#y'lan noel fanfic

[maisondenachtai]

Boss pt 2 (Y’lan Noel x Reader)

Part 1 

Late nights were nothing new to you. You were well accustomed to seeing the office clear out and hearing the stark noise of silence punctuated with the sounds of vacuums and the gentle hum of electricity. You knew almost all of the janitors that came up after hours to clean up the office, and knew to give them ten minutes or so, so they could clean up your area without you being in the way.

What you were not used to was another person being in the office with you while you were working late hours. Y’lan Noel, or Y’lan as he kept reminding you, was also grinding gears after hours. You could see him pinning things to a board through the clear windows that gave you an open view of him. He was completely focus on his project, not even noticing you had been staring at him for a least five minutes.

No, you had not been staring. Just observing.

You had observed that when he seemed to get stumped on something, he placed his hands in his pockets and stared at it like he was doing now. You wondered what he was stumped on, you knew whatever it was he would figure out and come out of it amazingly.

           Despite your words with him days before, you knew he was a talented editor and writer. Christine had talked about him so much, that he was a star and that he was going places. At the time you hadn’t heard of him, but after researching him and reading a few of his pieces, you saw what she saw and yeah you were impressed. He hadn’t just been handed the job because he was a male, he earned it and deserved it. But of course, you couldn’t tell him that.

           You tilted your head a little as he bounced on and off his toes. Whatever had him stumped really was throwing him through a loop. You were just about to smirk and laugh when his head quickly turned and his eyes lit up when they met yours.

“Shit.” You mumbled, focusing again on your computer, typing up a storm as if you had never stopped to stare…observe him.

It was too late though; you heard the wind slightly woosh as he opened up his doors and could hear him make his way over to your area. You continued to type though, willing yourself to pretend that he wasn’t there.

“You’re dedicated.” He said.

You didn’t say anything, only kept typing. Wide leg pants are in-

“…I saw you looking at me. No need to front.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“I was not staring at you.” You stopped typing, looking up at him. He had settled himself against the wall behind your desk set up, leaning across as if he was a neighbor talking over a fence.

He smirked, “I never said you were staring.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m busy.”

“I see that. You know since you’re working, you could still be on the clock.”

You shook your head, “This isn’t work. This is a competition. So no, I can’t be on the clock.”

Y’lan shook his head, “It’s work. If you win, your magazine becomes the month’s issue so, it’s work. Doesn’t matter, I clocked you back in hours ago.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” You folded your arms.

“You don’t have to ask me. I’m your boss. It’s my job.” He smiled and turned around about to go back to his office.

“What’s your angle?” You stopped him in his tracks and he turned around again, walking back over to your area.

“I don’t have an angle.”

You rolled your eyes standing up from your desk. You stretched your neck first, then the rest of your body. When you opened your eyes from stretching, you noticed that Y’lan’s eyes were just coming back up from a long trip down your body. You fought the smirk coming to your lips.

“Of course you have an angle. Everyone does.” You sat back down, leaning back in your chair making a long line for Y’lan to admire with his eyes. “When I first got here, I was angling to become editor in chief in five years. So I sucked up. I’m not proud of it but it got me far. Nancy in graphic design has been flirting with every higher up at every office party, she wants a higher position. That’s her angle. You are being very nice, what do you want from us? What do you want from me?”

Y’lan’s hands were in his pockets again, but he wasn’t bouncing. He stood confident, staring at you like you were a new problem to solve. “I want what every magazine editor wants. A good staff that produces good results. I’ve been at publications where the work environment was hell and the editor was a disgusting human being. You know what that publication is doing now? …Nothing. It shut down two years ago. Bankrupt. Bad work environments leak out. I don’t want that for Black Style.”

You nodded, “That’s commendable. I’m not mad at that.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head a little. “I’m glad I got your approval. …As for you Ms. YLN.”

You leaned forward eyes widening, “As for me what?”

“You asked me what I wanted from you all…and you specifically. I told you what I wanted for the company as a whole. Now I want to tell you want I want from you specifically.” His voice had lowered significantly and it made you draw into him, leaning closer than what was probably appropriate.

His eyes drifted down your face quickly and then back up to your eyes. You gulped a little. “And what is that Mr. Noel.”

He smirked, letting the silence linger for a moment, “I want your respect. Even if you win the competition, I want you to respect me as a peer in the field.”

You let out a small breath, for a moment you imagined that he might say that he wanted you, in the physical sense. You couldn’t deny the fact that Y’lan was quite handsome and had confidence about him that absolutely made you hor-

You could deny it. And you absolutely would.

“Ms. YLN.”

“Yes. Sorry.” You picked at a piece of imaginary lint on your shirt. “Respect is not given it’s earned.” You said, talking down to that imaginary lint that was still stuck to your shirt.

His hand reached out and gripped your chin gently, only pressing upward with the barest of force. You looked up at him all on your own, and found yourself looking at a man with no fear, and the most beautiful smile you had ever seen.

He was over stepping many of the boundaries HR laid out for you all, but honestly...you couldn’t care at this point. “I know.” He was speaking just so you could hear, barely over the sound of the vaccums and the powerful AC in the building. “And I fully expect to earn all of your respect.” He grinned at you and then moved his hand off your face, turning and walking away from you. “Oh, and those are really nice pants.” He shouted back, throwing up a hand in goodbye. “And that is wildly inappropriate!” You shouted back, awaken from your stupor.

He turned around, smirking, “It would be...if I was on the clock. Do you know how bad it looks for a Editor to give himself 4 hours of overtime, especially for something that’s not work related? What kind of Boss do you think I am?” He chuckled, going back into his office and closing the glass door behind him. You grumbled and went back to typing, nails clicking the keyboard harder than before.

“Bastard.”

___________________________________________________________

This looks a little different huh? ...Yeah...I don’t feel like doing all that title stuff. Yall know what this is lol! This has been sitting in my drafts for a month or two? lol.

@chaneajoyyy @wawakanda-btch  @blackmissfrizzle @quietpoeticheart @bigsisbria  @toni-toni-toni-toni  @blvkqueen1​  @palmstreesallday​  @hey-taylor-hey​  @myakai13​  @shinywrites​

#y'lan noel x reader #y'lan noel x black reader #y'lan noel #y'lan noel fanfic

[eerythingisshaka]

Signs of Rain

[Y’lan Noel x Reader]

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings:  Just fluffer!

A/N:  This is my first non-Black Panther character/actor related fic (that I have shared anyway)  But it is just as relevant as the others.  This one goes out to @afraiddreamingandloving [my sister from another mister, my security detail, my alarm clock, my DJ, my tea and crumpets (sorry)] for introducing me to Luke James’ ‘Signs of Rain’ a while back.  It has been rainy so much where I am that I have had the song on repeat almost constantly and a lil fic inspo came from it so there!

Walking up to his car, you feel nerves begin to dance within you.  You hadn’t seen him in such a long time, you wondered if he would even recognize you still.  He is sitting on the roof of his car, and old school Cadillac he has put his soul into refurbishing.  He always had a thing for tinkering, couldn’t keep his hands still for a minute before he was taking things apart and most of the time unsuccessfully reassembling them; but he was good once he got into a trade.  Working with machinery did wonders for his frame, as you studied his back muscles through his shirt.  A wide back was something of a sixth sense for you to notice and he was speaking your language.

“Hey,”  you say in a pleasant tone once you make it to him.

He turns to surprised by your voice before his expressions softens at the sight of you.  “Hey, girl.  How you doin?” His smile widens, his complexion accents the perfect assembly of teeth, shining like an “OPEN” sign.  

He gets down from the car to open his arms to you, and you reciprocate, bringing him in close to you.  His body is warm and welcoming on the cooler than normal summer evening as he held you tightly.  His beard tickled the side of your face as your hands rest on his back, solid.  It took everything in you not to claw at it, but you gave him a good friendly rub instead.  His scent gave you a sense that he loved the Lord but would certainly make you cry, which you got plenty of back in y’alls day.

Breaking from the hug, you answer his question.  “I’m good, Y’lan.  You look...great!  How you been?”

He gives a cough like laugh, “Aw, see the man’s supposed to compliment first, but cat caught my tongue when I seen you.  Thanks though.  You ain’t changed a bit...but for the better.”

You feel a blush coming up to your cheeks as he charmed the stress right off of you.  Y’lan gave off real casanova vibes, but he really was a dork at heart.  You remember when you first met him, he couldn’t look straight at you the whole time you and your friends were around him and his.  You thought he hated your guts, but it just turned out he was so nervous to talk to you, he turned incredibly shy.  You worked that out of him eventually.

“Oh, stop.  I ain’t had no time to get my makeup and hair straight before you called me.  I really am a mess.”  You say as Y’lan motions for you to pop a squat on the hood of his car next to him.

“Tsk, you still worried about looking on point 24/7, huh?  You know I never been one to ask you to look a certain way because-”

“-because I always looked like a million dollars dropped in your lap, I know.  I remember.”  You say with a slight eye roll.  Y’lan was your biggest fan when you were dating.  He made sure you never felt inadequate, showering you with compliments, gifts, PDA, and more.  It wasn’t that you didn’t believe him, but you always felt like you needed to keep up or the compliments would stop.

Y’lan gave a quick chuckle at your sarcastic reiteration of his words as he looked off into the setting sun.  The rays cast over his skin, giving his arms and profile gold edges against his deep melanin tone.  “I say what I mean, and I mean it, (Y/N).”

You rub your legs to stay warm.  “So what are you doing in town, then?”  You ask to move the conversation.

Y’lan shrugs, “I had some time off to come through,  Wanted to clear my head, time on the road does that pretty good for me.”

You wondered if he had known you broke up with your former flame before deciding to ‘come through’.  You turn to him curiously.  “But why did you call me?  We hadn’t seen each other in almost two years, man.”

Y’lan scratched his beard, causing you to catch sight of his knuckles; another weakness of yours.  His hands were strong and rough from his trade work and they knew their way around you at one time.  “I couldn’t come by without seeing you.”

“Why, though?”  you press him.

Y’lan sighs.  “You really finna grill me right now?  Instead of enjoying this beautiful evening?”

“Y’lan, you left me, remember?  You couldn’t stand to be around me anymore.  You felt like I was bringing you down and holding you back from whatever the hell, I still don’t know!  And then just out of the blue, you call me up and say you’re in town and to meet at our spot -- what if I have a man?  This would be inappropriate!”

Y’lan licks his lips staring at the ground, “Do you?”

“That’s known of your business --”

He cuts you off, “Why can’t you be straight with me?  That was one problem, if you want me to be honest.  You always wanted to beat me to the punch, when I never meant a bad word to you.”

You cross your arms, “You never asked me why though!  You just brush it under the rug and tell me to quit playing.  Did you ever think about why I did that?”

Y’lan looks at you, poker face. “Of course I did.  But I guess I wasn’t asking the way you wanted me to ask.  Life ain’t a movie, (Y/N).  Shit ain’t scripted and-and beautifully monologued with a orchestra.  Sometimes you just gotta do things yourself and quit expecting others to pull it out of you like a magic trick.”

You sucked your teeth as it pained you to admit.  “You made me feel like magic.  You gave me Disney Prince and happily ever after every damn day we were together, ok?”

Y’lan rubs his temples.  “Then what is it?  What made you...despise me in the end?”

You do a double take to him when he says this.  As quick as you were about to snap him up, you melted at his response.  You never despised him, you couldn’t.  He treated you like a goddess, like the last good woman on earth was all his, he practically worshipped the ground you walked on.  He held his hands together looking off into the distance as he waited for your your response tensely.  The sun had set by now, letting the stars illuminate your surroundings.  The parts of his skin that once reflected gold were now replaced with a bluish hue.

You took a deep breath and spoke softly.  “I never despised you, Y’lan.  I hate that you ever thought that of me.  I could never hate you.”

He holds his hands out before clapping them together, “So what?  And?”

You rub your hands together nervously.  “You were too good.  I didn’t feel worthy to be with you.”  Y’lan turned his gaze to you.   You wanted to caress his wide face, but you had to keep talking.  “I guess I felt like God was playing a trick on me or something?  Like, if He gave me something this good in my life, then shit must be ready to hit the fan any minute.  I was used to that pattern.  But, shit never happened.  It was always good with us, I just doubted my worth, our chemistry, and...it cost a lot.”

