth, darling please just put a bullet in my head, it would wound me less”

“I am sorry, Nikolai.”

“Don’t be, unless you are actually interested in him?” There was a silent sorrow behind the question.

“I am not.” 

“Then I am sorry for not arriving on time.” His gloved hand touched your cheek, you leaned to his palm. “I brought you a gift though.” From the pocket of his pants he pulled a paper and handed it to you. It was a list. 

“You bought… nineteen, twentyfiv, THIRTY books?” You looked up to him to find him smiling.

“Well I could not fit them all in my pockets so I figured I’d show you the list. If you want to change them we can go to the bookstore tomorrow morning. The order sails in the afternoon to Ketterdam.”

“Nikolai” tears gathered in your eyes, touched by his present. “You didn’t have to do that, thank you.” 

He placed a lock of hair behind your ear, “I might have not known you loved roses but I knew you loved books.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Let’s go back in there and give them a nice show, shall we?” 

You nodded.

He helped you get your arms through his own jacket, “such a condecorated and beautiful soldier.” 

With both hands on your nape, you pulled your hair out of the jacket. “What can I say? I'm a catch.” 

He smirked, “of course you are” he guided you towards him with a hand on your waist, pushing your body against his, as you both walked back to the salon.

One of Nikolai’s valets stepped in front of you. “Your Highness, it is against protocol for the Queen to wear a military uniform as it is for the King to have an incomplete one. Also please be aware of the closeness.” The man’s eyes moved between your bodies, clashed together. 

“Thank you for your suggestion, Mikhail.” Nikolai pulled you towards the dance floor. 

Gasps filled the room when you both bowed before the music started; the King without his jacket and said jacket on his wife’s shoulders must have been a whole show. Anxiety left your body as soon as his hands guided your waist through the waltz.

***

You left the bath in a sheer gown, your hair wet falling on your back after your usual bath post run, and found your husband waiting for you in the same spot he had taken the day before, but instead of toying with your hair, he had one of your books in his hands and his long legs stretched on the couch. At the sight of you he raised his eyes to your body, taking an embarrassing amount of time admiring you before turning away. 

“I am sorry I should have-“ 

You grabbed a robe and pulled it on your shoulders, “that’s fine, you can look now.” 

When you saw his face, a faint blush still colored his cheeks. 

“How can I be of service, moi tsar?” 

He rearranged himself, allowing you to sit on the other side of the couch, nervousness could still be found in him, oddly enough. “I came to ask you to join me at the council today.”

“Yes, sure, when is it?” 

He looked at his watch, “In 10 minutes.”

“Oh.” You walked to your wardrobe in a rush, trying to find something to wear.

“Punctuality is important but not mandatory for a queen, myshka. Take your time.” He leaned back and returned his gaze to the book in his hands.

Without Genya or a maid to help you, you put on a dress and dried your hair as much as possible before leaving your chambers with your husband. You had never been to the war room before, and you were just as surprised to see it as the people inside were surprised to see you.

Nikolai held your hand during the entirety of the meeting, drawing circles on your skin with his thumb, what you had now identified as an anxiety tick.

Every time some decision was to be made, he turned to you and asked your opinion, every time you said you’d rather listen this time and every time he announced again you were a political genius to the group. Shy smiles could be spotted between all of them as a blush betrayed you. 

Once the meeting was over and everyone had left the room, Nikolai turned to you with the brightest smile you had seen in him yet.

“Thank you.” He placed a chaste kiss on your knuckles.

“Thank you for letting me in. I have so much to learn from all of you.”

“Nonsense.” He hooked your hand on his arm, walking out of the room with you. 

***

“I have been wanting to ask you something.” You said after a few minutes of silence. 

He nodded, asking you to continue. 

“In Ketterdam, there were some places where people had stuff and you could go in and get it for a price.”

His eyebrows furrowed, confused. “Yeah?”

“Every month, my father gave me a certain amount of money for me to be able to get whatever things I wanted.” 

Nikolai tilted his head.

“And since I have been here of course I have not yet needed to buy anything, because the Palace has it all.” You started speaking faster, “But I heard there will be an art bazaar downtown and I would like to go. However I do not have any money and I was wondering if maybe you could lend me some?”

“Lend you?” His voice was firm yet confused.

“Yes”

“And how would you pay me back?”

You had not thought about it, “I could send word to my father so—“ his laugh interrupted your rant. He had bent over his stomach laughing while you stared, not sure what was so funny.

“You are the queen of Ravka!” He said between paths, “you do not need to carry money around !” He said it like a dirty word.

“I do not understand?” 

