#thefonderseries

[yaachtynoboat711]

Fonder 6

A/N: Yes, I’m back like I never left! I’ve been hella busy this summer and I’m just happy to be checking back in. It’s been a little over a year since I began writing and I must say, I’m happy to still be doing this. I love y’all and the encouragement, support, and creative guidance some of you all have given me for the past year!

Word Count: ~3.2K

Warning(s): Fluff, Language, a dash of angst

Thursday, March 19, 2015, 6:19 p.m., Philadelphia

Today was the day: Michael and Khalida were meeting each other’s parents. Due to the filming of his upcoming film Creed , Michael temporarily relocated to Philadelphia. With him three hours away, Yaa was able to visit him as much as her schedule would allow her to. Now, here they were in his car headed to dinner. Both were visibly nervous and reasonably so. Michael paid special attention to the road as he drove his anxiety away. Yaa was deep in her phone checking and responding to work-related emails. In any event of distress, her first choice of relief was work—a drug of choice. As much as she tried to keep her composure, the constant shaking of her foot was the dead giveaway. In an attempt to console his nervous girlfriend, Michael gripped part of Yaa’s thick thigh.

“Hey...it’s ok to be nervous, sugar bear. Not to make you any more nervous than you already are, but my parents can at times be...a lot to handle. Buuut, I’m more than confident that you can be able to handle them. I’ve seen you go against lawyers that’ve practiced law longer than you’ve been alive and you don’t even flinch. So if you can deal with them, then Donna and Michael A. are the least of your concerns.”, Michael comforted as he kept his eyes on the road.

Yaa finally sent her last e-mail for the weekend and locked her phone. “Yeah, but the biggest difference between those old ass lawyers and your parents is that I haven’t slept with any lawyer’s son. Even further, you haven’t met my parents; they take bougie to a whole new dimension. I just don’t know how our parents are going to mix, y’know?” Michael drove in silence, contemplating on what Yaa had just said. “I’m sorry, Kari, that was a lot. I’m just...nervous.” Yaa lowered her head as she realized that she may have spoken too much, at least in her head.

Looking out of the car window, Yaa got lost in the Spotify playlist playing throughout the car. Without a word, Michael took Yaa’s hand into his and kissed the top of her knuckles gently. Her straight face quickly turned into a slight grin. “I love you, Peanut.”, she muttered.

Michael rolled his eyes, “I love you too, sugar bear.”

Forno Rosso, 5:36 p.m.

By the time Yaa and Michael arrived at the restaurant, their parents were already seated and well into conversation. The circular table was located towards the back in a corner, which according to the restaurant’s owner, was the best spot for an intimate dinner despite the sounds of people conversing and plates clacking. The couple walked to the back hand in hand to find the other only Black people in the restaurant--their parents.

“Well, speak of the Devil, there go our babies!”, Khadijah announced as she got up. After the seemingly never-ending round of hugs ended, the couple began introducing each other to parents.

“Mom, Pops, this is my girlfriend, Dr. Khalida Abdullah. Baby, these are my parents, Donna and Michael A. Jordan.”, Michael announced as he observed his parents’ reaction to hearing their son’s girlfriend’s name be prefaced with Doctor.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sweetheart. Michael hasn’t shut up about you since New Years, and I must say, now it makes sense to see why you were the only thing he talked about. Isn’t she a pretty girl, baby?”, Ms. Donna greeted as she shook Yaa’s hand. With her husband’s affirming headshake, the handshake turned into yet another hug for Mr. and Mrs. Jordan.

“He talks about you two all the time also and thank you so much!”, Yaa replied. “Now, Kari, these are my parents, Drs. Khadijah and Mustapha Abdullah. Baba, Umi, this is Michael B. Jordan, my boyfriend.”

“Well, praise the Lord! Dreams do come true. My ibby has been dating you in her head for about 12 years. Finally a pleasure to meet you, son.”, Mustapha greeted, making sure to embarrass his daughter. Mission accomplished. “How are you treating my baby? Sublime, I hope?”

Michael looked to Yaa, who was in a side conversation with Khadijah. “Of course, Dr. Abdullah. There’s no reason for her to be treated any less or different.”

He was definitely keeping that Gatsby energy up—he sent her a dozen sunflowers every other Thursday and treated the office to lunch every now and again.For Valentine’s, the two went to Paris, where he officially asked her out. Apart from the lavish showering of affection and bomb sex, the two had a friendship and a connection that couldn’t be denied. Unlike Winston, Michael supported her career and her work ethic. In times she had to leave or cancel dates because she was called to emergency meetings? He didn’t want to, but he encouraged her to go on. The countless nights she was knee-deep in research? He definitely understood. Spending the night at the office? You bet your last dollar Michael was up with her. In those instances, he’d be sure to have food delivered to her. He even came to some of the trials she had to serve in. Though he didn’t want to admit it, seeing her in her zone turned him on. He respected her craft and her passion and vice versa. Their budding romance had actualized significantly slower than hers with Winston—she preferred that. Apart from the sugar daddy shit, she was finally in a “normal” relationship.

*****

The group’s dinner was running smoothly. The parents got along surprisingly well. Being that they were around the same age, the four related to each other. As for Michael and Yaa, they got along with each other’s parents really well. Hell, they were the lost son and daughter their parents secretly wanted.

Everyone took turns telling general stories about current life happenings and the parents even took the time to tell embarrassing stories about their children. The more they told stories, the further Michael and Yaa slumped in their chairs in shame. Yaa definitely didn’t want to re-visit her first day of high school, which if you were coming into high school at 11, a nightmare was destined to happen on the first day. Mustapha still found it especially funny after almost 14 years. Thankfully, Khadijah found a way to keep her first-born from dying at the dinner table.

“Enough about Khali’s first day at St. Dominic’s, honey. Ibby’s still a bit traumatized. But since we’re on the subject of first experiences,the question of the hour has yet to be asked or answered: how’d you two lovebirds meet?”

Silence. Because neither wanted to explain to their parents that they’d spent the wee hours of 2015 fucking each other senseless, Yaa especially preferred her father tell more embarassing stories about her awkward middle school-esque experiences at St. Dominic’s Girls Prep. But instead of conveying their anxiety with their facial expressions, the two stared at each other until Michael finally spoke up. “Well, Dr. Khadijah... I had the privilege of meeting your daughter at a Great Gatsby-themed New Year’s party that I hosted. Tanisha told me about her and I would’ve been stupid not to invite her...so I did. We...talked all night and up until the…next morning. We haven’t stopped talking to each other since. ” Michael looked to Yaa from across the table whenever he paused, attempting to make his “story” appear more credible than it was.

“Well...son, I’m happy you’ve finally found someone who makes you happy as Khalida does. Moreover, I’m happy to have met two new friends in Khadijah and Mustapha. Here’s to new beginnings and relationships!”, Donna saluted as she raised her glass of water. The table toasted and continued on with the night.

*************

Even after their children pleaded for them to come, the Jordan’s and Abdullah’s decided to opt out of going to the 76ers-Pelicans game following dinner. Though a blow, Michael and Yaa continued on with their date night. As the two sat in game night traffic, Michael couldn’t help but to take in his girlfriend’s beautiful profile. Her thick, oversized tortoise-shell glasses rested perfectly on the tip of her wide button nose. Her full lips were painted with the brightest red lipstick she could get her hands on. Her simple white turtleneck and jeans outfit was so simple, yet so...Khalida. Since the 76ers were playing Yaa’s New Orleans Pelicans, it was important for her to bring her Big Easy pride to the City of Brotherly Love. Though she wasn’t much for flashy jewelry, she made it a point to wear both her gold fleur-de-lis necklace and her Super Bowl ring. Such a flex.

Wells Fargo Arena, 9:17 p.m.

“YOOOOOO! THAT WAS A FOUL, REF, ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!?!?!”, Yaa shouted out as she shot up from her courtside seat. Michael was being entertained by the antics of his passionate date. She basically coached the game while sitting down, one hand interlocked with Michael’s and the other hand occasionally used to give direction to her beloved Pelicans, and nursing her second glass of moscato. Michael found himself laughing at her sincerity, gassing her up every now and then to reaffirm her sideline gripe.

“That’s right, baby!” “Y’all heard the lady!”

The two really looked like a couple. Not saying that their chemistry indicated otherwise; but this was their first public outing. The Paparazzi seemed to take notice of the two—cameras from all around the arena were tuning in to see Michael B. Jordan and his non-model date be boo’d up with one another. It was obvious that the two were being photographed. They could’ve given half a collective fuck what social media said about their relationship. If anything, they kinda absorbed the sudden attention.

It was Kiss Cam time. Couples throughout the arena were caught off-guard and gave their significant others quick, yet meaningful kisses.

“Well, damn, I guess niggas on the front row ain’t in love?”, Michael joked as he watched the other couples display their affection.

Yaa downed the rest of her wine, her eyes fixed on her sulking boyfriend.“I know you fuckin’ lyin. I just know you are, Kari.”,Yaa quickly responded as she started laughing.

“Naw, I ain’t. But I’m saying, if you had a date that looked good enough to eat, you’d want for them to be seen, too. That’s all I’m saying, baby.”

Yaa rolled her eyes at his antics, “You’re pathetic, you know that, right?”

Just as it seemed as the segment was over, the cameraman saved the best for last. The camera pointed at Yaa and Michael mid-laugh. Without hesitation, Michael gripped her chin and allowed his lips to taste the wine left on her lips. Damn, he’s a good kisser. Yaa pulled back first, her face more red than an Alabama home game.

“Oh, so you frontin’ for the cameras, I see.”, he whispered in her ear. A genuine cackle escaped her lips. “You gon’ stop, Kari!”

11:36 p.m.

Even though the game was in overtime, Yaa and Michael decided to leave early, in the interest of beating traffic and grabbing some late-night munchies. Clear and confident with their decision, the two made a quick beeline towards the tunnel. Unfortunately, with their decision came a flock of paparazzi behind them. The closer they got to the exit, the more cameras seemed to appear. Fuck. Whatever you do, don’t let go of his hand! Their brisk walk quickly turned into a jog. “Michael! Who’s the lucky lady?” “What’s your name?!” “I thought you only dated models, Mike? She doesn’t look like a model.” That last comment got the best of Yaa. “Aye, ya mammy doesn’t either, yet here we are!”, she scolded. As they made the last left turn to the exit, a group of maybe 10 camera people began their flashing light dance. This time, they weren’t moving out of the way. Michael stopped to assess a strategy.

“The hell you stop for?!”, a clearly shaken Yaa demanded.

“I need a plan. They don’t look like they’re going to move out of the way.”, Michael replied as he stared off in the exit’s direction. Yaa’s chest rose and fell as quickly as her heart was beating. Suddenly, her hand trembled in his and a slight sweat appeared on her forehead. Her fear-driven adrenaline was going into overdrive as the paparazzi came closer.

“Fuck, Winston, they’re everywhere!”, Yaa commented loud enough for only the two of them to hear. But before Michael could get pissed, he snatched her hand and made his way through the thick media jungle. Shuttering cameras, seizure-inducing flashing lights, and loud overlapping questions further added to the circus they walked through.

“Michael!” “Michael!” “ Mr. Jordan!” “Who is she? “How long are you in Philly? “Can you tell us about the movie?” “Michael, who’s your friend?” “How’s Cre—”. The clearly rambunctious questions being asked became muffled as the car doors closed. The two sat in somewhat silence as they tried to catch their breath. “Remind me...to never go anywhere else with you. Because that...that... was... bullshit.”, Yaa remarked in between breaths.

“I’ve never had the paps out on me like that. You ok? That was jus—did you really call me Winston back there?!”, Michael answered.

“I did? Oh shit, I’m so sorry!”

SOMEWHERE IN LOS ANGELES, 8:40 p.m.

“Aye, bro? Your ex, Klarissa, the real thick one, got dreads, right?”, Winston’s college friend Jamar asked as his furrowed brows remained glued to his phone.

“Klari-...you mean Khalida? Yeah. Why you ask?”, Winston asked as he handed Jamar another water.

“Looks like she’s on a date with...hold on…”, he took his glasses off to clean them and put them back on, “...Michael B. Jordan? She all up on this nigga, Duke.”

A date? Winston snatched the phone out of Jamar’s hand, “Gimme that and stop messing around, bro.” Sure enough, Jamar was right.

DEVELOPING: ACTOR MICHAEL B. JORDAN AND CINDERELLA DATE SPOTTED AT BASKETBALL GAME IN PHILADELPHIA

As he read the brief article, he began shaking his head involuntarily. He went numb with every paparazzi picture he saw of his Yaa and Michael holding hands. But when he saw the kiss cam picture and another picture of them exchanging smiles, that’s all his heart could stand to bear.

His chest felt numb and totally void of any sensation or urge of movement. She looks...happy. It’s one thing to lose a loved one in death, but to lose the one you truly love to someone else and to see them happier with them is a different kind of hurt. His heart had been dropped onto a cactus; pricked and pained, but not yet bleeding. In that very moment, Winston wanted to ball up into the fetal position and isolate himself from the rest of the world. Career, family, life in general be damned. Duke...yo, Duke!

“DUKE!”, Jamar snapped Winston out of his moment of despair.

“Yeah?”, Winston replied dryly.

“Aye, bruh, you good?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” He didn’t realize his face and the top of his tank were wet from the excessive crying he’d did. Hell, he didn’t even know he was crying.

“Well, your ex is off dating movie stars and you’re funeral sobbing. She ain’t dead: she’s just moved on. You gotta allow her to move on and be happy. Besides, she ain’t say shit when you were with that crazy ass chick.”

“You know...I’m uh...gonna go to bed? Yeah, I’m going to bed. Lock the door when you leave . Goodnight.”

Before Jamar could get another word in, Winston walked briskly to his bedroom, slammed the door, and began to pace the floor. His chest began to heave as his sobbing intensified with every step. I fucked up, I fucked up, shit, I fucked up. No,no,no, no, no. She’s really moved on? All the women in the world, and he chose Khalida?! MY Khalida?!?! Fuck.

At some point, he was in denial that he saw Khalida in those pictures, because she surely wouldn’t have been kissing Michael B. Jordan. As much as he didn’t want to, he forced himself to go back to The Shade Room’s website to look at the article. Maybe, it could’ve been another thick woman with now ash blonde locs that shared similar tastes in optical wear. Maybe it was another beautiful Black woman that rocked bright red lipstick and wore black nail polish. Maybe, just maybe, the pretty lady in question’s embellished “K” brooch stood for something else, like, Kenya,Kenzie, or Kayla. Yeah, that was it: mistaken identity. Jamar knew how his best friend felt about Khalida and wanted to play around. Yup—case closed. But, when he looked at a new picture, his already confirmed suspicions were confirmed once more. As the two walked out of the arena and into the pool of flashing lights and voices fighting each other to be heard, Yaa naturally shielded her face with her right hand—the hand her Super Bowl ring always inhabited. Damn.

