When you try to scramble away because the sensation is too intense, it doesn't signal an end—it triggers a primal instinct to chase, pin, and reclaim. Featuring: Kishibe, Katana Man, Angel Devil, Aki Hayakawa, Eldest Immortal Brother, Joey, and Aldo.
༻18+ 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝑫𝒐 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕༺
Kishibe
You’re scrambling up the mattress, the friction of the sheets burning against your skin as you try to escape the relentless, heavy snap of his hips. Your breath is coming in broken hitches, and you try to sweet-talk him through the panic. "Kishibe... baby, please, just a second... it's too big, you're hitting so deep," you whine, your voice cracking.
He doesn't give you a single inch. His hand wraps around your ankle and he yanks you back down the bed until your spine hits his chest with a wet, fleshy thud. He doesn't just enter you again; he lunges, burying himself to the hilt while his other hand fists in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat. "Running? From me?" he rasps, his voice a gravelly, whiskey-soaked vibration against your ear. "I’ve spent my life hunting things a lot faster than you, princess. Stay with it."
He begins to rutt with a blunt force that turns your whimpers into incoherent sobs. His mouth is everywhere—sucking and marking up the column of your neck, leaving bruises. You can feel every ridge of him, how impossibly big he feels as he claims the space you tried to vacate. When you push at his thighs, he just grunts, his dirty talk turning into a stream of filth. "Look at that pussy... sloppy and wet, just soaking my balls while you try to crawl away. You’re going to take every goddamn inch until I'm drained. Don't you dare move." He doesn't stop until he’s shooting blanks and you’re a trembling, ruined mess.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
Katana Man (Samurai Sword)
You’re clawing at the headboard, your body jolting with every sharp, merciless lunge of his hips. The friction is becoming unbearable, the sounds of his skin hitting yours loud and wet in the quiet room. "Ahn! Katana, ease up," you huff, trying to writhe out of his reach.
He doesn't let you gain an inch. His eyes, narrowed and dark, stay riveted on the way your body handles him. He pulls back until he’s nearly out, only to lunge forward again with a sharp snap that sends a spray of slick across the rumpled sheets. "You’re not going anywhere until I say you’re done," he sneers, his voice rich with disdain. He hooks a hand under your chin, tilting your head back until you're forced to witness your own undoing. "Too much? Good. I want you to feel every bit of what you asked for. Keep taking it."
He mocks your desperate attempts to scramble away, his dirty talk a stream of ruin that leaves your pride as frayed as your nerves. Every time you try to plead, he answers by targeting your sweet spot with a punishing accuracy. "Look at you, trembling like a leaf. You're so goddamn wet, it's pathetic," he murmurs, his fingers digging into your hips to spread you even wider. He fucks you with a heavy, unrelenting power, bottoming out until your vision sparks and your mind finally goes static.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
Angel Devil <- I love him sm
You’re trembling beneath him, your hips twitching in a desperate, failed attempt to offset the deep stretch of his entry. Every time he sinks in, you whimper that he’s "too much," that the sheer volume of him is erasing your ability to think. Angel doesn't pull back; he just leans his full weight onto your back, his wings heavy and soft as they pin you down.
He lets out a lazy, melodic chuckle. “Oh? Am I a bit too much for a fragile little human?” He mocks, his voice a low, teasing silk. He doesn't bother with a frantic pace; he prefers a slow, mechanical grind that targets your spot with a cruel accuracy. You try to sweet-talk him, gasping, "Angel, please... just a little slower, I can't—mghn," but he just ignores you. His halo glows with a yellow, dim light as his tail snakes around your thigh, cinching tight to anchor you in place.
"Look at you, trying to run when your pussy is practically swallowing me whole. It’s cute, really," he murmurs, reaching around to shove two fingers into your mouth, hooking them over your tongue. He begins to throat fuck you with his fingers, his movements a rhythmic, unyielding counterpoint to his lower half. "Stay with it. I want to feel you go limp under me." He doesn't stop until your body is literal mush, your cum dripping down his thighs as he watches your eyes roll back in total cock drunk haze.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
Aki Hayakawa
You push weakly at his abs, your voice breaking as you sob that he’s bottoming out, that it’s just too much for your body to take. Aki actually freezes. For a heartbeat, he folds; his jaw tightens and he looks down at your tear-stained face with a flash of worry. “I’m sorry—did I... am I hurting you?” He eases back, his breath coming in jagged hitches as he lets you breathe for a second.
But the way you clench around him while you’re trying to recover—the wet, suctioning sounds of your pussy gripping him—is what breaks his last thread of discipline. The carefulness in him vanishes as he drags your legs back over his shoulders, his eyes turning dark and focused. “God, you’re so tight... I can’t help it. Don't run from me.” He slams back in, sudden and deep, his pace turning into a relentless, high-friction assault.
“Just take it for me, sweetheart. You’re doing so well,” he whispers, his voice dropping into that low-voiced praise that makes your toes curl. He begins to suck on your breast and collarbone, his mouth leaving a trail of wet, territorial marks. "You're so perfect, so fucking pretty when you're taking all of me. Stay right here and let me fill you up." He fucks you with a worshipful pace, his praise turning into a stream of nasty detail about how much of his cum he's going to pour into you. Your coils, once neatly defined, are now a beautiful, frizzy halo against the pillows, roughed up by the friction of your head tossing back and forth. He doesn't let you move until you're completely overstimulated, your body twitching against his as he finishes deep inside.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
Oldest Brother (I have yet to see his name in the manga).
Your vision sparks, white light dancing at the edges of your consciousness as he bottoms out with a rhythmic, plap. Every time he moves, you feel the sheer girth of him stretching you to your absolute limit, a thick, invading force that leaves you breathless. "Fuck, just slow down for a second," you pant, your fingers clawing at the sheets
He lets you rest for a heartbeat, his eyes tracking the way your chest heaves and the way your lips part. He stares with a strange, quiet focus—like a scientist observing a breaking point—before he snaps both of your wrists above your head with one hand, his other hand coming down to deliver a sharp, stinging slap to your thigh that echoes in the quiet room. "I didn't give you permission to move," he murmurs, his voice flat and unbothered. He enters you again with a slow, deep stretch that makes your back arch off the bed.
When you continue to whine, he doesn't ease up; he leans down to kiss you, his tongue sliding deep into your mouth to swallow your moans. His other hand wraps firmly around your throat. He swallows your whimpers, his dirty talk a symphony of detached filth against your lips. "Look at you gushing every time I hit the back. You're so goddamn wet, you're sliding off me," he whispers, his thumb stroking your pulse point. "Stay with it. I want to feel your walls clench until they give up." He fucks you until you're to spent to do anything but take him, making sure every drop of his cum stays buried deep inside you.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
Joey
Joey loves it when you run. To him, it’s not a protest; it’s an invitation to be even more reckless. The second you scramble for the edge of the mattress, he lets out a breathless laugh. Before you can even reach the floor, he’s on you. He hauls you back into the center of the bed.