He took a long breath to rearrange himself. “You can go downtown whenever you please, you get whatever you want and ask for the tab, then bring it to my valet and forget about it.” 

“Oh” you blushed, suddenly ashamed of your question. “And I can do that anywhere?” 

“Nearly, yes.” 

Now it was your turn to smirk. 

“But please measure yourself, do not bring this country to bankruptcy.” He teased.

“You should have thought about that before laughing at your queen!” You teased back.

He sighed and sank deeper into your bedroom’s couch, “either with her beauty or her boldness, but this queen of mine is gonna drive me crazy.”

***

You hugged your legs close to your torso, leaning your face against your knees, watching him as he told you yet another story of his life at Sea. By now the only thing you wish to have done before marrying him was getting to know the notorious Sturmhond. 

Nikolai was so passionate about his privateer past, the way he told the tales was so detailed, you could picture them in your head and soon after you could swear you had been there. He talked about Kaz Brekker and the crows, and your mouth opened to know he knew and was friends with your father’s biggest headache, both laughing at the thought of him finding out.

“What do you desire, Nikolai?” You asked after a few minutes of silence and looking at the nostalgia on his face.

“For peace in Ravka.” A well rehearsed answer.

“I asked Nikolai, not the tsar.” 

He finally looked at you, “what I desire has no consequence since I am no longer a man but a Sovereign.” 

“And if you were just a man again, what would you desire?” 

His shoulders dropped with a sigh, “to sleep” he stared at the fire for a long time, then asked, “what would you desire?”

“To hold your hand.”

He grabbed your hand in his, kissing your knuckles before tangling his fingers with yours.

“Without the gloves, Nikolai.”

He did not speak for a while, just looking at your hands intertwined. 

“I was cursed by the darkling.”

“I have heard, Korol Rezni.” 

He looked back at you with profound sadness in his eyes, “yes, which is why I can not let you see my hands.” 

He dropped your hand and stood up abruptly.

“Nikolai, plea—“

“No” again, when he turned it was the Tsar. You kept your place and nodded when he said good night.

***

You had ten people around you, all of them working to get you ready for your agenda of the day. Genya was working on your hair when you realized nobody was working anymore and instead they were bowing. You turned to find Nikolai leant against the door frame, looking at you.

“Moi tsar.” You teased and returned to look at Genya.

“My beautiful wife.” He walked to your line of sight. “Busy day?”

“Yes, I will visit the primary school today.” A bright smile lightened your face.

“By yourself?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Tamar is going with me.”

“Mmmm” he contemplated for a minute, “Tolya will go as well.”

“And what about you?” As much as you appreciated his concern, he could not be left without a bodyguard.

“I’ll be right in front of him the whole time.” He smirked, “if you don’t mind of course?” 

You smiled, “I’ll be honored.”

That night you were crying on the balcony when he let himself into your room. The weight of everything you had seen that day was starting to get you. 

“Darling?” His voice echoed from your bedroom.

“Over here!” You cleaned your face best as you could hoping he wouldn’t notice, but failed.

“What’s wrong?” There was concern in his voice, “are you hurt?” 

You scoffed, “It’s nothing, don’t worry.”

“What’s wrong?” He guided your shoulders to him, then drew your face upwards.

“What we saw today made me a little sad.” 

“The school?” 

You nodded.

“I don’t think I understand?” His brows furrowed. “I saw children very happy to meet their queen.”

You turned your body towards the garden again, leaning your forearms to the balcony. “I saw boys, mostly. Little girls, that started to be less and less around the age of nine.” A long sigh left your mouth, “they are not in school because they are married, Nikolai.”

“No, that’s” 

“What?” You turned to him, his brows were furrowed, he was piecing together a puzzle.

“Illegal” he muttered.

“Just because it’s illegal doesn’t make it undoable.” There was hate in your voice as you said it.

“That is what illegal means.”

“It means nothing if you don’t do anything to stop it!” You tried to regain control over yourself, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry. It’s just that I feel for all those girls who will never get to experience their lives because their parents sold them off to the highest bet.”

“Like you.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Panic flooded you, “No! Nikolai, don’t! I am so very lucky to have you!” Your hands landed on his chest, as if you were trying to keep his heart inside.

There was a sad smile on his face as his hands circled yours, “I understand, I often wonder how different my life would be if I had been born a woman, I understand you are upset.”

“Every day I thank the Saints for the luck I have to be your wife, Nikolai. I swear.” You looked him deep in the eye, not a single doubt on your words. “I just grieve for those girls that did not have the luck I had to marry a kind man.” 

He kissed both your hands and then held you into a tight hug. “Then good thing you are the queen of Ravka and can change things for them.” He mumbled on your hair.