“FUUUCK!” ,he yelled at the top of his lungs.

He took deep breaths to calm down, certain that he’d startled his neighbors with his tantrum. “Why are you doing this to me, Yaa?”

Back in Philly, 12:30 a.m.

The maddening silence in the car made the 25 minute ride feel like a 12 hour ride. For Yaa, the obvious feeling of shame veiled over her. How could she call Michael “Winston” of all people at a time as that? Now, bitch, you knew better than that. You knew not to call that man no damn Winston. Try to fix it now. Her quick glances over to the driver side were calculated in the hopes that he wouldn’t see the shame over her face.

For Michael, it was much different. He knew that he obviously couldn’t be pissed , but he wasn’t necessarily fond of being called an ex of Yaa’s. He took the sound of silence to figure out what he needed to feel. Slight disappointment. Yeah, that was it: upon close self-deliberation, he had determined that he was just disappointed. Yet, the wave of his current emotion wouldn’t overtake him, as he knew that she wouldn’t be a repeat offender. A simple mistake made in the heat of the moment. Besides, he needed to meet that Winston fellow anyways.

Yaa finally broke the silence, “Baby, I’m sorry that I—” Her eyes crossed to take note of the index finger Michael had placed over her mouth. She looked over to see a silent Michael nodding his head subtly.

“You don’t need to apologize, love. I get it: in the heat of emotions and the moment, you reverted to calling a familiar name. You haven’t found yourself to be in a difficult situation with me, so now I understand.”, Michael explained as he finally removed his finger from over her lips,

“If anyone should be apologizing, it should definitely be me. I brought this attention to us. But, I can’t promise that that’ll be the last encounter with those nosy ass niggas.”

“Sooo...you’re not mad?”, a confused Yaa inquired for clarification.

He nodded, “Nah, in that moment, my ego was hurt, but since I’ve been driving, that fake anger was reduced to understanding. You’re good, mamas. Believe that.”

The two exchanged a glance and a laugh. Finally, the tense air had been cleared to play music. Yaa opened up her Spotify driving playlist and pressed shuffle. Ironically, “Say My Name” began playing, prompting a duet of a “Yoooooo!” to play background to the song.

“This shuffle ain’t shit!”, Yaa moaned with disgust.

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#thefonderseries #winston x yaa #dukeandthedoctor #destinedtobeduke #winston duke x reader #winston duke x oc #winston duke imagine

[yaachtynoboat711]

Fonder 5.2

A/N: So this is obvi a follow-up of Ch.5 as well as its conclusion. Hopefully, the plot won’t be as shook up as it was in 5.1 or will it? I hope y’all enjoy.

Word Count: little over 3K

Warning(s): Plot progression, fluff, specks of angst(?)

NEW YEARS DAY 2015, 11:47 A.M, Malibu, California NEW YEARS DAY 2015, 11:47 A.M, Malibu, California

Peace and serenity—the most fitting way to transition into the New Year. The overlapping sounds of seagulls and crashing ocean waves outside would usually pull Yaa out of her deep slumbers. If it wasn’t the beach sounds, then it was her actual alarm. But let’s be honest: no one really has an alarm go off on New Year’s day, especially if you had the night that Yaa had had. Yaa’s snoring went in sync with the crashing waves and her wavy, honey blonde locs scattered at every which way across the silk taupe pillow case. Boom boom boom. The heavy knocking on her bedroom had startled her out of her post-sex slumber. Who was banging on her door like the feds before noon? The trio of knocks continued until she reluctantly got out of bed and searched for anything to put on.

“I’m comin’...damn!”, she tried to yell, but her hoarseness wouldn’t allow her. She winced in pain as she hopped into a pair of shorts and a tank top and began limping towards the door. She opened the door to see that it was her best friend, Tanisha. “Bitch...somebody better be dead, hurt, or dying.”

Tanisha chuckled. “Well, Happy New Year to you, too. Lover Boy is down there making brunch.”

Yaa looked at her friend in total confusion. “Is that what I’m smelling? Tanisha nodded. “Well, I’m surprised you aren’t somewhere fighting a hangover.”

Tanisha rolled her eyes. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. Between you gettin’ your cervix tickled, and trust me, it sounded like he was giving’ you the BUSINESS, and me throwing my night up, I was going through it. Started the new year off on the wrong foot.”

Yaa felt herself turning red and her eyes bugging out. “Were we really that loud?”

“Sis, he might’ve worn you out, but you must have that voodoo pussy. Wanna know why? You got Michael B. Jordan in your kitchen cooking yo magical pussy having ass a 5-star brunch on New Year’s day. If that ain’t power, then I don’t know what the hell is. Done turned this nigga into a damn domestic overnight. Speaking of, text me when breakfast is ready. I deserve whatever he’s whippin’ up.”

Tanisha went back into room, presumably to catch up on her missed Z’s. Yaa went downstairs to see Michael for herself. The further she got down the stairs, the louder the “All About the Benjamins” got. She carefully hopped off the stair landing and Diddy bopped her way through the den, making a slight left to go through the back way into the kitchen.

She pursed her lips to keep from laughing as she watched Michael also Diddy bop back to the stove to finish cooking whatever he had cooking on the stove. Wearing only a pair of heather grey cut-off sweats and Nike slides with socks, his shoulders and upper body bounced to the beginning of Total’s “Can’t You See”. He placed a kitchen towel over his shoulder before plating his brunch creation.

“So what’s on the menu, Mr. Jordan?”, she spooked.

He seized, clenching the small saucepan he had in his grasp. “Shit!”

Yaa chuckled, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help it.”, she stopped to look over his shoulder, “you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Cajun catfish and cheese grits, fruit, and peach bellinis.”

“Oooh shit! Lemme find out the B in your name stands for ‘Brunch Daddy’! I’ll get Tanisha up.”

Yaa called Tanisha from the bottom of the stairs. Tanisha came down moments later. The three sat at the table passing bowls, skillets, and pans to each other. The room was filled with the sounds of clacking plates and satisfied stomachs.

“Who would’ve known Michael B. Jordan was a whole ass chef? I learned something new today.”, remarked Yaa as she sipped her Powerade.

Michael chuckled at Yaa’s comment, “Word? Well, to be honest, if this acting thing didn’t work out, Plan B was being a chef. My mom taught me how to cook and I haven’t looked back since. Now from what I hear, you know how to get down yourself.”

It was hard for Yaa to be humble, but she managed to keep her cool. “I mean, I’m a country girl. Carrie, my maternal grandmother, taught me most of what I know. She and my Rainey raised me and my siblings when my parents were working pretty much around the clock for a few years.”

“How many siblings?”

“2. I have a twin sister, Farrah, that’s fraternal as hell, and a brother, Jahlil, that’s 5 years younger.”

He laughed at her statement about her sister Farrah. “I also have two other siblings--I’m a middle child. An older sister and a younger brother.” Tanisha, the oldest of four, and Yaa both cringed at him being the middle child. “I couldn’t imagine having two sisters though.”

Yaa shot him a look. “Watch it, son.”

He placed his fist in front of his mouth as he chewed. “So, I heard you say you were a country girl, so how country are we talkin’?”

“I was born in Alabama and graduated high school and college in Alabama, but I was raised in a massive mansion in rural Louisiana, so I’m a Louisi-Bama. You’re a Jersey-Cali boy from my understanding?”

He shook his head in the affirmative, impressed with her knowledge about him. “Ok! President of the fan club is showing herself worthy of the title.”

“Boy, don’t get cussed out.”

*****

Missed Call: Maybe: Winny the Pooh

Yaa tapped on the missed call notification without hesitation. She almost forgot they weren’t talking. Immediately after their last exchange, Winston’s number went to the good ole Block List. Something told her to unblock his number the day before leaving for California. So she did and now here she was, returning her ex’s ca—

“Hello?”, Winston answered.

“He-heyyyy you! Happy New Year! I saw you called and I’m just seeing your text.”, Yaa replied. Silence. You could hear a rat piss on carpet.

“Ummm…”, he cleared his throat, “...so you down for lunch?”

“Oof. I just had brunch. How does coffee or tea sound? Bean in Beverly Hills?”

“That’s even better. Meet me at 4ish?”

“Make it 4:30 and we’ve got a deal. See you then!” Click.

*****

Yaa walked out of the bathroom from her shower feeling renewed. Skin washed away of the little makeup that remained on her face from her...celebration from the previous night. Skin glowing thanks to the best shea butter Ghana had to offer. Locs looking healthy as always. Her glow increased when she saw Michael laying in her bed reading his phone but looking up when he sensed her presence. He stopped looking down at his phone to admire the beauty that was Khalida Abdullah.

Even in such a simple task as putting on clothes, Michael could see why her exes were head over heels with her. Every move she made was graceful. From the little twerk she did to get her chub into her light gray yoga capri pants, to the overhead jig to get into her oversized black monogrammed tank top with a gold fleur-de-lis. She walked to his side of the bed to retrieve her new Apple Watch from its charger. Before she could walk towards the door, he snatched her up onto the bed with him, playfully gnawing at her neck.

“Where you goin’ looking all good and delicious for, hmm?”, he implored.

“Well, Kari, I’m meeting someone for coffee. It ain’t your business who gon’ be there, either.”, she answered with sass.

“I see. Secondly, who gave you this trash ass Saints shirt? I need to get you at least two Falcons shirts.”

She escaped from his grip and returned a sour look. A record scratched in her head. “I-I-I’m sorry. I SLEPT WITH A FUCKING FALCONS FAN?! MY FAMILY RAISED ME BETTER THAN THIS!”

“Oh, you some super fan or something?”, he questioned.

“I’m surprised Tanisha didn’t tell you. Have you know, one, my family holds minority stake in the organization, making us minority owners, and two, my first boyfriend and best friend to this day is a proud SUPER BOWL-WINNING Saint. Now if you excuse me, I have to rush to my meeting and go reclaim my dignity.”,she bragged as she walked out of the door. But before she could walk out of door, she poked her head through the door and flipped him off.

“You so fucking CHILDISH, Khalida!”

BEAN BEVERLY HILLS, 2:19 P.M.

Yaa had accomplished many things in her life, from graduating college at 18 to receiving 4 degrees before turning 25, but nothing was as nerve-wrecking as meeting up with Winston. Let’s face it: their last meeting left such a distaste in her mouth.

Her left Chaco tapped softly yet persistently against the dark hardwood floors, while the right rested underneath her bottom.With one hand rested against her warm cup of honey-sweetened hibiscus tea and the other texting Tanisha for guidance into this awaited meeting, she attempted to clear her mind of the past and concern herself with the future. Would he be on that bullshit again? Will I have to smack a bitch? Has he decided to grow up? Does he look dusty? She looked out of the window and zoned out as she watched Beverly Hills slowly wake up after the wild night everyone had.

“Khalida?”, Winston called loud enough to pull his ex-girlfriend out of her daze. She shook her head and looked up to lock eyes with her former lover.

“Hey, hey!”, she greeted. She slowly got up and limped two steps to hug him. It was almost like they’d never skipped a beat. For a moment in time, it felt like they were the only people in the coffee shop, which if you exclude the employees and maybe three other people scattered around the shop, they were. Bitch, get offa him. He spazzed on you, remember?

Immediately upon having the thought, she separated from him and she gestured for him to sit. “So, I might’ve ordered a blueberry scone or two for you. I’m pretty sure you’ve put yourself on some depressing ass diet, but treat yourself.” Almost if on cue, the barista placed a small pink box in front of Winston, along with a caramel latte.

“You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it.”, Winston acknowledged. The two shared a nervous laugh and got themselves comfortable in their seats. The tension between could have been cut with a cleaver; so much could’ve been said, after all. The two looked at each in an attempt to find their words.

“I wanna apol-”

“Sorr-”

“You firs-

“No, you fir-”

“Gotdammit! Somebody finna fuckin talk out of sync.”, Yaa finally said by herself. “Guess I’ll start. Lemme cut to the chase—why are we here?” She sipped on her tea as she waited for his answer.

He pondered before speaking, “Well, first, I just want to apologize for acting like...being an ass a few months back. I wasn’t in my right mind in that relationship. Michelle was a nightmare after that night and we broke it off not even a week after our last meeting. I tried to call you, but I’m more than you confident you blocked my number. Hell, I don’t blame you. Now, I called you on a fluke last night and after analyzing what I said and even getting some choice words from my mom, I was wondering if your offer for friendship was still on the table? I messed up twice, and I don’t want to do lose you anymore.”

Yaa looked around the coffee shop and firmly gripped his chin to get a better look at him. “Is this the same Winston that I saw a few months ago? I’m almost afraid to hear the answer.”

WInston grimaced from the pain shooting to his jaw. Though small, Yaa’s hands had strength, or “country strength”, as she called it from years of herding large animals and even people. “Woman, I need to resize your strength.” Winston moved his jaw from her grip and moved it from side to side to alleviate the pain. “If we’re being transparent, I cried just about every night thinking about how I treated you when we broke up. I’m pretty sure I’m the biggest idiot for allowing a woman such as yourself to walk out twice. At this point, I just want us to be back on good terms.”

“Don’t fucking play with me, Winston. Are you sure? Is this what you truly want?”

“Yes. I just miss you. Aside from the romantic aspect, I just miss the little things, like your random calls in the middle of the day about some tea you just got, your spirit, and even getting cursed out by you.” Poor Winston. Though she knew his sincerity, Yaa found it hard to believe his sap story. If he could help it, he would’ve been on his knees pleading for a second chance.

Yaa’s face was unreadable—stoic, yet unreadable. It was a face that was over apologies and all for corrected behavior. A face that was finding itself conflicted with two men. Deep down, she wanted to be back with Winston. After all, he was her true love. But true love is tested. The plane needed to be taken apart, diagnosed, and rebuilt in order for it to be cleared for service. Everything was sounding good, too good to be believed without doubt. Yet, she still felt the urge to suplex Winston for crumbling her heart and her feelings back in June.

Khalida sipped the rest of her tea before breaking the painful silence built between her and her pitiful ex, “Do you want me?”

“What? Of course, Khalida! What are you talking about?”, Winston replied confused and taken aback from the question. Khalida chuckled—shoulders and all—as she nodded her head.

“No,no, no, baby boy. Do you want me? As in a your lifelong partner, forever and always? Not just in the physical or in lust, but as your better half, trusted confidant, your No Limit Soldier, ya yeah wit da yeah? How we should be instead of how we used to be?”

Winston paused to word his answer, “...Yes. You shouldn’t even have to ask me that question.”

“Well, if you want me, then you have to earn me.”

