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jtrbluv · 4 years

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we’re not really strangers | pjm

summary: We’re Not Really Strangers is a purpose-driven card game and movement all about empowering meaningful connections. Three carefully crafted levels of questions and wildcards that allow you to deepen your existing relationships and create new ones. Ready?

or alternatively,

your furtive infatuation with your lifelong best friend proves to be hard to suppress when there’s (1) alcohol involved and (2) a card game that forces you to reveal more about yourself than you could ever wish for. in short, no, you are not ready.

[friends to lovers!au]

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, crack, slight angst

word count: 8.7k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, two emotionally constipated best friend, PG-15

A/N: hi, i’ve been really excited about this fic for a while, and i’m genuinely so happy that i finally finished it! the card game is in fact real and i got inspired for this fic after i had played the game with a couple of friends myself. AHEM! @koushiningg ! we both cried and i do highly recommend to play it! but anyways, i hope you enjoy this fic because i had a lot of fun writing it! sending love always... jumi out!

EDIT: @bangtans-peaceful-piegon i’d also like to thank the lovely pidge for beta reading this 4 me as well! PIDGE I FUCKIN LOB U!!!

PLAYLIST ; SEQUEL

♤ ♤ ♤

Not once in your life did you ever imagine a simple card game to become the bane of your existence.

Yet Park Jimin was able to prove you wrong.

Let’s play ‘We’re Not Really Strangers’ he said. It’ll be fun, he said.

You stare down at the card in front of you—everything else in your periphery was blurry in vision and you can audibly pinpoint the erratic beating of your heart.

The card was practically taunting you, laughing in your face. It was as if there was a sentient being in the room who was aware of your own subconscious and the not so latent feelings you had for the boy sitting in front of you.

Same said being loved to constantly place you in a state of trepidation concerning your current situation—your blood pressure skyrocketing—nearly feeling the muscular pink thing inside of you thrusting itself against your ribcage.

The white card with crimson red writing made sure to leave an impact, making you feel the most ridiculed you’ve felt all night which says a lot—leaving your mind in a complete frenzy although you refused to let it be known.

And so you sat there. Fiddling the card in between your fingers, feigning nonchalance. You were very much on the brink of cracking your facade—your sanity practically crumbling as the minutes ticked by. You didn’t think you’d last this long to be honest. Yet an hour and a half proved to be way too straining on your body, especially your heart.

He simply sat there with his hands folded on the table—void of emotion, whistling a familiar top 50s tune you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You considered shifting your focuses on trying to comprehend the tune—hoping it would ease the concerning state of apprehension you were in.

But then you remember that you aren’t that pathetic. Even though you both had probably been sitting in complete silence for about two minutes now. Up to the point where you could probably hear the crickets chirping outside his apartment, except the only sound that was filling your ears was your own conscience telling you how idiotic you were being.

Your face may be gradually morphing the same shade of crimson as the writing inscribed onto the card itself, and you may have a whole line of sweat encompassing your hairline. But it’s just a stupid little card game. You could say any stupid little answer and the stupid not-so-little boy wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care. So you shouldn’t care.

When did you become so pathetic after all?

-one hour and a half ago-

“Why can’t we just play Mario Kart or Uno? This sounds like there’s too much thinking involved,” you whine, leaning against the side of his couch.

“One, we always play that. And two, I always lose,” he grumbles, plopping down onto the floor.

Jimin rests his back on the frame of the couch as he sits in the small gap made by the large piece of furniture and the coffee table that resided in front of it. You decide to sit on the floor as well, around an arm’s length away from your friend. He places the red box down onto the table—opening the cap and revealing the contents with a mischievous glint in his irises.

Within the box was a deck of cards, separated into three piles with two pencils on either side. Knowing Jimin, you assumed this game had an ulterior motive you were unaware of, and by the title of the game, you could already tell that you weren’t going to like it very much.

“How do you even play this?” You ask, causing him to look up in return.

He bites his lip, taking a couple seconds to ponder on your question, “I don’t know it’s my first-time playing too,” he shrugs. “I was watching Jin and Namjoon playing it a couple of weeks ago and for some reason, Jungkook started crying.”

“He is a sap,” you hum in agreement, thinking in retrospect of Jungkook crying from various situations such as Iron Man dying or that one time Jin farted on his pillow and he got pink eye for a whole week.

“The biggest,” he concurs, “Hm, there’s no instructions in here.” He mutters while shuffling through the cards.

“Why don’t you just search it up?” You suggest, sliding the box to yourself as he nods and fishes his phone out of his pocket.

While holding the box in the palm of your hand, you scan the contents—turning it around in your palm until your eyes narrow in on the words printed at the bottom.

“Oh, it says something here.”

His head perks up. “Hm? What is it?”

You clear your throat at the sight of the long explanation. “We’re Not Really Strangers is a purpose-driven card game and movement all about empowering meaningful connections. Three carefully crafted levels of questions and wildcards that allow you to deepen your existing relationships and create new ones.” You internally grimace at the words. The game hasn’t even started and you already had a bad feeling about it all. “Ready?” You say through clenched teeth, purposely keeping your head hung low.

Jimin’s lips quirk up into a cheerful grin, unaware of the piercing stare you were giving him. “Okay, I think I got it,” he declares, eyes zeroed in on his phone once more, ”There’s three levels—perception, connection, and reflection. Each level we pass, the deeper and more thought-provoking the questions get. Helping us make a deeper connection and get to know each other better yadda yadda yadda.”

You nod in understanding, sliding the box of cards back towards him—forcing the grimace that kept threatening to plaster itself onto your face into a small, smug smile.

“The first thing we have to do,” he begins, taking out two pencils and two small pieces of paper, “is write messages to each other. We won’t be able to open these until after we leave.” He explains, sliding a pencil and paper towards you.

“Wow, very cryptic,” you tut, biting down on your bottom lip before more distasteful remarks decided to leave your lips. He doesn’t catch your reaction or your comment though because he’s already got his pencil in his hand, scribbling vigorously onto the tiny piece of paper. Knowing him it could very well be nonsensical insults and doodles, or a whole essay about your friendship and what you mean to him. Most likely ludicrous and full of thought, either way, just like him.

Without much thought, you lazily jot onto the paper.

know that i love u, u fucker <3

-y/n

The sound of your pencil falling against the table causes him to look up at you, eyes knit together in confusion.

“You’re done already?”

You chuckle, “I mean, I wasn’t going to write an essay. You already know how I feel about you. But it seems like you’re writing one though.”

His eyes narrow in on you—giving you an indiscernible look before letting out a small ‘hmph’ and lowering his focus back down to his pencil and paper. You dismiss his enigmatic behavior—deciding to mindlessly scroll on your phone while waiting for him to finish his MLA formatted essay.

Two minutes pass and you hear the sound of his pencil being placed onto the table. “Done.”

“You added citations too right?”

He scoffs, “No, but i’ll gladly add some if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes for what seems like the umpteenth time in the last five minutes, “Just start the goddamn game.”

He takes the first stack of cards and shuffles them between his hands. “In all three levels, there are wild cards or basically dares we have to complete. And for each level, we get two ‘dig deeper’ cards. Pretty self-explanatory. So this is the perception level. It’s basically designed for first encounters and strangers, and we’re gonna be asking each other questions about ourselves.”

Your eyes widen at the whole confidentiality of it all. “Are we going through all of those cards?” You blurt out, staring at what seemed to be like 50 cards in his hands.

“Oh no,” he quickly refutes, “It would take hours. We’ll just do like 12 cards each.”

“Alright,” you huff, letting out a small breath of relief.

“Yay! Okay I’ll go first,” he beams, his toothy smile evident as he places the deck in between the two of you while grabbing a card from the top, “What do you think my name is?”

You snort at the conspicuousness of the question, “Jamal.”

He immediately guffaws at your response, throwing his head back in addition. “Hey, I don’t mind that.”

“Are all of the questions like this?” You say in between hushed laughter.

“Nah,” he shakes his head as you pick up another card from the deck, “now you ask me.”

“Alright, what’s the first thing you noticed about me?” You ask, slightly taken aback by the sudden earnestness of the question, causing you to become genuinely curious about what his answer was going to be.

He hums, taking a second to think it through. “I think your smile and your laugh. It’s always been really contagious since the day I met you.” He admits, almost matter-of-factly as if it was something you should’ve known by now, yet you did not.

Your heart nearly disintegrates into a puddle of goop right then and there, but you manage to conceal your reaction, “Aw, you actually like me.” You tease.

He scoffs with a playful grin on his lips. “Don’t flatter yourself. You still cackle like a damn hyena.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “At least I don’t laugh at every single of Jin’s lame ass jokes.”