***

You had taken your reading to the gardens. The Palace was just too much noise, too many people, so many whispers. You laid leaning against a tree, reading the Story of Saints again, trying desperately to distract your mind from the aura surrounding you.

You stared at the Palace from afar, how could a place so beautiful be so obsessed with finding other’s flaws? No doubt why the royals often went crazy.

“I have been looking for you” Nikolai’s voice startled you, making you drop your book from your hands to the floor. He sat next to you on the grass. “What are you doing?” 

You did not turn to him, “just reading”

He took the book from the grass and gave it back to you, “Do not let me stop you.”

“Please do, I can’t even focus.” 

“mmmm” His arm rounded your shoulders, “come here” You leaned your head on his chest. “Does that have anything to do with my trip to the Fold?” 

“Not the trip, really.” 

“The crew.” 

You shrugged.

“Darling, I beg of you not to listen to that nonsense.” His hands moved up and down your arm. “It’s not easy when people laugh around me.” 

“You could have them hanged for treason, you know?” 

You scoffed, “Yeah, that would make me a very beloved queen.” 

He sighed, with his free hand, he guided your chin upward to face him, “Then let’s issue a statement.” There was a sassy smirk on his face.

“A statement?” 

His eyes fell from your own to your lips briefly, “yeah.”

“what would it say?”

“Have dinner with me today, I’ll send Genya to your room to have you ready at 7.” 

You just stared at him, not sure what to say nor what to think.

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t think I can say no to you moi tsar.” a shy smile threaded on your lips.

“For the sake of my intentions I’mma say that is correct.”

After a romantic dinner in the garden, he walked you to the main saloon.

When the door opened your mouth did as well. The whole floor was filled with short little candles.

You turned to see him in awe and he merely shrugged like it was nothing. A runway leading from the door to the center was lit by larger ones, where a wide circle was also free of fire. He walked with you through it and once you were in the middle of the room, a quartet of musicians started to play a waltz. 

“Would you honor me a dance?” He offered his hand and you nodded.

He grabbed your waist in a heartbeat, like if your body called to him. Your hand on his chest felt meant to be. He swayed you like a doll, like a well rehearsed play. His signature smirk was permanent on his face.

“What is this, Nikolai?” You asked, blushed.

He made you swirl and you caught servants looking from the balconies above.

He shrugged, “a statement.” He leaned to your shoulder, his lips gracing your skin, “may I?”

“I don’t think I can say no to you, can I?” 

You felt him smile, “I don’t think you can, no.” He mumbled before leaving a path of chaste kisses on your exposed shoulder.

“Nikolai”

“Mmm?” He mumbled against your skin.

“What does this statement say?”

He raised his head to see you, a gilded smile on his face, “that the King of Ravka is head over heels for his wife and that he would do anything to show her how he feels.”

“And is it true?” 

His forehead leaned on yours, not granting you an answer.

“Nikolai?”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?” 

Like it was an order, his lips found yours immediately. He guided your hand to his neck and his arms moved to circle your waist, his lips evolved into a soft, romantic kiss. He was tender, kind, his lips were begging you for more in the kindest of ways.

Your chest tightened in desire, and you could feel the thread where his control was hanging, you pulled back to regain yourself, leaning against him again.

His breath was agitated, but so was yours, he stole a short kiss and then continued his path on your shoulder.

A few waltz later, he guided you to your room. apologizing for not being able to stay any longer, He went into his chambers and soon after you heard someone else walk by. 

The next morning he was gone before sunrise, but your room dawned with a bouquet of fresh roses and a goodbye note from him.

***

Protocols aside, you nearly jumped to hug him when he finally returned. You heard his chest rumble with giggles as he wrapped his arms around you, “Did you miss me, moi tsaritsa?” He whispered in your ear.

Pushing away you answered, looking up to him, “Greatly.” 

His eyes were fixed on your lips, “May I kiss you? You know, so everyone sees it.”

“You may.” 

He leaned down to kiss you, a soft yet needy kiss for every witness to see how much the King had missed his wife; the tenderness of a devoted husband along with the urgent need of a man. It was a display, yet your heart had not gotten the memo, since it was stomping out of your chest.

He pulled away first, his eyelashes fluttering against your brow, his breath hitching your face.

“I missed you too.” He said before kissing the top of your nose and finally taking a step back.

***

Since he returned, he made it his personal goal to kiss you whenever you were surrounded by other people, he had even said so the first time he did. You found him as you walked out of the library towards the garden, he was leaving his study with the council, and the second he saw you his hands cradled your face and kissed you briefly, for then tilt his head sideways and deepen the kiss. When he pulled away you saw everyone around you was flushed and trying to look away, except for Genya who had a genuine smile on her face. Nikolai then winked at you, and continued his path. 