"Look at you go! You’re like a little rabbit, aren't you?" he sneers, his eyes blown wide with a manic glint. You let out a broken whine, "Joey, wait... you're relentless. Please, it's too much... it feels like you’re gonna split me open," but the admission only fuels his fire. He slams back into you with a impact that steals the air from your lungs. The sounds are debased—the wet, heavy slap of his thighs against yours and the sharp, stinging spank he delivers to your hip every time you try to arch away from the depth.
"Don't you dare close those eyes," he commands, his voice dropping into a breathy rasp as he leans down to catch your bottom lip between his teeth. "I want you to watch what I'm doing to you. You’re soaking the sheets, your pussy is literally screaming for it, and you’re still trying to play the shy, pretty girl?" He begins to suck and mark up your chest, his teeth grazing your collarbone. "You're taking all of it. Every inch. I catch you crawling away again, I’m tying you down." He doesn't stop until he's completely drained, making sure your only reality is the crushing weight of him and the wet, beautiful disaster he’s made of you.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
Aldo
When you try to push him away because the sensation of him bottoming out is too intense. Aldo doesn't pull back—he collapses his full, trembling weight onto you. His hands aren't gentle; they’re frantic as they cup your face, his thumbs bruising your cheeks to keep you looking at him while he devours your mouth in a messy, desperate kiss. "Please... don't leave me yet. I need this," he whimpers, his voice thick with a needy obsession that borders on the fanatical.
You try to soothe him, gasping, “Aldo, baby, just a little slower,” but the plea dies in your throat; he doesn't care about the pace, only the desperate, soul-searching depth of the connection. He’s fucking into you with a frantic hunger, his hands sliding down to your thighs to squeeze and knead the soft flesh. “You’re so pretty... so fucking perfect for me,” he groans against your lips, the friction of the make-out turning messy as his spit slicks your chin. He ruts into you with a heavy, clumsy power. His voice is a broken, needy rasp—a string of "I love you" and "I'm going to ruin you if you ever try to leave," ensuring that every inch of you is marked by his obsession.
He doesn't yield, even as the intensity pulls a broken, high-pitched sob from your throat. He simply drives deeper, his hips grinding into yours with a frantic, high-velocity pace that leaves the sheets soaked and your brown skin gleaming with a slick coat of sweat. He claims every beautiful inch of you, his hands holding you close as he fucks into you with a blunt, loving violence designed to ensure that even if you tried to run, your shaking legs wouldn't have the strength to stand.
summary: 1k. on a cold night by the sea, everything is finally said—except the one thing that scares them both the most.
cw: childhood best friends, angsty, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, unspoken feelings, english is not my first language xx.
currently playing: siren sounds
Joey Lynch had loved you for as long as he could remember.
Before the bruises.
Before the shouting.
Before Ballylaggin felt like something he had to survive instead of just attend.
You were there when he was five, sitting on the curb outside your houses, legs swinging, sharing a packet of crisps like it was sacred. You were there when he was ten, holding his hand after his dad’s voice cracked the walls again. You were there when he was thirteen, when he learned how to shut down, how to disappear into himself.
You were always there.
And that was the problem.
Because loving you felt like standing too close to the sea—beautiful, loud, impossible to ignore. And Joey had learned early on that beautiful things were usually the ones that dragged you under.
Tonight, the waves were loud.
You sat beside him on the beach, knees pulled to your chest, hoodie sleeves covering your hands. The sky was dark, the water restless, the wind sharp with salt. Joey lay back on the sand, staring up at nothing, pretending his chest didn’t ache with every breath you took.
“You’re thinking again,” you said softly.
He huffed a laugh. “I always think.”
“No,” you replied, turning to look at him. “You’re spiraling.”
That made him turn his head. Your face was half-lit by the moon, familiar in a way that hurt. He knew every version of you—laughing, crying, angry, exhausted. He knew the sound you made when you were trying not to cry. He knew how you smelled like clean laundry and the ocean.
He knew he was done for.
“Why do you stay?” he asked suddenly.
You frowned. “What?”
“With me,” he said. “You know me better than anyone. You know how messed up it all is. So why don’t you leave?”
You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you scooted closer, your shoulder brushing his. That tiny contact sent electricity through him, like a warning siren going off in his bones.
“Because I love you, Joey,” you said, like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t the most terrifying thing he’d ever heard.
He sat up too fast. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Say it like that,” he snapped, panic flaring. “You make it sound easy.”
Your eyes softened. “It is easy. It’s you.”
He shook his head, hands trembling. “You don’t get it. Loving me—” He swallowed. “It’s dangerous.”
You reached for him anyway, fingers curling around his wrist, grounding, warm. “So is the ocean,” you said quietly. “Doesn’t mean people stop swimming.”
Joey laughed then, broken and breathless. “You’re going to drown with me.”
“Then we drown together,” you whispered.
Something inside him gave way.
The sea didn’t quiet down after that.
If anything, it grew louder, waves crashing harder against the shore as if trying to intrude on the moment. Joey noticed it distantly, the same way he noticed everything when his thoughts started to spiral. Except this time, he didn’t pull away. He stayed.
You were still there.
Close enough that he could feel the heat of you through the cold night air. Close enough that moving even an inch felt dangerous.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he murmured, breaking the silence first.
You frowned slightly. “Like what?”
“Like you’re staying,” he said. “Like it’s a given.”
Your jaw tightened. “It is.”
Joey shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his mouth. “Nothing about me is a given.”
The words hung between you, heavy and familiar. He’d said versions of them before—half-joking, half-warning. This time, you didn’t let him hide behind them.
“You don’t get to decide when I give up on you,” you said quietly.
“I’m not deciding,” he snapped, then immediately softened. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
“From me.”
That was the truth he never said out loud.
Joey turned away, staring at the dark water. “You’ve always been… good,” he continued, voice low. “You deserve someone who doesn’t flinch every time things get real. Someone who doesn’t carry this much damage.”
You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you reached out and took his sleeve, not his hand. Careful. Like you were giving him room to pull away if he needed to.
“I don’t want easy,” you said. “I want you. I always have.”
His chest tightened painfully. He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to lean into you, to give in to the pull he’d been resisting his whole life.