“Obviously, Olivia Pope, but you make it seem easier said than done. How do I earn you back?”

“Stick with me for a moment. You remember that plane analogy I used in Louisiana?” He nodded. “Aight, so boom: right now, the plane is completely outta service, y’eardme? The best way to have it back in service is to completely dismember the plane—start from scratch. Next, we gotta find the parts of the plane that caused the malfunction. We get better parts and rebuild, bit by bit. Soon, we’ll have an improved plane that’s better than the old plane. The crew’s gotten more experience, been with other pilots and co-pilots, and next inspection, the plane will be ready for service. It’s not an overnight process, but we’ll get through it. So...are you in?”

Winston offer his hand to shake on the new agreement, an offer in which Yaa accepted, along with a hug. “To new beginnings. A clean slate. Let’s start: I’m Winston. You are?”

Yaa snorted, “Khalida,but you can call me Yaa.” They shook hands once more, sharing a laugh. The laugh led to two genuine smiles. Their hearts skipped beats as they saw each other’s smiles.

“So...I’ve been meaning to ask, what or who’s got you glowing like this? There’s only so much Shea butter in the world…”, Winston inquired as he stirred the remainder of his caramel latte.

Yaa’s mind flashed back to nearly 12 hours ago when she was calling God’s name more than Kirk Franklin and the Family. Mental vignettes of Yaa and Michael moaning and the sound of skin slapping flashed throughout her mind, causing her to re-adjust her sitting position in her seat.

“I...I...uh…met someone last night. Everything happened so fast. Once the smoke clears and we establish something or the lack thereof, I’ll tell you more about him.”, Yaa stopped herself from turning flush.

While he smiled, Winston felt a small part of him die, but he realized that it was only fair that she get her shot of a relationship. But he knew her and the person she was—she was the prototype. Any man or woman would be stupid to not fall for her in some way. His smile widened as he locked eyes with her. Oh, how he’d missed that look.

The two began catching up about life beyond the romantic aspect. The basic “how ya momma nem?” conversations. After that, they walked about of the coffee shop, but not before he helped her out of her stiffened position from the seat. They hugged once more before going their separate ways. Not even 10 feet away, he turned to speak again. “I’m sorry.”

“You just apologized like 20 minutes ago, moe.”, Yaa yelled.

“No.”, he closed the distance between them, “I’m sorry for not knowing how to be a decent boyfriend to you. You’re a special woman with who needs a special man in her life. I know I’m that man, but just not right now. Whoever he or she is that you met last night, I hope they understood that the moment they laid eyes on you and plan accordingly. I wish I did when I met you. Sorry...I just needed to get that off of my chest.” By this time, his large hands enrobed her small hands and he hadn’t realized it. When he did, he promptly removed them.

“It’s ok, love. Today was fun. I gotta bounce, but be safe and have a happy new year.” She walked to her rental Prius and honked at him as she passed him.

He chuckled to himself as he walked to his car, “Oh, I will, Dr. Duke, I will.”

MY LIST, MY LIST, BETTER THAN YO LIST!!

@muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @eriknutinthispoosy @whoramilaje @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @bartierbakarimobisson @wakandan-flowerz @blackpantherreblogs @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @washyourlinens @turn-thy-paige @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @oceanscorazon @oshasimone @destinio1 @sonofnjobu @teheeboo @sarahboseman @iamrheaspeaks @chaneajoyyy @lovelynervouschaos @cay-cah @coonflix @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @great-neckpectations @thememoireeofme @forgottenthoughtsandmemories @ljstraightnochaser @jellybean531 @yofavcocoa @storibambino @maya-leche @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @texasbama @certifiednatural @abeautifulmindexposed

#thefonderseries #winston x yaa #winston duke imagine #dukeandthedoctor #winston duke x oc

[yaachtynoboat711]

Fonder 5.1

A/N: I AM SOOO SORRY FOR THE HIATUS! I missed you guys. The secret’s finally out! The mystery of Mr. Gatsby’s identity is being revealed! There may be smut included in this chapter also. Thanks @babygirlofwakanda for helping me out with that! Lastly, the italics (besides the sounds) are Yaa’s inner thoughts. 😬😬😬😬😬 Reblog and like!

Word Count: Get your popcorn ready (~3.5k)

Warning(s): SMUT, slow burn, plot progression, introduction of a new character, few errors/typos

NEW YEAR’S EVE 10:34 p.m.

“I-I-...I don’t understand. It was you all along...but you’d just hopped in my DM’s right before I got here!”, Yaa attempted to collect the thoughts that had scattered on the floor.

Gatsby chuckled, “ Yeah, I know. It’s ok to be confused. I’m the last person you’d expect it to be, I’m sure.”

“So why me? All these fine Hollywood jawns and wannabe socialites rippin their own panties off just to get to you...and you choose the one non-celebrity on the other side of the country?”

Gatsby sipped some champagne as he listened to Yaa, nodding his head as he began mentally creating his response to her outlandish claim. He finally sat his fluted glass down on the desk.

“Not to sound like a creep, but ever since Tanisha told me about her bomb ass lawyer friend, I’ve had my eyes on you. Don’t worry; I haven’t been that close. I learned enough about you to still have many questions left over to ask you. You’re a complex and multi-faceted woman that deserves to be exalted. Plus, from what I’ve also heard, you’ve been eyeing me too. Why’d you think the riddles and passwords were how they were?”

He was right: she’d had her eyes, heart, and womanhood set on him for years. It began way back in the summer of 2002. Her almost 12-year-old self had no business watching anything graphic and raw, yet alone watching The Wire. Her parents encouraged to watch it surprisingly. Then it happened—he came on the TV. Though she hated cornrows, even in the early 2000s, she found herself head over heels for the peanut head with the cornrows—Wallace. She hated the fact that he was a teenage drug dealer but hell, that was life in the Pit. The season finale left her distraught, crying for days as though he’d broken up with her or something. She followed his work and had proclaimed her love for him for 12 years and now here he was—Michael B. Jordan—standing before her explaining how he wanted her. Funny how life works.

She burst into a fit of nervous laughter; he joined.

“What’s so funny, Yaa?”, Michael asked.

She subdued her laughter as much as she could. “I’m laughing because I know this has to be a drawn-out prank or some shit. The man I’ve been mentally dating half of my life isn’t in front of me right now, and he damn sure ain’t telling me he finna risk it all for me. Not against his own will at least.”, she stammered.

He raised an eyebrow at her disbelief. His shoulders bounced as his cocky grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “So, you think this is a game? Hmm?” He kneeled down and lifted her chin for her honey brown eyes to meet his calming dark brown eyes. “Talk to me.”

She nodded her head yes. “Show me this isn’t a game.”, she challenged.

“Say less.”

He lifted her chin some more. He went in for the kiss—an offer easily accepted. Jackpot. There was a jolt of electricity between their lips. As their kiss deepened, his hands held gently her neck, lightly brushing against her coarse honey blonde locs. Her arms linked tightly around his neck. His hands scooped under her large ass, picking her up and causing her to break the kiss. Her eyes flew open as she began looking down at the floor. The second time she’d been picked up and the skinny nigga was the one on the cusp of changing her life. Her embrace around Michael’s neck tightened significantly as she braced for an abrupt drop.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”, Michael teased.

“Last time I was picked up, I couldn’t dance for a month. You’re scaring the shit outta me.”, she sputtered.

There went that cocky,raspy laugh. Michael dropped her down and quickly caught her before she could get anywhere near the ground. “Oh, so you scared the skinny nigga can’t hang? C’mon now. You should know I’ve been waiting on you for a minute. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, baby girl. Best believe that.”, he reassured. With that being said, he walked confidently across the room to the couch with his scared thick lawyer in tow, carrying her 200+ pound frame like she was a bag of nothing. That Creed training made him a monster.

He stared into her eyes once again in awe. In such a simple expression, there was enough fire and passion in her eyes to light up the fireplace across the room. He slowly gave her lips more kisses, savoring them like the last of a 5-star meal.

“You got all of these sweet kisses, girl.”, he groaned, “Must’ve been saving them for a special reason or someone.” Not by choice, baby boy.

“I’ve waited for a long time for this”, she chuckled into his lips. Knock knock knock.

Michael’s head dropped and Yaa looked up into the dimmed lights palming her face, both clearly frustrated with the mood-killing visitor at the door.

“Who is it?”, Michael yelled as he re-adjusted his black double-breasted tux and bow tie. He walked towards the door, still awaiting a response.

“Me, nigga!”, the nearly hoarse voice replied defensively.

Michael smacked his teeth and opened the door. “The fuck you want, Steelo?”

“Mannnnn, it’s almost 2015! Folks lookin’ for you an- oh, heyyyyy how you doin’? I’m Steelo.”, he slurred. His attention was suddenly brought to the clearly annoyed Yaa.

“I know who you are. Nice to finally meet you.”, Yaa said.

He redirected his intoxicated “focus” back to his best friend. He’d recognized Yaa. “Hold up, that’s her?”

“Yeah, that’s Khalida, the lawyer. We’ll be out in a sec—”

“—YOOOOOO! She bad as fuck,bruh. Thick too? Niggggggaaaaaaa...I heard them fat jawns be changin’ liv—”

Without saying a word, Michael pushed his drunk best friend out the door like a dolly and locked the door. “Look, he’s drunk as fuck and I’m sorry that h—”, Michael apologized.

Khalida placed two fingers over his lips. “Fat isn’t a bad word. No need to apologize. Now, come on— we have a new year to celebrate.”, she replied.

Michael’s deep dimples and smile stretched across his face as he watched Khalida walk out of the door. “You comin’ or not, Gatsby?”, she teased.

11:09 p.m.

By the time Yaa returned to the action, there were more faces—famous faces—in the crowd. All in attendance were dressed to the nines with their CRISP finger waves, feathers, furs, pearls, and enough cigarette holders for an old Hollywood film. Yaa walked to her VIP section to find her best friend Tanisha lit off of her spirit of choice—Bombay Sapphire gin. Steelo and some of Michael’s other friends had joined her in the booth. Tanisha sashayed to her friend to greet her.

“BIIIIIIITCCCCCCCCHHH! Where the FUCK have you been?”, an impaired Neesh questioned.

“I was talking to Gatsby. You literally saw me leave. Second, I’m finna beat yo ass.”, Khalida yelled over the music.

Tanisha stepped back and put her hands up. “What for?”

“You know why. Gatsby ends up being my childhood crush?! Howwwww in the hell were you able to pull that off?”

“Sis...just know that I got the connect. Now shut up and drink--we gotta New Year to ring in.”

Without further protest, Yaa opened the new bottle of D’usse and poured it into her glass. A few glasses and three tequila shots later, she was feeling nice. Not drunk, but nice, tipsy at most. She’d stepped out of her shell of skepticism and began socializing a lot more.

During the course of the night, Michael and Yaa had been getting cozy with each other. They never left each other’s side. They exchanged flirty looks and “you goods?” When they weren’t refilling cups in the VIP section, they were deep in conversation, topics varied as their sobriety faded away. Then, it happened: his curious hand trailed northbound on her leg. Usually, Yaa would smack the taste out of any man’s mouth for feeling up on her, sober or drunk. But let’s face it: she was feeling him and it was obvious the feeling was mutual. She bit her lip and winked at him in response.

“So we just gon’ pretend like yo whole hand ain’t up my dress?”, Yaa playfully questioned.

“Yup.”, Michael replied with a grin. He was so proud of himself. “Finally able to get my hands on you.”

Yaa rolled her eyes. “Don’t getcha skinny ass hurt fuckin around.”

She got up, leaving him awestruck at her model-like walk.

“10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Gold and silver confetti and balloons fell from the sky. Cheers from every corner of the room paired with the popping of champagne corks. Yaa hugged Tanisha and kissed cheeks in celebration of the New Year. Yaa felt two taps to the right shoulder. Ready to curse, Yaa whipped her body around to see that the tapper was none other than Michael. He rubbed the back of his neck and flashed his smile, revealing his pair of ridiculously adorable deep dimples.

“I-uh...know we kinda just met like an hour and a half ago...but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind having the honor of sharing this New Year’s ki—”. Yaa grabbed him up by his lapel and kissed him passionately, yet drunkenly. She laughed.

“Happy New Year to you too, Kari. Sorry, but I’ve always wanted to call you that.”, she laughed.

1:47 a.m.

Thud. For all it’s worth, Yaa’s back as going to be sore for the next couple of days from the impact of hitting her back against her chest of drawers. She also couldn’t have given half a fuck about her neck or her back. Hell, sis was finally getting dick. The more violent her and Michael’s tongues were becoming in each other’s mouths, the more familiar their hands were becoming with each other’s clothes and bodies. Still focused on his Dom Perignon-flavored kisses, her hands anxiously searched for his belt. But before she could unbuckle his pants, the D’usse demon jumped out. She smirked seductively as she boldly grabbed his print and freed herself from his arms.

“Oh shit.”, he mumbled, “So, you nasty nasty.”

The devilish smirk she gave was all the response he needed. She slowly got on her knees and freed his dick from the constraints of his pants, licking its length on both sides. Her head bobbed to the beat of the music playing in her head. Watching her bob on his dick, he began undoing the bottom of her chignon so that the rest of her hair wouldn’t get in the way of his undoing.

Thud. His head went against the wall as his undoing was becoming apparent. He cursed under his breath and kept his bottom row of teeth tucked underneath his bottom lip to keep from moaning aloud. Yaa would have cared less for his current state. She continued to slurp and coat his rock-hard member with spit. Keeping eye contact, Yaa continued licking him like a melting popsicle. He growled to keep from moaning, along with a chorus of “Shit” being recited under his breath.

Forever came to an end as Yaa slowly got off of her knees. He helped her up, only to be blindsided by her sloppy kisses. She began walking backwards with him towards the king-sized bed but stopped at the edge of the bed.

He placed her on the edge of the bed. Michael kissed her lips gently and slowly began to make his way to her promised land. His kisses became wet as he made his way down to her neck—her spot. He kissed her collarbone tattoo, licked his way down to her large breasts, and paused at her nipples. With his hands now caressing her breast, he wrapped his tongue around her nipple and began sucking with enough pressure to make her moan. While he sucked on her nipple like a pacifier, Michael dropped his hand from hoisting up her other breast and began to timidly creep his fingers down her baby-soft skin and the scrunched fabric of her dress. Feeling his hand touch over her thigh, he began to aggressively pull up the bottom of her dress. There was a slight discoloration created on her skin from the irritation from the material being forced against it, but Michael didn’t stop until the bottom of her dress pooled around her stomach. Once he realized where the material had settled, he pulled his lips from around Yaa’s areola, fixating his eyes on her lower half. Quickly noticing that she was panty-less, he felt a smirk tug at his lips--better--he peered up at his flushed lover. “So that’s how you rollin’, huh?”, he questioned as he slowly rolled his bottom lip underneath his teeth before winking up at Yaa and sinking to his knees. Staring at the awe-striking sight of her glistening folds, Michael admired the intimate view as he could replay the numerous times he tried to capture this very image many a late night.