***

When he was focused he would not even look at you. Sitting on his desk and with a thousand papers in front of him, his eyes were reading page after page, immersed in paperwork about the year expenses and needs, you knew this was your chance.

You walked to his desk, until your thighs graced his forearms. Almost instinctively, his hand landed near your hip.

“Yes, love?” He asked, not raising his eyes.

“Nikolai, could you please sign this?” You put the paper in front of him, without hesitation he drew a signature on the bottom of the page and continued his reading. 

You bent down and kissed his cheek then started your path out of his office.

“Darling” he called when you were near the door. 

“Yes?” You turned with feigned innocence on your face.

“What did I sign?” There was a small smirk on his lips and light amusement in his eyes.

You smiled playfully, “A law.” 

“Oh?” His smirk grew. “About what?” 

You returned to his side and gave him the paper, he took it with a playful smirk and read it.

“Mandatory school for girls?” He looked up to you.

You nodded.

He stood from his chair, taking you in his arms. He smelled like woods, like sea, like fire, like freedom and class, like a prince from a fairytale. your arms wrapped around his waist briefly before he let you go. “Please see it published first thing in the morning.”

He sat again but his gaze remained fixed on you, a mix of admiration and fondness emanating from him. “And please keep doing this.”

“That you can be certain of.”

“Darling” his hand hovered above your knee, he was not touching you but you could feel the warmth of his skin even through the gloves and the heavy fabric of your dress. He looked up tenderly, “I have plenty of work to catch up tonight, I’d recommend you to get some sleep, I don’t think I can join you today.” 

“I understand.” You bit your lower lip and turned to leave the room.

“Think of how you want me to make it up to you.” 

You turned to see him again, there was a boyish smirk on his face, and you matched with your own. “I already know.”

“And what do you want, moi tsaritsa?” 

“I want you to take me on a date outside the Palace, I want to see Ravka.”

His brows lifted in surprise, a shadow crossed his face. 

“Have I offended you in any way?” 

He sighed, leaning back on his chair, “not in the slightest. I find it disappointing that I have not done my job courting you properly and I apologize for that.”

“A king does not need to court, your highness.” You teased.

“Not out of need, but of desire. The day I met you I promised you we would make this work, I intended to make it so by courting you and hopefully making you fall in love with me, and look at us: you have to beg me to spend time with you.”

You walked to his desk, a playful smile on your face, “I have not begged yet.”

That brought a slight blush to his cheeks. He placed both elbows on the desk, his gaze intensifying on you “and I am certain you’d look delightful but if I am to make you beg it won’t be for time.” Now it was your turn to blush. “I will take you out on a date, the day after tomorrow. I’ll send you something to wear.”

“You already know where we are going?”

His smirk deepend, “I always have.”

You bit your lower lip to hide your smile and nodded once before leaving the room.

For about fifteen minutes you considered going to Tolya since you felt your heart was leaving your chest right away.

***

Nikolai spent the day submerged in meetings, from one room to another, you heard people passing by all day as you were in the library, which is why you were not expecting him that night. You guessed he was either too tired or still too busy to come to your rooms, and given you were almost certain your hand was injured from all the writing you had done, you made yourself comfortable and dipped your strained hand in a bucket of warm water. That’s how he found you, sitting on the couch, in your spot, with your hand up to the elbow in water while you calmly looked at the fire. 

“Are you alright?” 

You turned to him with surprise on your face, “Nikolai” 

He walked to you, looking at your hand, then repeated himself, “are you alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that I wrote too much today.” 

He grabbed a towel and sat next to you, taking your hand out the water and drying it before massaging it softly. “Was it another Law?” With a raised brow he lifted his gaze to you.

You merely shrugged. 

“I appreciate your service but not to this point, myshka. Your wellbeing is this country’s priority, do not forget that.” 

You pouted at his scorn, leaning against his shoulder. “How was your day?” Your voice was dipping in tenderness.

He sighed, “exhausting” he kissed your hand before extending an arm on your shoulders, you rearranged yourself on his chest. “As much as I wanted to come home to read in the gardens with my wife, a lot happened while I was away that required my attention.”

“Your wife requires your attention as well.” 

A dark smirk formed on his lips, “she does?” He shifted, from being relaxed against the couch to sitting straight with his body angled towards yours, a hunter lurking his prey, “And how can I oblige to her needs?” 

“Take a wild guess” 

“I fear I might take one that turns out to be too wild.” His gaze was fixed on your lips.

“And?”

“Might scare you off”

“Impossible”

He let out a scoff, “Sturmhond would say that you mean improbable.”