He gasps, jaw slack open due to your all too accurate truthbomb, “I did not ask to be attacked in my own residence.”

“Well, what are you gonna do about it then.”

He snorts. “Holy shit, do you remember when I banged my head on the corner of his coffee table.”

“How could I forget? I had the picture of the bump on your head as my lockscreen for like a month.” You reminisce, resisting the urge to pull up the picture from your phone.

“Yeah, and that same month I bought and rotated between the same 10 hats.”

“Hey! It genuinely didn’t look as bad as you thought.”

He whips his head towards you, giving you a piercing glare that made you want to redact your statement immediately.

He grins from ear to ear, the little shit, amused at the reaction he was able to garner from you.

“Aha!” He suddenly guffaws, shooting out of the floor and prancing towards his fridge. He then takes out three bottles of lychee-flavored soju and makes his way back towards the table.

Jimin being the borderline alcoholic he is, it doesn’t come as a surprise to you. Not even after he takes another trip back to the fridge to grab yet another three bottles of soju, mango-flavored to be exact. He has probably one of the stupidest grins etched onto his face as he held onto the bottles—meanwhile you were more concerned about the possibility of having to clean up a bunch of broken glass and wasted soju. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“And do you plan on drinking all of this by yourself?” you say, gesturing towards the bottles.

“I know my liver is strong, but I don’t buy this shit just to enjoy alone,” he retorts. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shake your head as you click your tongue, “Playing this while tipsy just sounds ten times better don’t you think?.”

You shrug—although you had a strong hunch for what he was insinuating, “I mean I guess.”

He starts to pour soju into his shot glass, stopping just before it hits the brim. He slides the glass to you and you take it into your hand, eyeing the sparkling fluid and thinking about the way the contents would do its little all-too-familiar dance on your tongue.

“Well, you know what they say,” he says, pouring a glass for himself, “drunk words are sober thoughts,” he finishes while dragging out the last word—downing the first shot in one quick swig. You follow his lead soon thereafter, refusing to let your mind linger on what he had just said and the viable likelihood of you spewing out the words that could just make or break your longstanding friendship and lead to a lifetime of regret.

Obviously, everything’s going fine and dandy for you.

The next 20 minutes consisted of a plethora of superficial questions that would vary from:

“What's your favorite song lyric you can think of off the top of your head?”

Your head shoots up as if the lightbulb in your head just flashed on. “Easy. Shawty’s like a melody in my head that i cant keep out got me singing like-“

He lunges over to clap a hand over your mouth before you could sing the next line. “Na na na na no Y/N. Please stop.”

Or something along the lines of:

“What character do you think I'd play in a movie?” He asks with a smug smile.

“You’d be the second male lead that everyone secretly wants to end up with the main character because you act all sweet and kind and and genuinely cares about her but instead she chooses the other guy because something about him draws her in and it was her ‘gut instinct’ or some shit like that.”

“So I would get second male lead syndrome?” He reiterates.

“Yes.”

He sets his shot glass back down with a glower, clearly taken aback. “That is the biggest insult I’ve ever gotten in my entire life.”

You also couldn’t forget about:

“Oh, this one says to create a secret handshake.”

“No.” You deadpan.

“And why not?”

“Your pinky‘s the size of a vienna sausa—“

He smacks you square in the cheek with a pillow before you could finish your sentence. You don’t even fight back because your mind was so slow to process what he had just done. The fact that you only slept for 5 hours last night didn’t help whatsoever. Your evident lack of energy causes him to jab his finger into your side, causing a loud shriek—your fight or flight response starts kicking in as you grab the back of his neck and slam his face against the fabric of the couch cushion.

Soju was never able to make the two of you full on drunk—buzzed of course, but not enough for complete incoherency. And so you both down a bottle each before finishing the first round.

“I’m surprised we didn’t get any wild cards that round,” he says while resting his head on the couch.

You purse your lips, “You spoke too soon.”

His eyes flash open as he cranes his neck in an attempt to see the card. “Wait actually?”

You can feel your insides churn as you read the words in front of you, and you were sure that it wasn’t the alcohol talking. “Write down the three most important things to you in a relationship for 30 seconds and then compare.”

Jimin reaches over to grab two pieces of paper and pencils while unlocking his phone to find the timer app, “Okay, I’ll put a timer on for 30 seconds starting… now.”

And so the internal monologue in your head begins.

Three most important things… only three? That’s not anywhere near enough to suffice. Wait, what would the first one even be… oh yeah, trust. Trust is very much important yes, yes, yes. What else? Um, communication? Yes of course, that’s essential. Okay, what would the last one be?

You sneak a glance over at Jimin. His cheek is squished against the palm of his hand, making his cheek fat (an area in which he lacked in) more prominent and the pink, plush flesh of his lips appear even bigger than they already were.

The ceiling light emitted a faint, ambient glow—the lights and shadows hitting all the slopes and curves of his face. You never understood how someone could be so effortlessly stunning. Even the mess atop his head that’s supposed to be his hair looks purposely tousled—the ebony strands sticking up in multiple directions was framing his temples and contrasted with the honey-like hues of his skin.

Unlike the glow that radiated from the lights of the worn-down apartment and the radiance of whatever was beyond the glass of the window behind him, everything about him seemed to glow much brighter.

“Hello, earth to Y/N, your 30 seconds is up.” He interrupts pointedly, waving a hand in front of your face.

Blinking rapidly, you shake your head as well as all preceding thoughts that definitely weren’t consuming your mind a few seconds ago, “Sorry w-what?”

He laughs at your disoriented state, “Did you finish writing your three things?”

No, I wrote your name as number 3. “Yeah, I did. You can go first though.”

He nods with a small smile. “Oh, okay then let’s see. First, I put trust. I don’t know, I think everyone puts that to be honest. After that, I put communication. I feel like that’s just a given y’know. Another thing I feel like most people would say.”

You utter a timid “mhm” under your breath albeit zoning out and being unaware of what he was saying. Opportunely, you managed to scribble out his name with the mere seconds that had passed and now you were tapping the lead point of the pencil against the paper, littering the page with a bunch of grey, little dots—incognizant to the fact that he had his eyes focused on you the whole time.

“I didn’t really know what to put last. Three things isn’t anywhere near enough in my opinion. But at the last second, I wrote down vulnerability,” he continues.

You look up upon hearing the last word. “Oh wow, that’s good. I didn’t even think about that.”

He chuckles unabashedly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Right? I just figured. At first, I thought it would go in the same category as trust but then I thought about it more. Yeah, you can trust someone and someone can trust you, but to what extent does that all go to. Where does it start? And where does it even end? You need to be able to open up to the person I feel like. So I guess trust and vulnerability go hand in hand.”

Impressed with his words, you decide to chime in. “Wouldn’t communication go along with it too?”

“Hm?”

You place your pencil down. “You would open up to each other by means of communication, becoming more vulnerable, and then overall gaining more trust in the end.”

His brows raise at your sudden revelation, “Wait, you’re so right, did you just wax poetic and full cycle all that?.”

You smile, “I mean I guess,” you respond humbly, “ it does make sense though, does it not?”

He hums in agreement while downing another shot, “It applies to us, right?”

You force out a chuckle, but it comes out a lot more faux-sounding than you would’ve liked. “Haha, yeah I guess it does, doesn’t it.” Once again, starting to dive deeper into the abyss of pitiful hope and unrequitedness.

“Describe your perfect day.” He suddenly interjects.

You quirk a brow. “Didn’t I just go?”

“It’s okay, I’ll go for this one too.”

“Alright,” you say, foot tapping on the wooden floor as you look past him and out into the glass window of his living room, “well, I wouldn’t have school of course. And I think it would all depend on how I feel that day. If I was feeling particularly lazy, the day would probably consist of me binge-watching shows in bed while eating a shitton of carbs. And the other case would probably be galavanting around the city or going to an amusement park with friends.”

Jimin listens intently and smiles as you speak, causing you to avoid his stare before pigment threatened to rush to your cheeks, “Both of those scenarios sound really nice. I better be included too.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to hide the grin creeping up your cheeks, “We’ll see.”

He groans, standing up from his spot on the floor and falling onto his couch instead, “My asscheeks hurt.”

Your face contorts into a look of disgust, “And you want me to do what with that information?”

Scoffing lightly, he leans back into the cushions and tilts his head back, “It was a declaration, not a cry for help.”

“Yeah, and it’s the bony ass for me.”

His head perks up. “It’s having a flatter ass than their guy best friend for me.”

Gulping down the sad but unequivocal truth, “It’s kissing up to every teacher’s ass for me.”

His eyes narrow in pure chagrin, “It’s the crying on your teacher’s doorstep for them to round your grade for me.”

“It’s splitting your pants on orientation day for me.”