“You don’t know what it’s like inside my head,” he whispered. “Some days I can barely stand being there myself.”
You shifted closer, your shoulder brushing his arm. Not a kiss. Not even a hug. Just presence.
“Then let me sit with you in it,” you replied. “You’ve been sitting with me in mine since we were kids.”
Joey laughed softly, hollow. “That’s not fair.”
“I know,” you said. “Love never is.”
Silence settled again, thick and fragile. The wind tugged at your hair, at his jacket, at all the things neither of you were saying.
His hand twitched where it rested in the sand, inching closer to yours but never quite touching. You noticed. Of course you did.
“You don’t have to choose tonight,” you added gently. “I’m not asking for anything.”
He finally looked at you then, eyes dark and tired and full of something dangerously close to hope.
“That’s worse,” he said. “Because I want to.”
Your breath caught.
But he didn’t move.
And neither did you.
The waves kept crashing, relentless and patient, and the space between your hands felt louder than any confession ever could.
Hii!! Can you write a fic about Joey with a reader that helps a lot with his siblings (when all of the teddy thing was happening), like she babysit the kids, buys them food and just helps a lot, and he doesn't want to accept it
note ⸝⸝⸝ so idk if u wanted this to be completelyyy angst..
summary ⸝⸝⸝
warnings ⸝⸝⸝ angst.
you’ve been in joey lynch’s life for years — since you were kids, you’ve been attached at the hip. other kids would tease you for always hanging around him. he was the quiet one, the one who kept to himself. joey had friends, sure, but he never wanted to get too close to anyone. except you. you never pushed. you just showed up, made him feel safe, and let him know you weren’t going anywhere. and he let you in.
now you’re both older, still just as inseparable. visiting him and his family has become part of your daily routine. you’ve practically adopted his younger siblings. buying them clothes, snacks, taking them outside, babysitting them when joey’s too busy with work or school. you’ve known them since they were babies.
but there’s always been one thing joey struggled with — accepting help. he never hated the fact that you were close to his family. it was just, the idea of needing someone that much. he’d grown up self-reliant, proud. and that part of him never left.
it was a quiet night. their father was off doing god knows what, and their mum was holed up in her room. the kids looked like they hadn’t eaten all day, and you couldn’t ignore it. you took it upon yourself to make dinner, it just felt right.
“hungry,” seany says.
you giggle and squeeze his cheeks. “course you are! i’ll make dinner right now, okay?” you reply, setting him into a chair.
as you start on your special pasta, shannon appears beside you. “that smells so good,” she says, staring into the pot like she’s hypnotized. you laugh at her expression.
you nod toward the table. “go set it up, yeah? and tell the others to come down.”
she smiles softly and disappears out of view.
you all sit down and start eating. you’re feeding seany some of his baby food when tadgh raises an eyebrow.
“are ya not hungry or somethin’? ya do know sean knows how to eat by himself,” he says, scoffing.
you chuckle. “he’s three. seany deserves to be fed.”
shannon smiles quietly at the two of you, just as the front door creaks open. everyone pauses and looks toward it.
“o-ee!” seany squeals with excitement.
your smile widens at his reaction. he wiggles in his seat, and you help him down so he can run to his brother. joey ruffles his hair, bending down to grin at him.
“seanyboo,” he says.
the others turn back to their food, but joey’s eyes find yours. he looks serious, like he’s trying to say something without speaking. something twists in your stomach. is he mad? did you do something wrong?
after cleaning up and tucking everyone into bed (even tadgh and shannon.no matter how grown they act, they’re still babies in your eyes), you head to the kitchen for a water bottle. that’s when joey appears behind you out of nowhere.
you jump slightly.
“let’s talk,” he says, voice low and firm.
before you can respond, he gently grabs your wrist and leads you outside. your heart races. you don’t understand why he looks so intense. the knot in your stomach only tightens.
“are you okay, joey?” you ask softly, confused.
“no— fuck, ye, i am. this isn’t about me, it’s about you,” he says, stumbling over his words. you raise an eyebrow.
“me? did i do something wrong or somethin’—”
he cuts you off, sighing. “i appreciate everything ya do. for me. for my siblings. but i don’t like how you come over every single day like it’s your responsibility. like they’re your family. buying them shit. taking care of everything. i just… i just fuckin’ want ya to focus on your own life. i feel like i made that your duty—”
you quickly raise a hand, stopping him before he can finish.
“joey, no matter how much you hate it, i can’t stop caring about them. i love them. they matter to me. and so do you.”
he exhales, eyes darting away. “you don’t get it. i just need some space from you.”
your heart drops.
those are the exact words you never wanted to hear, especially not from him. the last time he said them, you were kids, and it nearly ruined everything between you.
your vision blurs. tears threaten to fall no matter how hard you fight them. you wipe your face with your sleeve. you’re wearing joey’s hoodie — how fitting.
his hands ball into fists at his sides. you know he’s fighting the urge to reach for you. he hates seeing you cry, especially when he’s the one who caused it. he never means to hurt you. he just never knows how to accept the kind of love you offer.
“i didn’t mean it like that,” he whispers.
“i think i know exactly what you meant,” you say quietly. “but if that’s what you want… i’ll respect it.”
you grip your water bottle tighter and take a step back. part of you hopes he’ll stop you, call your name, reach for your wrist, say anything.
but he doesn’t.
each step you take away from him feels like another piece of your heart breaking off.
“i love you,” he finally says — barely above a whisper.
A/N: I have been watching Friends 24/7 that I had a dream about them last night 😭
The purple walls of Monica’s apartment were usually a source of comfort, but today, they felt like they were leaning in, eavesdropping on Y/N’s heavy heart. The morning sun filtered through the large window, illuminating dust motes dancing over the mismatched chairs. Monica was in the kitchen, the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of her chopping vegetables acting as a metronome for Y/N’s anxiety.
Y/N sat at the wooden table, her fingers tracing the rim of a chipped mug. She had been part of this circle for two years now, ever since she’d moved into the building and Phoebe had "read her tea leaves" in the hallway. She loved them all, but her relationship with Joey was… different. It was effortless. They shared a love for bad horror movies, late-night pizza, and the specific brand of silence that comes when two people are perfectly comfortable together.
But lately, that silence had become deafening.
"Y/N, if you sigh one more time, I’m going to have to re-evaluate the oxygen levels in this room," Monica said, not looking up from her precision-cut cucumbers.
"I’m just tired, Mon," Y/N lied, though she knew it wouldn't fly.
"Tired? Or 'I watched Joey bring home a dental hygienist named Kiki last night' tired?" Rachel asked, sliding into the kitchen with a laundry basket balanced on her hip. She set it down and leaned against the counter. "Honey, we’ve seen the look. You’re pining. You are officially in a state of 'The Pine.'"