Y’lan nodded slowly, digesting your words.  “Wow.  So, like in the movies, when a character gets their fortune told that they gonna die, and they try everything to avoid it but end up doing something that causes it anyway?”

You look off confusedly, “Uhh, yeah I guess so.  Something like that.”  You both giggle at the morbid comparison.  You felt like a weight was taken from around your shoulders.  You finally got all of your feelings out to Y’lan after all this time.  You were grateful you picked up his call tonight.  

Y’lan leaned on his widened knees anxiously, “Soooo, what do we do now?”

You shrug looking up at the sky, “Enjoy the sights a little more maybe?”

“I smells like it’s gonna rain, though.”  Y’lan says sniffing the air.

“Tsk, the weathermen ain’t never completely on point.  That’s probably for a storm further south of us.”

Y’lan bares those pearly whites again.  “Mhm, you know best.”

You push him lightly, “And don’t forget it, Jack!”

You and Y’lan lay back on his car to point out constellations and make up ones on your own.  You could watch them all day, just lying next to him.  It really felt like old times between the two of you as you all point to the sky, hands occasionally brushing against each other, sending shockwaves through your body.  You didn��t know how to approach a conversation of romance but you were fine with just laying together as friends.  

A clap of thunder shakes you both as it snaps you out of your little world.

“Whoa, that sounded close.” Y’lan said sitting up and checking the sky.

“Yeah.  Maybe just five more minutes and we can dip?”

Just as you offered that up, the clouds open; unleashing buckets on top of both of.

“Oh, shit!”  Y’lan exclaimed, jumping off the car.

“Fuck fuck FUCK!”  You jump off to headed to the passenger side of his car.

Y’lan gets his door open and hops in.  You try the door, still locked.  “Y’lan!  Come on!  Hurry up!”  

You see a little through the window as he reaches for the lock; nothing but teeth.

You slide in, slamming the door shut.  “Y’lan!  What the fuck was that about!  I’m soaked as hell now!”  You pull his visor down to your hair wrecked and what little makeup you put on washing away.

Y’lan leans back, his hand resting on the back of your seat.  “I thought you didn’t put no makeup on for me?”

You freeze in your lie.  “Uhhhh…”

“See?  You need to be straight with me!  It’s all good though.”

You scoff at him.  “Shiiiit, be straight with me:  you left me out there longer on purpose.”

Y’lan sucks his teeth, “Man, see -”

“Don’t blame this old ass car!  I saw your grin, you liked seeing me struggle!”  you feigned hurt as you squeezed your shirt and wiped your face.  

“My bad, (Y/N).  I did get too carried away.  You want my shirt?”  

You think this over a minute as the fabric of your clung to you like an icy leech, “Uh, well…”

He looked embarrassed before looking away, clutching the steering wheel.  “I mean, just until you get home.  Unless your dude would have issue-”

“I don’t have a man, Y’lan.”  You confess looking through the window away from him.

There’s a moment of silence, soundtracked by the pitter patter of the fat droplets crashing into the windshield.  You remain still, trying to control your breathing as you feel like you should say something more significant, like you want him back.  But he had a life away from you, no way he could go back to the shit he had with you.  Y’all just hashed out your past differences ten minutes ago!

Y’lan continues, “Well uh, just let me know what you need and when you ready to leave.  I can take you back.  I know the rain makes you nervous.”

You shake your head looking at him, “Not as much anymore.  Your little trick kind of worked.”

Y’lan makes an impressed expression, “For real?”

“Mhm.  The lightning is like a part of Mother Nature, right?  So when I see it, it’s like her stretch marks just coming across.”

Y’lan nodded, looking down at your legs for a split second, “Some of the most beautiful paths are made in nature…”  A bolt of lightning flashes above you all, illuminating the car as you look in Y’lan’s eyes.  You’ve seen that stare before, a warning sign.

“Mhm...When it thunders-”  Almost like on cue, a crash of thunder makes your body jump.

Y’lan rests a hand on your arm with concern, “You ok?”

You nod, “The thunder is just the crash of our-”

“-bodies, intertwined….Yeah, maybe that could use an update.”  Y’lan smiled weakly as he rests his hands on his widened lap.  Any time he manspreads was acceptable to you; showed confidence, authority, and that he had plenty to hang loose.

You felt waves beginning to flow beneath you as your mind wandered to when his lap was your favorite seat in the house.  You felt yourself getting colder though and couldn’t stand your shirt much longer.  

“Ok, take off your shirt.  I need to get these wet clothes off.”  

Y’lan looked at you a moment, taken aback by your request but obliged, taking his shirt off.  Your shirt being wet, was more of a struggle as you it kept rolling and tugging at your skin instead of sliding off.

You could tell your struggling was taking a while as Y’lan’s hand worked the neck from off your head slowly but surely until you popped out.  Y’lan’s face was closer to yours than you expected.  His wide shoulders bare, made you want to kiss them.  Your shirt was still tangled on your arms between you as Y’lan held them.  His gaze stayed locked on your face as his forehead crinkled up with anticipation.   The yearning began to grow as you waited for a cue, a sign that this wasn’t a dream, a split in the time/space continuum  making time slow down a second.   You couldn’t hold back, you wouldn’t if in this very moment you were given the opportunity to let your emotions take over for what you truly wanted.  

Soon as he batted his lashes down to look at your mouth you dove into him.  Grabbing his face, clutching his beard, you meld your mouth into his giving him all the information he needed.  Your tongues danced effortlessly as his grip on your arms got stronger.  You hand grazed along his arm, feeling the scar from his Kappa days that he boasted about way too often on how it made him a man.  You always corrected him and said you did instead.  Taking a breath, your mouths smack apart, as you nibble on his bottom lip.

“(Y/N), I don’t wanna be broken up no more.”  Y’lan said hoarsely as he tries to pull you to him.

You pull away, “I don’t want to be either.”  You take your shirt off completely, freeing you from your bind as you hug his neck, running your hands down his taut abdomen, decorated with signs of his manliness you adored:  tufts of hair, muscles contracting under your touch.  You pull from him to make your way to the back seat of the car.  

Once seated, you look to Y’lan.  “You always knew how to make me feel beautiful, and your touch hasn’t left me yet.  No one could do it like you.”  You say as you work to undo your bra, no longer were you cold from the outside weather. A flash of light illuminate the car again, allowing you to capture Y’lan’s expression more clearly as his mouth sits slightly agape, in awe, lost in your beauty.  

“It’s easy to find beauty in you, no doubt.  That’s why I need you to stay mine, so nobody can claim it for theirs.”  Y’lan’s tone was weighed down with passion as his baritone shook your core for what was to come as he crawled to join you in the back.  

The moisture that once left you chilly now fogged up the windows as you both enjoyed each other once more.  His touch stoked your fire as you rediscovered one another’s pleasures.  The spatters of rain were drowned out by the smacks of your kisses to one another, moaning to each other sweet nothings of bliss and eroticism.  Thunder, overran by the chorus of skin slapping against one another over and over as he sent waves of pleasure over your body .  You couldn’t believe you let this feeling go a while back, but you’d be damned if you made the same mistake twice.

Other Works

King Kil’mawalls  

T’akia

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others

The Coffee Prince

Commencement Day

Wakanda Got Y’all

If I Could Do It All Again

#SundaySweat

Song of Stevens

RagTag

@chaneajoyyy (i told you I’d do it!) @allhailnjadaka @afraiddreamingandloving @forbeautyandlife 

I never know how to tag new fresh fics but read and pass it on!

#y'lan noel fanfic #y'lan noel x reader #y'lan noel #fanfic #shakafic #rain au

[essaysbyciara]

Thy Neighbor II: Lovin’ The Crew [Chapter 16]

[Prologue] [Chapters 1 + 2] [Chapters 3 + 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapters 7 + 8] [Chapters 9 + 10] [Chapters 11 + 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapters 14 + 15] 

Only a few chapters left! XOXO, as always! 

Warning: this chapter is heavy on the smut thoughts

CHAPTER SIXTEEN 

Trevante loves staring at Ciara as she catches the ultimate high from his touch. 

Ciara wanted to forget about Y’lan’s question. She wanted to remember who she now belonged to and who was now hers. She answered Trevante’s text by showing up at his door, work clothes still intact. She needed an unwind, an escape. She knew Trevante would give it to her. In unlimited positions. 

Trevante watches Ciara bite down on her bottom lip, almost breaking skin. It is the only way to stop herself from moaning Y’lan’s name in the midst of Trevante taking her over the edge. 

Trevante isn’t an escape. He is a salve. She still wants Y’lan. 

“Why do you have to go away this weekend?” Trevante can’t stop pouting in Ciara’s direction. 

“Because I need a retreat from this paper and I need to see my girls. I miss them, Tre.”

“I wanna see my girl though…” Trevante right hand traces up Ciara’s inner thigh. She gives him the space to go back to work and the convulsions grow rapidly. “You’re my girl, right?” 

Ciara is too caught up in Trevante’s torture to utter full words. He takes all of what he hears as a “yes.” 

 Ciara’s lack of a “yes” to Y’lan aches him as he sits on his couch surrounded by silence, thoughts swirling on why he would ask her if she still wanted to be with him. Y’lan thought himself to be over his desire to try again with Ciara. He egged Winston on to send Ciara that message with the playlist, telling him that it would be a safe move. He didn’t realize that an hour after encouraging Winston to shoot his shot, Y’lan would haphazardly shoot his own.

He looks down at his phone to see an email from Ciara. She confirms that her organization secured him staff until Spring Break of next year. That was the purpose for their meeting until Y’lan felt called to confront her about Trevante.  She kept her word despite Y’lan always breaking his promises. He drops his phone to his side, exhaling loudly as he closes his eyes, thoughts of Ciara running through his mind. His thoughts go unclean and his coping mechanisms of the past come into play. He stifles himself from saying her name as he hits the sweet spot. 

Trevante’s nerves grow as he paces around his kitchen. He doesn’t know how to word all of what he feels. After his conversation with Y’lan, he wants to make things official with Ciara. He can handle her, he thinks, even if Y’lan’s warnings are coming from a good place. 

Trevante grabs Ciara’s hand as she walks into his living room, his favorite t-shirt cascading her body in all the right ways. Ciara yelps loudly as Trevante picks her up and sits her on top of his counter. Ciara can’t take anymore from Trevante. 

“Tre, I’m gone for three days. Not three months. I’m coming back, I promise.” 

Trevante pulls her body closer to him, nearly sliding her off of the counter with all of his force. He kisses Ciara so deep that her body jolts. 

“Yo, Tre. Chill.” She reluctantly pushes him away. 

“My bad…” Trevante releases Ciara from his hold. She gently tugs on both of his arms so he can come back to her. “Look at you. You don’t want to leave me this weekend either.”

“Heh. Not really.”

“You never answered my question though?”

“Which one, Tre?” Trevante can’t help but fight the disappointment he feels. Ciara’s attentiveness to every detail of Trevante fails to show up in this moment. The one time he would want for her to notice all of his idiosyncrasies, she doesn’t see it. It would have also hidden the fact that Trevante doesn’t know how to word his request.

“You know … about you being my girl.”

Ciara’s mind breaks this moment of joy with thoughts of Y’lan. Y’lan is her past that she so desperately wants to be her present but knows she has no future with. Her future is standing right here, tugging on her body, trying to find the words to tell her how he feels. She senses Trevante’s nervousness. She goes in to ease his mind. 

“I’ve been waiting so long for you ask me. I would love to be, Trevante.” Ciara playfully fights off Trevante as he goes to pick her up from his counter. As they barrel over to his couch, she knows she won’t be left in her own mess. 

Y’lan cleans up his mess. Just like Mahalia, he awaits a green light to break up Ciara and Trevante. Winston isn’t going to be enough. 

Taglist: @doublesidedscoobysnacks @diva-princess-on-fleek @voyagetoadinas9 @walkrightuptothesun @wvsspoppin  @dreamlovealways @rockwit609 @thegayaxeman @joyfulwombatdreamermaker @blackpinup22 @hookedtoherfire @kris-did-it @l-auteuse @styleismyaddiction

#trevante rhodes x fanfiction #trevante rhodes #y'lan noel #fanfic #thy neighbor

[maisondenachtai]

Boss. (Y’lan Noel x Reader)

Pairing: Boss!Y’lan x Reader Summary: Tensions flare when there’s a change of command.

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading and make sure to do my taglist survey so I can add you to the gang! I added Trevante and Y’lan to my list. Join The Taglist Here!