“Fuck you, people would pay to see this ass! It’s getting a concussion from falling down the main hall stairs for me.”

“For fuck’s sake, I told you that they waxed the floors that day!” You snap back.

“Okay, and who said it was a good idea to walk down three flights of stairs while trying to cram for a midterm? Yeah, exactly no one.” He says incisively, giving you an even bigger urge to push him off of the couch, yet you digress.

“This could go on for hours.” You heave out.

“Is that the sound of someone giving up I’m hearing?”

“Is that the sound of a midget I’m hearing?”

“But I’m taller than you?!” He screeches petulantly, smacking your shoulder. You burst out into a fit of laughter—toppling onto the wooden floor with pure malice.

Gasping for air, you attempt to stifle your laughter and regain your breath. “Wow, I’m on a roll today! I deserve another shot.”

He shakes his head, his anger quelling at the sight of your giddiness. “Remind me to not let you drink and play this game.”

You turn over from your side to lay on your back. “This will be the first and the last time I play this game with you.” You say almost immediately—the words involuntarily slipping from your mouth before you could stop it.

He sinks in his spot on the couch, brows knitting at your comment. “Why?”

Sobriety crashes into you like a colossal wave —your irritation dissipates almost immediately. The exaggerated tone your voice begins to register through your head—as well as the fact that you sounded a lot more disapproving than you intended.

Groaning at your hindered ability to think and process properly, you attempt to clear the air, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. We just... practically know everything about each other I guess. What else is there to know?”

He hums. “You sure about that?”

What? “Wait what?”

“Nothing,” he chuckles awkwardly, “next question.”

The straightforwardness of the next question causes you to quirk a brow, “How are you, really?”

His eyes widen. “Well, that’s a deep one, isn’t it?”

You smile. “A little.”

He sighs, a small grin lacing his features, “Hm, how am I,” he affirms, adjusting himself in his spot on the couch, “I feel content with where I am right now, I guess. Things can always be better, but at the same time they could be worse too.”

Your number one defense mechanism as of late has been to constantly tease and make jokes at the poor guy—essentially using him as your own mental punching bag. He went along with it out of the assumption that it was all caused by your stress from school while you knew the true origins of your behavior.

You smile at his optimism, "Hey, that's always good to hear."

He chuckles, shifting his position on the couch so he could face you directly, "I don't know, maybe it's the new sense of freedom. Or all the amazing people I've gotten to meet and the opportunities that are offered here. Or the fact that I'm still going to the same school as my best friend after all this damn time."

"Chim, don't get sappy on me man." You warn him while pouting exaggeratedly— slumping onto the frame of the couch while he takes a strand of your hair in between his fingers. You bask in the moment, your eyes shutting close.

"Hey, I'm just being honest! For some reason, it all makes up for the impending student debt and draining lectures and professors that have a superiority complex as fat as their paycheck."

"Too bad their paycheck still isn't as fat as your ass."

An audible gasp coming from the only other person in the room causes your eyes to flutter open.

"Aw," he coos, ruffling the hair atop of your head, "that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all night. Admit it, you love me."

Out of instinct, you opt to stick your tongue at him instead of replying with a witty comeback. You turn away from him before mumbling to yourself, "More than you'll ever know buddy."

"What was that?"

Shit. "Nothing. Next question!"

After twenty questions and a whopping 10 empty soju bottles later, you are quite literally about to implode.

Your eyes stare down at the card in front of you—everything that surrounds it is blurry in vision and you can audibly pinpoint the erratic beating of your heart.

The card was practically taunting you, laughing in your face. It was as if there was a sentient being in the universe who was aware of your own subconscious and the not so latent feelings you had for the boy sitting in front of you. Same said being loved to constantly place you in a state of trepidation concerning your current situation—your blood pressure skyrocketing—nearly feeling the muscular pink thing inside of you thrusting itself against your ribcage.

The imminent headache was starting to spread towards your temples and you practically felt like you could feel your brain shifting inside your head at this point. Although you felt groggy, you were certain that your heart was at a rate that is way faster than it should be. And sitting on your legs has caused them to lose all feeling from the tips of your toes all the way up to your kneecaps. One attempt at standing and you would come crashing to the floor in a heartbeat.

To say you were mad was an understatement. Out of all the times throughout the entirety of this hour and a half that you were playing this game, he decided that now would be the best time to use his 'dig deeper' card.

There it was.

Admit something.

"Okay fine, I was the one who stuck pink hair dye in your shampoo last semester."

"Y/N, did you really think I didn't know? C’mon I know there’s something else in there.”

You scowl, brows furrowing, “Why would I keep something from you?”

“Why are you getting so defensive over this?”

"What the hell is there for me to admit to you?" You snap back in exasperation, the harsh tone of your voice rendering the two of you speechless.

He averts his gaze, closing his eyes while inhaling a deep sigh. "Ever since we started college, why have you been treating me so differently?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, stumped. Yet you refuse to wither out of this.

"I– are you mad?"

"No. Of course not," he quickly digresses, softening his gaze, "I just noticed after all this time that you've only been acting differently towards me. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong Jimin. You never have."

His eyes narrow, giving you yet another indecipherable look, "I'm using my 'dig deeper' card." He deadpans.

And so you sat there. Fiddling the card in between your fingers, feigning nonchalance. You were very much on the brink of cracking your facade—your sanity practically crumbling as the minutes ticked by. You didn’t think you’d last this long, to be honest. Yet an hour and a half proved to be way too straining on you in a variety of different ways.

He simply sat there with his hands folded on the table—void of emotion, whistling a familiar top 50s tune you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You considered shifting your focuses on trying to comprehend the tune—hoping it would ease the concerning state of apprehension you were in. But then you assured yourself that you haven't reached that level of patheticism yet.

Even though you both had probably been sitting in complete silence for about two minutes now —practically anyone else could detect was the crickets chirping outside his apartment, yet the only sound that was filling your eardrums was your own conscience telling you how idiotic you were being.

This was it. There was no point in trying to weasel yourself out of this situation. If you tried, your more than futile attempt could very well end up causing more problems than if you were to go with the latter.

So instead of constantly wracking your brain with witty banter and deceitful ways to gaslight your feelings for the man sitting in front of you, you come to terms with the fact that your time had run out. You internally commend yourself for putting up a good fight, as well as internally become accosted at how immature you were at handling the whole situation.

You sharply inhale through your nose, peering at the man sitting in front of you as his eyes meet your own, "Alright."

He offers you a small yet empathetic smile in return, giving you the tiniest sliver of reassurance. His hand pats the couch cushion next to him, motioning for you to sit down next to him.

You push yourself up from the floor, immediately propping a leg onto the couch to avoid your numb limbs to be the cause of your embarrassment.

You inhale slowly through your nose and out through your mouth. "This is going to sound really absurd. Like more than absurd. Possibly borderline hysterical." No Y/N, why would you say that?

He interjects, placing a hand on your forearm. "I'm beginning to think you're becoming borderline hysterical," he lets out a small chuckle, "slow down Y/N. One thought at a time."

Your jaw is still slack open due to your previous rambling. "I'm sorry, I just—I don't think I've ever felt this anxious… around you at least."

He bites his lip, eyes trailing away from yours as he tries to think of a way to aid you, "Will it help if I turn around?

"Maybe." You reply timidly, smiling to yourself as his back came into view.

“It’ll be pretty funny if we don’t remember this in the morning,” you start off with, “I shouldn’t be saying that either I’m sorry. Stupid alcohol.”

He snickers at your drunken state, it was adorable. “Pretend I’m not here Y/N. Like you’re talking to a wall.” He advises, back still turned.

You nod although he can’t see you. “Okay. Well, hi Mr. Wall. I’ve been keeping a secret from my best friend for as long as I’ve known him and I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve suppressed it all this time in hopes that it would eventually fade away, and it almost did. No really, it actually almost did. But now it’s back again and all the same feelings came, but like freaking twofold. No, tenfold. No, like a hundred fucking fold.”

Jimin tries excruciatingly hard to stifle his laughter, cupping a hand to his mouth so he wouldn’t move and distract you.

“I’m literally in love with my freaking best friend when I know he doesn’t see me in that light nor will he ever. If he did, we wouldn’t be where we are right now because I am so shitty at hiding my feelings that I am more than certain that I’ve let the truth slip a couple of times.” You say all in one breath.

He slowly detaches his hand from his mouth, eyebrows raising in disbelief in the words you had just said. His body urges him to turn around. Yet you continue to think out loud. So he digresses.

“Towards the end of high school, I think my feelings started to become more dormant because I had become more concerned over finishing high school and transitioning into college. I was content and I convinced myself that my feelings were fleeting for once.” You begin with, allowing whatever thoughts that you consumed your mind to spill all out for Mr. Wall to hear.