Y/N groaned, dropping her head onto the table with a dull thud. "Is it that obvious? I thought I was being subtle. I thought I was being the 'cool friend' who doesn't mind when he talks about his dates."
"Subtle?" Phoebe’s voice floated in from the balcony. She stepped inside, clutching a handful of dried lavender. "Yesterday, when Joey mentioned he liked the way that girl smelled, you looked like you were trying to telepathically set her hair on fire. Your aura was a very aggressive shade of burnt orange."
"It’s just... it’s Joey," Y/N whispered into the wood of the table. "He’s my best friend. He’s the person who makes me laugh when I want to scream at my boss. But then I see him with these women, these gorgeous, effortless women who disappear after forty-eight hours, and I realize that’s all he wants. He wants the 'How you doin'?' and the thrill of the chase. He doesn't want... this. He doesn't want the girl who knows he’s afraid of the dark and has a 'Hugsy' penguin."
Monica stopped chopping and walked over, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. "You don't know that. Joey is a lot of things, mostly hungry, but he’s also the most loyal person I know. He just doesn't realize that what he’s looking for is already sitting on his couch eating his grapes."
"You have to tell him," Rachel insisted, her eyes bright with the prospect of a romantic confession. "Think about it! It’s like a movie. The girl next door finally speaks up, the music swells, the rain starts falling, well, maybe not rain, because of the hair, but it’s beautiful!"
"I can't," Y/N argued. "If I tell him and he gives me that 'Oh, honey' look... I’ll lose him. I’d rather have 10% of Joey Tribbiani as a friend than 0% of him because I made things weird."
"But what if it’s 100%?" Phoebe pointed out. "What if he’s just waiting for a sign? Joey needs signs, Y/N. Big ones. Like a billboard. Or a sandwich with your name on it."
The girls spent the next hour breaking down Y/N’s defenses. They reminded her of the time Joey had defended her honor against a rude guy at the bar, and the way he always saved the last slice of pepperoni for her, a gesture that, in Joey’s world, was practically a marriage proposal. By the time the coffee was cold, Y/N had been convinced. She would tell him.
The next two days were a blur of nervous energy. Y/N couldn't eat, she couldn't sleep. She spent an embarrassing amount of time in front of her mirror, practicing her "confession."
“Joey, I have feelings for you.” Too formal.
“Hey, Joe, wanna be more than buds?” Too casual.
“I love you, you beautiful Italian sandwich-obsessed man!” Too desperate.
She decided to go with the "Food Approach." If there was one way to Joey’s heart, it was through his stomach. She spent four hours in her tiny kitchen baking a batch of double-chocolate chip cookies, the soft, gooey kind he loved. She packed them into a red tin, her hands shaking so hard she nearly dropped the lid.
"Today is the day," she whispered to her reflection. She had dressed in her favorite sweater, the soft blue one Joey once said made her eyes "pop like those fancy bubbles in the shipping boxes."
She walked across the building, the short distance feeling like a mile-long trek through a desert. She reached Apartment 19 and took a deep, steadying breath. She could hear the faint sound of the TV inside, the theme song to some game show.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The door didn't open immediately. Y/N adjusted her grip on the cookie tin, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Finally, she heard the lock click.
The door swung open, but it wasn't Joey who stood there.
It was a woman. She was tall, with sleek blonde hair and a silk robe that definitely didn't belong to her. She looked disheveled in that "just rolled out of bed" way that Y/N could never quite pull off.
"Oh, hello," the woman said, leaning against the doorframe. Her voice was husky and satisfied.
"I... is Joey here?" Y/N managed to choke out, her stomach dropping into her shoes.
"Joey!" the woman called back over her shoulder. "One of your friends is here!"
Joey appeared behind her a second later. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants, his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked happy, glowingly, devastatingly happy.
"Hey, Y/N!" he grinned, leaning down to plant a messy, lingering kiss on the blonde woman’s cheek. "This is Candi. Candi with an 'i'. Candi, this is Y/N, the girl I told you about who’s really good at Boggle."
Y/N felt like the floor had been pulled out from under her. The sight of his lips on another woman’s skin, the casual way he held her waist, it was a physical blow. The red tin of cookies felt heavy, like a lead weight.
"I... I just brought these for the group," Y/N lied, her voice trembling. She shoved the tin into Joey’s hands. "But I forgot I have a... a thing. A doctor’s thing. For my... foot."
"Your foot?" Joey’s brow furrowed in genuine concern. "Is it the toe thing again? Do you want me to come with you? I can get dressed in like, two minutes."
"No!" Y/N snapped, backing away toward the stairs. "No, stay. Enjoy your... Candi. I’ll see you later."
She didn't wait for him to respond. She turned and ran. She didn't go back to her apartment, she knew she couldn't be alone with her thoughts. She burst out of the building and into the cold New York air, her vision blurring with hot, stinging tears.
Central Perk was crowded, but Y/N didn't care. She made a beeline for the orange velvet couch, sinking into the corner and pulling a throw pillow to her chest. She didn't order coffee. She just sat there, the weight of the rejection, the unspoken rejection, crushing her.
She felt like a fool. She had listened to the girls, let them fill her head with fairy tales, only to be met with the cold reality of Joey’s lifestyle. To him, women were like guest stars on a sitcom, appearing for an episode or two, providing some entertainment, and then being written out. Why would he ever want a series regular like her?
The tears started then, silent and uncontrollable. She buried her face in the pillow, sobbing quietly as the hum of the coffee house continued around her.
"Y/N?"
The voice was low, familiar, and thick with concern. She didn't look up. She couldn't.
"Hey, talk to me," Joey said. He sat down beside her, the couch dipping under his weight. He didn't try to be funny, he didn't use a line. He just reached out and gently pulled the pillow away from her face. "You’ve been gone for three hours. I went to your place, I went to Monica’s, no one knew where you were. I’ve been looking all over for you."
Y/N wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, looking everywhere but at him. "I’m fine, Joey. Just a bad day."
"Don't give me that," he said, his voice unusually stern. "You were crying. You don't cry because of a 'bad day.' You cry when something’s wrong. Is it work? Did that guy at the office say something to you? Because if he did, I’ll go down there right now. I don’t care if I don’t have a pass, I’ll tell the security guard I’m a doctor. I have the lab coat from the play!"
Y/N gave a small, broken laugh. "No, Joey. It’s not work."
"Then what?" He leaned in closer, his dark eyes searching hers. The smell of his cologne, the one she’d always loved, wrapped around her, making her heart ache even more. "You can tell me anything. You know that."