(if you have already filled it out once and don’t want to fill it out again, just im me! i’ll update the spreadsheet myself!)

               You hated him. Sitting over there, across the way from you being…kind and considerate, thinking of others in the room, listening to ideas and taking them down as if he really cared. Smiling.

What kind of boss smiled like that?

“And I just want to know what has been working here and what hasn’t. Uh, I’m not familiar with Fashion but I ran Esquire well for 5 years and when Jimmy told me that Black Style was not doing good, I jumped at the chance to right the ship. My mother, may she rest in peace, loved Black Style Magazine.” He placed an open palm on his chest, right where there was a sliver of dark skin peeking out of his white Cuban collar shirt. You tried hard not to roll your eyes too hard at his ploy at gaining sympathy.

“Aww.”

You sighed inwardly, of course your idiot co-workers would eat it up.

“Mrs. Y/Ln.” He placed his eyes on you, sitting forward in his chair steepling his hands. “You worked close with the old editor. Is there anything that you ever wanted to do or something that she did that maybe you didn’t agree with?”

You sat forward recognizing his posture and question for what it was, a power play. “Mr. Noel. I hope I am not out of line when I say that I have great respect for Courtney Barnes, the old editor you speak of, and while everything she may have done for the magazine might not have been the best, I am not in the mood to speak Ill of a former colleague and friend.” You placed your hands on the table, and kept your posture open, face trained into non-chalaunce.

Y’Lan Noel made a small noise, almost like a laugh and sat up nodding. He smiled, all of his pretty white teeth, straight and aligned like chiclets but in the best way. He was still nodding when he stood up going to the board where he had written out words like ‘modern, style, beauty, timeless’ and picked up the marker.

               It was disconcerting how silent it was when he wrote out the word loyalty in big red letters and then placed his hands in his relaxed trousers, and stared at the word. You didn’t bother looking at your colleagues that were giving you the look that said that you probably needed to pack up your desk. You adjusted in your chair, switching your legs over just to cross them again and watched him.

“Loyalty. I’ve always liked that word.” He started, quietly. “Loyalty is a great trait to have. Our readers are loyal to us, and we have to be loyal to our readers. I understand that many of you were and still are loyal to Courtney, and I understand why. She’s a great woman, she actually gave me one of my first starts. I am not asking you to lose your fidelity to her, only allow me to earn your trust and loyalty as well.” He turned and with an open posture, his hands out of his pockets, giving a sweeping look to everyone in the room. “I want Black Style to be everything it has been and more, and with your help we can do this.”

The room was silent for a moment, and then one person clapped, and then another, and soon you all were up on your feet, you giving him a silent golf clap while keeping your face neutral.

               “Thank you so much for coming.” Y’lan commented over and over as people being filing out of the conference room, you were one of the last people to have to pass him.

“Oh, Ms. YLN, please stay and chat with me, I just have a few things to discuss with you.” He was smiling but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. You adjusted your shoulder bag, awkwardly hanging back as the last few people filed out, trying hard not to look at you.

When everyone was gone, he closed the door and pressed a button on the wall that made the glass frosted, which made you more antsy. He left you standing near the door, moving to the table where there were waters and assorted snacks sitting out.

“Water? Fruit snacks?” He said, picking up a cookie with a napkin and placing it on a small white plate.

“Uh, no. I’m okay.” It was funny. Any and all bass that might have been in your voice earlier was gone, what was left was your normal voice, quietened by confusion and slight paranoia.

“Sure? I know the meeting ran long. I’m giving you all an extra 30 for lunch.” He turned around and leaned against the buffet table. He grinned and bit into his cookie, “Sit. This won’t take long.”

You pulled out a chair on the other side of the table, putting a whole table and a row of chairs between you. “What’s this about?”

He put the plate down and brushed off his hands. “This is about me and you.”

You sat back in your chair looking at him with even more confusion. You and him, there wasn’t any you and him. You didn’t even know the man past what his email was and how he liked to be called Y’lan. “What are you talking about?”

He stood up from his position on the buffet table and crossed over slowly to the table, sitting down in front of you. He kept your eye contact when he said, “You don’t like me do you?”

Your eyes were burning with trying not to blink, “That’s not a fair question. I don’t know you.”

He smiled and placed his mouth in the crook of his index finger and thumb, “Usually a person can tell in the first 5 minutes of meeting someone whether or not they would want to be around them, romantically, sexually, or professionally. What did you think about me?”

You tapped your fingers on the table, looking at him for a moment and wondering if being honest would lose you your job. “Can I speak candidly?”

He sat back, grinning. “Of course.”

You sighed leaning forward a little, “I thought you were a man who got the job because you were a man, not because you were qualified. Courtney had been grooming me for the job since she announced that she was retiring and you walk in with your nice flowery words, handsome face, and beautiful smile and now your editor in chief and I’m still just a stupid Head of.” Your words had become fast at the end and now you were panting, a little angry at yourself for spilling so much of your feelings to your new boss.

Y’lan looked taken back, but he quickly masked any surprise with a nod and a smile, “To be honest, I figured they would give the job to you too.”

You sighed, feeling a little calmer at his admission and acceptance of your angry rant. “Well –

“But, let’s get facts straight Mrs. YLN, I am qualified. Esquire has been the number 1 selling men’s magazine for the 5 years I have been running it. And while I’m not well versed in women’s magazines, I know at the bottom line this business is about selling.”

“It’s not just about selling, yeah that’s a big part of it, but it’s also about giving a quality magazine and making sure we don’t alienate our readers with huge changes.”

Y’lan leaned forward, eyes impassioned. “Okay, like what?”

“Like- “You stopped yourself sitting back in your chair, folding your arms. “You’re the editor, you figure it out.”

               Y’lan sighed then, raking those thick fingers over his face as if this conversation was stressing him out. You smirked to yourself, happy that he was seeing that you weren’t going to fall in line.

“Mrs. Y/LN, I don’t want there to be a struggle between you and –“

“Well I want your job.” You admitted, your hands on the table now, folded together with a victorious smile on your face. “So obviously we don’t always get what we want.”

Y’lan stood up then, leaning forward across the table, one finger pressing down on the wood. It made you focus on him, and really focus on what your body had already noticed moments earlier. Y’lan was uncomfortably sexy. You gulped as you noticed the vein in his neck ticking, noticing his adam apple bob in the silence of your stare off.

“…So take it.” He finally said, quietly, eyes not leaving yours.

“Excuse me?” You sat up, uncomfortable with what had come to your mind when he said that. You shouldn’t be thinking of your boss that way.

“1 Month, we’ll do two issues. Your way and my way. If the higher ups like your magazine, I’ll resign and recommend you for my job. If the higher ups like my magazine, you submit to me and respect me as your boss.”

You gulped at the word submit, something in the way he said it with a glance down your body before finding your eyes again made you tremble. “…Fine.”

“Deal then?” He raised his hands, across the table. He smiled.

You gripped it, shaking hard meeting his eyes with a determined stare.

“Deal.”

(Hey! Yes, this is going to be two or three parts. Yes, I know but I’ve been sitting on this for a while and I want to write outside of who I’ve been writing for.)

taglist: @chaneajoyyy  @wawakanda-btch  @blackmissfrizzle @quietpoeticheart  @bigsisbria​ 

#y'lan noel #y'lan noel x reader #y'lan noel x black reader #y'lan noel fanfic

[essaysbyciara]

Thy Neighbor II: Lovin’ The Crew [Chapter 13]

[Prologue] [Chapters 1 + 2] [Chapters 3 + 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapters 7 + 8] [Chapters 9 + 10] [Chapters 11 + 12] 

Hey, loves! Apologize for the delinquency. I’ve been going through the going through for the past few weeks but I’m going to try my best to get the rest of this story out to you lovely people. And part II of my Yahya story is coming soon too. I just ... prayers and positive energy, y’all, if you got some left over for me. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Michter’s Toasted Finished. For the gentleman.”

Y’lan feels totally underdressed at Porter’s Whisky House, Trevante fitting in more with the suited and booted types that sit here as Y’lan awaits his arrival. $18 a glass whisky feels like $800 on his non-profit salary but you only live once, Y’lan following Trevante’s personal creed. 

Trevante walks into Porter’s still trying to shake off his encounter with Meganne. Although he’s peeved about her phone antics, he’s even more mad that some of his fraternity brothers invited Meganne and her barely-able-to-drink-legally friends to Atlantic City with them. Trevante vows to cut the party trip down from 15 to seven or eight by any means necessary. 

He orders a St. George Baller straight, imploring the bartender to put Y’lan’s drinks onto his tab. After they tap glasses, Trevante pulls out his phone to take notes on their plans for Michael’s last night as a free man. 

“You cool with the strip club, Y’lan?”

“Y’all can go, I’m out. Not my speed.”

“Live, fam!” Trevante says, knocking back his St. George a lot faster than intended. 

“Nah, fam. I’m good…” Y’lan says through a laugh. “Just make that the last move on the night so I can duck out before y’all go, that’s all.”

“Man, you got mad principle about you. I respect it.” Trevante raises his glass to signal for another drink. “You got me thinking about a lot of things, man.”

“Surprised you’re even listening, to be honest.” 

“Yeah, that’s wild. That whole securing my future thing, retiring, getting out the game, finding the one. Growing up, all that. That’s also what I wanted to talk to you about. I think I found her.”

“It ain’t the gym manager girl, right?”

“Fuck no.” 

Y’lan laughs as he finishes the rest of his drink before ordering his next round. 

“You met her already.”

“I have? Who you talking about?” Y’lan braces for the one answer he doesn’t want to hear. His chest grows hot on top of the whisky chasing down his sternum. 

“Ciara, man. Yeah. We’ve been kicking it for a few months. I think I’m ready to grab shorty up for the long run.” 

Y’lan readjusts his shoulders to a heat of the whisky and his emotions now sending the same gesture throughout his body. He can’t bare to ask if Ciara and Trevante made long run moves and he hopes Trevante doesn’t divulge like he does with all of his sex partners. Y’lan decides to play nice even though his jealousy fights to be shown. 

“Word? How you pull that off?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I lowkey don’t deserve a girl like this.” 

Y’lan agrees. 

“She ended up being there for me when my Pops died and I guess that what’s started it. She’s completely different than any other girl I’ve dated, bruh. She’s about her business, man. You know she’s in school for a Master’s?”

Y’lan remembers that fateful day when he met her on Penn’s campus, when their love story started and ended because Y’lan couldn’t fully produced his love. He listened to her talk about his academic dreams for hours, watched her write her terms papers, hoping for a moment when she’d need a break only so he could  break her off. 

“You can handle a girl like her? You ready for all that?”

“That’s why I wanted to ask you, Y’lan…”

In this moment, Y’lan believes Trevante is going to confront him about his history with Ciara. She did the righteous thing and told Trevante about their past. He’s hoping Trevante isn’t angry and that this doesn’t end their friendship. But he understands especially if Ciara told Trevante that Y’lan was the man that caused her some of her worst pain. This conversation doesn’t feel as if it’s going in that direction. Clearly Trevante doesn’t know. Ciara hasn’t fessed up yet. 

“You think I’m ready for all this? I mean, I trust you and Michael a lot with this type of shit.”

Y’lan doesn’t want to kill Trevante’s dreams. He does want to kill Ciara’s chances at being hurt.  “You know, man. I don’t know. You fuck up with a girl like that…” 

Trevante throws back the rest of his whisky. “Shit. I know, man. Then I gotta start fighting off niggas like you.” 

@doublesidedscoobysnacks @diva-princess-on-fleek @voyagetoadinas9 @walkrightuptothesun @wvsspoppin  @dreamlovealways @rockwit609 @thegayaxeman @joyfulwombatdreamermaker @blackpinup22 @hookedtoherfire @kris-did-it @l-auteuse @styleismyaddiction

#trevante rhodes x fanfiction #trevante rhodes #y'lan noel #fanfic #thy neighbor

[essaysbyciara]

Thy Neighbor II: Lovin’ The Crew [Chapters 11 + 12]

[Prologue] [Chapters 1 + 2] [Chapters 3 + 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapters 7 + 8] [Chapters 9 + 10] 

Man, we’re eight chapters away from the end of this story. Ugh. Let’s see who gets on y’all nerves this week LMAOOO. 

OH! I started a Yahya Abdul-Mateen II x Reader story called (1) New Message. Check it out if you haven’t done so already! 