You sigh, taking a pillow from his couch and squeezing onto it for dear life. “That was until we ended up getting into our top picks and going to the same school. I couldn’t believe it. My stupid head tried to convince me that life had always just paired the two of us up together for some reason. And that maybe, just maybe I had a chance. But whatever I guess. I don’t know.”

A notification causes your eyes to trail to your phone. Really, Professor La, this is not a good time to tell me to finish my research paper. You swipe at the notification, revealing your lock screen—a photo of you and Jimin at an amusement park back at your hometown, sporting matching university hoodies with bright smiles on your faces that were captured mid-laughter.

Setting your phone down, you lean into the couch—letting your head fall into the cushions as your eyelids slowly start to droop shut. “What also didn’t help is how college life just seems to suit him perfectly. He just always looks so happy now. Like yeah, he’s always been a social butterfly. Yet in addition to that he has top notch grades. He charms professors. For fuck’s sake the Dean treats him like a son. His passion, his laughter, his love, his happiness. It’s always been so infectious. But college just made the effect he has on people grow even stronger. I-,” you stammer, pausing breathlessly, “it just looks like he truly belongs here. Like college was just made for him.”

He sits there in a complete stupor—still trying to process all the words that he had just heard. His body is itching to turn around, take you into his arms, whisper soft nothings into your ear. Anythings. Everything. He never wanted you to feel anxious about his feelings for you ever again.

“Mr. Wall, that was a lot, I’m sorry. But I’m really… really tired.” You utter quietly, a long yawn escaping your lips. You fall asleep.

Ten seconds pass until Jimin sneaks a glance over his shoulder, scanning your body as he notices your shut eyes and timid grip on his pillow.

“Y/N?”

You’re unresponsive.

He grins at the sight. Getting up from his seat, he makes his way toward you—slowly prying the pillow from your grasp as you carefully slides his hands under your body and picks you up from the couch.

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder as he carries you to his bedroom. You are very much still asleep, yet you always had the habit of needing something to hold onto while you were unconscious.

Kicking the sheets aside, he makes room for you to lie down as he gently places you onto his bed. He quickly scurries to the other side, slipping into the covers himself as he lays down beside you.

The sudden contact causes you to shift in your sleep—suddenly wrapping an arm around his torso. He lays there, completely stunned at your actions and begins to heavily debate whether he should give into his desires or not.

The internal conflict lasts about two seconds before he turns to his side—placing his free hand on the small of your back and pulling you into his chest, leaving a small pocket of space in between your two bodies.

Unknowingly, you close the gap almost immediately—nestling your head into the crook of his neck as your arm that was lazily slung over his torso starts to tighten its hold around his body.

His arm slings over your unconscious form, his hands making his way to your back as he basks in the foreign feeling, being this close in proximity to you. It was different. Yet it almost felt like it was where he belonged. And he was scared because he didn’t want it to end.

While gently placing his chin on the top of your head, he begins to stroke your hair as fatigue starts to wash over him as well. “Things will make sense soon Y/N, I swear.”

He retracts, craning his neck in an attempt to see your sleeping form. His attempt proves to be futile when an indecipherable groan leaves your lips—brows knitting slightly and lips curling downward from the sudden lack of warmth.

His soft laughter fills the room as he obliges—carefully pressing a small kiss to your forehead before reverting back to his original position.

“For now, just know that I love you too.”

The intolerable throbbing sensation in your temples caused you to stir in your sleep.

The only events you could recall from last night was being at Jimin’s apartment, playing that stupid card game, and downing the most soju you’ve ever had in one sitting.

It only occurs to you that you’re wrapped in someone’s arms when you open your eyes and the only thing in your periphery is a firm chest, steadily heaving each time they take a breath.

Your legs were messily entangled with theirs—arms slung around each other’s torsos as you felt a strange yet dense weight on the top of your head.

Carefully, you try to pry yourself from their grasp albeit your haphazard state of mind. You pull back ever so slightly, making sure not to wake them up in the process, discovering that the excess weight was actually their chin that had been resting on top of your head. Their fingers were still twined in your hair as you pulled back, making you freeze in your spot. Curious, you tilt your head, peering upwards and catching a glimpse of their face.

The boy is undoubtedly still asleep. Eyes shut and ample lips slightly parted. Your timid movement, to your luck, which hadn’t phased him in the slightest, as he was unperceptive and nearly immobile at this point.

If it weren't for your abhorrent headache and the even more abhorrent symptoms that had rooted from your hangover, it would be an understatement to say that you would be freaking out right about now. In reality,

You'd be in a complete state of manic.

Because of the fact that your body was paying for the despicable amount of alcohol you had decided to consume the night before, an influx of any intense emotion would cause your body to exacerbate itself even more. And the last thing you needed was to puke all over the poor guy after sleeping together for the first time.

While you were physically experiencing withdrawals, your mind felt slightly inebriated nonetheless. You weren't quite sure if it was from last night's affluence of liquor or the way everything's starting to come back to you. And the longer your eyes linger on the boy's face, the clearer everything starts to become. From the foolish banter to your childish outbursts leading up to your intoxicated yet conscientious confession.

You left your heart all out for him to witness last night, and now the only thing you could do is wait for a response.

Taking a deep sigh, you retreat back to his body—deciding not to ponder any longer on the matter and wait until you had felt physically capable of doing so.

Steaming hot streams of water splash against his back. He stands under the shower head while massaging soap into his hair, replaying the events that had happened last night on loop.

The words that left your mouth were engraved into his mind as they involuntarily kept replaying over and over again—particularly your inebriated confession, which kept garnering the same reaction of both hope and frustration within him.

The solution should be simple. In reality it is, yet he still felt so internally scattered.

“—he doesn’t see me in that light nor will he ever...”

That was the singular line that he just couldn’t wrap his head around. There was never a moment where he would hesitate to drop everything he was doing to be there for you and make sure you were okay.

Yes, he knew that you two were best friends and that it was natural. But what best friend drives across town at 2am because you had the stomach flu and your parents were out of town. Keep in mind it was his mom’s birthday that day.

What best friend ditches their prom date when yours had stood you up. Or coax the drama teacher into giving you the lead in the school play because he saw the ways your eyes glimmered when you saw the words ‘High School Musical’. And damn, weren’t you justthe greatest Gabriella he’s ever seen.

Little did you know that in reality, he always wanted you to be the Gabriella to his Troy, and not Chad. Yet you seemed to have believed the latter all along.

But in the end, what the hell kind of best friend remains oblivious to the fact that for years, past exes have consistently broken up with him for the same reason.

“Your heart belongs to someone else.”

Or alternatively,

“I’m not the right person for you.”

Straight A’s don’t mean shit when no teacher has ever taught him how to realize that he was irrevocably in love with his best friend, and that she had always, almost candidly, felt the same way.

He shuts his eyes tightly, hands aggressively running through his soaked hair as he comes to a conclusion.

Being strangers could never be an option. Being friends, or moreso, best friends was fine. But that’s it. It was just fine. It was normalcy. It has been for years.

And that just wasn’t going to cut it for him anymore.

Your arm traces along the fabric of the bedsheets, alerting you that there was a void of space and lack of warmth from the other side of the bed. Your eyes spring open to see that there was no one laying beside you.

A long yawn escapes your lips as you stretch your limbs, body sprawling all over the bed before selfishly tugging the sheets all to yourself.

Soft hissing from which you assume was coming from his shower was confirmed to be true when your eyes spot the closed bathroom door and the small beam of light that was emitting from it.

A small, folded piece of paper that was taking up the space of where his head was resting was where your eyes shift to next.

y/n <3

You knit your brows together, knowing that it was most likely put there strategically rather than a piece of trash that had slipped out of his pocket.

It was addressed to you after all and so you grab it while making a futile attempt to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Your throbbing headache and churning insides had significantly died down. Regardless of your recovery time you internally make a promise to yourself to never get this wasted ever again. The chances of you sticking to it? Highly debatable considering the current situation you’re in.

Blinking rapidly, you finally are able to decipher whatever is written onto the paper. And it says:

hi y/n, i can already tell by the looks that you’re giving me that you already despise this game and im sorry. all i wanna say is that by the time you read this, i hope that we remain close as ever even though what i plan on saying tonight could obliterate all of that. i wanted to play this game bc i know we’re both hiding stuff from each other and it’s about time we get it out. at least for me. whatever happens, i love you. always will.

- chim :)

EDIT: for fuck’s sake y/n i’m FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU TOO I WAS SUPPOSED TO CONFESS TO U FIRST LOSER NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND T-T

“Finally awake?” You hear a familiar voice call out. He walks out of the bathroom, fully clothed (to your dismay) while drying his hair with a towel, eyes immediately softening as they connect with yours.