He pushed her legs further apart until her kneecaps were damn near touching the mattress before trailing his way up her inner thighs. Placing soft, gentle kisses and occasional nibbles against her hot skin, he increased his pressure, making her feel the individual pricks of his coarse facial hair making Yaa a squirmy, wet mess. Timidly reaching her glory, Michael brought his hands up and steadily separated her lower lips with both of his thumbs before pressing his mouth forward. “Looks like someone’s been waiting on me.”, he said with a cocky confidence.

Chest rapidly rising and falling, Yaa couldn’t form a coherent word, phrase, or sentence. She gulped heavily before rolling her head back as Michael’s lips connected to her folds. She gripped the sheets up as his tongue controlled her every move. He finally licked her wet opening with a flat tongue going from the bottom to the top. His tongue was a weapon— it was both long and thick. He licked his name on her bud—slowly torturing her it with every dip, twist, turn, curve, and dot of each letter in his name. He then inserted two of his thick fingers into her opening as he licked the letter "C" and began pumping his fingers at a moderate pace. Desperately panting from his actions, Yaa began to shriek once she felt Gatsby toy with her clit. This raggedy ass nigga finna suck you dry and ain’t shit you can do about it at this point.

His fingers picked up the pace the moment he noticed her unraveling, his tongue explored deeper into her womanhood. She struggled to feel for the nearest pillow, but when she found it, she quasi-covered her mouth to subdue her moans of pleasure.

The sounds of Yaa’s hitched breathing and impending sexual eruption ricocheted throughout the master bedroom. Her back was arched completely off of the bed and she held a firm grasp of his head. If it wasn’t a moan or gasp, Yaa let out a “fuck”, “shit”, or an “Oh Lorddddddd.” Hearing Yaa unravel brought Michael much pleasure—the match to his sexual fire. He occasionally laughed at her undoing; he finally had the object of his affection under his mercy, quivering at his touch. Right as he could feel the pressure change for her release, he pulled his fingers and tongue away from her now swollen bud. She quickly leaned up on her elbows to see why he was stupid enough to pull out right as she was about to release. He smiled maliciously as his soaked fingers neared his mouth. “Nuh-uh. I gotta taste this first, it makes the kisses taste sweeter.”, Michael explained as he slapped her hand away from his. Bitch, no the fuck he didn’t! The two locked eyes as he sucked his two drenched fingers like he’d just ate the last extra wet lemon pepper wing.

He motioned for her to sit up. Before he could even ask, Yaa leaned in to taste her sweet essence on his tongue. A shiver shot down his spine as her candy apple colored nail gently traveled down his back. Their kiss led to Yaa laying on her back once again. Michael bit his lip as he hovered over her. He snatched her by her ankle to the edge of the bed, sliding himself between her legs. “Missionary’s a bold first choice, don’t you think?”, Yaa asked as she handed him a condom. He chuckled, “Nah. I’m just tryna see sumn, that’s all.”

His thumb rubbed against her wet clit as his girthy member slowly entered her tight, slippery entrance. Yaa inhaled sharply as she felt her body tremble and his thick length push against her tight bounds. “Fuck!” She cursed, as she felt him move slow trying to feel each and every ridge of her plush opening. Their fingers intertwined within each other as he went further into her. The lustful gaze into her honey eyes only intensified the overwhelming sensation of euphoria emanating from her core. With her back now arched completely off the bed, her new position gave him more room to dig deeper into her guts. Her mouth was agape as she tried to breathe through her stimulation. His rhythm steadily increased with every stroke.

Watching Yaa’s scrunched facial expression, Michael moved his hands to grip her waist as he quickened his pace. Taking his off of her face for a second to peek at their connection as he smirked at the sticky surface of his and hers wet organs. With the erotic scene unfolding before him, Michael slowly rolled his bottom lip underneath his teeth once the sounds of their moist skin slapping against each other reached his ears. She was helpless—her eyes burned from the tears of pleasure and she struggled to grip onto the gold link chain that dangled from his neck. Her moans and whimpers continued to fuel his drive. Chuckling darkly at her body’s responsiveness he said, “Yea, this is that shit I was talking bout. Just listen to that shit speaking out to me, fuck.” before fluttering his eyes closed and pounding into her.

3:34 a.m.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. The sound of the headboard repeatedly being knocked against the wall served as a light sound buffer to Michael and Yaa’s moaning. Michael’s thick hand applied the perfect amount of pressure around her neck as he continued to deliver those dangerous strokes. Just as they were able to sync their rhythms, he pulled out. This nigga done lost his Black ass mind. She opened her mouth to complain, only to be interrupted by the sudden shift from her back to her tummy. “On your knees. Now.”, he commanded as he smacked her ass. She as she was told—only to be rewarded with the reunion of his lips to her lower lips. No, he didn’t, bitch! The byke?! He eatin’ it from the muhfuckin’ byke?! This is Daddy!! Fuck a Winston,chile. His alternating kissing and sucking on her swollen bud caused her to fall flat on her stomach from the overstimulation. His hand went underneath her to lift her back up. He centered himself before sliding his member back into her. He slowly increased his tempo as he twisted her locs into his fist.

Yaa’s voice was hoarse. Had been hoarse half an hour ago. She had been depleted of any common sense she’d thought she had and was running on adrenaline. Michael, though appearing to be the victor of the night’s bout, was still at odds with his challenger. She was tired but still fighting like hell. He sweated profusely—like a champ battling it out in the 11th round. She wasn’t going down with a fight. He flipped her around one last time. This time, he pinned her legs past her ears—a position that both were surprised by.

“You ain’t tappin’ out?”, he asked between pumps

“Why and you about to tap out yourself? Let’s tap out at the same time since you so damn excited.”, the raspy-voiced Yaa boldly replied.

“Aight, say less.”

He went into overdrive. He quickly moved her legs from near her ears to around his waist. Not even two minutes later, the pair released within seconds of each other,his body collapsing onto hers.

“Don’t move.”, Michael whispered in Yaa’s ear as he tried to get himself together.

She shook her head. “Bitch, I don’t wanna move.” She paused, “Actually, I need to finish wash my face. Move.”

The moment both feet landed on the ground, gravity betrayed her. Her knee gave out, causing to limp and almost fall. Thankfully, Michael’s body was turned away from her. After returning from the bathroom, she limped to the bed. Oh, heating pads are the move all day today. This was the beginning of something different, and what a way to begin a new beginning than on New Year’s Day?

A/N: Yeah, sorry for the trash ending. I got too impatient.

I’m in the kitchen, TAGS ERRYWHERE!

@muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @eriknutinthispoosy @whoramilaje @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @forgottenthoughtsandmemories @bartierbakarimobisson @wakandan-flowerz @blackpantherreblogs @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @washyourlinens @turn-thy-paige @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @dramaqueenamby @oshasimone @destinio1 @teheeboo @sarahboseman @iamrheaspeaks @ljstraightnochaser @chaneajoyyy @thememoireeofme @lovelynervouschaos @cay-cah @coonflix @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @great-neckpectations @jellybean531 @yofavcocoa @storibambino @maya-leche @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @texasbama @certifiednatural @abeautifulmindexposed

#thefonderseries #winston x yaa #winston duke x oc #destinedtobeduke #dukeandthedoctor

[yaachtynoboat711]

Fonder Ch.1

A/N: It’s finally here! Welcome to the series premiere of Fonder. Apparently, y’all were excited as hell for this series, which forced me to write my ass off and force myself to stick to angst. This is definitely going to be much longer than At First Glance was. If you have any feedback, please free to talk to me in either my asks, my messages, or in the notes. Don’t forget to reblog and like!

Warning(s): Angst, Our faves separating, a few typos(?)

Word Count: 1.6K

June 20, 2014, 2:37 PM

Manhattan, New York

New acting endeavors and opportunities called for Winston to decide to make the move to Los Angeles. The success of his Law & Order: SVU episode made him a hot item for more exposure (as it should’ve). With a few more days until his big move, he wanted to show his girlfriend Khalida the final draft of his talent agency contract. Though she wasn’t by any stretch an entertainment lawyer, she understand the deceptive language of contracts and how to counter the finesse. So much so that the final draft of the contract was actually the sixth draft. No one was bullshitting Winston Christopher Duke and his career as long as she was “Black and breathing” as she always said.

She entered his Manhattan apartment as she always did: ringing the doorbell as she unlocked the door with her key. Before she could announce herself , she was sidetracked by the various moving boxes that littering the apartment floor. Pictures and posters that sat or hung throughout the apartment were packed up, making the main room feel much bigger than it was. The furniture had already been sent to his new space in Los Angeles. Winston walked into the living room to meet his girlfriend.

“Hey, you.”, Winston said as he stepped over two boxes to pepper her lips with two kisses.

“Hey,Mr. Hollywood! I didn’t even know your place was this big. You look like you’re ready to go today.”, she laughed as she returned his kisses, “You got that final draft for me?”.

“Of course.” He ran back to his room and returned with a thick stack of papers.

She rested her elbows on the kitchen counter carefully read every page of the contract,occasionally shaking her head or making comments to herself.

“Perfect. Gone ahead and sign. I also came to turn my key in. I’ll be in court when you leave so I came to say that I’ll miss our New York/D.C. weekend excursions and complaining to you about these cold ass days.”, she noted as she looked down and toyed with her keys.

“Well, funny you say that. I was trying to figure out how to ask…”

She sat up from the kitchen counter. “Ask what, Chris?” She helped herself to the second to last Naked Green Machine juice in the bare fridge.

“Ask if you could move in with me?” Silence.

She choked on the juice. Her eyebrows furrowed and a corner of her lip drew into her mouth as though she was processing what Winston just asked her.

“Move to where?”, she responded.

His face turned. “Khalida, be serious. For once.”

“For once?! Fuck you mean for once? You the one asking stupid ass questions and you’re telling me to ‘be serious for once’? On muvas, you trippin.”

“Excuse me? I’m the one asking stupid questions?”

“Hopefully, you’re the only person I’m talking to right now. I can’t move, Winston. We’ve gone over this, yet you don’t wanna listen. What happened to us maintaining the long-distance relationship?”

Winston pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “Because…”, he began, “I feel like this’ll be easier for us to stay together and bond.”

She stared at him with a confused look on her face. “So what the hell have we been doing for the past seven months then? Hmm?”

“I just feel like we can take our relationship to the next lev—“

“—We just started dating. You’re talking about the next level and we’re barely in through the first level. It’s not gonna happen,Chris.”, she shrugged. He walked across the room closer to Khalida.

“Why not,Yaa?”, he exhaled sharply.

“I can’t leave D.C. right now, Chris: I just started my career! Hell, the ink on the lease hasn’t even dried completely, Kimya and I finally are gaining some clientele, and even if I weren’t just starting a few months ago, California’s the last state I’ll ever move to. At least in my right mind.”

“What are you saying?”, Winston scoffed.

“Honey, lemme break it down for you: I’m a lawyer. In order to legally practice law, I have to be barred in insert state or commonwealth here. While there are a handful of states that have a Universal Bar Exam, Cali ain’t one of them. The California State Bar is the hardest bar exam in the country and I’m simply not taking that shit. You’ve decided as an actor that the best move for you and your future is to be closer to the action in Los Angeles. My work is in DC; moving would defeat the purpose. I can’t just stop what I’m still figuring out for someone else.”

He shook his head, “So this has to be easiest decision you’ve ever made, I see. Choosing your career over us? Is this what you’re doing?” He paced the floor.

Khalida pushed off the kitchen counter and walked closer to Winston, “First off, don’t ever do that. You have a career to nurture and grow and so do I. I’m not your possession. Pussy don’t pay the bills,Wins.”,she hissed.

“You still didn’t answer my question, Khalida. Are you choosing your career over us?”

“Why can’t I? Apparently, you’ve done the same and it’s no issue for you. I can’t just drop my career and my purpose for no reason at all. You know what? I gotta catch my train in an hour. Traffic’s a whore, y’know?”

Khalida walked towards the front door, stepping over the moving boxes in her path. Sensing her sincerity, he began running behind her.

“Khalida, if you walk out of that door, consider us done.”, his shaky voice commanded.

Her head whipped around. “Come again?!”

“I said...if you walk out of that door, Khalida, consider us finished.”

Khalida’s bottom lip quivered and tears began falling down her face as she slowly closed the door. Still facing the door, she inhaled deeply. She slowly turned around walked towards Winston, who was now standing in the former dining area. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. Afterwards, she held his hands in hers, placing her key in his palm.

“What’s wrong, baby? Wh-What are you doing? Don’t do this to me, Khalida, please. I love you so much.”, Winston pleaded. His words choked him and he sensed an unsettling feeling come over him. The conclusion.

“I’m so sorry. We need to take some time to ourselves and build our careers and ourselves up. We've gone too fast in such a small window of time. I think for the preservation of us that we should take a break.”, she cupped his face into her hands.

Tears began to well up in Winston’s eyes, “A break? I thought you said you’d be here for me every step of the way.”

“Here isn’t exclusive to the physical, Wins. No matter what happens, I’ll always be here and here.” She pointed at his forehead and heart. “Moreover, you need to be there for yourself. This is what you were made to do. I’m still gonna cheer you on. Plus, I’d rather the plane malfunction on the ground than 10,000 feet in the air.”

The latter part of Khalida’s words hit Winston like a ton of bricks. She said the exact same thing back in New Orleans after Carrie disclosed their inevitable separation. Carrie and Khalida’s words replayed in his subconscious all the time. He never wanted to think about separating from the love of his life. Moreover, he didn’t want to think about how easy it was for Khalida to let go so easily (or so he thought).

Before she walked out of the door, she turned around one last time. “Is this truly what you want,Winston?”, she asked softly.

Winston pondered on her question. He didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t let go. But if it meant saving their special bond, then by all means. He nodded with hesitation. She reluctantly accepted his non-verbal response.

“Okay.”, her voice broke barely above a whisper. She turned around one final time and walked out of the door. “We’ll be back together, I promise.”

When she closed the door, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Seven months worth of memories quickly replayed in her mind. The intimate moments stuck out more. The realization of their end hit her like a truck. “Oh, God.”, she said to herself as her hands rested on her knees to keep her from falling over. Her grief overwhelmed her; the tears released and so too her anger. She was angry with herself for allowing a stupid prophecy for separating them. Before she could allow her spirit of lamentation to further consume her, she ran down the hallway to the elevator.