As always, thank youuuuuuuuuuuuu for the likes, comments and love. Taglist is still open! Peace & (most importantly) Love! 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“It’s okay, Jasmine...” Ciara finds herself Monday morning in the bathroom stall at Proverbs’ Camden location rubbing the back of a seven-year-old girl puking up a liquid Ciara can’t quite figure out. When Ciara signed up to volunteer at Proverbs, she expected to peer into the eyes of Y’lan, not the contents of a toilet. But as the only woman volunteering that morning, she bides her time inside the restroom with little Jasmine as she tosses up her little life. 

Ciara went to church on Sunday slightly hungover with thighs that ached to the delight of Trevante. Even as she started to reconcile her decision to break her rule to have sex with Trevante, she found herself always reminded in church about being “in the world, not of the world” and how we all need to “stand firm”, a sermon series in Ephesians convicting her as if she was up for capital murder. 

Ciara’s decision to not have sex wasn’t a biblical one. It wasn’t because the Church told her to keep her legs closed or because as a Christian, she is to save herself for marriage. She found all of these rules to be antiquated and patriarchal. Ciara chose to be celibate to prevent the heartache of sleeping with someone who would leave her, to not end up like she did after her ex-boyfriend left her: waxing her rejection away with as much sex as she could. As soon as she knew her man to be committed, she’d be down to consummate their love but Trevante hadn’t make them official, so Ciara jumped the gun. So she wouldn’t get left. 

So when she saw that phone call grace Trevante’s phone, she wanted so bad to throw the phone at Trevante and walk out. But she didn’t want him to then call that girl back and leave Ciara out in the cold. So her heart -- and her nether regions -- made an executive decision to make Trevante stay. Whoever “Meganne Thee Intern” was would have to wait for her turn. 

CIara wishes it is someone else’s turn to coddle Jasmine inside of the bathroom. When she thinks Jasmine has no more puke left to give, she picks her up and carries her outside of the bathroom. To her delight, Y’lan is standing right outside waiting for them both to exit.

“Yo, Ciara … I really appreciate you right now.”

“Oh, I know...is her Mom on the way to get her or something?”

“Her Aunt is coming. She ain’t happy but the girl ain’t going to school like this…” 

Ciara cradles Jasmine’s head as she looks into Y’lan eyes, causing him to match her glance. They exhale to break their trance. 

“Do you have clothes for accidents? I want to get her in a new shirt,” Ciara says, wiping Jasmine’s eyes to stop her from using her stained shirt. 

“Yeah. There’s a closet down the hall before the steps, to your left. I’m sure you can find something for her.” 

Ciara consoles Jasmine as she walks down the hallway. Y’lan stares at  Ciara as she carries her patient, adoring her care of Jasmine in that moment. He’s happy the church ladies chose to take this Monday off. 

Y’lan walks into the kitchen just as Winston finishes prepping the after school snacks for later. Winston was caught by surprise when he walked into Proverbs to see Ciara sitting at the table with some of the children, helping them try to finish their math homework before heading off to school. Winston didn’t want his car ride with Ciara to end, the both of them waxing off about their favorite rap albums and college courses. 

He found himself enraptured in Ciara as she talked about her research paper, falling in love with her enthusiasm toward her project. He picked her brain to know the best place to grab a bite of Carribean food in the city, she picked his brain about Harlem, New York, the city he lived in before moving to Philadelphia. The conversation felt so natural, as if they met in another lifetime. He couldn’t help but think about who she was dating and what a lucky guy he must be. 

And how it was that guy’s loss and Winston’s gain to be able to drive Ciara home that night. 

Winston and Y’lan quit their small talk when Ciara walks into the kitchen. 

“Hey, Y’lan. I just gave Jasmine to her Aunt, so we’re good. There anything else you want me to do before I head out?”

“No, Ciara. You did enough today. I appreciate you. See you on Thursday at U City?”

“Yep! I think I might have some really good news for you. See you then. Winston, so good to see you! I’ll see you later!”

Ciara waves at them both. Winston follows her graceful exit with a stare which Y’lan mirrors until he notices Winston’s unbreakable gaze. He laughs and throws a bag of Goldfish snacks at Winston, causing Winston to quit following Ciara with his eyes.

“My bad, man…,” Winston says to Y’lan breaking his stare with a laugh.

“No, it’s cool. I just ain’t ever seen you like that.”

“There ain’t drool on my shirt, right?” Winston looks down at the blue cotton fabric draping his broad chest. . 

Y’lan laughs uncontrollably. 

“Nah, you good King. She’s bad, bruh. Y’all have classes together?”

“We have some seminarian classes together. I have to be careful, man. I feel like she catches me looking at her all the time.” 

“Yeah, she’s good for that…” 

“Hey, man. If you staking claim on that, I’ll bow out.” Winston’s shot confidence causes him to believe that his tall and soft body with a bespeckled visage can’t compete with a former football player like Y’lan. 

“Real talk, Winston...she and I had a thing about a year or so ago.” 

Winston’s heart catches another dagger. He knows the rules. 

“My bad, man. Ain’t mean to…” 

“Nah, bruh. You’re good. We’re adults. It didn’t work out, it wasn’t her fault. She caught me when I was out here tripping.  I thought she’d kill me when I first told her what happened. I’m surprised she’s even volunteering. The non-profit she works for is helping us find staff.” 

“Maybe she’s plotting your murder, eh? But nah, she seems like a good girl.”

“Yep, she is…” 

Y’lan continues packing lunches until he catches Winston’s mood turn from jubilant to desolate. 

“Winston, you aight?”

“Stuff like this makes me realize that I’m so scared to date. I keep getting scared about relationships, man. Like I don’t want to meet a woman and punk out or think it’s going to fail.”

“Yo, man. I think you’re being too hard on yourself. You’ve been doing the work to get yourself right since the divorce. If you think you’re ready to step out there, you should do it.”

“Wild thing is that I did with Ciara, man, and failed.” Winston shakes his head. 

“What you mean?” Y’lan grows more inquisitive. 

“I asked her out like months ago, worked up the nerve and everything. And she turned me down.”

“Word? I mean, she met you through me at the time when she and I were beefing real heavy.” 

“Maybe but she told me she was dating somebody, so...” Winston goes back to packing lunches leaving Y’lan’s mind to go back to that moment inside of U City Coffee when Trevante offered to take Ciara home and it made his senses go off. 

“She’s dating not married, man.” Y’lan says to reassure Winston. And himself. 

“You’re right, bruh. So are you telling me to stay close?”

Y’lan inadvertently juices up Winston, turning him into the competition. But now he’s even more sure that Trevante’s been in a race too and he needs just one opportunity to find out for sure. 

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Hey, man. I can’t wait for this launch event in March,” Y’lan says as he steps away from the conference room table and closer to Trevante.

Y’lan and Trevante couldn’t be anymore different. Trevante’s tailored suits and crisp ties make Y’lan’s polo shirts and jeans look juvenile. Y’lan’s wild but kept hair towers over Trevante’s crisp fade, waves distinguishable from a mile away. They both play match with the beard, keeping it lined and tight. 

Y’lan reformed choir boy antics don’t compare to “Playboy Tre”, what Y’lan calls Trevante. He grimaces at the “war stories” he hears from Trevante, only because he used to be worse. Even though he tries to caution Trevante to get it together, he doubts that he ever listens, watching Trevante put new numbers into his phone like they could win the lottery. He hoped that his talks about futures and wives and happy ever afters would get to Trevante.  He just wasn’t expecting Ciara to be the result. 

Y’lan knows he has to ask Trevante if he and Ciara are together for sanity’s sake. But he also feels that it is not his job to inquire. If anyone needs to fess up, it would be Ciara to Trevante. She owes Trevante at least the courtesy to know that she’s working with a man who once dreamed to sex her and would have if Ciara wasn’t so upright. 

After hearing Winston’s desires for Ciara’s attention, Y’lan quickly concedes his participation in the sweepstakes game to win Ciara. As much as he wants Ciara, their history is too messy and complicated. Y’lan did her dirty, he has no right to believe that Ciara would be interested in rekindling their flame even if they let their embers burn at the coffee shop and with intermittent stares at Proverbs the other morning. He knows that feeling will pass. Ciara will wake up, smell his coffee, and go back to hating his guts. 

Therefore, Ciara is fair game to Winston. 

But not Trevante. 

“I’ll meet you at the whiskey bar on 2nd St. in about an hour, fam. I gotta send some final emails.” 

“Bet, see you there.” Y’lan daps Trevante and walks out of Trevante’s office, almost walking into Meganne, who was turning into Trevante’s office to hand him one of his email marketing reports. 

After sleeping with Ciara, Trevante noticed two missed calls and multiple texts from Meganne, some with attachments he was happy Ciara wasn’t awake  to see. He knows he must tell Meganne to chill out, hopefully as pain free as possible. But as it always is with Trevante, telling a hopeful woman “no” never ends well. 

“Hey, Meganne, you have a second?” 

Meganne hasn’t mentioned her text and phone attack on Trevante. He thinks that she’s too embarrassed or too drunk to remember. 

“Sure!” Meganne sits down on the chair in front of Trevante’s desk. 

“When did you put your number in my phone?” 

“Oh! Yeah … when we were at the bar the other night. I thought it would make things easier. If you needed to reach me or whatever.” 

“You should’ve asked me first.”

Meganne feels rejection in the air. She fights to not inhale.

“I’m sorry, Trevante. I figured you wanted it after the other night.”

“What happened the other night?” Trevante is clueless as to what he did.

“One of your friends asked us if we wanted to go to Atlantic City with you guys. I figured you needed it to plan and everything.”

Trevante and Y’lan already let their friends know about the trip to Atlantic City for Michael’s bachelor party. What started as a trip for five -- Michael, Yahya, Trevante, Y’lan and Michael’s cousin, Sterling -- is turning into a 15-man trip with both Trevante and Michael’s fraternity brothers in attendance. There isn’t an expectation of women being present. Especially not the 21-year-old intern and her friends. 

“It’s a guys trip, Meganne. My bad. I wish he told you.”

“Oh, it’s okay! You still have my number though if you want to link up.”

“I can’t, Meganne. You gotta stop sending me pictures too. My girl don’t like that at all.”

Meganne’s enthusiasm turns into mush. 

“Oh, you have a girlfriend? I’m sorry, Tre. I didn’t mean to violate.”

“It’s cool, you didn’t know.”

Meganne catches her embarrassment enough to walk out of Trevante’s office. Trevante doesn’t regret using Ciara as an excuse to get out of this mess. Even if Ciara isn’t his girl yet. 

That’s what he hopes to talk to Y’lan about. 

Taglist:  @doublesidedscoobysnacks @diva-princess-on-fleek @voyagetoadinas9 @walkrightuptothesun @wvsspoppin  @dreamlovealways @rockwit609 @thegayaxeman @joyfulwombatdreamermaker @blackpinup22 @hookedtoherfire @kris-did-it @l-auteuse @styleismyaddiction

#trevante rhodes #y'lan noel #winston duke #thy neighbor #trevante rhodes x fanfiction #fanfic

[essaysbyciara]

Thy Neighbor (Chapters 18 + 19) (Final Chapters!)

[Chapter 1][Chapter 2][Chapter 3][Chapter 4][Chapter 5 + 6][Chapter 7 + 8][Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11][Chapter 12] [Chapters 13 + 14][Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17]

We’re at the end of Thy Neighbor. This was the first fanfiction I’ve written in full since I was like a smooth 17 years old LOL. I appreciate everyone who read one chapter or all 19. I will clean this up and post on Wattpad in the near future for all my Wattpad folk. Once again, THANK YOU for all the likes, comments, follows and messages. This was fun! 

Ciara wakes up to the smell of turkey bacon. Inside of Trevante’s apartment.

Trying to reposition herself, she gently tugs on the blanket that covers her body. The sunlight almost blinds her. She finds her glasses on top of the coffee table, folded and at arms’ reach. She peeks under the covers for good measure. Her clothes are still intact, crop top hoodie and black tights. Crisis averted.

Ciara peeks over the couch. There stands Trevante’s shirtless frame standing over the stove, his black du-rag keeping his waves tight. His black basketball shorts barely hang on to his waist, the drawstring holding on for dear life.

“Good morning, “ Ciara says, her light steps preventing her from somewhat startling Trevante. The size of his body hides his slight fright once he hears her voice.

“Morning. My bad if I woke you up.”