You swallow down your nerves, “Yeah, I’ve been.”

He walks over to the edge of the bed, eyes shifting to the piece of paper in your hand before reverting his focus back to your face, “What are you reading there?”

“I don’t know,” you huff, feigning ignorance, “why don’t you tell me.”

A soft chortle leaves his lips as he throws the towel to the side, smiling as wide as ever as he jumps onto the vacant spot on his bed right next to you.

Propping himself up, he sits against the headboard, letting out a content sigh before looking down at you once more. “Come here.” He says, reaching his arms out in hopes that you’d fill the idle gap.

And you do, shaking the sheets off of your body as you place yourself in his arms, freshly revelling in the comfort. You wrap your arms snugly around his waist, letting your head rest on his chest while he clutches onto you tightly.

“I’m sorry for pushing the subject so hard onto you last night.” He starts off with, “I guess I just never fathomed the fact that you could return the feeling, and I was too stubborn to even admit it to you in the first place.” He expresses while stroking your back, “I didn’t mean to confront you so harshly, it’s unlike me, and I’m really sorry about it Y/N.”

“Do you think I’m mad about that Jimin?” You inquire, just barely above a whisper.

He pulls back slightly, peering down at you, “Are you?”

“Of course not. I should be the one apologizing anyways for being even more stubborn and resorting to such childish ways.” You disclose whilst mentally beating yourself up.

“Hey, there’s no use in beating ourselves up over it. Look where we are now.”��

“Where exactly are we Jimin?” You inquire timidly, head still resting on his chest.

His fingers brush over the base of your chin, gently tilting your head up until your eyes found his.

“Y/N, it’s honestly hard for me to formulate the words but all I know is that I think I’m in love with you. And I think I have been for a long time, no scratch that, I have been for a long time,” he says all in one breath, making you smile at how high-strung he was acting.

The grin remains plastered onto your face, “I’m not drunk still right because did I just hear you say that you’ve been in love with me?”

“Y/N…” he whines, jutting out his bottom lip as he drags out the last syllable of your name.

You can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Go on please.”

He bites his lip, “I honestly had a whole speech prepared in the shower but I forgot all of it.”

“It’s alright, I barely remember half the stuff I spewed out last night,” you chortle.

He chuckles, “Well, if you were wondering, you’re cute as fuck when you’re piss drunk.”

The compliment makes your breath hitch in your throat—your heart starting to pick up speed dangerously quick.

A few seconds pass, allowing you to slightly gain back some of your composure, “Why did you um– I mean– when do you think you fell in love with me?” You stutter.

“I was actually trying to figure that out too,” he starts, “in the shower. Well, this is going to sound dumb,” he admits, sharply exhaling out of his nose, “But do you remember when we went on a field trip to that amusement park in 8th grade? Around halloween time.”

“I think so… but what about it?”

He nods. “I still remember that night so vividly for some reason,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, “There were haunted houses all over the park. And they were all different themes. And I think the first one we went into together was—”

“The clown one.” You deadpan.

“Yeah!” He beams, laughing at the way you shudder after your words, “Anyways, you were walking behind me with your hands on my shoulders, but you had a razor grip and I thought my arms were going to fall off, so I made you walk next to me instead. We had our arms interlocked and you were gripping onto me so closely and you had your head buried in my shoulder the whole time.” He explains, the smile never ceasing to leave his lips.

You don’t take his eyes off of him—smiling sweetly as he explains the retrospective moment that you never knew had held so much significance to him.

“All of a sudden, you grabbed my hand, and honestly, I think that was the scariest part of the whole experience,” he admits, chuckling softly.

“But then I intertwined fingers with you. And I liked it. Thinking about it now, I probably loved it. It felt almost borderline euphoric. Like as if I was riding a high, and when we detached hands, it felt like there was just something missing. And I guess I never really put the pieces together because it just became a normal thing after that. And when our skinship kept evolving from there, I just kept dismissing it over and over again. Like as if that feeling was a normal thing to happen between friends, because I genuinely thought it was. Yeah, I think that’s the moment I pretty much fell in love with you.” He finishes, giving you a close-mouthed smile while he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Astounded was an understatement. You couldn’t believe that you both had been suppressing these feelings for so long. Yet somehow, this whole confession didn’t seem out of place or time, it was as if everything that had happened beforehand had led up to this very moment.

“Wow, Jimin I– I don’t know what to say.” You reply.

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to say anything Y/N. I’m sorry for making you wait for so long, after all.”

You interject, “Please don’t say sorry, I think we were definitely both in the wrong here.”

He smiles, except this time his eyes crinkle up all the way, “Alright, but can you at least let me make it up to you?”

“I’m listening.” You jokingly reply.

“Let’s go on a date,” he declares brazenly, “but tonight, after we’ve recovered from our hangovers and what not.”

The corners of your lips upturn so high that your cheekbones sting, “Jimin, I’d love to–”

“Ah, wait! I’m not done.” He cuts you off, head inching forward, leaning in so close that you could feel his breath tickle your ear and the heat rushing up to your cheeks.

“And at the very end of the night, I’ll make certain that you won’t be able to walk normally by tomorrow.” He whispers into your ear— voice low and full of lust.

Shivers run through your body as it feels like all the wind had just gotten knocked out of you. Yeah, this was definitely worth the wait.

MASTERLIST ; SEQUEL

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groovyzombiellama · 5 years

Text

I’ll Run To You

Title: I’ll Run To You

Requested? No.

Plot: You were in the relationship with Cesar for a while, but you broke up because of his gang life. And one night he comes over to your door, after getting beaten up and you treat his wounds.

Word count: 2145

—***—

Cesar sighed as he slumped down on his bed and placed his head in his hands. His gaze was getting lost, focusing on a single dot on the floor of his room, mind filled with the events that happened a few hours ago. The images of his encounter with you were flashing in his mind on repeat and he was trying to dissect every part of it, trying to find the reason as to why he was now your ex boyfriend. I'm reality, he was trying to find some other reason, anything other than the one thing he can't change. Who he is and the life he lives. He didn't really have a choice in becoming 'Lil spooky', but he never let that define all of him. He wasn't just one thing, and that was what initially attracted you to him. The fact that despite his tough exterior and being part of a gang, he was so kind and caring, and an all around amazing guy. And you never wanted it to come to the point where you'd be breaking up with him. Cesar was the guy you saw yourself getting married to, having kids with and growing old with. After meeting him, no other guy stood a chance, no matter how much they tried.

But after being taken hostage and used in an attempt to either trade with Spooky's gang, or make them do something, for the third time this month, you just couldn't take it anymore. You didn't want to keep being kidnapped and coming back home beaten and terrified to leave your house for the next few weeks. So you made the hardest decision in your life, and you ended things with Cesar. Every search for a different reason for the breakup failed and Cesar was realising that he was wasting his time trying to evade the real reason, but he still couldn't do anything about it. It was his life, every single day, and he couldn't just change it all over night and all of a sudden be free from all it, when his own blood is the leader of the gang. You were the only thing that kept him grounded, and with losing you, he had nobody else to really turn to. You left a huge void in his heart, that no other girl could ever fill, and all he wanted was to get you back into his life.

"You can't keep living like this Y/N. I understand that you're hurting right now, but you haven't been outside in like five days. You'll get sick if you keep acting like this."

Monse was trying to talk some sense into you, but being as stubborn as you are, her words were falling on deaf ears. You didn't want to leave your room, in case you run into Cesar. You were afraid that you'd just forget everything and rush back into his arms as soon as you saw him. And you just couldn't risk that happening. You appreciated Monse's help though. She is Cesar's ex, and you assumed she would hate you for being with him but she didn't. Instead, the two of you became really good friends. But still nothing managed to get you out of your room ever since the breakup. You preferred to spend your time looking through your camera roll, tears staining your face as you realise that the majority of the photos were of you and Cesar. You remembered every single one of those moments very well, and it made you feel even worse, considering the fact that you were now exes, and you thought that you'd never be able to share another moment with the guy you love ever again.

Monse somehow managed to get you back into civilization with the help from Jamal and Ruby, which you were insanely thankful for because you were on the verge of calling Cesar. A few weeks passed and you were still miserable, and so was he, praying every night to at least dream of you when he can't see you in person. He would manage to sneak a peek from a distance when Ruby would text him that he was hanging out with you. It broke his heart to see you like that, fake smiling at your friends when you didn't feel like smiling at all, but you didn't want to worry them. As if they all couldn't see right through you. Knowing that you were always somewhere near meant everything to him and facing the harsh reality that you were far away from him now was crushing him. Even his brother noticed the change in him, wished he could do something to help you out. You were not used to their life, and until you were ready to do so, at least understand what it meant to be a part of a gang, and be able to respond accordingly, Oscar knew it was over between you and his little brother.