“Oh? I wonder what the notorious privateer would do in this situation?” You teased.

An amused sigh left his mouth, “things that are far too scandalous to be even mentioned in front of a queen.” 

“I’d suggest not to say them and just do them, then.”

“Even worse.”

“Ummm” you feigned deception, “too bad, I would have loved to meet the guy. I heard he has quite a reputation.”

“Really?” Nikolai’s ego shone through his smile.

“Oh, yes. I’d like to know if what I have heard turns out to be true.” You laid on your back, him following closely.

“And what have you heard?”

“Things that are far too scandalous to be even mentioned in front of a King.”

He was practically on top of you know, his lips roaming yours.

“Then it is probably true.” He was practically on top of you now, his face millimeters above yours. “Please tell me what you want, love.” A jolt of honesty and vulnerability dominated his eyes, pulling the lust and desire away to accommodate your needs first. 

“You, Nikolai.” 

“Nobody is watching now.” 

It screwed your brains that he might think you only wanted him when you could be seen. One of your brows lifted in a challenge, “Then do your worst.”

His lips crashed against yours, but this time his tempo was slow and cautious, not a hint of urgency and need, but a patient lover with all the time in the world. Your hands rounded his neck and his’ supported him while cradling your face. 

His legs moved in between yours, applying light pressure in your core with his hips, earning a muffled moan from your lips. He pulled away, his eyes dark with desire and mouth open with adoration. “Tell me what you want” 

“I can not move further without the touch of your hand, Nikolai, please.” 

A half smile crossed his lips, “you truly are a delight begging” his sight roamed your face, “close your eyes” a firm order, you obliged. 

Rough and cold fingers wrapped around your hand, lifting it over your head, while the other set touched your face lightly, you could feel all calluses and scars roaming your cheek, then your neck, and after a brief lack of touch, climbing up your ankle.

“Nikolai” you moaned.

“Shh” he let go of your hand to touch your lips with his thumb, “you’re so soft” you could hear him near, the pressure on your core harder every second. He pushed his thumb in your mouth, a weird taste of charcoal in your tongue as you licked it, he groaned in your ear, “can’t wait to feel more of you” his hand finally stopped on your hip, pulling his thumb out and resuming his kiss. His hands were still cold, but somehow made you feel even warmer.

He was toying with your undergarments, cold fingers stretching the soft fabric and touching all around, except where you needed him the most. You wondered how it might be, cold fingers against your hot core, and it made you dizzier.

It was becoming too much: the warmth of the chimney, his body on top of you and the coldness of his hands. You wanted to scream, to beg him to please take you now, but you could only continue under his torturous pace, kissing him back, your hands roaming his chest and making a mess of his hair, pulling his curls out of its perfect place. A gentle tug of his hair earned you a groan, which nearly pushed you off the edge.

“Can I take these off?” He tugged your undergarments, panting.

“Yes.”

“Beg” he said in your ear.

“Nikolai, please.”

“That is not begging.”

“Nikolai, I beg you to take them off.” 

“That’s my girl” he bit your ear while pulling the fabric.

A loud knock made you open your eyes abruptly to see him hide his hands from your sight “close your eyes” he instructed. 

You heard the sound of fabric, steps and a door open. “Nikolai” General Nazyalensky’s voice filled the room, “We received correspondence from the Termite, there are Fjerdan troops marching south. The council is waiting for you in the war room.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes” 

The door closed and he was back in your eyesight. He sat between your legs again, admiring you for a minute.

“Care to continue?” You teased.

“We’ll have to put a raincheck on that” He said and you blushed at his blunt rejection, turning your face away from him. Suddenly he was on top of you again, his now gloved hands guiding your face towards his’, “because I only have a couple minutes and with you I need so much more than that, myshka.” He kissed you deeply again, it felt like a natural thing now. “Get some sleep, I’ll see you in the morning for our date.” He stood up, extending a hand to help you do the same. You took it.

“Don’t you have a war to attend?” 

“It will have to wait for another day.” With that he kissed you again before rearranging himself and leaving with a flirty wink.

***

The smell of flowers woke you up. When your eyes opened you realized your room was filled with roses of all colors. On every surface of the room there was a thick bouquet and on the nightstand a note that read

I am not sure if they are a hundred, but I brought you all the roses of Ravka. 

-Nik.

There were more than a hundred, for sure. You stood on your tiptoes, careful not to kick any, as you inspected every single vase, each one had a card sending you regards from the flower shop, each of them further away than the other. How had Nikolai gathered them all this morning, you had no clue.

Minutes later one of Nikolai’s valets left a box with clothes in it. After you changed into them, a plain white shirt, trousers and boots, you met your husband in the dais of the main stairs.