“No, you’re fine. I must’ve been super tired last night to fall asleep over here.”

Expensive wine will knock a girl out. After two slices of pizza and two innings of baseball, Ciara’s head landed on Trevante’s left shoulder. He didn’t want to wake her. As her body cuddled into his side, he kept watching the game. He then got up to grab her a blanket. Walking into his room with a woman sleeping on his couch was new for him. He just knew that he wasn’t sending Ciara back to her apartment. He liked her inside of his apartment too much.

“It’s all good. You snore though.”

“I sure do. So what?” Ciara laughs as she sits on one of his bar stools next to the kitchen island.

“You sleep hard too because I definitely left to go the gym this morning and I did not wake you up.”

“Like I said, I must’ve been really tired.”

Watching Trevante in all his glory sends Ciara’s mind into overdrive. Such a mood, she wants to add to the ambiance. “You mind if I put a record on?” she asks. Trevante obliges. His heart does triplets when she presses play on his vinyl record player. “Oops” by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong fills the air.

“So what are you getting into today?” Trevante asks as he grabs the eggs from the fridge.

“I have a ton of homework to catch up on. Probably start outlining my thesis. Laundry. You?”

“Me and some of my dudes are going to the Phillies-Braves game.” Ciara’s blind encouragement to watch a baseball game last night pushed Trevante to hit up his friends in the group chat to plan a hangout at the ballpark. Trevante hadn’t been to a baseball game since high school. With his father. Ciara pushed him through just her presence to make that next step toward healing. “But can we hang out later? I actually want to bounce some of the work I’m doing with Proverbs off of you.”

In this moment, Ciara wants to think about Y’lan. She doesn’t care to do so.

“Sounds good. But listen, you’re a terrible host. You haven’t asked me how I like my eggs.”

“My bad, my bad. How you like ‘em? Scrambled, runny, sunny side up, what?”

“Yoked cooked all the way through but barely.”

Ciara watches Trevante crack her egg on the frying pan until she receives a text from Mahalia. She feels bad for leaving Ciara hanging last night.

Hey, girl. I’m so sorryyyyyyy. You saw Y’lan?! What? I’m coming over today.

Hey, Sis. Sure did. But something else happened last night too. I’ll tell you when you get here.

Oh LAWD 😁.   I’ll be there around 12.

Bet. See you soon, Sis. Love you.

“Okay, I don’t think you know what you’re doing…” Ciara cracks on Trevante’s egg making skills. She walks up to him, nudging him with her hip to move over so she can make her eggs just the way she likes him. He hands over the spatula playfully.

“So show me…” Trevante slides behind Ciara, wrapping his colossal arms around her waist. As the heat grows between her back and his chest, she feels something else in the late stages of growing behind her too. Trevante’s shorts add an extra layer of friction between him and her tights. Ciara lets off a sigh punctuated by her biting her lower lip. Trevante then nuzzles his lips next to the right side of her neck.

“Tre, hold up…” Trevante begrudgingly but lovingly lets go. Ciara feels relieved even though that’s not the type of relief she wants right now. “Where are your plates?”

Trevante points to his left cabinet as he sits down at his island to hide what’s going on beneath those basketball shorts. As Ciara sets a plate of turkey bacon, toast and eggs in front of Trevante, he grabs her wrist in the same sweet way he did in the hallway last night. He pulls Ciara in between his legs for a kiss. Subconsciously, she grabs for the string on his basketball shorts. Looks like they’re skipping the friends part.  

Chapter 19

Ciara sits in front of her laptop, two versions of the Bible to the right of her and her tattered notebook on her lap. Awaiting Mahalia’s arrival, her nineties R&B playlist serenades her from her headphones, Aaliyah’s “If Your Girl Only Knew” next up on the queue. As Mint Condition’s “So Fine” plays, she thinks back to her morning. That breakfast, the jazz. The way he held her, the way that kiss felt. The restraint it took for the both of them to not walk into his bedroom or take it to his couch. Or skip a trip to find Ciara sitting on top of his island. As good as it felt, Ciara couldn’t fight her worry. She needs to hold on to what she knows, she thinks. Even if it’s Tre.

As the song changes, she receives a text from Trevante.

Can’t wait to see you later 😏

She then hears a knock at her door.

“Hey, Ma…” Standing at Ciara’s door was a king of a man, 6’5 with the cutest gap in his teeth.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I’m looking for Trevante’s apartment.”

Ciara’s soul smolders once she hears his accent. “No worries. Next door.”

Ciara goes to close her door reluctantly until this behemoth of a mystery man stops her. “Hey, do you go to Penn’s School of Divinity?” Ciara is puzzled by how he would know -- and how she didn’t notice this man on campus sooner -- until she realizes that she’s wearing her hooded sweatshirt from school.

“Yeah! Theological Studies program. Going for my Masters. You go there too?”

“I’m starting my PhD at the Religious Studies program.”

“Really?! Which focus?”

“Ancient Judaism with a focus on early Christianity.”

“That’s awesome. They are doing a symposium on “The Way” in the Fall. Was lucky to get in it.”

“I’m actually the T.A. for that class. With Shrinkleman, right?”

“Yep! Cool, we’ll I’ll…”

“Hey, Winston. I thought I heard you out…” Y’lan walks out of Trevante’s apartment and into a conversation between Winston, his friend from church, and the girl he let get away. The same girl who kept it cute last night but was trying her best not to hate his very existence. Ciara’s chest grows hot and not just because she’s laying eyes on Y’lan. She realizes that Trevante and Y’lan know each other. Her worlds didn’t need to collide like this.

“Yeah, man. Knocked on the wrong door. It’s cool though.” Winston smiles at Ciara. Ciara returns the gesture. With a sprinkle of petty in Y’lan’s direction.  

“Y’all ready to go?” Trevante walks out of his apartment with Yahya in tow. Yahya catches eyes with Ciara and quickly disengages, embarrassed by the other night. “Hey, Ci. What you doing out here?”

“Your friend knocked on my door by mistake. It’s all good though.”

“Oh shoot, this is Y’lan. The connect at Proverbs I was telling you about. Did y’all meet last night? I know you went up to their event.” Y’lan cuts off Ciara before she can answer.

“Yeah, we met last night. It’s good to see you again.”

“Same.” Not really.

Her past. Her present. Her pettiness. Her potential temptation. All standing in front of her door. Ciara is indeed loving the crew.

End of Thy Neighbor.

taglist: @hookedtoherfire @blackpinup22 @voyagetoadinas9

#trevante rhodes x fanfiction #trevante rhodes #y'lan noel #fanfic #thy neighbor

[essaysbyciara]

Thy Neighbor II: Lovin’ The Crew [Chapters 14 + 15]

[Prologue] [Chapters 1 + 2] [Chapters 3 + 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapters 7 + 8] [Chapters 9 + 10] [Chapters 11 + 12] [Chapter 13] 

Peace, family! 

Heads up: these chapters are somewhat long. Winston finally gets some attention! As always, thank you for the reads, likes, comments, messages and positive energy. Definitely wrapping this thing on up soon and that damn Yahya story too lol. 

Peace and love! 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Hey, Ciara. It’s Winston…

She knows who you are already…

Hey, Ciara! Thinking about our car ride the other night, just wanted to …

Sounds like you’re asking her out again…

Hey, Ci! 

Ci?! 

Hey! Made a playlist of those songs we talked about the other night. Wanted to share. Praying for you during this midterm season. 

Of course I’ll say I’m praying for her. That’s safe. 

All Winston knows since his divorce is playing it safe. 

Married at 24, he didn’t know much of anything else. Freshly married, Winston was on his way to finishing his Masters and thinking about his Doctorate. His wife was on her way to medical school with the goal of becoming a research pathologist. In fact, they pathed their entire lives. Degrees by 27. One child by 30, another by 32 and a move to the West Coast. They both wanted the sun that avoided them since birth. 

But in the midst of following the game plan, they forgot about their true dreams. Medical school was the dream of her parents; she wanted to study music and dramatic arts, having done a play or two in college. He wanted to travel around the world as a missionary. They both felt tied down by the dreams of other people. They wanted off the path they created for themselves. 

So they went rogue. She quit medical school and enrolled at Tisch School of the Arts. He started applying to missions and was accepted to travel to East Africa, to learn from the Ethopian Orthodox community. They were happy, their dreams were no longer deferred but as Winston planned his trip, he wanted his wife to join alongside him. Why do this alone? But that would stop her dream and with both of them unable to compromise, Winston left her to go fulfill what he felt was the mission of his life. 

Skype and texts could only do so much. She fell in love with a fellow student. He started an emotional affair with another missionary. Winston was warned of such a thing before he left, thinking he’d never fall for that type. When he found himself upset that his missionary “friend” didn’t text him “good morning”, he knew himself to be caught up. 

But when Winston returned home, he killed his affair. She hadn’t. He saw the Facebook messages, found some of her distraction’s clothes inside of their house. A condom in the trash can. He was done. 

He blamed himself for pushing an agenda to be free, to break from the plan they had for themselves. He quit missionary work and enrolled back into NYU to finish his Masters. She, however,  continued in the arts program and right next to her lover. She wouldn’t concede. Her dream was worth it. So Winston thought the marriage wasn’t worth it and he filed for divorce. 

Since then, he’s dated but failed, always attracted to women who would fit inside of this perfect picture of his life. Medical students, PhD students; he tried to find someone that could replace his ex-wife. But then he had fears of his future wife  living out her dreams only to find something -- and someone --- better. He felt disposable, like once she would find something new and better, she’d leave. 

Ciara fits the narrative with her dreams of a Doctorate and her determination to change the world. However there is something about her dreams of finding the freedom in her faith, for pushing individuality, for being her despite the culture’s insistence that her freebird self was the problem that attracted him to her even more. She thinks about shaking the tables. She isn’t about straight and narrow, she is about doing what her heart feels is right. And she found peace in her heart within her studies, something Winston wish he felt. 

And her hips swayed like the ocean when she walked, which Winston felt crash into his body every time he caught a glimpse of her walking throughout campus. Ciara stoked this lustful fire inside of Winston that he hadn’t felt in years. At first he believed all of his feelings to be wrong, writing Matthew 15:19 inside of his journal when some nights were rougher than others. 

Winston saved all of his cursing for when Ciara left his car, letting out moan-laced expletives as he watched her walk up the steps into her apartment building. He wanted her in all the right and wrong ways, readjusting himself in the driver’s seat to allow some room for the growth he couldn’t control. 

But after a cold shower and his bedtime devotional, his nerves -- and body parts -- calmed down. He gave himself some grace and prayed that night to not let those emotions motivate his actions. He’s seen many of his friends use the opportunity for sex as a reason to act like “good guys.”

Y’lan’s story was warning enough. 

But to Winston, she’s unattainable. When he heard Y’lan say that he dated Ciara, he figured himself to be out of the game. Guys like Y’lan are cool and of the culture. They don’t look like church boys. They have one foot in the church and one in the streets. Winston was, in all ways, a nerd. A Bible-reading, Jesus-loving nerd. Ciara doesn’t go for those, he thought.

Sitting in U City Coffee, awaiting Y’lan’s arrival, Ciara doesn’t know what to think anymore. Her ice coffee dilutes as she ignores her caffeinated pick me up by scrolling through Trevante’s instagram to see if she can find “Meganne The Intern”. Ever since that night, Ciara can’t help but think that Trevante is continuing to sex another woman into a mess just like her. 

Puzzle pieces start to come together in her mind: no wonder Tre held out for so long, becoming super affectionate and protective once they started having sex. She always knew deep-down that Trevante wouldn’t be able to handle her celibacy. Naivete increases thinking that a man who couldn’t keep his apartment empty if his life depended on it would be able to do such a thing for little ol’ her.

“Hey, Ciara. Sorry I’m late.” Ciara breaks her search to look up at Y’lan almost out of breath in her sight. 

“Hey! It’s okay. You breathing hard like you ran here.”

“Yeah, my bad. Just played a quick pick up game with some kids. They damn near ran me off the court. I lost track of time.” Y’lan’s body ripples under his grey Nike sweatsuit. He’s not dressed for a meeting and Ciara’s growing sexual angst does not care one bit. 

As Ciara walks up to the counter to buy a bottle of water for Y’lan, Y’lan works through his plot to confront Ciara about Trevante. Y’lan’s anger seethed from his pores listening to Trevante talk about Ciara as his future, as a woman that he’d want to settle down with. There is nothing settling about Trevante, Y’lan realizes. Having seen Tre at his worst at bars and hangouts, he knows him to be far from ready. Ciara would be up against the worst of them with Trevante. Y’lan doesn’t want her to get hurt. Again. 