He was incensed. He was mad at everything and everyone. Mad at Yaa for letting a suggestion tear them apart. Mad as hell with Carrie for even fixing her wicked mouth to even suggest a separation in the first fucking place. Mostly, he was pissed with God for allowing any and all of this to happen. Tears quickly fell from his face as he too lamented over his sudden loss. There was now a void in his heart. He held on to what was left of Yaa: her key. Suddenly, he shot up from his seated position on the floor and chucked the key at the wall. All of the anger,hurt, and confusion went into that one throw. He fell to the ground as his pain grew stronger.

Carrie was right: it was doomed to happen, but only time would tell if absence would make their hearts grow fonder.

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#thefonderseries #winston duke x oc #dukeandthedoctor #winston duke imagine #winston x yaa

[yaachtynoboat711]

Fonder Ch. 5

A/N: Oh, boy! I’ve personally been waiting on doing this chapter. There’s a bit of a curve ball in our favorite couple’s journey back together. If y’all thought y’all hated me in Chapter 1, then get ready for this chapter. 😘😘😘

Word Count: 2.2K

Warning(s): Slow burn, plot progression, few errors/typos

The months following Yaa’s most recent encounter with her ex-boyfriend left her more hurt and emotionally distant than before. She didn’t go out like she usually did; her nights out were substituted with take out and binge-watching movies and TV shows. She wasn’t as bubbly as she usually was. In an attempt to distract herself from her pain, she turned to her drug of choice: work. At any given moment, Yaa was more than likely working if she weren’t sleeping or eating. She took on a heavier workload and miraculously met success with the cases she worked on. As the year came to a close, Yaa had realized that her year had been trash. She lost the love of her life over some fuck shit and realized that her love life, if you could even call it that, was a joke.

Everyone around Yaa hated to see her in such a sad state. She’d said she was fine but everyone knew she was suffering. So much so, her family surprised her for Christmas in D.C. and stayed with her for a week. While the surprise visit definitely boosted her spirits, she continued working her frustrations out. She’d felt played—she’d allowed the supposed love of he life to take advantage of their relationship twice. She was physically, emotionally,and spiritually tired.

Her luck changed with a call from Tanisha one afternoon.

“Clear your schedule for New Year’s Eve: you got invited to the Black Gatsby soirée by Mr. Gatsby himself.”, Tanisha stated in a matter of fact.

Yaa took the phone away from her ear and stared at it, fully aware of Tanisha’s distant voice calling her name. “Girl, what?”

“You heard me. Mr. Gatsby has invited yo fine ass to the Black soirée on New Year’s Eve.”

“Mr. Gatsby? Bitch, you know he’s a fictional white character from a book,right? Not just any book—my favorite book. Francis Scott Fitzgerald would somersault in his grave if he knew a Black man was tryna play his character.”

Tanisha snorted. “I know. For the sake of anonymity, that’s what he’s referring to himself as. Just come to Cali and live ,bitch. I’m sick of seeing you all sad and overworked and shit. You deserve more; you’re 24 and full of life. Ring in the new year with a refreshing turn up. Live a little, bitch. I’ll be calling again this week to make sure you’re coming.” Beep beep beep.

Yaa spent the rest of that day thinking about what Tanisha said. Who was Mr. Gatsby? What did he want her ? Finding out his identity and his motives were the least of her worries. As rough as her year was, she deserved to party like it was 1922. Live a little, bitch.

———

Yaa spent the next month speculating who this Mr. Gatsby character could be. He’d sent many gifts On what would’ve been her and Winston’s first anniversary, Gatsby sent 3 dozen of her favorite roses— pink, white, and yellow— to her office with a note:

You deserve more today. Think not of what should be, but what is now.—JG

For Christmas, Gatsby sent Yaa a gold circle necklace with a single pearl dangling from the middle of the circle. Same note. These grandiose gestures left Yaa shook: she’d been out-extra’d by an anonymous admirer. She immediately ruled Winston out because he just wasn’t a frivolous spender and though he was being a fuck nigga at the moment, he was too humble to even think about doing all the things Gatsby had done for and sent her.

Tuesday, December 30, 2014, Malibu, California

Matt picked Yaa up from the airport per usual. On the way to Malibu, he picked Tanisha up as well. While en route to the house, Tanisha caught Matt up with the tea involving his ex-turned-best friend.

“Wait...so there’s a secret admirer...calling himself ‘Gatsby’...only communicates through Neesh...and is inviting you to a New Year’s party?! What the hell?”, Matt recalled.

“Well, I’ll say this: she knows who he is, but he’s not giving up his identity just yet.”, Tanisha suggested. Yaa’s neck whipped to look at Tanisha’s smirking face; she wasn’t lying.

“So, it’s not Wins? Confirmed?”, Yaa asked.

“I’m absolutely, positively certain it’s not Winston, sis. Buhlee dat!”, Tanisha assured.

Something told Yaa to check her mailbox. True, she didn’t have reasons to have mail after being away from her Malibu home for not even two months, but it never hurt to look. When she looked inside, she was met with a matte black envelope. The words “ Khalida Y.D. Abdullah, Esq.” were beautifully calligraphed on the front of the envelope in gold ink. She turned the envelope to see “JG” stamped in gold wax. Homeboy puttin’ in that work. Before she opened the envelope, she noticed a medium-sized box wrapped in a similar matte black wrapping paper.

“Boy, this nigga tryna gift you clean out yo draws, I see.”, Matt observed as he picked the box up for Yaa, scaring her.

“You sound a pinch jealous, Griff.”, Yaa teased.

Matt rolled his eyes, “Whatever. I gave you the world and a Super Bowl ring, woman. Remember that.”

“Correction: you gave me one of my two rings. Don’t play with me.”, she playfully snapped back, kissing his nose as he walked into the house with the box.

He gently sat the box in front of Yaa’s usual spot on her L-shaped sectional. Tanisha finally joined Matt and Yaa in the living room and took notice of Gatsby’s packages. Yaa kicked the box over on its side.

“The hell you do that for?!”, Tanisha demanded.

“Bitch, this coulda been a well packaged pipe bomb for all its worth.”, Yaa answered.

Tanisha wagged her finger at her best friend. “Somebody needs to ban Forensic Files from your Netflix queue.”

Yaa rolled her eyes as she began opening the envelope. Whoever was responsible for the letter was very abreast to detail. The letter was typed on a typewriter, a personal bonus for Yaa as she was the proud owner of a vintage typewriter.

Yaa--

By the time you read this letter, you will already be back in sunny California. Also, if you are reading this letter, then you have instinctively followed directions. In the box is a special gift for tomorrow night; I hope you enjoy them. Secondly, upon your and Ms. Holloway’s arrival, there will be two attendants escorting you to your VIP section. The people at the door will know exactly who are. When you go to coat check, ask the attendant for directions to “The Pit”. Upon your question, you’ll be taken to through the VIP entrance. Your access code word is bubbly. Can’t wait to see you.

JG

The Pit? That sounds familiar. Hella familiar. Yaa moved to the box. The matte black wrapping paper was too pretty destroy, but fuck it. Her eyes shot open when she saw silver strappy heels in the box. “Oooh, this’ll go perfectly with my dress for tomorrow!”, she yelled out. The turn-up countdown had commenced.

NEW YEAR’S EVE

Tanisha and Yaa had a sleepover and went straight into preparation mode for the evening when they woke up that afternoon. After getting their hair and makeup done, the two returned to Yaa’s house to change. “Sis, can you zip me up?”, Yaa yelled as she sashayed to the other side of the hall. Tanisha responded back that she was coming but then stopped and began to whistle at her best friend’s floor-length dusty rose gown. The embellishments gave the gown a modern Gatsby remix. She wore the silver shoes Gatsby sent. Her locs were styled into a curly chignon and accessorized with a pearl headpiece.

“My goodness, Yaa!”, Tanisha complimented.

“Why, thank you, old sport.”, the two shared a laugh.

Mr. Gatsby sent a 1921 Rolls Royce to Yaa’s front door. Mr. Collins drove the two friends to the party’s location--an art gallery? Mr. Collins wished the girls a good night and happy new year as he pulled off. “ AN ART GALLERY?!”, the two squeaked in unison.

The art gallery was like any modern art gallery: polished light hardwood floors, white walls, semi-dimmed lighting and enough colored canvases to stir up many a conversation. There was a lively gathering taking place in the gallery, making the journey towards the back of the gallery less suspicious. Yaa and Tanisha made a beeline to the back stairwell. Gatsby warned Yaa that there’d be a bodyguard armed with a riddle-like question that only she would know the answer to before they could go down descending flight of stairs, the pair was stopped by a bodyguard in a tailored suit.

“Wait a minute, ladies. You can’t go down there.”, the bodyguard bluntly stated. Before Tanisha could tell the bodyguard about himself, Yaa covered her mouth. “Gatsby knows who we are.”, Yaa assured. The bodyguard shook his head. “Suuure...tell me, Doc, how you want that pit beef sandwich?” How dare he challenge my trivia. “Medium rare, extra horseradish, dummy.” The guard nodded and let them pass.

After knocking on the dark door four times, it opened to a dimmer foyer. The coat check attendant, a bubbly young woman, turned to them. “Whatcha need, sweetheart?”, she asked taking a sip from her martini glass.

“Can you show me how to get to the Pit?”, Yaa asked. The attendant nodded her head towards the other coats, “Right this way”. The two friends walked behind the counter, where the attendant pointed into the coats.

“Happy new year, ladies”, the attended said as she pulled some of the fur coats away from each other, revealing a door and opening it.

The other side of the door was the rabbit hole to a fucking circus. Beautiful Black bodies donned their Cotton Club’s best. The biggest names in entertainment, sports, and music made this chocolate El Dorado their haven. The blue and purple backlights provided just enough light to highlight the various shades of melanin against their outfit. The guests on the dancefloor in an almost ritualistic unison to the musical drug the DJs hooked them onto. The two attendants escorted Yaa and Tanisha past the many 8-person tables full of people hypothesizing on who they thought Gatsby was.

Further down to the right was the bar. The purple backlit shelves displayed the finest and rarest spirits anyone could legally obtain. Scattered around the club were about 15 cigarette girls and hostesses distributing drinks and hors d'oeuvres. The pair had finally arrived to their VIP section: a semi-circle couch with a hookah on the small table, all cloaked underneath a sheer white canopy.

Everyone in attendance left their inhibitions and year-long worries at coat check. With the year Yaa had had, she deserved first dibs for dancefloor access. A wild break-up, major career moves,two emotional breakdowns and surviving her first year of practicing law summarized Yaa’s 2014. There was no way in hell she would go into 2015 and her 25th year of life stressed. Her longing to go on the dancefloor was finally satisfied when the DJ began playing The 2 Live Crew’s “Hoochie Mama”. The two friends gave each other the all-knowing, pre-ratchetry look before running out and strolling to one of their shared ratchet hymns. Yaa strolled her worries off; her smile widened the happier she got.

At the song’s end, the two laughed their way back to their section.

“Tonight has been too surreal and it’s just...10:19.”, Tanisha commented.

“It’s just 10:19?!”, Yaa whipped her phone out to confirm the time. It was now 10:20. But, there was also a message sent from Winston Duke about 45 minutes ago: “I wanna go into this New Year on a clean slate. Let’s talk over lunch. 1:30? Shoot me a suggestion or three.”

Before Yaa could internalize her ex’s text, she felt a physical presence looming over her. She was spooked by a medium-built, average height,brown-skinned brother with a fade. His black eyes were striking, yet welcoming. They reflected blue from the club lights.

“Dr. Abdullah?”, he inquired loud enough to be heard over the blaring music.

“Speaking?”, she answered back.

“Mr. Gatsby would like to see you now.” Yaa’s stomach nosedived into her back and her palms began to sweat.

“O-ok.”, she stood and began walking with the man.

Yaa was escorted through a door that led into a dark hallway. The hallway was dark except for the light that passed through the four frosted glass doors on either side of the hallway. At the very end of the hallway was a solid wood door. Yaa was let in by the man and was left alone in the modest office.

“Please, have a seat.”, a raspy yet familiar voice suggested. He continued his cell phone conversation. The back of the chair was towards Yaa.

“Yeah...right. Uh huh? Tell Cross I’m not taking an-y-thing less than 140. Oh, of cour—right. Well, my guest has finally arrived. Alright, give Erin my love. Yeah, happy new year to you and yours as well. Buh-bye.” He hung up the phone. “Forgive me and my inconsideration for your presence, Dr. Abdullah. People are really tryna conduct business with folks when there’s maybe two hours left in 2014. Damn, shame.”, he said reaching for the chilled bottle of Dom Perignon. Upon hearing his voice, Yaa nearly doubled over from shock; all the clues were coming together. Pit beef sandwiches? The Pit? No wonder everything sounded so familiar. It was Baltimore.

The gentleman finally stood up from out of his chair and sat on the desk, placing the glasses next to him and winking at Yaa. Suave ass negro. “I’m certain you’re surprised to see me.”

Her shoulders bounced as she chuckled to herself. “That, I am, Mr. Gatsby. Ooh, I’m killing Tanisha when I see her.”

The Tag List is the Bee’s Knees!

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#thefonderseries #winston x yaa #dukeandthedoctor #winston duke imagine

[yaachtynoboat711]

Fonder Ch. 3

A/N: Hopefully, this isn’t as angsty as the previous chapters have been. I have become a monster 😭😭😭. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy. Enjoy the houseclaim link too.

Word Count: 1966

Warning(s): Angst, slow burn

Friday, September 12, 2014, Los Angeles, California, 9:35 a.m., Winston’s Apartment

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Fuck. Already?”, Winston muttered to himself as he slowly twisted his body to shut the alarm off. Nearly three months after his breakup with Yaa and he still wasn’t used to not being greeted with a funny text of some sorts from her. No funny voicemail or meme to start the day off with. Fuck, I miss her.

His phone buzzed; it was from Michelle, his new girlfriend of almost a month and a half. She was sweet and caring, but not Yaa by a long shot. They kinda just met—no bells and whistles. They met at a coffee shop when he was filming for Person of Interest. She was coming to town for a few weeks for an assignment. As a freelance journalist, she didn’t have a choice to pick or choose what assignment to take.

“Hey, you.”, Winston answered.

“How are you, honey?”, she replied.

“Just waking up. Have you boarded yet?”

“They’re about to close the door. Calling you to remind you that my flight gets here at 2:35 and—“

“—and you want me to pick you up? I was actually thinking about letting you hang out at the airport for a few while I got dinner ready.”, he suggested nonchalantly.

“What? Winston,no! Why would you do that? You don’t want me there or something?”, she squeaked.