Y/N took a shaky breath. "I’m in love with someone, Joey."
She saw his expression flicker, a split second of surprise, followed by something she couldn't quite name. He looked away for a moment, then back at her. "Oh. Okay. Well... that’s a good thing, right? Love is... you know, it’s what people do."
"Not when the guy doesn't see you that way," Y/N whispered. "I love this guy, but he’s... he’s not available. Not really. He’s always with someone else. He treats women like they’re disposable, and I’m just his friend. I’m the girl he watches TV with. I’m 'one of the guys.' I went to tell him today, but I saw him with someone else and I realized... I’m never going to be the one he chooses."
Joey went very quiet. He stared at the coffee table, his jaw tight. "He sounds like a real moron," Joey said finally.
"He’s not a moron," Y/N defended. "He’s just... he’s him."
"No, he’s a moron," Joey insisted, turning to her. "If he has a girl like you in his life, someone who’s funny and smart and makes the best cookies in the city, and he’s off chasing some 'Candi' or whatever... then he’s the biggest idiot in New York. You’re Y/N. You’re the person who knows that I can't eat shellfish but I'll risk it for a good clam bar. You’re the person who stayed up with me when I was nervous about the Days of Our Lives audition."
He took her hand, his large palm warm against hers. "What should I do, Joey? Should I tell him? Or should I just give up?"
Joey looked at her hand in his, then up at her face. "You tell him," he said firmly. "You tell him exactly how you feel. Because you never know, Y/N. Maybe he’s just as scared as you are. Maybe he thinks he’s not good enough for you, so he surrounds himself with all these other people to try and forget that he wants something real."
Y/N stared at him. The irony was so thick she could almost taste it. "You think I should confess?"
"Yeah. Do it. Tomorrow. Or whenever you’re ready. Just... don't let a guy like that get away without knowing what he’s missing."
"Okay," Y/N said softly. "I’ll do it. Thank you, Joey."
"Anytime," he said, but for the first time in their friendship, his smile didn't reach his eyes.
Y/N didn't confess the next day. In fact, she didn't see anyone for three days. She stayed in her apartment, her phone unplugged, the curtains drawn. She needed to process the pain of being comforted by the very man who was breaking her heart. She spent the time in a haze of old movies and takeout, trying to imagine a life where she wasn't constantly waiting for Joey to notice her.
In Monica’s apartment the atmosphere was tense. Joey was driving everyone crazy. He was pacing Monica’s kitchen, refusing to eat the mini-quiches she’d made, and snapping at Chandler for no reason.
"Joey, will you sit down?" Chandler finally yelled. "You’re like a caffeinated squirrel! What is wrong with you?"
"I haven't seen Y/N in three days!" Joey shouted back. "She’s not answering her door! She’s not at the coffee house! What if she told that guy and he was mean to her? What if he broke her heart and she’s sitting in there crying?"
Monica, Rachel, and Phoebe exchanged a long, pointed look.
"Joey," Monica said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "Sit down. We need to talk to you."
"I don't want to talk! I want to check on her!"
"Joey!" Rachel grabbed his arm and forced him into a chair. "Listen to us. Do you remember when Y/N told you she was in love with a guy? A guy who was always with other women? A guy who saw her as 'one of the buds'?"
Joey nodded slowly. "Yeah. The moron."
"Joey," Phoebe said, leaning forward. "You’re the moron."
The room went silent. Joey’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked at Rachel, then Monica, then back to Phoebe. "What?"
"She’s in love with you, Joey," Rachel said, her eyes filling with sympathetic tears. "She’s been in love with you for a long time. She came over the other day to tell you, but she saw you with that girl... Candi. She was heartbroken."
Joey felt like the world had tilted on its axis. The memories of the last few months came rushing back like a tidal wave, the way Y/N always looked at him when she thought he wasn't looking, the cookies, the way she laughed at his jokes even when they weren't funny, the way she had looked at him in Central Perk when she said she was in love with an "unavailable" man.
“If he has a girl like you in his life... then he’s the biggest idiot in New York.”
His own words echoed in his head, mocking him. He WAS the biggest idiot in New York. He had been so busy looking for the next "moment" that he had completely ignored the "forever" that was standing right in front of him.
"Oh my god," Joey whispered, his face turning pale. "I told her to confess to me... and she did, but I was too stupid to hear it."
"She thinks you don't want her, Joey," Monica said. "She thinks she’s just another friend to you."
Joey stood up so fast his chair flipped over. "I love her."
"Oh we know," Phoebe said.
"No, I mean... I really love her," Joey said, his voice gaining strength. "I thought... I thought I wasn't good enough for her. She’s so smart, and she’s got her life together, and I’m just... I’m an actor who lives with his best friend and has a porcelain dog. I thought if I tried to be with her and I messed it up, I’d lose the only person who really gets me."
"Well, you’re losing her right now by standing here talking to us!" Rachel pointed toward the door. "Go!"
Joey sprinted down the stairs, his heart drumming a frantic rhythm. He reached Y/N’s door and pounded on it with both fists.
"Y/N! Open up! I know you’re in there! I can hear the TV! It’s the one with the talking dog, I know you love that one!"
There was no answer.
"Y/N, please! I’m a moron! I’m the biggest moron in the history of morons! I’m the king of the morons! I should be wearing a crown made of stupid!"
Finally, he heard the chain slide back. The door opened a few inches, held by the security latch. Y/N looked out at him, her eyes red and her hair in a messy bun. She looked exhausted, but to Joey, she had never looked more beautiful.
"Joey, go home," she said, her voice flat.
"No. I’m not going anywhere. I talked to the girls. They told me."
Y/N’s face went pale. She tried to shut the door, but Joey jammed his foot in the crack.
"Don't," he pleaded. "Please. Just let me say one thing. I was wrong. What I said at the coffee house... about the guy? I was right that he’s an idiot, but I was wrong about why."
Y/N stopped pushing the door, her hand trembling on the handle.
"I’ve spent my whole life looking for 'The One,'" Joey said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But I was looking for her in bars and on movie sets and in laundry rooms. I never thought that she was right in front of me. I never thought that 'The One' would be the person who knows exactly how I like my sandwiches and doesn't judge me when I cry at the end of Titanic."
He looked through the gap in the door, his eyes swimming with tears. "I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for a long time, but I was too scared to admit it because you’re too good for me. I’m just... I’m Joey. And you’re everything."
Y/N’s breath hitched. She slowly unlatched the door and pulled it open. She stood there for a long moment, looking at him, searching for the "line,” the joke, but there was none. There was only Joey, raw and honest and vulnerable.