Ciara comes back with her aqueous libation for Y’lan. Sitting down in front of her laptop, she looks down to see a message from Winston. Her curiosity overflows until Y’lan breaks her concentration with a question. 

“Before we get to this, can I ask you a question?”

Ciara knows exactly what’s about to happen. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

She knew this day was coming. Ciara stops mid-sip, her chest growing hotter by the millisecond. Dreading what’s about to happen, she feels the mercy in Y’lan asking about it first.

“What’s up, Y’lan?”

“So what’s up with you and Trevante?”

Ciara becomes unnerved at the lightweight aggressive way Y’lan asks his question. Y’lan didn’t enter the conversation gracefully and Ciara can tell that he has no plans on letting up. She adjusts her body in her chair, tilting her head to the left as her eyes squint toward Y’lan, trying to make sense of his tone. 

“We’ve been kicking it for a minute. What’s good?” Ciara matches his energy and Y’lan feels the shift. 

“Hey, I’m not trying to hem you up. I’m sorry if I came off that way. I just went to go see him a few days ago and he told me about y’all, that’s all.” 

Ciara wonders if Y’lan told Trevante about their past. She suddenly feels every pipe within her burst. “Word? Cool.”

Ciara’s pretend nonchalance bothers Y’lan. Maybe she doesn’t care that Y’lan cares. Maybe Trevante found out in between then and now so her inaction to gain a reaction is valid. He decides to go for round two. He needs to know for sure. 

“Does he know about us?”

“No disrespect, Y’lan, but you should be the last person to be checking me about what I do.”

Y’lan nods his head to fight the anger growing inside of him. “I’m not trying to be disrespectful, Ci. I promise you. I just … you do know that’s my friend, right? When we linked up to talk about it, it didn’t seem like he knew. And I didn’t want to be the one to tell him because, real talk, that ain’t my job.”

“I agree with you.” Maybe Ciara is done putting up a fight, he thinks. “I’ll tell him.” 

“Bet, cool. Like I said, I ain’t mean to make it this big. I just...”

“Does it bother you, Y’lan?” 

Y’lan’s mind claims that he’s protecting Ciara from inevitable heartbreak. Y’lan heart knows that he wishes he and Ciara could try once more to get it right. As the battle rages on between his heart and mind,  Ciara’s pettiness rages inside of her body. Whatever emotions she possesses about her past with Y’lan are ready to be unleashed. She’s waiting for Y’lan to say just the right words. 

“That y’all are together? Nah, not really.”

“You sure? Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying to you, Ci.”

“I mean, you did lie to my fucking face for a smooth year so I don’t know…”

Y’lan walked himself right into that response. He braces for the rest of what Ciara has coming his way. 

“Yo, Ci. Don’t do that. I told you…”

“Told me what? You didn’t tell me anything. I found out after the fact that you didn’t want me. You showed me, you couldn’t tell me.”

“How can you say that I didn’t want you?”

“You left!” Ciara’s tears puddle inside of  her eyes as she tries to hold back the scream that undercurrents her words. She exhales, closing her laptop with swift aggression. Y’lan’s body sinks into his chair, his mind taking a few more seconds to ponder what to say next. 

“I know I can never really earn your trust after that, I know. I’m sorry. You met the worse iteration of me. I’m now a better person.”

“You know, I hate that shit. Why did I have to be a casualty of your growth as a person? I didn’t sign up to be a “lesson learned”, Y’lan. I wanted to be yours.” 

“Do you still want to be?”

Ciara and Y’lan both pause at the question that escapes Y’lan’s lips before it could be stopped. 

“Y’lan, I can’t… I’m not doing this with you.” Ciara shoves her laptop into her bag. Shuffling to find her keys, she looks down at her phone to see a text from Trevante. 

Can I see you tonight before you leave for your trip? 

Y’lan has his answer. 

Taglist: @doublesidedscoobysnacks @diva-princess-on-fleek @voyagetoadinas9 @walkrightuptothesun @wvsspoppin  @dreamlovealways @rockwit609 @thegayaxeman @joyfulwombatdreamermaker @blackpinup22 @hookedtoherfire @kris-did-it @l-auteuse @styleismyaddiction

#trevante rhodes x fanfiction #trevante rhodes #y'lan noel #winston duke #thy neighbor #fanfic

[essaysbyciara]

Thy Neighbor II: Lovin’ The Crew [Chapter 5!]

[Prologue] [Chapters 1 + 2] [Chapters 3 + 4] 

Hey, faves! Thank you again for all of the love. If you missed chapters 3 + 4 and the reveal of [Top Secret], click above to read. Peace & Love! - Ci 

CHAPTER FIVE

U City Coffee is located on 3902 Walnut Street. What feels like such an innocuous address turns into something deeper when Y’lan realizes  that U City Coffee used be Commonwealth Coffee, the place where he’d meet Ciara every morning for caffeinated libations when things were beautiful between them. He wonders whether she chose this place on purpose  to spite him-- or if God orchestrated this to be the place for their first conversation in order for Y’lan to feel some conviction about what happened. Truth be told, he’s tired of all that. Meeting with Ciara feels like redemption. Finally.  

The black wooden high table that Ciara and Y’lan would meet each other every morning was gone, replaced with long granite tables for more a communal feel. Y’lan orders his latte -- and what he hopes is still Ciara’s usual of vanilla ice coffee with two extra pumps -- and awaits her arrival. 

When Ciara finally released herself from her embarrassment-laden stupor, she noticed Trevante’s text. Though she so desperately wanted to see him, work comes first. For the first time since they began dating, Ciara finds a backbone. A backbone named Y’lan. 

Ciara didn’t realize that she offered to meet Y’lan at their old watering hole until she hops off the trolley in front of the coffee shop. She swears to herself that it isn’t intentional. Her spirit is telling her otherwise. Ciara’s revengeful tick is alive and real. 

As she walks in, she gives a quick hug to Ms. Velma, the owner of the coffee house. A barrel of a Polish woman, she’d always let Ciara stay an hour or two after closing to work on her schoolwork in exchange for Ciara spending twenty minutes or so of those after hours reading to Velma’s granddaughter,  to hold her attention as Velma cleaned up. Ms. Velma always joked that she wanted “big curly haired babies with sunkissed skin” for her nephew. Ciara and him went on a date at Velma’s behest but it didn’t quite work out. Ms. Velma blamed her nephew for that. 

Y’lan watches Ciara as she navigates the maze of tables to find him. He’s still not over her walk. Lighting crashes from her hips everytime she takes a step. Y’lan will forever love watching it. 

As Ciara approaches their table, Y’lan stands up as if to hug her. Feeling as if he hasn’t earned back that privilege, he pulls out her chair like a gentleman. Ciara smiles in return. 

“Thank you, Y’lan, for meeting on super short notice. I didn’t know if I’d be able to anytime this week.”

“No, this was perfect. Tomorrow is an office day at Proverbs so I don’t have to be in really early.” 

“What time do you usually have to be there?”

“Me? Four.”

“Sheesh. Wow. You hate mornings.”

Y’lan trails off as he hears Ciara reminisce about how cranky he could be in the morning. He couldn’t believe Ciara remembers  his early mornings attitudes. Ciara can’t either. She thought she purged enough of Y’lan from her memory. Sitting in this coffeehouse is triggering a lot of thoughts and they’re not all clean, at least for Ciara. 

Y’lan still carries his football player build -- with some subtle softness added to his midsection. The mix of caramel and chocolate that is his skin, his bright teeth -- Y’lan did not play fair. 

“Vanilla ice coffee, still?” Y’lan slides over Ciara’s drink, hoping to get it right.

“Yep! You got the two extra pumps, right?” Y’lan nods in approval as he grabs his notebook. Ciara grabs her laptop from her bag. That Wu-Tang Clan sticker Y’lan got her for her birthday is still on it. Y’lan notices it and fails to contain his smile. 

“So what’s going on at Proverbs? How can we help?”

“Midterms are killing us. We lose commitments from volunteers all the time. I think because we’re across the river, students don’t always want to travel that early. And we’re in Camden, so you already know the deal.”

“Midterms are killing us too. But we do work with a seminary in Cherry Hill. Let me reach out to them to see if they’re interested.”

“Ciara, you’re saving my life right now. You have no idea.”

Ciara loves what she hears. 

“Whoa, let me get your some bodies first….” Ciara says through a laugh, “... before you etch that in stone.”

“Appreciate you for even trying.”

“Of course! In the meantime, I’m a part of a listserv. Let me give you the email address so you can post your need. You might be able to find some help in the meantime.”

As Ciara goes to grab Y’lan notebook and pen to write down that email address, she notices that Y’lan isn’t wearing a wedding band. Why would Y’lan take his band off before meeting up with her? As Ciara writes down the email, he notices that Ciara hasn’t yet apologized for last night. Why is she acting as if she didn’t ask him to come over?

“Thanks, Ciara. This could stop the older ladies from my church from volunteering their daughters to come work…”

“I’m sure your wife doesn’t like that, huh?”

Y’lan remembers that Ciara thinks he’s married. Y’lan had no strength left to correct her assumption after their conversation at Proverbs. He feels like it’s now is the time to correct the record. 

“Ciara, I’m not married. I never got married. She  broke off our engagement because I was too much a damn mess to get married to anyone.” 

Ciara’s back taps her chair.  She feels foolish for insinuating that Y’lan is married plus stupid for letting her assumption turn her into such an emotional mess, a mess that crawled into Trevante’s arms that night. That now feels bittersweet since her and Trevante were on the verge of being together. 

“I’m sorry, Y’lan.”

“Don’t be. If I owe an apology to anyone, it’s you.” Y’lan continues tapping into his confessing spirit. “I wasn’t honest with you about where I was in my life. When we met, I was in a relationship with my high school sweetheart, I should say. And instead of being honest with either of you, I tried to play both of you. And I lost both of you.”

Ciara uses her ice coffee to cool down the heat suddenly rising inside of her chest. For Y’lan to confirm her suspicion that she was not the only one sends Ciara’s emotions into a tailspin. But oddly, she feels relieved to know the truth. No more guesses, no more expecting the worst, no more racking her brain about who she needs to kill. Her target is sitting right in front of her. But in a moment where she could -- and should -- let him have it, she decides to impart some grace. 

“I appreciate your apology, Y’lan. Truly. It takes a lot to admit that.”

“I was wrong to disappear on you too. I was too embarrassed to say anything. As soon as I left, me and her got engaged but it didn’t last. She saw right through my bullshit.”

“Y’lan, man. We have more coffee dates. You don’t have to spill all of your tea at once.”

“We do?” 

A smile graces Y’lan’s face at the thought of spending more time with Ciara. Ciara realizes what she said and instantly has regrets. She doesn’t want for Y’lan to think that they can start all over. She still has to process what she’s heard first. But as Y’lan cracks that smile that she fell in love with, she couldn’t help thinking back to those mornings in Commonwealth, at that high table, when Y’lan would smile at her and her body would feel every emotion known to creation. She’s feeling those things right now -- especially since Y’lan isn’t going home to a wife. 

It leads her to look into his eyes. He matches her energy, staring through her soul. Silence engulfs them as the flood of curiosity and lust Y’lan first felt when he met her at that speaker series  two years ago suddenly overpowers his being. He thought he lost her for good but now she’s sitting right here, forgiving --- and attainable. 

As for Ciara, what she always felt after Y’lan would leave her house, feelings full of sensual angst that she would exorcise from her body with the help of some batteries, hits her like a ton of cinderblocks. 

They simultaneously inhaled the energy from two years ago. They wonder who would exhale first. 

Ciara exhales once she notices Trevante walking toward their table. 

Taglist:  @doublesidedscoobysnacks @diva-princess-on-fleek @voyagetoadinas9 @walkrightuptothesun @wvsspoppin  @dreamlovealways @rockwit609 @thegayaxeman @joyfulwombatdreamermaker @blackpinup22 @hookedtoherfire @kris-did-it @l-auteuse@styleismyaddiction @essaysbyciara

#trevante rhodes #trevante rhodes x fanfiction #y'lan noel #thy neighbor #fanfic

[essaysbyciara]

Thy Neighbor II: Lovin’ The Crew [Chapters 3 + 4!]