That was until one night, when you were woken up by a loud knock on your front door. You were terrified to go over and open it, and you were ready to call the police, until you heard a familiar voice from the other side.

"Y/N, it's me. I know that I probably shouldn't be here, but you were the first person that come to mind. Please, let's talk."

Oh how you've missed that voice. You catch yourself hesitating slightly as you reach for the door handle. Are you really ready to accept everything that dating Cesar represented? You run a hand over your face and decide to check the peephole first and the sight melts away all your willpower to be mad at Cesar and to tell him to go away. His face was covered in bruises, and by the look in his eyes and his posture, you could tell that he was bad. You quickly open the door and finally meet your favourite pair of almond eyes you've missed so much. Your will power melted away when you saw how broken he looked, and you stepped aside a little, taking his hand in yours gently, both of you feeling the spark that was still alive between you, and for a moment, you almost pulled away, but held your cool and Cesar was soon in your apartment, just far enough that you could close the door. He felt nervous to be in your apartment once again, after everything that the two of you have been through.

You lead him over to your couch, and after he's seated, you rummage through your medicine cabinet in the bathroom, before coming back to the living room to find that Cesar allowed himself to lean back against one of your decorative pillows, his head leaning against the wall, eyes closed, finally feeling like he's able to breathe again. His mind was adjusting to the fact that he was safe. He was with you, and he was safe. When he felt your presence, as you crouched down in front of him, his eyes opened, and the first thought that ran through his mind was to tell you he missed you and how much he loved you. To tell you that these past weeks were living hell for him. But because of knowing you as much as he did, he knew that it would make you uncomfortable, so he chose not to. Instead, he satisfied himself with just looking at you, once again being face to face with you, even if he was not able to touch you. He winced slightly when you first started cleaning the cut on his face, making a hissing sound, and you made a pained expression yourself, because it hurt you so much more than him to see him in this state.

Still in a daze by the situation, after you treated some wounds, you went to examine some others, and without even thinking about what you were doing, your hand went up to cup the side of Cesar's face, your thumb sliding gently under the cut on his cheek, pondering if it was gonna need stitches. You were so lost in thought that you didn't feel how he slightly melted under your touch, closing his eyes for a moment, before his own hand went up to cup yours, snapping you out the trance you were in. You looked at each other, and you slowly started pulling your hand out of Cesar's grasp, not yet sure if you were supposed to be doing this. A sigh left his lips, as he allowed your hand to slip out of his own, and you went right back to cleaning his wounds. Every single time you did this felt like the first, your heart breaking the same at the state of the boy you loved so much. Both of you right here, millimeters away from each other, and both of you locked inside your heads, fighting your demons and trying to figure out what to do next, what to say.

Cesar still saw vivid hallucinations of every single time you were kidnapped, and he still blamed himself for all of it. At one point, you were done patching him up, and reality set in that this meant he wasted another chance to talk to you and make things right. And with that thought in his head, mixed with his guilt and the love he has for you, cracks in his strength showed, as he let a few tears slide down his cheek, and wrapped his arms around you, his head finding its way naturally in the crook of your neck, like all the times before, taking you completely by surprise. At first you didn't move, unsure of how to react, but soon you put your own hands around his shoulders, leaning your head against his, your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of once again being in Cesar's arms. You spent all this time missing that feeling. It was unbelievable how much of a hold he still had on you. How he was still the one who could make your heart flutter, no matter what.

You could feel his warm breath on your skin, and you feel him start to relax in your arms for a few moments, before pulling away slightly, arms still secure around you and he looked you in the eyes.

"I'm so sorry for everything, everything you had to go through, that you had to endure because of me. If I could turn back time and erase all of it, I would. But what I can't, and won't erase is how much I love you. I knew that breaking up was the best thing to do, but I hate what my life is like without you. You keep me grounded and you make me so happy, and I could bare everything the gang life had in store for me if I just thought about you always being somewhere close. But without you, I can't handle it. I'm not strong enough."

He bowed down his head and shook it, and you knew exactly how he felt. And you were reminded that even though your life has turned around completely since you met Cesar, you couldn't imagine your life without him. Using your thumb and index finger, you lifted Cesar's chin to make him look up at you and told him that you know how strong he is, and that you were proud of that. And as if acting on instinct, you told him that you'll always be there for him and that you love him too.

Those words of encouragement Cesar so desperately wanted to hear from you were giving him the confidence to start leaning in towards you, his eyes staring at your lips, and occasionally looking up at your eyes to see any sign that you didn't want him to kiss you. But you didn't move. You missed him too much to reject him again after your heart skipped several beats when you saw him bruised and bloodied at your doorstep. You'd much rather be with him. As Cesar closed the gap between him and you, you could feel butterflies in your stomach, and the soft feeling of his plump lips on yours, moving in sync, was electric. You planned to spend today the same way that you spent most days, finishing up a tub of ice cream and just missing the hell out of Cesar, but instead you were in his arms, kissing him, letting him back into your life, finally feeling ready to be his girlfriend again. Cesar could finally let out that sigh of relief. He got his girl back and he couldn't be happier. He made a promise, to you and himself, that he was gonna protect you a lot more than ever. And he intended to keep it.

---***---

I haven’t had such a strong crush in a looong time on a guy as much as I have for Diego Tinoco. He brings a smile to my face every time I see him, and butterflies roam in my stomach. I just wanted to try one or two fics about him to calm my aching heart. Tell me you get me (regardless of which celeb you have a crush on). Hope you like this imagine, I’m trying to survive studying and I hate to do this to you and take a break, but I just had to <3

The gif is mine. :) <3

#cesar diaz #cesar diaz imagine #cesar diaz x reader #on my block #on my block imagine #diego tinoco #diego tinoco imagines #diego tinoco x reader #on my block actor imagine #ruby martinez #ruby martinez imagines #ruby martinez x reader #jamal turner #jamal turner imagine #jamal turner x reader #oscar diaz #oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz x reader

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judediangelo75 · 4 years

Photo

Hello everyone~

Just like in my last post I mentioned doing a drawing of Kendrick Harris, AKA Judith’s father. He’s mention various times in my stories I’ve posted here thus far. Like “How Talbott Dropped the Question”, “The Unknown Face From My Past”, “Different Sides of the Same Coin” and in Judith’s Character Reference

Here’s more about the man Judith oh so adores:

-Kendrick was born on November 27, 1937. He’s a Sagittarius

-Kendrick was born and raised in the Bahamas by his mother Mercy and his father, Nathaniel

-Mercy is a Seer and he had minor Seer abilities, but he never had true control over it

-He was sorted into Ravenclaw, so he’s a Eagle

-Kendrick’s father died just as his second year at Hogwarts started, so he missed his funeral, which was one his regrets in life.

-Kendrick prefers his solitude above anything else, but he wouldn’t oppose to some company (if he likes the person enough). So a lot of his house mates consider him to be the strong silent type

-Kendrick does have a thick accent, though nobody would really know that unless he spoke to them

-He was even a part of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team; his position was Beater (heh, sound familiar?)

-He was very devoted to his studies, seeing how he didn’t have friends like that, nothing really kept him from it. He was especially gifted in Transfiguration, Charms, Flying and Care of Magical Creatures.

-In his spare time, he would practice archery, go swimming, read, or draw.

-He loves spending time with his Magical Creatures, his favorite was his Porlock Samson

-He didn’t meet his first friend, Ava Evans, officially until their third year and eventually Trent Winger *hint, hint, wink wink* until their fifth year

-The man is sarcastic as hell and completely unapologetic about it. Something his daughter definitely picked up

-He can conjure a Patronus, a Snowy Owl. This shows his protective and fearless aspect of his personality. His happy memory is when his father first taught him archery when he was 7

-His wand is a 12 1/2 inch Fir wand with a dragon heartstring core. Fir wands are best fitted in Transfiguration and favor owners who are focused, strong-minded, and occasionally possess a intimidating demeanor (which is Kendrick lol)

-He got his scar in a duel, even though it was an accident, he nearly lost an eye because of it

-He didn’t care for dating until he met Sade Cadet. He liked her enough, maybe loved her to extent but not enough to get down on one knee so soon.

-He has two children, Jamal Harris (I changed the name for Jacob because this storyline intertwines with my best friend’s and both our brothers can’t be called Jacob. Plus, I found it to be a kind of a dull name) and Judith Harris

-Even though he’s not suppose to have favorites, he loves his daughter very much. Not to say he doesn’t love Jamal, but he didn’t spend as much time with him seeing how Kendrick lived with Mercy and Judith in Barbados and Jamal living in Britain with Sade

-He’s very protective of his little girl, if he lived, he would’ve been striking fear into the hearts of wizards who were interested in her. Well... except for Talbott...