"What about the other women?" she asked, her voice cracking. "What about the 'Candi'?"
Joey stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He took her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. "There are no more other women. I don't want them. I want you. I want the girl who makes me cookies and plays Boggle with me and tells me when I’m being a jerk. I want to be the guy who’s 'available' for you, forever."
Y/N let out a sob, not of sadness, but of relief. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. "You really are a moron, Joey Tribbiani."
"I know," he whispered, pulling her tight. "But I’m your moron. If you’ll have me."
He pulled back just enough to look at her, then leaned down and kissed her. It wasn't a "How you doin'?" kiss. It was deep, slow, and full of all the words they hadn't been able to say for two years. It tasted like chocolate chip cookies and home.
When they finally pulled apart, Joey had a goofy, lopsided grin on his face. "So... does this mean we’re exclusive? Because I should probably tell Candi... actually, I don't even have her number. She just kind of appeared."
Y/N laughed, a real, bright sound that filled the room. "Yes, Joey. We’re exclusive."
"Good," he said, picking her up and spinning her around. "Now, I have a very important question."
"What?"
"Are there any of those cookies left? Because honestly, I’ve been thinking about them for three days."
Y/N laughed again, leaning her forehead against his. "I’ll make you a fresh batch, Joe. As many as you want."
"That," Joey said, kissing her again, "is why I love you."
What do yall like more, me writing in first person, second person, or third person??? I think I tried all of them and I’m good with writing them all but idk if I should keep alternating or stick with only one😭
mutual pining! joey brings over food to your apartment whenever you've got your day off. joey let himself in, balancing a stack of takeout trays in one hand and his keys in the other. "knock, knock," he called, even though he was already stepping inside. "i got you some lasagna and some chicken here," he said, setting the trays down on your tiny dining table. "figured you'd need something good since you work yourself half to death."
you looked up from where you were curled on the couch, wearing the softest pair of sweats joey had ever seen you in. “you didn’t have to do all this, joey,” you said, but there was a smile tugging at your lips.
he shrugged, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “eh, i like seeing you eat. besides, you get this cute little face when you’re excited about food.”
you rolled your eyes, though your cheeks flushed. “if you keep talking like that, i’m gonna start thinking you like me or something.”
joey froze for half a beat, then played it off with a laugh. “well, if the lasagna didn’t tip you off already…” he quipped, glancing at you as he started unpacking the trays.
a soft warmth settled in your chest as you watched him. joey was always like this—half-joking, half-serious, always walking this line you could never quite pin down. it kept your heart on edge in the best and worst ways.
“c’mon,” he said, motioning toward the couch with a tray in each hand. “we can eat and listen to some music. i saw you’ve still got that old stereo hooked up.”
you shifted to make room for him, grabbing the remote to flick on the stereo. a smooth, mellow tune filled the room as joey plopped down beside you, the scent of the lasagna wafting between you.
“so,” he said after a few bites, leaning back against the couch, “tell me about your day. any crazy hospital stories?”
you sighed, leaning into the cushions. “not much. just the usual chaos. but there was this one patient—he was convinced he was the star of some soap opera. said he needed to fake his death to escape a love triangle.”
joey burst out laughing, nearly spilling his food. “sounds like someone i’d get along with.”
you nudged his arm with your elbow. “don’t encourage him. i spent an hour convincing him that pretending to die wasn’t the best way to deal with his feelings.”
“sounds like you’re good at that,” joey said softly, his voice dipping into something warmer. “helping people figure out their feelings.”
you glanced at him, your breath catching at the way his gaze lingered on you. “yeah, well, not always. some people are harder to read.”
he smirked, leaning a little closer. “you saying i’m hard to read?”
“you’re impossible,” you teased, though your voice was quieter now, the space between you charged with something unspoken.
he shifted, stretching an arm across the back of the couch, his fingers just brushing your shoulder. “nah, i’m an open book. you just gotta know how to read me.”
you rolled your eyes again, but your smile betrayed you. “you’re so full of it, tribbiani.”
“and yet, here you are, letting me invade your couch,” he shot back, his grin widening.
eventually, the food was forgotten, replaced by the soft murmur of conversation as the music played on. joey stretched out, his arm resting more solidly around your shoulders now, and you leaned into him, letting the warmth of his presence melt away the stress of your day. neither of you said it outright, but in moments like this, the truth hung thick in the air. it was only a matter of time.
I am stressed as hell right now with everything going on in the US so Imma going to write what I think some of my favorite killers are like when they're darling reader comes to them stressed as hell. Many of them are going to be readers I've already written about at least once so feel free to check the masterlist. If you want more head canons feel free to ask.
The Knight is startled when Eldritch!reader asks to just cuddle, you're smaller then usual body tense and when he touches your skin he can feel the hidden shadows trying to pull him in. "Anything for you Szeretet," he whispers picking you up and holding you against his chest. He takes you to his bed though it looks more like the nest you have in your castle then an actual bed. You smile realizing he's slowly bringing pieces of you in. He doesn't find himself worthy of you, but if you insist on asking him for comfort it would be his honor to provide it.
The Ghostface is confused as hell watching Hyde!reader pacing the room. You're killer side is usually scarily calm most of the time. However you look ready to lash out. Ready to pounce and shred the next person who so much as looks at you. You turn around seeing him there and he was bracing himself to get rushed and pinned against the wall, but it never came. Instead he watches you slowly move to him picking him up holding him in your arms as you move to the couch slumping down. You don't say anything to him, but you do hold him almost painfully tight against your chest. "Everything alright?" He asks you. Not sure how to feel about the non-committal grunt you give.
The Hillbilly doesn't think twice already wrapping you tight in the warmest knit blanket he's got, he's got popcorn, hot cocoa, and all the sweets you can gorge yourself on. Your favorite movie is on and he's just enjoying your company as you both lay on the couch, though if you don't calm down he might be inclined to help his little critter out by using other methods of getting your brain to shut down.
The Trapper doesn't react much just pulls you into bed and asks you to just speak. It doesn't matter if he understands he just wants to listen. He wants to hear everything, wants to make sure you feel heard. He smiles when you finally break your worries spilling like a faucet as he takes everything in asking questions when you pause. You seem at ease once you're done looking so peaceful tucked up under his arm. His Brat looks so sweet when they lay in bed next to him so peacefully. Burden him will you, it makes him feel less alone to hear you. Makes him feel lighter when he helps you share the emotional load.