[Prologue] [Chapters 1 + 2] 

Shhh...[TOP SECRET] is revealed! 

THANK YOU TONS for the comments and likes! Taglist is always open, so let me know and I’ll add you! Peace & Love! 

CHAPTER THREE 

What changed from one-ish in the morning when he wrapped a blanket around her mentally exhausted body to now, who knows. All Ciara knows --and feels -- is that she finds herself building a new level of exhaustion at the hands -- and other appendages -- of Trevante. There will be no 5 AM workout at the gym this morning. Trevante gets it right here as Ciara receives multiples of what was denied to her last night, what Mahalia clowned Trevante for not being able to produce. As Trevante gives Ciara's body a workout before sunrise breaks, Y'lan is also breaking a sweat of his own making in the early AM as well. 

“We just ordered 60 cartons of milk? That’s it?” Y’lan flips over  the delivery sheet, looking for an answer he knows he won’t be able to find. 

“I just deliver the orders, chief,” the delivery driver says as he hops into the driver seat of his truck. Sixty cartons of milk would have been fine for the breakfast program during the summer but with school back in session, he’s seen close to eighty kids every morning. A lot to handle on his own. 

He’s been on his own a lot lately since midterms time hit all the local colleges. His normal set of volunteers keep dropping like flies, burning the midnight oil only to text Y’lan at the last minute that they won’t be able to make it. He’s been hanging on by a string, the lovely older ladies at his church helping out when they can. They all had a crush on Y’lan -- and a daughter they so desperately wanted for him to meet. 

Y’lan keeps thinking about his lack of a meeting with Ciara the other night. He texted her phone to ask what time he should come over for dinner but received no response. Though he was proud that his peace offering worked at Archie’s, he hated that Ciara did what she’d been doing since they ran into each other at that Proverbs event: ignore him.

Ciara and Y’lan would often cross paths at local church events across the city. Ciara kept it “church cute”, acknowledging his presence if they ended up in group conversations but avoiding any one-on-ones. Y’lan friend requested her on Facebook and she ignored it. Ciara was still in disbelief that Y’lan and Trevante were friends but then she wasn’t: birds of a male ho feather flock together. But she always wondered what woman at these events was Y’lan’s wife. Her pride wanted to meet the woman who killed her dream. 

“These kids waste a lot of food, man.” Winston says as he tosses another full tray of breakfast food into the trash. 

“I know.” Y’lan says. “And then they complain about being hungry once they get to school. I think they’re so happy to see their friends, man. That’s all.” Y’lan appreciates Winston’s friendship more than a little bit. After lamenting to Winston that he needed help at Proverbs in the mornings, Winston quickly volunteered to help -- even as he worked through his PhD at the University of Pennsylvania. 

Winston and Y’lan met at their church’s young adult men’s retreat before the summer. Winston just moved to Philadelphia from Harlem, settling in the Germantown section of the city. When he opened up at the retreat about his divorce and his perceived failure as a husband, Y’lan instantly admired his transparency. They talked for hours that night, striking up a bond both men needed. They could hold each other accountable, something Y’lan needed more than ever now that he is single. 

Winston is single too -- although he tried to change that. When he crossed paths with Ciara that one day in front of her apartment, he vowed to never forget her, thinking she possessed the cutest nose he’d ever seen. So when his university mentor told him to find a student to tour him around campus, it felt divine. He found Ciara on Facebook and sent her a message. She responded within minutes. 

As Ciara walked him around Penn’s campus and later took him to have lunch with other masters, MDiv and PhD students, he felt butterflies which eluded him since his divorce. Though it had been over three years since his marriage ended, Winston was absolutely terrified to date. He didn’t want to fail another woman, he thought. He was scared to disappoint. His lack of dating life kept him celibate as well. He knows Ciara’s plight better than anyone. 

Once he heard Ciara speak in a group discussion in class, he thought to take a leap of faith. So as their group dispersed, Winston found himself alone with Ciara. With a deep breath and a quick prayer, he asked Ciara if she wanted to meet up sometime for coffee. Ciara regretted that she had to tell him ‘no’. Trevante wasn’t exclusive but Ciara sure was. Since that day, Winston kept his distance. Ciara sometimes caught him looking at her from afar. 

“I appreciate you helping me, Winston. You’ve been a lifesaver.”

“Anytime, man. Glad to help. I’ll see you Thursday at bible study.” Y’lan and Winston dap each other as Hampton Scott, Y’lan’s boss,  walks into the cafeteria. “You got a minute, Y’lan,” he says as he points to the hallway.

“I’m checking in on you, Y’lan. You look exhausted.”

“I am, Mr. Scott. These volunteers keep dropping on me. I’m afraid to see what finals time will be like.”

“Have you reached out to Protestant Placements at all?  I’m sure they can help us in the meantime.”  Pride absolutely kept Y’lan from making that call to Ciara’s organization. Y'lan breaks his pride because he’s out of all of his energy -- and because he wants answers as to what happened the other night. 

Meanwhile, Ciara is also out of energy--- in all the right ways. 

“Call out of work for me…”

4

Ciara didn’t heed Trevante’s request. As she sits at her work desk, her phone vibrates from Trevante’s texts. He’s giving a play-by-play review of their early morning together and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t like it. 

Ciara had no regrets about getting into his bed. She was too cold from sleeping on his living room couch, the supposedly wool blanket too thin to keep her body warm. Trevante turned around to hold her once he felt her creep under his covers. This time, she responded to his grasp. That’s all it took. 

Come straight to my apartment after work…

What about the gym, Tre? 

Fuck a gym, I got you…😉

Trevante unfollowed gym manager on Instagram as soon as he sat down at his desk that morning. His moment with Ciara felt so right, so perfect … so how their first night together should have been. He got to play with Ciara’s braids that morning as the sunlight beamed off of her back, her drifting in and out of sleep. He didn’t want her to leave. He tried not to wake her sleeping body draped over his as he drafted up an email to his boss. He wanted to take up an offer to work from home --  hoping that Ciara would say “yes” to his request  to call off from work. When she denied him, his heart flatlined. He deleted the email. 

“Mr. Rhodes, here’s your mail!” Trevante looks up from his phone to see Meganne, the fall intern, looming over his desk with a very wide smile on her face. Her green eyes and 3C hair straight out of a Shea Moisture advertisement caught Trevante’s attention when she was introduced to the agency’s staff a few months ago. When Trevante saw Meganne waiting for a SEPTA bus after a marketing event, he offered to ride her home. Her sorority sisters couldn’t believe the “fine as fuck” man dropping off their soror in front of their house that night. When Meganne -- and all of her sorors -- followed Trevante on Instagram, he returned the favor. 

After that, Trevante and Meganne would grab lunch together often. Though it made Trevante uneasy, he felt it all to be innocent. Meganne didn’t see it that way. This 31-year-old modelesque marketing executive with the body of a Marvel superhero bought her lunch and liked her pictures on Instagram? Oh, he’s interested.  So when Meganne was looking for a place to celebrate her 21st birthday, she asked Trevante for suggestions with hopes that he’d join the fun. 

Trevante bought her and all of her sorors drinks at Bar XXI, the hottest lounge in the city. He even secured them a table on a night that Meek Mill  was hosting his after party. Meganne got so drunk that she went full steam ahead and sent texts -- and pictures--  to Trevante. Although it made Trevante feel super awkward, he never mentioned it to her. He just decided to keep some distance. The lunches and Instagram love stopped and Meganne grew worried. Her grown-ass-man didn’t want her anymore. 

“Appreciate it, Meganne. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!” Meganne walks out with an extra switch in her walk which Trevante fails to ignore. Trevante grows weary as Ciara starts to ignore his texts. He really wants to play house with Ciara tonight. 

But as the minutes of silence turn into hours, Trevante’s mind starts to wander. Though this morning felt amazing, he didn’t know how long it’ll last, if Ciara would change her mind and go back to the original plan. He doesn’t want another “I can’t always do it” from her. Feeling the fear of neglect, albeit manufactured, he refollows the gym manager on Instagram and goes on a liking spree. He needs attention from someone. 

Ciara is ignoring Trevante’s texts because of an unexpected email that graced the presence of her inbox. 

Ciara,

I wanted to meet up with you to discuss using your crew for Proverbs. We've been losing bodies thanks to midterms. Hoping you can be of assistance to us. I can be reached at 617-555-3450 ext. 250.

Thanks,

Y'lan

(I also wanted to check in on you. I know we were supposed to meet up for dinner but I guess something happened? Just making sure you're good.)

Shit. SHIT. SHIT! 

Ciara completely forgot about her revenge move with Y’lan. Staring at his email, she has no idea of what to do. She wants to ignore it but it’s work-related. She wants to curl up in a ball and hide for seemingly inviting Y’lan back into her life but she also wants to make it up to Y’lan for using him as a part of a childish game called her coping mechanisms. He didn’t deserve that --- even if he broke her heart. 

Hey, Ylan! 

Would love to meet with you to talk about partnering with Proverbs. If it’s not last minute, can we meet up at U City Coffee tonight at 7? 

Thanks! 

Ciara 

She doesn’t mention the other night’s misstep -- on purpose. 

Taglist: @doublesidedscoobysnacks @diva-princess-on-fleek @voyagetoadinas9 @walkrightuptothesun @wvsspoppin  @dreamlovealways @rockwit609 @thegayaxeman @joyfulwombatdreamermaker@blackpinup22 @hookedtoherfire @kris-did-it @l-auteuse @styleismyaddiction

#trevante rhodes #y'lan noel #winston duke #trevante rhodes x fanfiction #fanfic

[essaysbyciara]

Thy Neighbor II: Lovin’ The Crew [Chapters 9 + 10!]

[Prologue] [Chapters 1 + 2] [Chapters 3 + 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapters 7 + 8] 

THANK YOU MILLIONS for the love, y’all. Again, such encouragement to keep doing this. Loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. 

As always, taglist is still open. Peace and love! 

CHAPTER NINE

“You didn’t have to send that text, Mahalia. You dead-ass wrong for that.”

Mahalia has no regrets firing off that text to Ciara, the brown liquor racing throughout her body faster than she can keep up with it. 

“Yes, I did. He’s trash.”

“Well, that trash is coming right now to my side of the bar, so watch it…”

“How you gonna tell a North Philly girl to watch it, bitch…?” Mahalia gulps down the rest of her Hennessy with force. 

Trevante walks up to Ashley in hopes to close his tabs and send the kids on their way towards their next destination where he won’t be present. He feels Mahalia’s eyes slicing him up as he navigates the crowd to get close to Ashley’s side of the bar. 

“Hey, Ashley. Can I get one more round of tequila shots for my table and close me out. Oh and something for Mahalia. She’s empty.”

“I’m a grown ass woman, Trevante. I don’t need you buying me drinks.”

“I’m being nice, damn.” Trevante couldn’t believe Mahalia’s behavior in this moment yet he could. He would notice her slick jabs and feisty comments when he and Ciara would be together at Ngosi. He knew Ashley couldn’t stand him either but she always kept it civil. Civility is not in Mahalia’s repertoire. 

Ashley has had enough. “Mahalia, here. Stop.” She places Mahalia’s drink in front of her. “This is your last one too.” Mahalia’s face screams ‘over it’.

Ciara’s face screams tired as the large clock inside of the library hits one a.m. As she packs up her belongings, Winston lifts up his blurring eyes from his laptop for one more conversation with Ciara before she vanishes back into his dreams. 

“How are you getting home?” Winston asks. 

Realizing that Trevante wasn’t going to be her knight in shining armor, she starts to order an Uber. “Oh, I’m just going to Uber home.”

“Wait? Where do you live?” Winston wondering where Ciara’s “boyfriend” must be. 

“Mount Airy.”

Winston finds his other chance. 

“I live in Germantown. I’ll take you home.”

“You sure?” 

“Yes, I’m sure. You’re close enough.” Winston isn’t sure how close Mount Airy is to his house. He just knows he wants more time around Ciara even if he couldn’t have her. Ciara giggles on the inside of herself at Winston’s boldness. She knows he has no idea either. 

“Are you hungry? We can grab a slice at Archie’s before we head out North.” Ciara could no longer ignore her hunger pains. In this moment, a piece of the greasiest pizza would solve all of her problems and her growing anger that Trevante would leave her to her own devices to get home. Trevante told her to not drive into school since he’ would be around to take her home tonight. Looks like he forgot.  