“Dashing as ever” His signature smirk greeted you. 

His outfit was similar to yours, way too simple for a king. He escorted you out and towards the lake, where you found a ship.

“Am I meeting Sturmhond today?” You asked with a smile.

“Maybe” 

He helped you on the ship, and after putting on a green jacket, he instructed the squallers as the ship caught the air and rose. 

A gasp left your mouth in terror and your husband was at your side in an instant, holding you close to him. For a while there was only him, your face buried on his chest, his smell grounding you. Then everything was calm again, and softly he pulled away and guided you to the bow, one hand on your waist and one on the railing.

“You wanted to see Ravka… I thought to show you your whole kingdom.”

Out of words, you explored the frozen woods of the North and the border with Fjerda; the vastness of the city of Os Alta, the desert on what used to be the Fold, all the cultures and colors of the southern cities, the clarity of the shore. All the while Nikolai whispered stories in your ear, his chest pressed against your back and his hands on your waist.

You ate at Os Kervo, where you both had to be tailored to go undercover, his now ginger hair bouncing free. 

You stood on the docks, looking at the sea. 

“Missing home?” His chin leaned against your shoulder.

“You are my home now, Nikolai.” 

He turned you and kissed you fiercely. There, in the docks of Os Kervo, tailored away from your royal faces, you were just two idiots in love. No protocols to respect or whispers to feed; just two lovers intertwined, hypnotized by their most animalistic needs of each other. Sturmhond took risks Nikolai wouldn’t; like pulling your hair and letting his fingers dig your skin, biting your lips and tasting your tongue, he pulled muffled moans out of you like a child takes cookies out of a jar. Your knees buckled, but his strong arms were there to hold you and continue his quest. When he was done, he leaned your foreheads together, gasping for air. 

“Such a conqueror” you whispered, panting.

“And I am not done yet.” His threat made your legs weak again.

You barely kept your hands off each other on the way back, but your control was completely lost as soon as you arrived at the Palace.

Your legs were on his hips, and his hands supporting them as you both walked in, the welcoming party waiting for you quickly dissipated as he carried you up the stairs and to your bedroom. 

He pushed you against the wall, and once the door was closed and secured, he carried you to the bed.

“Careful with my roses” you teased.

“I’ll plant you a whole new garden” 

His body was pressed on yours, both of you working on taking your clothes off. You pushed him making land on his back, straddling him, his naked torso to your bare chest.

“No objection to that” a lopsided grin on his face

You took his hands, touching the fabric of his gloves, your eyes kindly asking for permission. His breath was ragged when he nodded.

Softly, you pulled the fabric from each finger, making them loose enough to pull out the right hand first. His eyes were closed, defeated, ashamed, as you completely removed both gloves. You laid a wet kiss on each one before kissing his palms and then moved to intertwine your fingers to his. They were black and cold, different, for sure, but not worth hiding and definitely better than those stupid gloves.

“Nikolai”

“Mmm” his eyes remained closed, his chest to yours while you sat on his lap.

“touch me”

“I don’t want the darkling’s curse on you.”

“Please”

“Are you not” he swallowed, “disgusted?”

“Not in the slightest”

He finally touched your face, his palm on your cheek felt cold but you leaned to his touch nonetheless.

“Does your night visitator have anything to do with this?”

Nikolai’s head fell forward in shame, “yes”

He remained silent as you pampered his face with kisses, falling back on the bed but now with a defeated aura.

“The darkling turned me into a monster”

“Don’t say that” your head was on his chest, your whole body wrapped on his.

“I wish this was a theatricality, love” You looked at him tenderly. “He literally turned me into a monster, Alina saved me or so I believed, when she destroyed the Fold. But the monster is still in me, it comes back at night sometimes. That is why Zoya chains me to bed every night.”

Your gasp broke his heart in a million pieces.

“That is why I do not sleep with you, I am afraid I might hurt you, kill you, while I am that damned monster.”

You took his hands and guided them to your waist, the cold of his fingers giving you chills. Softly, you left a trail of wet kisses on his ear, his neck, until he undoubtedly lost himself in you again.

The weight of his arm on your waist dulled you to the deepest, coziest sleep you have ever had, until a metallic clac woke you up. There was a slim figure standing on the foot of your bed, as you blinked the darkness away you realized it was Zoya toying with a set of keys. Her beautiful face was pursed, at least she was not enjoying this.

“I am sorry, I must take Nikolai to his rooms.” She whispered.

Nikolai moved next to you, his fingers wrapping on your waist as he laid sleepy kisses on your shoulder. “Mmmm?” He mumbled deep in sleep.