-He always watches over his little girl, wishing he spent more time with her

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm parents #judith harris #kendrick harris #hphm mc #hphm art

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thehonorablekingerik-blog · 6 years

Text

Obsession

Chapter 5: How Does It Feel? (Part 1 of 2)

It’s was a rainy Sunday afternoon, Erik laid in bed. His bedroom illuminated by the dull light of the cloudy overcast outside. His eyes focused on his phone as he scrolled through Facebook looking at Samara’s page for what seemed like the 100th time. He couldn’t get this woman out of his mind, intrigued with her ever since he had laid eyes her at Club Indigo.

Since her impromptu visit to his apartment just two nights ago, Erik felt his desire for her burn brighter. On her Facebook profile he read that she graduated from Tulane University; her friend’s list was filled with people from this school and other schools in Louisiana. Continuing down her friends list he clicked on random profiles of anyone he felt could give him more information about her. After looking for a while, he finally found someone, a guy by the name of Jamal Francis. Browsing through his profile he found an old picture of him and Samara hugging each other wearing Tulane University shirts.

Erik read the caption under the picture;

“Throwback 05’ @SamaraEdmonds.”

Samara was tagged in the photo and responded;

“Wow. The good ole’ days!”

Erik’s head was flooded with thoughts.

“Was Jamal her ex?”

“What did she mean by the good ole’ days?

“I need to find more information about her.”

He yawned, closing his eyes briefly before looking back at his phone. He looked at a few more profiles but didn’t find anything interested. Going back to his homepage, he looked at Samara’s name on his messengers list. He noticed that she was online, he decided to text her.

“What you doin?” he typed.

He was surprised to see her typing back.

“Nothing much.”

Erik thought about his next response. He chuckled to himself, thinking about how lame and childish he felt thinking about what he should text back to this chick. He wasn’t used to feeling this way about women. He always had the upper hand when it came to them but with Samara he felt a little…vulnerable.

“Oh. You got plans for tonight?” he typed back.

A few minutes passed and no response. Erik felt stupid laying in his dimly lit room staring at his phone waiting for her to text back. In frustration he locked his phone before tossing it beside him on the bed.

Erik walked into the ground floor doors of Arcadia Tech’s office, coming in early so he could leave before his usual time. He just didn’t feel like being at work all day. He felt a little sour that Samara seemed to be in control of his time, arranging for them to fuck but would go ghost at a moment’s notice. He just felt that he needed some time to himself, to get his thoughts and emotions together.

He walked to the elevator pressing the button to the 7th floor, the doors began to close.

“Hold the elevator, please.” A female voice cried out.

Erik placed his hands between the doors, stopping them from closing in time. He looked up to see who was entering the elevator and his eyes landed on familiar hazel ones.

Samara walked into the elevator.

“Thanks.” She said a little winded.

Erik gave her a small smile. They stood next to each other as the doors closed. Erik peaked over at Samara. Dressed in her usual black pencil dress, sheer back-seam stockings and black heels; but she added a black blazer to the mix. This didn’t stop Erik from admiring her figure. He thought about her body and how beautiful it looked and good she felt. Licking his lips, he geared up to say something but Samara spoke first.

“You’re here early.” She said still looking straight ahead.

Erik turned to look at her fully before saying, “Yeah, I tryna finish up some work early.”

“Do you have any plans today?” She asked turning to look at him.

Erik felt his body grow warm at her question. He pondered what she meant by it. Was she going to ask to come over again? Looking into her eyes, he thought about how much he loved her expression a few nights ago as he fucked her in his apartment.

His mind quickly went back to her question. He didn’t have plans today, he knew why he didn’t want to be there but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“Yeah, I gotta few.” He said plainly before turning and looking straight ahead again. Samara nodded at him and smiled before turning to look ahead as well. Erik noticed her smile and wondered what she was smiling about. Before his thoughts could go any further the elevator doors opened to their floor. Samara was the first to step out followed by Erik. They walked away in opposite directions toward their office’s.

Just as he planned, Erik finished work early. He even successfully dismissed any thoughts about Samara and avoided seeing her throughout the day. Like clockwork, Kevin arrived at his door asking if he was ready to go to lunch.

“Nah, I’m leaving early.” Erik said closing his laptop.

“Aight. Everything good?” Kevin asked as he watched Erik stand up from his seat.

“Yeah. I got some shit to do later.” Was all he said as he walked toward the door, brushing past Kevin on his way out.

Erik sat in the backseat of the Uber he requested. He unbuttoned the first two buttons on his shit and slouched in the seat, relaxed. As he looked out the window admiring the ever-growing city of New York, his phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket.

An alert popped up on his screen. It was a Facebook notification. Quickly opening the app, he had a message from Samara.

It was a video message.

“What she up to?” He thought.

His thumb lingered over the file, excited and annoyed at what it could be.

He clicked it.

The screen was black and muffled sound could he heard as the camera moved against something. He moved the phone closer to his face looking into the screen, trying to examine what was going on. Suddenly the video became a bright crisp image. He looked at the phone confused but quickly noticed he was looking at a pair of thick brown thighs.

Erik watched as the beautifully shaped cocoa-colored thighs slowly seperate, a delicate hand of the same color coming into view.

He recognized it as Samara’s hand due to the gold wedding ring on her finger. Samara began to massage her left thigh, parting her legs wider.

The camera descended in-between her thighs, a hairless flesh colored clit coming into view. Erik felt his crotch twitch in his pants.

“This girl is wild.” He said smiling.

Samara rubbed her folds between her fingers. Lightly brushing against her sensitive clit in-between strokes. Erik watched as she fondled with herself before slipping one of her slim delicate fingers inside her entrance. She let out a soft moan. Erik bit down on his bottom lip.

He quickly looked up to see if his Lyft driver heard anything, but it doesn’t seem like it.

His eyes swiftly returned to the screen. Samara worked her finger into her center, sticky wetness soon coating it.

Erik adjusted himself in his seat as he continued to watch as Samara slowly moved her finger in and out her box. Removing them, she started rubbing her clit vigorously.

Samara cried out low. She stopped rubbing, inserting two fingers, pushing in and out of herself swiftly, her juices flowing. Erik rubbed his thigh, his arousal growing as he watched Samara play with herself.

Just as thoughts of what he wanted to do to her, the video ended.

Erik not missing a beat, sends her a message.

“All that for me?”

Samara responded almost instantly.

“Of course. Let me know when you want it.”

Erik smiled at her response before typing, “Shit. When’s the next time you free?”

He watched the screen on his phone intensely, waiting for her reply.

“Tomorrow.”

“Aight, cool.” Erik typed back immediately.

Samara went offline. Erik chuckled to himself as he rubbed his goatee thinking about Samara. He felt he was getting himself into something risky and that intrigued him. He was used to getting whatever woman he wanted with little to no resistance and out of the blue, Samara Edmonds appears. Although she didn’t offer much resistance, she was in charge and Erik couldn’t help but admit that he liked that.

He chuckled as he lowered his phone to his lap, looking out the window, his mind on Samara.

Erik stood at the desk of one his team members watching as they speedily worked away. Today at the office had been unexpectedly hectic. The new program his group was working on was near completion but a few bugs had to be sorted out. He didn’t mind being in the office but some days he did wish he had chosen to work from home. But productivity between his team at Arcadia Tech seemed to increase when he was there to supervise.

Work kept him busy from thinking about Samara. Although all that was about to change.

Erik checked the time on his watch.

“I’m taking a break.” He told one of his lead team members. It was already half past 12, he was hungry and his eyes were a little tired from not having a break from looking at a bunch of computer screens. As he walked out of one of Arcadia Tech’s many computer lab rooms, he bumped into his best friend Kevin.

“Aye, where you headed.” Erik asked turning to face Kevin.

Without even stopping, Kevin held up a small black flash-drive. “I got to upload and send this program real quick.”

Erik nodded his head, “Aight bro. I’m ‘bout to go grab somethin’ to eat. I’ll see you in a few.”

“Aight. I’ll catch up with you later.” Kevin said before turning back around and walking down the hall toward his office.

Erik walked toward the elevator, passing his office on the way. As he got closer to his office, he noticed that his door was slightly ajar. Wondering why it was open, he stepped closer, fully pushing the door open.

Stepping halfway through the door way, he saw Samara sitting in the chair opposite of his desk, texting on her phone. He watched her, wondering why she was in his office. His groin trembled as his mind dared to think about what they could do right then and there.