The Executioner is use to it. You're already stressed about this and that. You aren't dating, but he does know how to get you calm down, you pinned beneath him in the bed as he humps against your ass. So fucking perfect he thinks feeling you melt against his touch. Such a needy toy, maybe he'll force you on your knees as he sharpens his knife, your face pressed against his thigh nose buried into his clothed groin. You're surrounded by his musk and for some reason that pacifies you. Not that pyramid head can complain.
The legion, they're solution to everything is horror movies and cuddle puddle. The neediest person in the center of the puddle a killer in each arm, a third holding behind while the fourth finds himself between your legs. The look smug when they finally get you to sleep. Your snoring soothing. It isn't long before they're passed out too.
I’m not sure is THIS blog is still active either, but I’ll leave a request anyway since they’re open
Could I request hcs for the Huntress, the Legion (Julie), the Trapper, and the Pig with a reader who’s had an AWFUL life and had absolutely EVERY right to become a killer, but just didn’t? AND THE READER’S LIKE.. WEIRDLY NICE DESPITE HOW DOOKIE THEIR LIFE HAS BEEN 💔
I just think it’s really interesting, and your writing is amazing! Thank you so much if you accept! <D
Hi, the blog is active and I'm still alive. I just had a vacation. And thank you for your words and your request. I don't get requests about fandoms like dbd very often, and that's why I'm especially pleased to write them
Headcanons Unexpectedly nice
⛏️ Trapper x Reader 🪤
Evan had seen many survivors. They were all trying their best to escape from him. Every time he saw new faces, the faces of those he hurt. You were one of the survivors, but you seemed kinder to him. You always tried to help others, even if you might have suffered from it yourself. Even when one of your friends dropped a pallet on his head, you turned around and looked at him as if you wanted to apologize to him. You were nice, even strangely nice, especially when it came to him, even though you should have been afraid and hated him
After the next trial, the last thing he expected to see was you. He was just going to rest and take care of his wounds, but you came and brought a first-aid kit with you. At first, Trapper thought it was a cruel joke, but you were quick to apologize for the fact that your friends hurt him. You knew they were defending themselves, but you just couldn't stay away. Listening to you, he was surprised at how kind you were. But it was because of your kindness that he believed you and took the first-aid kit from you. You offered to help him, and he, knowing full well that with your help he could handle it faster, agreed
You started coming to Evan's house a lot, and you even talked. He wasn't very talkative, but he didn't feel as lonely around you as he used to. One day he asked you about your life, about how you used to live, and you told him without hiding it. But this was not what Evan had expected at all. He expected to hear a happy story, but the more he listened to you, the more he realized that it was almost a miracle that you were a survivor. There were a lot of bad things in your life, and he wouldn't be surprised if you killed someone at some point. But you tried to stay positive and friendly with others, even in a place like the realms. It surprised him and aroused respect for you. You reminded him of himself in some ways, but he would never tell you that
Trapper didn't plan to hurt you. He started to like it when you came to him. Next to you, he didn't feel like a killer, but just an ordinary person. He wasn't sure when he'd last felt like this. Evan hoped that together you could help each other forget about the past pain that you felt, and at least feel a little happy
🐰 Huntress x Reader 🪓
Huntress is used to seeing survivors scared. They were afraid of her, they tried to escape from her. Some were even willing to leave their comrades to die for this. When she saw you for the first time, she was sure that you were the same as the others. But the more she watched you, the more she realized that things weren't quite as she'd imagined. You always tried to help your comrades, you gave them encouraging smiles, and if there was a choice between saving your own life or the life of one of your comrades, you always sacrificed yourself by distracting her or other killers, giving your comrades time to save. This surprised the woman, but it also aroused her curiosity
When you first came to her forest outside of the trial, Anna was surprised. You didn't go near her hut, wandering curiously through the forest, but she came closer to you on her own. At first, you looked worried. You were afraid that she might hurt you, but when you saw that she wasn't going to do it, your lips stretched into an awkward smile. You tried to talk to her, but she remained silent. She didn't send you away, and you took that as permission to stay in her forest longer. She was watching you and making sure that you didn't try to harm her or invade her home. But you didn't even think about doing that. You just walked around and sometimes you talked. You weren't even sure if you were talking to her or yourself, but from what she heard, she realized that it was amazing that you were a survivor. You went through a lot of pain, really a lot, and if you became one of the killers, it wouldn't be surprising, but you were a survivor and for some reason you continued to be surprisingly nice to others. What she found out about you allowed her to trust you more, and so she began to show you small signs of attention
You often began to find small wooden toys that she made herself, and she left them especially for you. It was her way of lifting your mood. During the trials, she might not specifically attack you, and if you were alone, she could show you where the hatch was. You didn't understand the reason for her sudden acts of kindness, but when, during your next visit to the forest, she finally spoke to you, you realized that you had unknowingly done something unexpected. You aroused warm feelings in Huntress that she hadn't even thought about before, and now she was striving to make sure that you were safe with her
For Anna, such feelings were something new, and together you tried to figure them out. She let you into her hut and you realized more and more that behind the animal mask there was a person, a lonely person who, if she had been in a different situation, could have been different. You understood her, because you were both in a similar position, and because of this, you understood each other better, and your strange, unexpected relationship only became stronger
🐽 The Pig x Reader 🪤
Amanda had been through a lot before the Entity took her away. When she saw you, it was like she saw herself in the past, before she became who she became. You were sincere, attentive to others and eager to help them. She was sure that you would become more gloomy over time. Amanda was sure that you had never faced difficulties before, and that was why you were such a surprisingly sweet and pleasant person. But every time she saw you, she was more and more amazed that you didn't change. It was as if you continued to believe that everything would be fine and that you had a chance for a good ending and you would be able to free yourself and leave the realm of mist
You were genuinely interested in exploring places where you could go outside of trials. That's how you came across her. Amanda wasn't trying to harm you until you crossed her personal boundaries. But she was interested in talking to you, so she didn't specifically kick you out. Amanda was watching you and asking you about your life. You didn't hide anything from her, for some reason continuing to smile at her as if she wasn't stalking you and the other survivors. But the more she listened to you, the more she realized that there were a lot of bad things in your life, maybe even as much as in her life. But she started killing, and you continued to maintain a positive attitude. You believed in the best and continued to be surprisingly friendly, even though you could easily have started killing too and then you would have ended up in the same position as her. But you didn't do it
Listening to your stories, she herself did not notice how she began to fall in love with you. You seemed like the ray of light that could change her life. Next to you, she might not feel like the Pig that the survivors feared, but just like Amanda, who could also love. You were kind and gentle with her, especially when you started dating. If any of the survivors found out about your relationship, you would be treated like a traitor, but you didn't seem to care about it. You continued to communicate with other survivors and with her, seeing no problem in this