“He is asleep, he won’t turn into a monster tonight.” 

“We do not know that, Your Majesty.”

“Zoya?” Nikolai asked, blinking.

“I will be waiting in your rooms, Nikolai.” She turned to you, “good night, moi tsaritsa.”

“I’ll go with you.” You turned to him.

Your husband got to his feet, buttoning his shirt, “No.”

“Nikolai”

 He kissed your forehead and left. 

***

Nikolai knocked on your door every night for five nights, not a single one you opened.

***

“I know we are not on speaking terms” Nikolai spoke from the other side of the desk where you had spent your afternoon.

You did not look up to him.

“But I have a gift for you.”

You raised your eyes to him, sneering. 

“Ouch”

“A gift does not change anything, Nikolai.”

“I do not expect it to.”

You raised one eyebrow, insting him to continue.

He flexed his fingers and a man carrying a machine entered, placing the machine in front of you. It took you a few minutes to see it: it had … buttons? with the alphabet, although it was not in order. It had two rollers behind the alphabet and a paper sheet in between.

“It is a typing machine” he leaned near you to explain, “you can use this to type the laws instead of writing them down by hand and hurting yourself.”

Your eyes were glued on the machine. “Where did you get it?”

“I built it”

You raised your eyes to him again, but this time they were filled with wonder and admiration. “Thank you.” 

“I don’t want you to get hurt, love” he said looking at the machine, but you knew he wasn’t referring only to it, “everything I do, I do it aiming for that.”

With that, he left the library, leaving you and your typing machine alone.

***

That night he knocked on your door once again, but this time you opened, leaning against the frame, opening just enough for your body to fit.

“Yes, Moi Tsar?” 

“I…” he swallowed, “was wondering if I could join you for a moment?” 

“You can join me for the night or not at all.” 

His eyes closed in annoyance, “love you are taking this too far now”

“Am I? Or am I merely demanding my husband to trust me half as much as he trusts his soldiers?” 

He faced the floor, exasperated. “As much as I hate to say this: they are replaceable. You are not.”

A scoff, “I’ll make you wish I was, Nikolai.”

With that you closed the door on his face.

[for-writing-shit]

It’s only love

Pairing : John Lennon x reader

Requested : yes

Genre : comfort

The room was filled with laughter, the kind that was half from exhaustion and half from the high of another successful gig. You sat beside John in the dimly lit dressing room, watching as the boys joked and teased each other. But something was off.

John was quiet.

Sure, he threw in the occasional sarcastic remark, but you could tell his heart wasn’t in it. His leg bounced slightly, his fingers picking at a loose thread on his jacket. He was somewhere else, lost in thought.

The others didn’t seem to notice, but you did.

Eventually, the boys shuffled out, leaving just you and him. The silence stretched between you as John leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. You could see his jaw tighten, his fingers curling into fists.

“Alright, love, out with it,” you said softly, nudging his arm.

He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “S’nothing.”

But you knew better.

“John.”

He sighed, finally turning to look at you. His eyes, usually alight with mischief and confidence, were clouded over. He hesitated before mumbling, “Just heard some birds talkin’ outside the venue earlier. Had a lot to say about me.”

You tilted your head. “What did they say?”

He let out another humorless laugh, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Oh, you know. How I don’t look like a proper rockstar, how my specs make me look like a bloody schoolboy. That I’d be decent-looking if I weren’t so—” He gestured vaguely at himself, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I weren’t me, basically.”

Your heart clenched. John was never one to admit to insecurities easily—he always masked them with sharp wit and biting jokes. But now, sitting here in the low light, he looked almost… small. Vulnerable.

You reached for his hand, running your thumb over his knuckles. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

He scoffed. “Don’t they?”

“No, they don’t,” you insisted, squeezing his hand. “John, I need you to hear me when I say this—you are perfect exactly as you are.”

He gave you a look, somewhere between skeptical and hopeful. “Perfect, eh?”

“Yes.” You shifted closer, cupping his cheek in your hand. He leaned into your touch, almost subconsciously. “I love your glasses. They make you look smart, and besides, they help you see, don’t they?”

He huffed. “Unfortunately.”

You ignored his quip, letting your fingers trail along his jawline. “And as for the rest of you? You are more than decent-looking, John Lennon. You’re beautiful.”

His breath hitched slightly at that, eyes searching yours like he wasn’t sure he could believe it.

You smiled softly. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

He swallowed hard, his walls crumbling piece by piece. “Yeah?” His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant.

You nodded. “Yeah.” Then, more firmly, “You don’t have to be like anyone else. I love you—exactly as you are.”