“Geez, Michelle, r e l a x. I was kidding! Can’t take a joke?”, he answered defensively. Michelle definitely wasn’t Yaa. By now, Yaa would’ve cussed him completely out before adding, “That’s why I’ll get some old dick or my side nigga to come get me, since you playin’ so goddamn muhfuckin’ much.” Yup, Khalida was a Carolina reaper and Michelle was a bell.

“Ok. I’ll call you when I land. Talk you then!” The phone clicked.

“Damn,bye.”, he said as he locked his phone.

After he showered, he walked into kitchen to hear Power 106 playing “Tuesday”. His song at the moment. Bop and bop, he danced without a care in the world. He’d had a productive week after all: he’d just returned from New York for more work, met his audition quote for the month, and folded his clothes the moment they came out of the dryer. He was long overdue for a haircut, but hey, he wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

Since it was Friday, he had laxed schedule: gym, pick Michelle up, date at the house, take her to her hotel, and possibly watch some TV or Netflix.

But, since he had time before going to the gym, he was going out for a run.

4:27 p.m., Vons

Going to the gym before running bus errands was probably the dumbest decision he’d made in a minute. His thighs were still on fire and so were his arms. Dumbass. He sat in Vons’ parking lot for a breather and to Google what wine goes with lemon chicken piccata. Yaa had taught him the basics of wine pairing, but advanced pairings weren’t quite his forte. Sauvignon blanc. Bet.

Winston confidently walked into Vons ready to conquer the wine and spirits aisle. He got a little too overzealous; he went to the wrong aisle. When he finally made it to the right one, he just about had a heart attack. Is that—nah. She wouldn’t be out here. Lemme go over one more aisle and come through the other way to get a better look. He tussled with the idea that she would be in California, but then again, what other copper loc’d, Alabama crimson and houndstooth wearing, thick Black woman would be in Malibu? It is Khalida.

He conjured up the perfect plan: she was glued to her phone (when wasn’t she?), so he would intentionally bump into her cart so she could look up. Here goes nothing.

He got closer to the middle of the aisle, taking his box of cereal out of his hand basket. He bumped into her, causing his cereal to fall from his grip and her her phone.

“Goodness, I am so so sorry. I need to stop driving distrac—”, she finally looked up and her eyes immediately bugged out, dropping the box of cereal. “Winston?! Wh-wh...What are you do-doing out in Malibu?”, she tried searching for words. Winston chuckled deeply.

“It’s nice to see you, too, K.D.”, he said unenthusiastically. “The question is: what are you doing in California?”

The two hugged deeply. Three months apart and the spark was still there. They both took in each other’s scents and finally separated.

One thing he definitely noticed about her was that she was taking of her self. Fresh re-twist and color? Check. Skin cleared up? Most def. Been to the gym? Had she?! She was thicker, yet toned. Her ex-boyfriend had to be responsible. My God from Zion, she still looks like an image of beauty.

“Well, not even a week after we broke up, Kimya and I get a call saying we’d been invited to work out here in L.A. on this secret project. It’s due October 20th and we’re leaving November 1st. How’s LA been treating you?”

“I’ve been back in New York actually filming Person of Interest. I think I recalled you watching it at some point.” Why couldn’t I have just waited?!

“Word? I stopped watching after the first season if we’re keeping it a hunnit. How big of a role are we talking?”, she crossed her arms in anticipation of his answer.

He was ready to brag now. “I can’t say much, but it’s a pivotal role in the season’s progression. I’m playing someone totally opposite of myself.” He was feeling himself; he sported a full grin. “You look good. Working out?” Yes, God, she is. Blessed be.

She noticed him staring at her slightly toned but oh so edible thighs. Her calves were more defined. Thanks to dancing and working out with Matt, she was physically in the best shape of her life.

“I have, actually. Thanks for noticing.” She jokingly struck a pose. “ANYWAYS, I gotta go because I got oxtails braising on the stove and that’s the only thing that should be braising when I get back.” Oxtail?!?! Surely, that’s not just for her. Has to be Matt. Lucky bastard. She picked up the wine she came in for.

“That’s what I came for, too. I have a uh...date tonight and I just googled what to get in the parking lot.” They laughed.

Even though she laughed, he could sense her energy shift.

“A date?! Who’s the lucky winner?”, she asked.

“Her name is Michelle. She’s a freelance writer. You seeing anybody?” He asked with bated breath.

Khalida nodded and covered her mouth as she processed the new information. “A freelance writer? Nice.” Her energy reverted. “And to answer your question, nope. This project gotcha girl swamped. I don’t have time to entertain a relationship.”, she was partially lied. I'm surprised she didn’t pull anyone the week after our relationship. I’m amazed Matt hasn’t scooped her up.

Winston looked down at his watch. “Shit! I gotta go start dinner. Before I go, here’s my new number. It was nice seeing you.” He gave her his new number and they exchanged addresses before they hugged one last time and traveled their separate ways.

Deep down, he wanted to just scoop her up and drown her in kisses, but he still had to go home to Michelle.

“Hey, Wins.”, she called out, walking back towards the end of the aisle. He quickly snapped his head around.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be a stranger.”

He lowered his head and laughed. “I won’t. I promise.”

8:36 p.m., Winston’s apartment

He replayed that in his head over and over again. Why did I just let her go like that? For some reason, he decided to play an Apple Music break-up playlist . Of all the songs that aided him with the agonizing break-up, only one spoke to him: She’s Out of My Life by Michael Jackson. Michael Jackson was Khalida’s all-time favorite artist (second was Beyoncé), so the pain stung a tad more. She kinda hated that song because she wanted to know, in her exact words,“who the fuck would hurt my good dawg Mike the way they did. Punk ass bitch. ” The thought of Khalida cursive a hypothetical person out 35 years after the fact always made him cackle. Even though the song came out in 1979, Michael was speaking to Winston’s exact to situation.

It’s out of my hands

It’s out of my hands

To think for [seven months] she was here

And I took her for granted, I was so cavalier

Now the way that it stands, she’s out of my hands.

So I learned that love's not possession

And I learned that love won’t wait

Now I’ve learned that love needs expression

But I learned too late

Winston stared off into the abyss, deep within his thoughts, and tears staining his face as the song looped for what seemed like an eternity. It was true: he sorta realized that he was being possessive about their love and that love wouldn’t wait. Damn Khalida for being right the whole time. Damn Carrie for throwing that stupid prophecy over their heads and ultimately being right. Damn Michael Jackson for making this song especially for him. But mostly, damn himself for allowing himself for pursuing a woman out of his league like Yaa. She was walking Black Girl Magic and he didn’t deserve to be in the same room as her, yet alone call himself her boyfriend.

He could hear his phone ringing in the other room. He let it ring and it rang once more before he got up to answer it.

He took the phone off the charger and saw 2 missed calls from his mom. Shit,shit shit. He tapped on the notification with the quickness; she quickly answered.

“Winston, my son, I called you twice. I began to worry.”, his mom opened.

“I know, I’m sorry,mum. I was in another room. Everything ok?”, he answered.

“I should be asking you the same question. I’ve been worried about you lately.” She could sense something was wrong with her youngest born. “I called because I’m worried about you.”

He sat up. “Wh-what? Why?”

“I sense an emptiness in your voice and in your spirit, Winston.”

“An emptiness?”

“Yes, my child, an emptiness. Like someone stripped away something precious.”

“I...I couldn’t honestly tell you. I may just be homesick and missing you.”

He wasn’t totally wrong, but neither was he telling the whole truth. While he was adjusting to the rapid LA pace and lifestyle as the “new normal”, part of that new normal was adjusting to his life without Khalida. It was rough, but he was managing.

“Well, just know that I’m praying for you. I don’t know what it is that void, but whatever it may be, don’t allow to rob you of the joy God has blessed you with, eh? It is my prayer that you find peace and comfort. I want you to have a full and complete life, ok? I love you.”, she said.

He flicked away the tear that fell. “I love you,too.”

Leave it to his mother to say what needed to be said without actually knowing what was actually going on. He sat at the edge of the bed, thinking about how much growth and maturity that needed to take place in his life. Khalida mentioned it before their break-up and she was right. Both of them needed to grow before they could be together again. The repairs on the plane were in its beginning stages.

Tag List, You’re Doing Amazing ,Sweetie.

@muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @eriknutinthispoosy @whoramilaje @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @bartierbakarimobisson @wakandan-flowerz @blackpantherreblogs @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @washyourlinens @turn-thy-paige @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @theunsweetenedtruth @dramaqueenamby @destinio1 @sonofnjobu @teheeboo @chefjessypooh @sarahboseman @iamrheaspeaks @chaneajoyyy @fonville-designs @supersizemeplz @starryeyedsav @lovelynervouschaos @cay-cah @coonflix @katasstrophey @foxfables @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @great-neckpectations @jellybean531 @yofavcocoa @storibambino @maya-leche @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @texasbama @abeautifulmindexposed

#thefonderseries #winston x yaa #dukeandthedoctor #winston duke x oc #winston duke imagine

[yaachtynoboat711]

Fonder Ch. 4

A/N: Aight so boom: I hope y’all are enjoying this series so far. It’s definitely pushing me out of my fluffy comfort zone. Thanks to everyone who I’ve annoyed had be my third pair of eyes and offered suggestions for these chapters. I appreciate y’all big time. Also, I apologize for the two-week gap between the chapters. I just started school after a semester break, so I’m trying to get adjusted and find my rhythm. Thanks in advance for being patient!

Word Count: ~2.9K (a hair lengthy)

Warning(s): Angst, slow burn, plot progression

Thursday, October 23, 2014, 2:19 p.m., Elements Natural Hair Boutique, Los Angeles

Since she was finally finished with the nearly four month long legal project, Yaa now had a little over a week left in sunny California to do whatever she wanted. Tonight was her self-appointed reward for knocking the project out of the park and earning more clients. The Los Angeles chapter of the Black Yale Alumni Association was hosting their annual fundraising gala. All the BYAA chapters hosted their events the same weekend, the Connecticut event being the flagship event. Around this time last year, Yaa was preparing her ensemble for the Black Ball, totally oblivious to the fact that she would meet her soulmate at the Ball. What a difference a year makes.

“So, who are you taking as your plus one tonight?”, her loctician Nadia inquired as she intricately palm-rolled Yaa’s copper hued locs.

“Matt.”, Yaa announced giving a smirk as she kept reading the latest issue of Essence Magazine. Nadia’s eyebrows went up as she smirked.

“Damn hussy. Speaking of exes, how’s it going with you and Island Boy?”

“Things are getting...better.”

Since her breakdown, Khalida had seen a therapist. Her therapist recommended that for her sake,it’d be best to talk to Winston and try to establish a sturdy friendship. They planned to meet the afternoon after the Yale gala.

“Word? I’m happy for you, sis. Even more, you deserve someone in your life. Shit, you got the personality, smarts, and the looks to have niggas running over each other to get to you.”

Yaa spent the time under the dryer to think about what her loctician said. Her deep thoughts were interrupted with an incoming FaceTime call from Matt.

“Hey, lil ugly.”, Matt playfully chided.

“Well, if it isn’t the NECKS big thing in football. What’s good?”, Yaa snapped back. Matt’s jaw dropped when he finally processed her insult.

“Damn, fuck you, Khay. Anyways, I called to see where we would get ready at? My house or yours?” She almost didn’t hear the last question because she was snickering so.

“Well, according to the GPS, it’s in Calabasas, so I’ll be coming to you. My makeup cases are in the car now and I’m picking my dress up on the way.”

Matt shook his head, “Say less, ma. You getting those serpents tamed for the gala, I see.” He thought that the funniest thing in the world. Before he could say anything else, she hung up. I ain’t got time for his no-neck having ass.

5:00 p.m., Calabasas, California, Matt’s House

Yaa was welcomed into Matt’s spacious mansion with the sounds of hip-hop bouncing off the walls and an excited Matt embracing her.

“You look like you getting ready to fight somebody.”, Matt commented as he took the garment bag from his ex-girlfriend’s arms. She wore her smaller black bonnet, along with a Tuskegee shirt, black yoga capris, and Birkenstock’s.

“And you look like you can’t change a goddamn pillowcase. I keep telling you to leave well enough alone, Griffith.”, she replied as she gave him the “Who gon check me, boo?” look. He shook his head as he led her upstairs to his bathroom.

——

The lion-like revving of Matt’s Karma Revero engine could be heard all along the winding Calabasas back road he decided to take to the gala. He effortlessly finessed the bends and sharp turns of the road in an effort to impress Yaa. He’d had the car for not even a month and was already showing off. He occasionally glanced at the meal that sat in his passenger seat.

“I think I already told you, but you lookin’ hella delicious, ma.”, Matt complimented.

“Why, thank you, Matthew. I try to be as fresh as you.”, she humbly replied.

He took her hand into his and smiled before kissing it. “What’s that perfume you got on? It’s intoxicating.”

“Your cologne.”, she stated bluntly. The two looked at each other and laughed obnoxiously.

“You never cease to amaze me after all these years, Khay. I’m gonna miss you when you leave.”

“Nigga, I ain’t dying. Ima be around when and if I can. R E L A X.”

8:49 p.m., Calabasas Country Club

If you didn’t know that this was an alumni fundraising gala, most would assume that it was an actual Hollywood event. The sound of camera shutters, camera people shouting at those melanated beings gracing the carpet, and the numerous interviews being conducted at the end of the carpet set the vibe of the night. Once again: Black Excellence.

Matt parked his car in front of the country club, he tossed the keys to the valet before reaching for his velvet maroon blazer. Before the valet driver could get in, he stopped him. “Hold on, boss. I got precious cargo in the passenger seat.” He ran over to Yaa’s side where he slowly opened her door. She offered her hand and he helped her out of the car, gathering her train with his other hand.

The BLUE carpet went up the moment Matt Griffith and his date walked onto the carpet. He held Yaa close to him by her waist as they went down the carpet once more as a duo.  She followed suit by tickled his side, causing him to laugh.

“You gon stop, ma’am.”, he warned as she joined in his laughter.

————

Winston was wary of bringing Michelle to the gala. Not because she wasn’t Black, but he was nervous Yaa would show up looking like God’s divine example of perfection. For the small amount of time Winston and Michelle dated, he never divulged the details of his previous relationship with her. For one, it still hurt to talk about the biggest mistake he’d ever made; and two, he feared Michelle would get extremely jealous. Truthfully, Winston hoped Yaa would be there; he wanted to talk and possibly get closure.

“Winston, is Lupita coming?”, Michelle asked shaking Winston out of his thoughts.

“Uhhh...last I checked, she should be here now.”, he replied.

“Is your mysterious ex coming?”

He throat tightened and palms began to sweat. “I doubt it; she’s in D.C. by now. Why?”

“I mean, from the little you’ve told me about her,  she’s a Yale grad and a traveler. Speaking of, why don’t you talk about her?”, she folded her arms in anticipation of the answer.