Samara sat engulfed in her text messages, the loud clicking of the letters could be heard in the quiet room. She had an associate that insisted on meeting her today and she was trying to make plans for another time.

She suddenly stopped texting feeling someone in the room, she looked up and turned toward the door.

“Oh! Hey Erik.” She said with a smile.

Erik stepped fully into his office. “Hey. What you doin’ in here?” He asked his eyebrow slightly raised.

Placing her phone into her purse, she stood up smoothing out any wrinkles at the bottom of her dress. “I stopped by to see if you wanted to go to lunch.” She said stepping a little closer to him. She continued, “I know you were busy in the lab so I decided to wait here for you.”

A broad smile spread across Erik’s face, “I’m down for lunch. Where you tryna go?”

Samara received a text message. She ignored it. Erik noticed. “Who was hittin’ her up and why is she ignoring them?” He thought.

“There’s a nice Thai spot in Midtown called IV.”

“IV? That shit don’t sound like no Thai food.” Erik said with a little laugh.

“Trust me, it’s going to be good.”

“You been there before?”

“No, but the reviews are great.”

Erik nodded his head, briefly thinking about her offer. He was down to go eat Thai food today. He really enjoyed cuisine from all over the world, most of it came from traveling while in the military.

“Aight, let’s go.” He said nodding his head toward the door. Samara smiled brightly as Erik moved out her way allowing her to walk past him and out his office door. He took pleasure in watching her ass as she passed before quickly following behind her and toward the elevator.

Erik and Samara arrived at the Thai restaurant, IV. It had a sleek, futuristic décor. Although it was the middle of the day it wasn’t packed but it was a decent crowd of people who filled the seats. It didn’t take long after exiting there Uber that they were seated.

“I’ll go on ahead and get you two some water.” The waiter said handing them both a menu before walking away.

Both glanced through the menu. Samara sat in a booth seat while Erik sat opposite of her in a chair.

“You ever had Thai food before?” Samara asked still looking at her menu.

Erik still eyed his menu, “Nah, but I always wanted to try it.”

“Thai food is usually spicy, although I think you can modify the spice level if you ask.”

“It’s all good. I’m into spicy foods. I’m from Oakland, there’s hella Mexican spots. When I go to any of them I’m always gettin’ somethin’ spicy.”

“Oh yeah? You like Mexican food? We could go get some if you want.” Samara said slightly lowering her menu looking at Erik.

“Nah its cool. This a nice switch up. I’ve had enough Mexican food for awhile.”

The waiter returned with two cold glasses of water.

“Are you two ready to order yet?” the waiter asked with a small smile, his eyes looking at Samara.

Erik and Samara looked at each other, a beat passed. They both shook their heads at each other before looking at the waiter.

“Okay, please take your time. I’ll be right back.” The waiter said before walking off.

Samara continued to glance at her menu but Erik placed his on the table, looking at Samara.

“Did you really just invite me here just for lunch?” he asked smiling.

Samara paused placing her menu down, a smile on her lips.

“Hmm. I have plans later.” she said.

Erik broke eye contact with her adjusting his posture in his seat before returning his gaze.”

“Word? Like what?”

“I’m not sure yet.” She said licking her bottom lip. They both share a brief heated gaze, before Samara’s eye returned to her menu.

It isn’t long before she let Erik know what she was going to order. They talked about the food and Samara helped Erik narrow down his choices on what he was going to get. Not soon after, the waiter returned, taking down their requests and removing the menus.

Erik placed his hands on the table, slowly tapping his thumb.

“Tell me about yourself, Samara.” He said staring at her.

Samara took a sip of her water before answering. She looked away from Erik briefly admiring the restaurant.

“What do you want to know?” she said looking back at him.

“Anything.” Erik said still looking at her.

“Well, you already know that I’m married; and I’m sure you looked on my Facebook for more info on me.”

Erik nodded.

“I was born and raised in New Orleans, my family, both sides are from there.” She said looking at him casually.

“What made you move to New York?” Erik asked taking a sip of his water.

Samara shrugged her shoulders before answering. “I just got tired of that city. Seen it all my life, I just wanted a change of scenery.”

Erik nodded, remembering that he seen pictures of her travels on her Facebook page.

“What about you?” she asked him before continuing, “I can tell by your accent that you’re not originally from New York.”

Erik sat up a little straighter, licking his lips while scratching his head as he thought about answering her question. It had been awhile since he’d been out like this with a chick. Usually his interactions with them were one-night stands or dick appointments. He also didn’t like to talk much about himself, he had friends, could make and enjoy good conversation but he usually kept himself guarded.

“I’m from Oakland, born and raised.”

Samara nodded, “And…what else?” She said with a slight laugh. “What about your parents?”

Erik slightly shrugged rubbing the back of his head looking away from Samara.

“Ain’t really much to say. My moms was from Oakland and I…don’t really like to talk about my pops forreal.”

Samara noticed his use of the word, “was”; she wanted to ask about his mother but decided against it.

She shook her head, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—”

Erik cut her off letting out a deep sigh. “Nah you good. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

An awkward air hung between the two before Samara received a text on her phone. She ignored it. Erik raised an eyebrow at her.

“You goin’ get that?” he said taking another sip of water.

Samara chuckled, “No. It’s not important.”

Erik laughed, “You sure bout’ that.”

“Yes. You’re way more interesting.” Samara said smiling looking Erik placing her hand onto his.

Erik rubbed her hand. A smirk danced on his lips.

Once their food arrived, they sat, ate and chatted. Samara told Erik about some of her favorite things about New Orleans. Such as one of her favorite places to eat was a place called Parkway. She spoke on why she decided to get her degree in psychology saying she just always liked how the human mind worked and understanding others emotions. Erik told her some brief things about his time at M.I.T. and how he graduated with a degree in computer science and engineering. He then went into a few details about how after college he was offered a job in the Navy, spending a few years there before going to the Air Force.

Erik was surprised at how at ease he felt talking to Samara. As Samara sat and listened to Erik tell her about parts of his life she couldn’t help but want to know more about him. When she first met him she already summed him up as the average egotistical male with mommy issues; and although she still feels that she’s right about that, there seems to be more hidden…parts of him she wants to uncover.

The sound of Samara’s cell phone ringing broke their conversation. She grabbed her phone from her purse. She looked at it but didn’t answer.

Looking back at Erik she asked, “Are you busy later tonight?”

Erik shook his head, “Nah. You wanna come over?” he asked smiling with a sharp look in his eyes.

Samara leaned in toward Erik, softly taking his hand into hers. She smiled sweetly. “I would love to.”

Erik felt the salvia in his mouth increase. He looked at her lush full lips and he impulsively licked his own. He desired to feel hers against his own. The need to explore her mouth grew. Just when he was going to act on it, the sound of a phone roused him from his thoughts.

Samara rolled her eyes annoyed that her phone was going off again. Retrieving it from her purse once again, she looked to see who was calling her. Erik noticed her eyes light up. Samara’s eyes shot up to Erik’s.

“I’m going to have to take this.” She said removing her other hand from his.

Erik nodded. He watched as Samara took the call. She idly looked around the restaurant as she carried on her conversation. Erik listened as closely as he could and it seemed like someone was trying to meet up with her which she agreed.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.” Samara said as she ended the call.

“Change of plans?” Erik asked.

Samara sighed as she looked at Erik remorsefully. “Yeah.”

She placed her phone back into her purse before removing her wallet.

“Here, this should cover my---”

Erik shook his head, waving his hand. “Nah, it’s all good. I gotchu.”

“Really? You sure?” Samara asked as she looked at Erik.

“Yeah. You good.” Erik couldn’t help but to smile.

Samara returned a smile before placing her money, phone and wallet back into her purse. She slid out of her booth seat, standing up. Erik hurried to his feet, standing too.

“Okay, Erik. I’m about to go.”

“You ain’t goin’ back to the office?” He asked.

“No. I clocked out early.” She said moving past him.

Erik grabbed her hand, “When’s the next time we can meet up?”

Samara stopped her eyebrow wrinkled in thought, “Oh, I almost forgot.” She said.

She thought for a brief second. “I’m free this weekend. How about you stop by my place this Friday?”

Erik looked at her shocked. Did he just hear her right? She suggested that he go over his place.

“I’ll be there.” Erik said with no hesitation.

Samara smiled as she leaned closer to Erik kissing him on the cheek.

Erik’s eye widened raising his eyebrows. He was amazed at her public display of affection toward him. Usually in public (at work) she was cold and distant.

She turned and began walking away before not stopping briefly to tell him.

“I’ll message you my address.”

With that last statement, Erik watched as she continued to walk through the restaurant and finally out the door.

#obsession fic update #thehonorablekingerik #erik killmonger #erik killmonger fic #erik killmonger smut

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