Something in him broke then, and before you knew it, he was pulling you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. You felt his breath hitch, his grip on you tightening as if he was afraid you’d slip away.

You held him just as fiercely, whispering soft reassurances against his temple. “You’re brilliant, John. And don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise.”

After a long moment, he pulled back just enough to press his forehead against yours. His glasses were slightly askew, but he didn’t seem to care. His eyes, once filled with doubt, now held something softer.

“I love you,” he murmured.

You smiled, brushing a kiss against his lips. “I love you more.”

And for the first time that night, John Lennon smiled—a real, genuine smile.

Because maybe, just maybe, he was starting to believe you.

[for-writing-shit]

I need you

Pairing : George Harrison x fem!reader

Genre : comfort

Requested : yes!

The mirror had never been kind to you.

Tonight was no different.

You stood in the dressing room of the club, tugging at the hem of your dress, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, willing the fabric to sit differently—to make you look different. Slimmer. Smaller.

You weren’t fat, not really. But next to the other Beatles’ girlfriends, you felt it.

Jane, with her long, delicate limbs and effortless elegance. Cynthia, who always carried herself with such poised grace. Maureen, so effortlessly cool, with a figure that never made her doubt herself.

And then there was you.

You’d spent too long staring in the mirror, cataloging everything you hated, everything that didn’t measure up. The way your stomach wasn’t flat, the curve of your thighs, the softness of your arms. Things that, to anyone else, might not have even been noticeable. But to you, they were glaring.

And worst of all—George hadn’t noticed.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. He hadn’t said anything about the way you looked tonight, hadn’t looked at you the way he looked at the others. You told yourself it wasn’t his fault—he was sweet, of course, always gentle with you, but he’d never had to think about things like this. He was George Harrison.

You swallowed hard, blinking back the sting of tears. You should have stayed home. Should have made an excuse, should have—

“Love?”

Your breath hitched at the sound of his voice.

George stood in the doorway, his tall frame leaning against the doorframe, dark eyes soft and searching.

“You alright?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. The words tangled up in your throat, heavy and suffocating.

George frowned, stepping inside. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, forcing a small smile. “Nothing. I—I’m fine.”

He didn’t buy it.

Of course he didn’t.

He took another step closer, tilting his head slightly as he studied you. “You sure? You’ve been quiet all night.”

You hesitated, fingers twisting in the fabric of your dress. “I just…” Your voice wavered. “I don’t look right.”

George’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You let out a shaky breath, staring down at your hands. “I don’t look like them.”

Realization dawned in his eyes. He took another step forward, his hands finding yours, his fingers warm and steady around your trembling ones.

“(Y/N),” he said gently. “Is this about the others?”

You bit your lip, nodding without looking up.

George exhaled slowly, his hands squeezing yours before releasing them. For a brief, terrifying moment, you thought he was going to agree—to confirm all your worst fears.

Instead, he surprised you.

He stepped back, just enough to take you in fully, as if seeing you for the first time.

And then he sighed.

Not in frustration. Not in exasperation.

In heartbreak.

“Oh, love,” he murmured, stepping close again. “Is that what you’ve been thinkin’ this whole time?”

You swallowed hard. “I just—I know I don’t look like them. I know I don’t fit in. And I know you—you could be with anyone, George. Someone beautiful, someone thin, someone who—”

His hands came up, cradling your face before you could finish.

“Stop.”

His voice was soft, but firm. There was no hesitation, no room for argument.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you?” he asked.

You shook your head weakly, tears threatening to spill over.

George exhaled again, his thumbs stroking softly over your cheeks.

“I see you,” he said. “The girl I can’t stop lookin’ at no matter who else is in the room.” His voice was low, reverent. “The girl who makes me laugh, who makes me feel like the luckiest bloke in the world just ‘cause she chooses to be with me.”

Your chest ached, throat burning with unshed tears.

“I don’t care if you don’t look like the others,” he murmured. “I don’t want you to. You’re you. And I love every single bloody thing about you.”

Your lower lip trembled. “You don’t have to say that.”

George let out a quiet, almost pained chuckle. “I’m not sayin’ it ‘cause I have to, love. I’m sayin’ it ‘cause I mean it.”

And then he leaned in, pressing the softest, most lingering kiss to your forehead.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I do,” he whispered.

The dam broke.

A sob escaped before you could stop it, and George was already there, pulling you into his arms, holding you close against his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair. “I’ve got you, love.”

You clung to him, burying your face against his shoulder, letting yourself feel the weight of his words. The weight of him.

You weren’t magically healed. The doubts, the insecurities—they wouldn’t disappear overnight.

But wrapped in George’s arms, you felt lighter.

And for now, that was enough.