He probably wasn’t in reality, but he felt like he was sweating bullets. “It’s just that...the relationship could’ve ended on better terms.”, he sighed, “I just need closure, is all. I’ve been spending this time processing everything. I think I’m good now.” He was lying like all hell.

Winston felt a presence in the room. He and Michelle migrated around the venue talking and socializing with the other Black Yale grads. While in a conversation with one of his classmates and Lupita, he heard a laugh. Not just any laugh; the only vibrant, contagious social laugh he could recognize from miles away. Once again, it was her. He resisted the urge to look for her.  

Noticing her friend’s sudden switch in energy, Lupita turned around to see a foxy Yaa dazzling for all to see. She excused herself from the conversation and walked over to Yaa. She tapped her shoulder.

“Heyyyyy, Khalida!”, Lupita greeted with a grin and open arms.

“Well, hello there, Ms. Academy Award Winner! I’m surprised you’re not like polishing your Oscars or filming.”, Yaa joked as she returned the hug. “You look phenomenal, Peet!”, she twirled Lupita around to get a better look of her blue ensemble.

“Not as phenomenal as you! Wow, you know how to slay anything and I’m here for it!”

Matt cleared his throat. “You need a cough drop?”, Yaa asked in a sarcastic tone. He gave her a look.

“I’m sorry. I forgot he was here. Lupita, this is my ex, Matt Griffith, NFL star. Matt, this is the most beautiful woman in existence and Academy Award-winning actress, Lupita Nyong’o.”

After their exchange of pleasantries, Lupita took Yaa to the side to inform her that Winston was also in attendance...with Michelle. As much as it hurt to hear those words come from Lupita’s mouth, Yaa sucked it up and the two returned to Matt.

“We’re going on a field trip, Matt. Come along.” Lupita commanded. Matt agreed and followed his date with her train.

Winston wasn’t paying attention; he was walking around talking with Michelle. He accidentally bumped into Lupita.

“Peet, I’m so sorry. I was talking to Michelle and wasn’t paying attention to...wh-where I...was...going.”, his thoughts and heart rate began to speed up as he looked at the sight in front of him: his ex-girlfriend.

“Hey, Khalida.”, Winston said calmly.  

“Hey, you.”, she basically whispered in a sultry tone.

“You look...sublime.”

“Oh? Interesting word choice, Mr. Duke.” She raised her eyebrow and gave a faint grin. Poor Winston was intoxicated with Khalida’s presence once more—a drug that he could never get out of his system even if his life depended on it. His eyes were fixed on her, breath staggering.

Yaa’s dress was everything: it was a black, long-sleeved, sequined, floor-length curve-hugging gown with a dramatic “v” neck that accentuated her well-endowed chest. A haute Morticia Addams. Nadia styled her locs into a mid bun with a pinned bang.  

Michelle looked on as they conversed. It clicked—Khalida was the one that still had his heart. She wasn’t stupid; she could sense he was holding out in their relationship in more ways than one. Michelle cleared her throat loudly to break up the two former lovers’ sappy reunion.

“Winston, aren’t you going to introduce me to your...friend? ”, Michelle said with a slightly condescending tone, looking Yaa up and down with disgust. Yaa returned a rather unbothered stare to Michelle.

“Oh...of course, Winston began clearing his throat, “Yaa, this is my girlfriend, Michelle Lee, freelance journalist. Michelle, this...this is my...ex...girlfriend, Dr. Khalida Abdullah, Attorney at Law.”, he fought a smile.

Michelle grimaced. “Oh, a lawyer, you say? What kind of lawyer? Whose firm do you work for?”, she interrogated.

“I’m a civil rights attorney and I have my own firm with my partner and best friend from Yale Law.”

“Your own law firm? You look a little too young to own anything. How old are you?”

“Grown.”

“Did you even hear the quest—“

“— Loud and clear. I said I’m grown.” Yaa maintained her calm, yet petty demeanor throughout the unnecessary exchange. All the while, Matt and Lupita exchanged glances and silent snickers. Yaa was going to hold her own without hesitation. The Louisiana Reaper v. the bell pepper. “Winston, may I speak with you in private please?”

Winston looked to an upset Michelle that just waved her hand for him to go on. “After you, Dr. Abdullah.”,he calmly suggested as he motioned her to go in front of him.

Winston made sure to hold Yaa’s train. Winston became entranced as he watched his ex’s Spanx-less bottom switch from left to right. He felt a sweat come over him. Baby girl still had him sprung. They finally walked out to the balcony. The nighttime October breeze hit Yaa’s bare skin, sending goosebumps throughout her body. The bass still bumped even outside the country club. Even with the low lighting on the balcony, Yaa’s dress still sparkled in the moonlit sky. The two stood across from each other. A lot was on their minds and rightfully so. Four months had gone by without any sense of closure. The lack of closure was pacified with many questions, hypotheses, what-if situations, and many, many tearful nights on both ends.

“So uhh—“, the former lovers said in unison. They chuckled.

“You go first.”

“No, you!”

“No...you.”

“Dammit, Winston, somebody going first.”, Yaa said crossing her arms. “I just wanted to say that one, I miss you. Two, I’m happy for you finding Michelle. Lastly, LEMME FOUND OUT YOU OUTCHEA ACTIN YA ASS OFF ON PERSON OF INTEREST, MINI!”, Yaa hyped. She playfully punched his shoulder. There was a visible shift in her body language. She re-adjusted her posture and looked down at her dress. When she looked back up at Winston, he saw a rather stoic expression come across her face. “No, but...I wanted to just speak with you in private and I’m sure you’ve wanted the same. I miss you, Chris.”

Before he spoke, Winston offered his jacket to Yaa, an offer she accepted.

“I miss you more, Yaa.”, Winston replied quickly.

“The four months that we’ve had apart have had me thinking...a lot...a little too much. While the circumstances of our break-up hurt me more than anything, I don’t harbor any ill-will or harsh feelings towards you. I still care for and love you deeply.”

The admission gave Winston a temporary sense of relief. After four long months apart from the love of his life, it was definitely a relief to know that she didn’t want to push him over the balcony ledge. However, that feeling of relief was quickly replaced by the familiar void feeling in his heart—a void left by Yaa. He missed her more she would ever comprehend. He even missed her sarcasm and readings. By this time, he stood in front of her studying her stoic facial expression.

“I still love and care for you, too, Khalida.”, Winston replied.

“Which brings me to my next point”, she began. Winston’s brows furrowed in confusion, “This time apart has also given me the opportunity to contemplate our relationship from this point forward. My therapist...recommended that I reach out to you to establish something we never had—an actual friendship.”, Yaa explained. There was a steady pause and sharp exhale before the word “friendship” left her lips. It hurt her to see Winston with Michelle and even more to not be with him.

Winston blankly stared at Yaa. He saw, heard, and comprehended every word coming out of her Ruby Woo painted lips, but everything wasn’t registering.

“Friends?”

“That’s what I said. I believe we can work as friends and support each other despite our ending. You and Michelle seem like you all are getting into a rhythm and I don’t want to be your hindrance in your loving her.”

“Ok. Yeah...friendship? No problem.”, he noted dryly.

“Winston?”

“Yes?”

“Is that what you truly want? Because I don’t want to let our connection die.”

Winston shifted his weight and sighed before laughing. “Doesn’t want our connection to die...got it. Of course, we can work on a friendship.”, he remarked in a condescending tone. He was repeating that made him lose Yaa the first time. Yaa finally picked up the hints of sarcasm.

“Winston, I don’t know why you’re being condescending and cold towards me, but you need to stop. I just came to talk and try to amends with you and salvage what little we have left between us.” Yaa felt herself getting emotional and angry simultaneously.

Winston began pacing. “Oh, now you want to talk to me when it seemed easy to give me...give us up?!”

Yaa’s eyebrows flew up and her jaw dropped. Her heartbeat began increasing and her petite frame began to tremble—she was beginning to see red. Her mouth opened to snap, but it quickly closed to save his ego and feelings. “I don’t want us to end on this note...again.”, she mumbled.

“I don’t know what you from me, Yaa. This isn’t exactly easy so stop making it look like that.”

Yaa thought long and hard on her next statement. Being a known wordsmith, she had to craft what she was going to say to make sure it would stick with Winston. That and her anger was on 100, so one wrong move and she’d snap. She finally began to speak barely above a whisper but not quite at normal speaking level.

“What I wanted from you was to make sure the plane wasn’t still malfunctioned. But...I see that it’s temporarily disabled. Whenever you get your head and your ego out of your ass, we can talk. The number won’t change. Good night, Mr. Duke.”

She briskly walked back inside of the country club, fighting tears and the urge to break down once more. She wasn’t going to force a grown ass man to do right; Khadijah and Carrie taught her better than that. Once again, his mouth and his ego ran Yaa off. Fuck, whatever happened to doing better and winning her back? The second walk-out hurt more than the first. This time, he was actually angry with himself. Out of nowhere, his fist made contact with the concrete wall. He roared out in pain as his knuckles bled. Not only was his hand in pain in excruciating pain, but so was his heart. Both injuries could’ve been prevented had he just shut up. The tears burned and clouded his eyes as he cried hysterically.

Yaa returned to find Lupita and Matt deep in conversation, Michelle was sitting down at one of the lounge tables. Right away, Matt noticed his date’s rather bubbly and sweet spirit had been messed with.

“Khay, what’s wrong? Is everything alright?”, Matt placed his hand at the small of her back as he studied her visibly upset face. She was fighting back tears.

“Everything’s not ok. Let’s just go before I’ll need to dig Johnnie Cochran up from the dead.” Peet, I’ll text you whenever I can. Lunch is still on for tomorrow.”, she muttered in a monotonous tone.

Matt found himself running after his date as she angrily walked out of the venue. The plane was totaled.

Tag List:

@muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @eriknutinthispoosy @whoramilaje @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @bartierbakarimobisson @wakandan-flowerz @blackpantherreblogs @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @washyourlinens @turn-thy-paige @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @dramaqueenamby @destinio1 @sonofnjobu @teheeboo @theunsweetenedtruth @sarahboseman @iamrheaspeaks @oshasimone @vibranium-soul @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @supersizemeplz @lovelynervouschaos @cay-cah @coonflix @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @great-neckpectations @jellybean531 @yofavcocoa @storibambino @maya-leche @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @texasbama @certifiednatural @abeautifulmindexposed

#thefonderseries #winston duke x oc #winston duke imagine #winston x yaa

[yaachtynoboat711]

Any Fonder Questions?

I know it’s been a while, but I promise y’all I’m working on this series. So whoile I work on it, do y’all have any questions about the series? Hell, your questions may help me simplify the rest of what I have planned for the series. So, please, I encourage y’all to ask questions and use the tag #FonderAsks & #AskYaa when you do.

#fonderask #ask yaa #thefonderseries

[yaachtynoboat711]

Hey, Fonder Readers!

Hey y’all! Thanks for supporting Fonder! I was inspired by @babygirlofwakanda to do a Fonder discussion post. Your responses may/may not be included in later chapters 👀👀👀. I wanna hear your theories, thoughts, critiques, and feedback! So, with that being said, here are some basic questions:

1. Who’s to blame for the breakup? Explain.

2. What’s needed for Yaa and Wins to get back together? On Yaa’s end? On Winston’s end?

3. Who do you think Gatsby is? Why?

4. Any suggestions for future chapters?

Be sure to use #thefonderseries and/or #fonderdiscussion when answering! Happy discussions!

@muse-of-mbaku @wakandan-flowerz @randomwordprompts @ashanti-notthesinger @dramaqueenamby @yofavcocoa @oshasimone @supersizemeplz @abeautifulmindexposed @eerythingisshaka @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove

#thefonderseries #fonderdiscussion

[yaachtynoboat711]

Fonder 8.1

A/N: Ohhhhh it’s finally happening! I’m back! Thank you so much for waiting and some of you, encouraging me to write and finish this chapter, This year alone pre-COVID has been crazy. I don’t want to get into that quite yet (we can in an #AskYaa), but I’m here now! Please don’t forget to like, reblog, and interact with this chapter!!! Also, civility is a fleeting concept from here on out ☺️☺️☺️

Warning(s): Language, Fluff, Fluffy Angst, Plot Stress 😘😘

Word Count: ~3.4K

Thursday, October 1, 2015, St. Pierre-Daniels Ranch, Darrow, Louisiana, 10:55 a.m.

Of all the jobs that could’ve been given to Michael, he was tasked with the most tedious one of the weekend: folding 325 napkins and putting the party favors together. To make matters worse, the other helper was none other than his girlfriend Yaa. 

The family was back home for Farrah and Braxton’s long-awaited wedding. Much to the excitement of Yaa, she was eager to bring Michael to visit her hometown. He’d never really seen her in her natural element with family. True, he’d met her parents, but that wasn’t even a sliver of her massive family—maternal and fraternal—coming in for the wedding. He was nervous, yet excited to meet everyone. 

As he started on the next napkin, he noticed Yaa dancing to the shuffle of old school “cleaning on Saturday” R&B classics. Anita, Luther, Stevie, and a host of other R&B legends filled the dining room with their musical contributions. He smiled to himself, satisfied to see that the light of his life was happy to be back in Louisiana. She folded her napkins at a faster, but more precise pace than Michael was. She went to the rhythm of whatever song was playing. 

“Having fun over there, princess?”, he asked as he flashed his dimples across the massive dining room table to Yaa. 

Yaa paused her work to look across the dining room table to her grinning boyfriend. “I’m good, Kari, thanks for asking. Why?”

“You’re just...in a great mood…”

“...and I can’t be in a great mood the day before my best friend gets married to the man of her dreams?!”

Michael thought about what he’d just said and started to walk towards Yaa. He lifted her chin and placed three deliberately slow kisses onto her lips. “You’re right, Princess. You have every right to be excited. But for now…”, he took her phone and searched for a song. He smirked in anticipation for the speaker to play his self-made request, “...we get you up and dance. We’ve been working hard.” His favorite song came on. The same song his parents put him on to as a kid, the same song that was guaranteed to get him up and dancing came on. 

Yaa slowly rose from the seat she sat in for almost two hours now. Her body slowly cooperated as she stretched and made her way to Michael’s arms. 

“What you know bout this, Kari?!”, Yaa asked as she two-stepped her way into his embrace. 

“More than you would, young lady.”, he replied with sass. 

“I wanna thank youuuuu, Heavenly Fatherrr…”, she sang to Michael, “...for shinin’ Your light on meeee.”

“Oh shit! She know a lil’ sum sum!”, he laughed. 

“He sent me someoneeeee who really loves me, and not just my bodyyy.”