Even if you became a killer, she would be there for you. She accepted you for who you are, even though she was surprised that you continued to be so surprisingly sweet no matter what. You were strong in spirit and you could handle any difficulty, even if you didn't realize it yourself. But Amanda understood that, and she wanted you to stay that way
📼 Julie Kostenko x Reader 🔪
Julie has been living a good life for a long time. She had friends, she got everything she wanted out of life. Confident and willing to take risks, she did not regret what she had done or becoming a killer. She loved what she and her friends were doing. She wasn't usually interested in survivors, but when she noticed you, she was curious to see what you were capable of. She was watching you and you started to seem more and more strange to her. You were so sweet and friendly with the other survivors, you tried to help them. You seemed naive to her, and she didn't understand how you could stay so nice to everyone, even though you had to worry every day. It was out of curiosity that she decided to eavesdrop on a conversation between you and another survivor
From the fragments of your conversations, she realized that everything in your life was far from perfect. But she learned a lot more when you talked in person. You didn't dislike her, which was amazing, but it made Julie get to know you much better. From everything she's learned about you, she's realized one simple thing. You could have been one of them. You could have killed and then become one of the killers. But you didn't do it. You remained as sincere and kind as ever, you weren't going to hurt others. Your strangely sweet disposition surprised her, but she realized that maybe chatting with you wasn't such a bad idea
You started spending a lot of time with her and her friends. At first they didn't understand the reason for this, but over time they got used to you. Julie spent a lot of time with you. She began to like you and she often thought about what would happen if you met in ordinary life. Maybe she wouldn't have noticed you, or maybe you would have become one of them. Julie would be lying if she said she didn't want to see you more often. She really liked you, despite your kind disposition. And even the fact that you were on opposite sides of the fence didn't bother her
Sometimes Julie wondered how you could stay so good despite everything you've been through. You were much stronger mentally than many. Despite the many difficulties you faced, you remained true to your principles. You tried to treat others equally and did not harm others. Julie was surprised by this, but she also respected it. But she was wondering how long you would stay like this in a place as disturbing as the one where you were trapped
Summary: You spend a comfy morning with Joey, while your brother Chandler is still sleeping.
Warnings: slightly smutty/suggestive content, gender of the reader is not clearly specified but their breasts are mentioned twice
Slowly you begin to wake up as the first sun rays of the day fall on your face. Still a bit groggy and disoriented from having just woken up it takes you a minute to fully realize where you are. But then you notice the arm that's draped around your waist and feel the soft breath that is hitting your neck and you remember. A soft smile that soon turns into a grin sneaks onto your face as you think about the amazing night you and Joey had spent together. First a stop at the movie theatre where you watched a horror movie that even though he tried to hide it scared the shit out of him. So pretending to be the one that is scared you proposed to switch locations to which he happily obliged. That‘s how you ended up spending the next few hours in a bar not far from the theatre talking and drinking and laughing until you were the last ones there and the bar keeper asked you to leave since it was closing time.
The final stop of your date was his apartment, where you talked some more (along doing other things) until neither of you could keep your eyes open and you decided to head to bed.
You slowly lift the covers off yourself, careful not to wake him, and try to slip out of his arms. But before moving so much as an inch you feel his arm around you tightning, pulling you closer. "Where do you think you're going?" he grumbles with his low morning voice. "I was going to make us some breakfast. Aren't you hungry?" "Oh I‘m hungry alright, just not for food" he answers and starts placing soft and warm kisses on your neck. "Joe.., come on my brother is right next door." "So what, we can be quiet" he says while his hand starts tracing up your upper body and then palming your breasts through your t-shirt. "You and I both know that's not true, so I need you to be good ok?" you say with a warning tone. "Fine.." he says but not without a dramatic sigh. You let out a small laugh because of his stubbornness and then finally manage to slip out of bed and walk into the kitchen, fully aware, that Joey is staring at your ass the entire time.
After about 15 minutes you're flipping your first pancakes while Joey is taking a shower. You're softly humming a random melody, careful not to be to loud as to not wake Chandler up, when suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. "You didn’t think you’d escape me that easily, did you?" Joey murmurs against your ear, his damp hair tickling your cheek. You let out a small gasp, the spatula nearly slipping from your fingers. "Joey, you’re dripping water all over me!" you giggle as he presses his bare chest against your back. "Well, maybe you shouldn’t be so irresistible," he teases, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to the side of your neck. His hands start to roam, sliding over your stomach and gripping your hips, but you quickly swat them away. "Behave!" you whisper sharply, glancing towards Chandler’s door. Joey groans dramatically, resting his chin on your shoulder and keeping his arms wrapped around you. But he doesn't stay like that for long and after only a few seconds his fingers start to move again, sliding over your stomach, then slowly moving upward, his fingertips barely grazing your skin under your shirt. You suck in a sharp breath, your body instantly reacting to his touch. "Joey..." you warn, but your voice comes out softer than intended. "Shhh," he murmurs against your neck, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below your ear. "You said I had to behave. You didn’t say I couldn’t have a little taste." His lips trail down to your shoulder while his hands slide up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your already sensitive nipples. A quiet whimper escapes you, and Joey groans softly, his breath warm against your neck. "You make the best sounds," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. One hand leaves your chest and travels lower, gripping your hip, pulling you flush against him so you can feel just how much he wants you. You turn in his arms, your lips crashing into his in a desperate kiss. His hands grip your waist, pulling you up onto the counter as he steps between your legs. Your fingers tangle in his damp hair, tugging just enough to make him groan into your mouth. His tongue teases yours, deepening the kiss, his hands gripping your thighs as if he can't get close enough. Just as his lips start trailing down to the neckline of your shirt, you hear a door creak open. You both freeze. Chandler shuffles into the kitchen, half-asleep, rubbing his eyes. You push Joey off you so fast he nearly stumbles, and you quickly grab the spatula, pretending to flip an already-done pancake. Joey, ever the actor, casually leans against the counter, arms crossed, like he wasn’t just kissing you like his life depended on it. Chandler yawns. "Morning.....why do I feel like there's a weird vibe in here?" You force a nervous laugh. "Weird? Nope. Just making pancakes." Joey nods way too enthusiastically. "Yeah, nothing weird. Just breakfast. Very normal, boring breakfast." Chandler eyes you both suspiciously but, thankfully, is too tired to question it. "Cool. Make me some," he mutters before trudging towards the bathroom. The second the door closes, Joey sneaks a smirk at you, his hand brushing against your thigh. You swat it away, but he just grins. This was far from over.