It was in this moment that reality began to fade from around Michael and Khalida. Whatever worry or problem they may have had if any dissolved with every step they made. As he wrapped his arms around her waist, he stared into her eyes, giggling like a school boy. Khalida soon began laughing as well—not with Michael, but at Michael’s singing. Michael kissed his teeth as they continued, aware of why she laughed. It was in this moment that Khalida was taken back to a childhood memory of her parents dancing--as she and Michael were--to the same song. As they kept two-stepping in sync and mouthing the lyrics to each other, his lips caressed hers. She returned the favor. Just as they were going in for a third kiss, a throat cleared a few feet away and the music was stopped.

“Uh-huh. You didn’t think folks would see you, Keedy? In your grandmother’s house?!”, her Aunt Rhonda hissed. 

“Rhonda…”, Khalida released herself from Michael’s hold, “...shut the hell up. Please. What’s so important that you felt the need to interrupt an intimate moment?”

“Ma mére requests your presence in the shrine room. Just you.” Rhonda looked Michael up and down with a face of disgust. She muttered to herself. Rebound.

Carrie’s Shrine Room, 11:30 a.m.

Knock. Knock. Knock. “Come in, cher!”, Carrie singsonged. An anxious and hesitant Yaa carefully walked into her grandmother’s sacred room. The smell of burning sage and lavender essential oil welcomed Yaa into the candle lit space. “You wanted to see me? Is everything alright?”, she asked as she sat in the large antique terra cotta-hued chair. 

“Yes, dear, everything’s fine. I just wanted to talk to you about Michael.” Ahhhh, shit. Here we go again. 

“What about him?”, Yaa replied. Carrie struggled to put what she needed to say in words. “I’m just going to cut the shit. He’s The One...if Winston never existed. I know you’re tired of heartbreak bu—”

Clearly annoyed with what Carrie was suggesting, Khalida shot out of her chair and paced her side of the room. “—No, Carrie,you’re right; I am tired. I’m fucking tired of hopping from nigga to nigga like a military brat. I can’t do this! This...this...this instability in my love life. Why are we here this weekend? Because Farrah’s getting married to the man of her fucking dreams—no wild ass prophecies or traces of instability. She’s had...one..tw-TWO  boyfriends her entire life and we’re still on the second one. But me? Oh, I get the short end of the damn stick. Me and Matt basically hear wedding bells and we don’t work. Quincy was...a waste of God’s creativity. The one chance of true love—Winston—loses his fucking shit because he wants to act like a child. And now you’re gonna tell me that the other man isn’t it because he’s a backup plan?! No, ma’am. You can—”

“Keedy, listen—“

“NO YOU LISTEN!” She took a moment to reel herself back in, “If you want me to be a spinster that ends up practicing law from home with her 14 cats and dogs, then just tell me. Since you’re such an expert over my love life or the lack thereof, tell me who I’m supposed to be with? Hmm?! What more do you want from me,Carolina?!”, Khalida made her way towards the door. 

“So riddle me this: why is it that your soul lights up when you talk about Winston as of late? You smile when you talk about Michael—as you should because he’s been nothing but good to you and he’s an exceptional young man. But whensoever you reminisce about your times with Winston, your soul rejoices? I can hear the peace in your voice. ”, Carrie blurted as Yaa gripped the doorknob. Carrie had Yaa right where she wanted her mentally. For once, Carolina wanted her kid genius for a granddaughter to think. Her relationship with Michael was nice, but not at the level that it could’ve been at. Definitely not where Carrie wanted it to be.

Yaa’s lip quivered as she fought back tears. She stood paralyzed still clenching the door handle. Obviously, Carrie was 120% correct with her assessment of her and Michael’s relationship, but not right now. She couldn’t let Carrie get to her this early. Nope.

“Please be at rehearsal on time. You’re marrying her and Braxton and if you’re not here, Farrah will lose her shit. So for the sanity of everyone, please beat us there.” Slam. 

Carrie lowered her head as her granddaughter’s words hit her. Beyond her spiritual truth, she believed that Winston was truly Yaa’s One, but she needed Yaa to see it for herself. “Just take care of her for now, Michael.”

Il Mercato, New Orleans, Louisiana, 5:39 p.m. 

As much as he’d talked about it, Yaa had assumed that Braxton was only joking when he told her that Winston,of all people,would be his Best Man and Yaa’s escort down the aisle. It was all fun and games until Winston walked his tall ass through the doors and dapped Braxton up. He waved at Yaa, making sure that she noticed his new 5 o’clock shadow. 

Yaa smirked as she noticed the facial hair on her ex’s face. “Ahhh shit now!”, she gassed, “Is th...Winston! Son, is this hair on ya face?!?! Goddamnit, boy, ya look grown!”

He smiled as they hugged, appreciative of the compliments Khalida was giving him. 

“Say, um, where’s your boyfriend?”, Winston asked with a hint of pettiness sprinkling his question. 

Khalida chuckled. Winston tried to be cute. She hesitated as she chose her words carefully because she knew she could destroy his entire aura with just the slightest inflection of a word. “Well...my ex boyfriend is currently being funny. However, my boyfriend is off doing promotions for his newest movie.”

Winston shook his head, gracefully conceding, “So he isn’t coming to rehearsal at all?”

“Why would he? He isn’t in the wedding.”

“Noted.”

 Before they could get a real conversation started,T’Juan, the wedding planner, began speaking. “Alright, people. Now let’s do something different…”, T’Juan pondered for almost a minute, smirking at his outgoing thought, “Khalida...you and...Winston. You all will be Farrah and Braxton for rehearsal. So, Khalida, come back here with me. You and the rest of the bridesmaids and mommas come back.” 

The former lovers stood on the front row dumbfounded. Both former lovers stammered their protests out. “Nawl! N-n-n-n-awl,T’Juan! W-w-w-w-e of all people can’t act like we together.” Khalida showed the most visible disgust; after all, she’d just talked shit about Winston’s ass during her...vent to Carrie. 

“I mean, y’all done it before, yeah? Twenty minutes won’t hurt, baby.”, T’Juan sassed as he dramatically switched towards the altar, “Aaaaand...play the music.”

Mustapha, Khadijah, and Khalida began walking down the aisle to Jennifer Hudson’s “Giving Myself” played loud enough for those in the venue to hear. Khalida’s heart began accelerating, adrenaline pumping throughout her body. It wasn’t until she felt her breath stagger that she realized she was all in with the experience of coming down the aisle. “I can’t wait to repeat this experience for you, Ibby.”, Mustapha casually whispered to his oldest twin daughter. She laughed nervously, “Baba, we gotta make sure we have the right person for me before we discuss a wedding.” 

Continuing down the aisle, Khalida caught Winston’s face as she made it closer and closer towards him. It was a face of total admiration. His jaw dropped. There was a twinkle in his eyes—a twinkle that only Khalida could produce without effort. In his eyes, he saw Heaven on Earth. Even though she was dressed in all-black, she looked like an angel to Winston. Now not even 10 feet from him, she flashed the smile that always made him go weak in the knees. If there was any doubt, seeing her smile was the confirmation that there indeed was a God somewhere. Winston felt a chilling sensation spread throughout his body. A sensation in which he’d never experienced before, but only he knew why. Yeah, that's the only one for me. 

T’Juan got up, “Ok. So for the sake of time, we’re going to skip to vows. This is also the mic check test. Khalida, you’ll go first and then Winston, but y’all are Farrah and Braxton, of course. Give us your best.” Everyone laughed because NO ONE could be a better Farrah than Khalida could.

Khalida adjusted the mic to her height, changing her voice to a more higher pitched, relaxed New Orleans accent like Farrah’s, “Braxton, you are the answer to sooo many prayers in my life. When we met at A&T freshman year, I didn’t expect to fall for you the way that I did. Who would’ve thought we would be standing here professing our perpetual love for one another? At first, I didn’t, but the more we saw each other on campus and in that general biology lab, I knew this would happen. I promise to be there for you, except for criminal activity, because you know I don’t play that. Period. I love you so so much, Braxy. Forever.”

“Ok, first off, I don’t sound anything like that and you know it.”, an offended Farrah complained. The moment of silence that preceded the outburst of laughter was classic. Everyone knew that Khalida wasn’t playing about her sister’s true accent. “I’m not alone with this truth.”, Khalida joked. 

“Go on, Winston, before I cancel this whole wedding.”

Winston looked at Khalida, then the venue like a scared child on Easter Sunday. His mind went blank and his heart began to race as he tried to come up with words. “Khali...Farrah. You and I have been through a lot together…”, he laughed, contemplating on their break-up, “...a helluva lot, but even through all of what we’ve been through, I have still managed to love you more with each waking minute. Now I need you to hear me out, babe, because this is my heart talking and not my head.”

The realization that Winston was, in fact, giving vows to Khalida was beginning to sit with everyone in the room. Braxton’s parents looked at the Abdullah’s, both smirking at Winston’s boldness. “You bold bastard. Get your woman, son.”, Mustapha muttered to himself with a smirk of satisfaction. I knew I liked that nigga for a reason.

Khalida’s eyes grew larger and a pit dropped in her stomach. “Negro, what the hell are you doing?!” 

Winston took Khalida’s small hands into his large hands, “Just let me speak, ok?” Breathe, dude. You got this.

“Kh-Farrah, you are the light of my life. The purest form of love I’ve ever known. I thank God everyday that he allows me another day to wake up and see your beautiful face and lay down to rest every night. A day without you is like a day without breathing and I never want to ever experience that again. From the moment I met you, I knew you were the only one for me. I want to build a tribe with you, I want to grow old with you. I will protect you and your heart until my dying breath. You are my light, you are my life, I can only pray that I mean even half of what you mean to me and that’s all that I could ever want.”

Farrah and Braxton nodded at each other knowing that their choice to make Winston the best man was indeed a successful one. They wanted Winston and Khalida to work, and what better way to pour out their feelings than in front of the Ancestors?

Khalida stood in silence. This man really said vows. Like actual vows. On one hand, she felt the sincerity in his words. He spoke on points but didn’t require detail and gave more credibility to what he was saying. But on the other hand, however, she sensed bullshit. They wouldn’t be in this predicament had he not lost his shit and forgotten who the hell he was dealing with. As great of vows as Winston gave, the reality was that Michael was somewhere in New Orleans thinking about his Princess, his KDeezy. This wasn’t a romance movie where the guy gives a speech and the girl jumps into his warming embrace. No, no. To be quite honest, Khalida felt the urge to slap the shit outta Winston in front of everybody for doing too damn much. In a rush, Khalida briskly walked down the aisle. 

“Li, where the hell are you going?”, Jahlil, the youngest Abdullah sibling, called out.

“Out!”

The Abdullah Home, Audobon Neighborhood, New Orleans, 1:07 a.m.

Farrah couldn’t sleep. Between her excitement of marrying the life of her life and the nerves that came with it, her eyes wouldn’t stay shut. I know just the thing. She creeped out of her room, past the guest room where her four other bridesmaids slept, down to the end of the hall where her twin retired. She chuckled to herself, acknowledging her father’s nightly ritual of a cigar and jazz music going on downstairs. He only smoked in the event of a special occasion. She exhaled before she knocked on her sister’s door. There was a suspense-filled pause, but the door eventually creaked open. 

“What?”, Khalida answered the door bluntly as she rubbed the sleep out of her eye and re-adjusted her bright yellow bonnet. 

“I can’t sleep, sissy. Can you twist my hair?”, Farrah made it a point to stress the urgency in her voice. Nothing settled her nerves better than her sister playing in her hair. 

Khalida couldn’t say no; but she could’ve. Twas the night before her sister’s wedding and her hair stylist fell ill with the flu. Before she could catch herself protesting, Khalida turned on her light and began walking back towards her bed, “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

“Where’s Lover Boy?”

“Carrie voluntold him to stay in Darrow. You know she wouldn’t have played that.”

Khalida eventually woke up and began on her sister’s flat twists. Khalida made sure to moisturize her sister’s freshly retouched burgundy mane with their mother’s oil mixture. This was almost customary now that they were older—spending hours talking and laughing about life while Khalida did her sister’s hair in some way (Khalida’s college hustle was doing natural hair). Farrah winced occasionally as her sister sometimes braided a tender spot in her head. “Wait, sissy! My wedding’s in a few hours and I would like to have edges!”, she found herself repeating. Khalida would roll her eyes and continue on Bantu-knotting the ends of the flat twist, “Quit being a wuss.”. 

As the hair styling progressed, the conversation began to relate to their present.

“I’m really gonna miss doing this, Li (Farrah referred to her sister as “Li”).”, she commented as though she was reminiscing.

Yaa made a face, “You ain’t dying, bitch, you just gettin’ married to Braxton’s goofy ass.” 

Farrah turned around to look up at her sarcastic sister, “You know what I meant—being able to do this all the time—”

“—and like I said, we can still do this. The only thing changing is your last name. Unless he’s isolating you from the family. If so, it ain’t shit for me to see ‘em real quick and let my hands do the talkin’. Cuz I get active about you.” Khalida’s face of sincerity and aggression contrasted comically with Farrah’s look of terror at the thought of her sister beating her NFL linemen for a husband’s ass. The stare-off and intense silence led to a rather loud roar of obnoxious laughter and cackling. Khalida fell screaming into her pillow with laughter.

As the laughter subsided and the hairstyling resumed, Farrah was able to resume her conversation.

“Soooooo... are we going to talk about how Winston basically married you at the rehea--”

“--Nope.”

“Liiiiiiii, why not?”

“Because...that shit was wild, y’eardme? I wasn’t expecting potna to just give this full ass apology within the vows, yet alone, actually give vows. THAT was uncalled for. I’m just happy Kari wasn’t there yet, because he wou--”

“--would have seen that Winston clearly isn’t over you and you aren’t clearly over Winston. There, somebody said it.” Khalida yanked her sister up by her last tender twist. “OWWW! WHY WOULD YOU DO--what a minute!”, she paused before smirking, “... so it’s true. You aren’t completely over Winston!”

Once again, Farrah was right in her own petty way. If Yaa was 70% over Winston, then the other 30% wanted shit to work. Khalida couldn’t let Farrah AND Carrie be right in the same 24 hours. 

“Man, whatever.”, Khalida scoffed as she resumed twisting Farrah’s hair. “How can you be so sure, especially since I brought my whole ass boyfriend on this trip?” 

“I’m very much sure because, one, I know you. Two, no one would’ve stormed out like a white woman in that way if what was said wasn’t true. Witcha dramatic ass.” 

Khalida oiled her sister’s scalp and carefully placed her bonnet on her head. They exchanged hugs before Khalida closed her door. She glanced over to her alarm to see a red 03:41 blink into 03:42. 

“Shit.”, she commented aloud as she got in bed and unlocked her phone. bour

1 unread message from Maybe: Wins

Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll be a sight to behold. 

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