“Ahh, man. Like some New York greasy sh---stuff?”

“Yes, like that. It’s super close. We can walk there.” Ciara throws her tote bag over her arm and turns off the lights to the study room. 

Ciara and Winston walk into Archie’s, tables crowded with drunk college kids taking an alcoholic break from midterms. As they navigate the drunkards to get in line, a girl stumbles onto the back of Ciara’s legs, her  body overpowered by whatever she’s been drinking. Ciara turns around to instantly grab her falling body. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Are you friends here?” The girl strains to even say yes as she points over to a table full of girls just as pretty as her. “Meganne, oh my Goddddddddddd! I’m so sorry.” Meganne’s soror grabs her from Ciara’s clutches.

“It’s cool. She’s cool.” 

Ciara adjusts her sweatshirt, grabbing an unfortunate whiff of liquor plus drool Meganne left on her shoulder. 

“Can I have two slices of cheese, please!” Winston yells over the counter.

“And for your lady…??!” Ciara looks at Winston as if to reaffirm the pizza shop owner’s question. 

Winston looks back at Ciara, the lack of words showing evidence of his shock to this moment. 

“Oh, she’s not…uhh….” 

“Three slices of sausage, stacked!” Ciara yells her order as she grabs a Tahitian Treat from the cooler. 

“You got it, sweetheart!”

CHAPTER TEN

It feels weird for Ciara to leave Winston’s car without a hug. She wants to know how that massive yet soft frame would feel around her body but when she sees Trevante’s car in the parking lot of their apartment complex, right next to her late model black Acura, she grows irritated. 

No, she didn’t send Trevante a text saying that she was almost done at the library. No, she didn’t call him once she closed her laptop. She desperately wanted him to reach out to her first after leaving her alone on her couch last night, soaking in the puddle that he created. She wanted to know that her treatment as a second-class citizen was without intention. 

As her keys go into her door lock, Trevante exits from his apartment. 

“Yo, how did you get home?!” Trevante says, his shirtless torso peering over Ciara’s startled body. Ciara finds his protective nature annoying yet arousing. 

“A classmate drove me home, Trevante. Chill out.” 

Trevante realizes his blunder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I forgot you left your car here. That’s my fault. I’m sorry…” Trevante grabs Ciara’s waist to apologize, pulling her closer into his body. He smells like brown liquor and bad decisions, a combination Ciara wants to try. She can’t help but fall into his body, her lips grazing his chest, placing gentle kisses as he grabs her butt.  “You’re feeling yourself a little bit, huh, Tre?”

“Don’t forget your keys in the door,” Trevante says, grabbing Ciara’s hand to guide her into his apartment. Ciara wants to eat her food before Trevante tries to guide anything into her. 

She plops down at his kitchen island, flipping open her box of pizza slices. Trevante then goes into steal one, Ciara too amused by Trevante buzzed behavior to stop him. He decides to trade that piece of pizza for a glass of Jim Beam, straight no rocks. Ciara obliges. They tap glasses before they take a shot, Ciara’s chest growing warm. She signals for another one and they again tap glasses. She sips this time while Trevante goes straight to the head. 

“Mahalia texted me tonight. She said she saw you at Ngosi with your new frat.”

“Yo, your girl got a fly-ass mouth. She lucky she’s your friend.”

“Boy, chill out…” Ciara chuckles at this bad boy iteration of Trevante. As she hulks down her last slice of pizza, she finishes her drink and quickly pours another round. She’s trying to get where Trevante is at the moment. 

Ciara walks over to Trevante playing video games. She pulls the game controller out of his hand and tosses it onto the loveseat. She proceeds to straddle Trevante which grabs his attention and every body part that comes with it.  

“You know she means well, Tre. That’s the homegirl.”

“Well tell homegirl…” Trevante takes a quick slap to Ciara’s butt causing her to giggle uncontrollably “... she ain’t got shit to worry about. I know I need her approval to take your ass away…”

“Away from where, from who?”

“From her. I think she thinks she owns your shit…”

“Trevante, stop…” 

 “Nah, you stop…”

Trevante lifts his body off of his couch, carrying Ciara’s straddled body alongside with him. “Give me that…” He grabs Ciara’s drink from her hand, squatting down to place it on top of his coffee table. Ciara wraps her arms around Trevante’s neck, allowing for him to bend over to lay her body down onto the couch. She now finds his body hovering over her. 

“Let me take off my kicks, Tre. Shit.”

“Let me grab protection, Ciara. Shit,” Trevante says, mimicking her tone. 

Ciara takes off her hoodie while Trevante walks into his bedroom. As she awaits his return, she notices Trevante’s phone on the coffee table buzzing from a call. 

Meganne Thee Intern 💦🍑🏢

Something about that name triggers thoughts back to tonight, to the girl that bumped into her at Archie’s. Ciara hopes that she’s okay, remembering those years in college when the late night would catch up to you in ways your body couldn’t handle. She forgets about her once she realizes that Trevante is getting a phone call at 2:00 am from another woman. 

“Hey, Tre….”

Trevante walks into the living room, “What up…,” unhooking Ciara’s bra with one hand as he walks around the side of the couch.

“You ain’t leaving me on the couch like the other night, right…?”

Trevante quickly ponders what that means. 

“Tapped out? Yep.”

Taglist: @doublesidedscoobysnacks @diva-princess-on-fleek @voyagetoadinas9 @walkrightuptothesun @wvsspoppin  @dreamlovealways @rockwit609 @thegayaxeman @joyfulwombatdreamermaker @blackpinup22 @hookedtoherfire @kris-did-it @l-auteuse @styleismyaddiction

#trevante rhodes #winston duke #y'lan noel #thy neighbor #fanfic #trevante rhodes x fanfiction

[essaysbyciara]

IT’S HAPPENINGGGGGG! 

(YES I GOT SO BOOSTED THAT I MADE A COVER FOR IT  😂😂😂😂😂)

Thy Neighbor II is coming! Trevante x Ciara x Y’lan shenanigans are going down once again. 

Message/comment/like if you would like to be added to the tag list. 

LOVE. 

#thy neighbor #trevante rhodes x fanfiction #Trevante Rhodes #Y'Lan Noel #fanfic

[essaysbyciara]

Thy Neighbor (Synopsis + Chapter 1) (Trevante Rhodes x Y’lan Noel Fanfiction)

Yay! Finally here. Super hyped you took out the time to read my first fanfiction in almost 15 (!) years, Thy Neighbor. Based in Philadelphia, Thy Neighbor tells the story of two longtime neighbors -- Trevante, a marketing executive, and Ciara, a Theology student -- who find themselves meeting for the first time after a moment of tragedy. As their friendship -- and maybe more -- blossoms, Ciara finds herself in a bind. Should she continue to fall for Trevante or should she keep her guard up and ultimately keep her faith? 

(CW: war, violence, PTSD, assault, super lightweight mentions of smut. This story also has some Christian elements within it, so I wanted to give you all a heads-up about that if that isn’t your thing.)

All that was left from that morning was a the light blue coffee mug that sat on the counter. Black, no cream. She didn’t want to wash it out, fearing that it would wash away the memory of when he came into her home and poured his life out to her. He’d only be gone for 10 minutes but that felt like an eternity. No man had ever exposed himself to her before. And in that moment -- when she was doing what her heart, soul and spirit told her to do -- is when she realized that she may have felt that one thing that eluded her: open honesty.

She would see him often. He lived in the apartment next to her. She could hear his random trysts too. And watch them leave before her in the morning, passing her with a lick of shame on their faces. She knew he was a playboy who kept himself in shape. All she ever saw him carry from his car was his gym bag. Sunglasses on, even in the wintertime, as if he was hiding something. He seems like a mystery.

A fine one at that.

Dark, rich chocolate complexion. Teeth brighter than a flashlight. A build strong enough to put the fear in iron. Never said much, not even a nod. If he did, she never noticed. Always putting her head down when he passed her as if she wasn’t allowed to look at him. Hiding her amusement, I guess. She didn’t want him to know that he crossed her mind once or twice as they ran on neighboring treadmills at the gym. That always happened for some reason.

This morning started  like any other. She had just finished doing her morning devotionals, her tea cooling down by the second, forgetting to drink it as she zoned out about her day -- and her outfit for work. The sun took its time rising that morning, temperature climbing rapidly. As she turned on her favorite talk radio station, she heard a large thud in the hallway.

And tears.

“Hey. Are you okay?” She sees her neighbor crouched in front of his door, gym bag seemingly at the end of the hallway. His head dangled from his body, his breathing labored. She could see pools of water tapping his thighs, sweatpants soaked with tears. She never thought a man like him could cry like that.

“Hey. Are you…” Her voice trails off as she sees his body slowly fall to the ground. She runs up to him, wrapping her arms around him, trying to catch his fall.

“I can’t...I just…” Every word brings wails of pain and anguish. He breaks his fall with his right hand while grabbing onto his neighborly comfort with this other. For some reason, she felt the only response was to caress his head, to show him through touch that everything was going to be okay even though she had no idea what was wrong.

“Is there someone I can call for you? What happened?” She asked as he sucks back the tears.

“My Dad…”

It all clicked for her in that moment. She lost her father years ago to cancer and cried the same way she found out that he was gone. Everything made sense.

“Hey… hey… it’s okay. Come on,” With strength she didn’t know she had, she pulls him into her apartment. She felt like he needed to be a safe space in the moment. A safe space to the man she only knew as a mysterious figure that sometimes crowded her thoughts and occasionally passed in the hallway.  

As he slowly walking into her apartment, he used his gym shirt to wipe away the tears.

“We don’t have to talk about it. I just think you need some tea.”

“You have coffee?”

“I do.”

She grabbed the near expired can of Folgers and the only other mug she had in her apartment. Pouring his coffee, she watches him flip through his phone.

“I’ll give you some privacy if you need to make calls.”

“Nah, I…” He drops his phone. “This fucking sucks.”

“I know it does. Here.” He tries to take a sip of the coffee and fails, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He tries to apologize but cannot.

“Sorry. I just…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have a say a word. I got you.”

I got you.

That phrase struck a chord inside of him. His father would tell him that everytime he would go away for work. It was his way of promising his son that he’d return. And he did. He knew it as a statement of love. When she said it, he instantly felt her warmth.

She felt his warmth as he looked into her eyes, trying to form sentences but only strong enough to say his name.

“I’m Trevante, by the way.”

“Ciara. Sip on your coffee, Trevante. I’ll be right back, I need to make a call to let my job know I’m running behind this morning.”

“Oh, I don’t… I can go.”

“It’s okay, I promise you. You need to sit for a second. It’s cool. I’ll be back.”

As Ciara walks into her bedroom, Trevante notices her bookshelf. Theology, social justice, biblical history, art, every translation of the Bible. Pictures of her father. Her college degree. Her acceptance letter to graduate school. He thought she was so put together and maybe had all of the answers.

“Why did God take my Dad away?”

She froze. She was only there to care not to be his minister.

“Whatever answer I give you is not going to be right one. I had the same questions too when my Dad died. I’m just okay with never knowing the answer.”

For some reason, that was the right answer. He didn’t want to know that it was just the way that God worked. He didn’t want to know that God controlled everything and that some things are out of our control. He just wanted to be heard. Her answer made it seem that way.

“Yeah. It’s unfair. My Dad was in the military, hit the gym everyday. I remember getting up super early to watch him lift weights in the morning. Two months ago we found out that he had late stage cancer. My Mom was already gone. And I never went… I never went home to see him. And then I said that I had to and not he ain’t here anymore…”

“I didn’t see my Dad in the hospital too, so I get it.” She wanted him to feel as if he wasn’t alone. So he wouldn’t pile on the guilt and shame.

“I fucked up. I really fucked up.” His voice cracked as his body slumped on Ciara’s couch. Ciara looks at his massive frame falling into itself, trying to hold itself up against the weight of the news just received.

Trevante’s phone vibrates against the leg of the coffee table.

“That’s my sister. I should probably go.”

To say that Ciara’s heart didn’t break in that moment would be a lie. “Sure. I’ll walk you out.”

“Look, I uh … thanks for the coffee and everything. You didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s cool. I just wanted to make sure that were cool… and not alone.”

Ciara slowly opens up her door. Pride wanted her to convince him to stay. Her heart said otherwise. As she closes her door, her body goes limp. Falling onto her couch, she stares at the not-quite-empty coffee mug on her counter. She didn’t want to wash it, afraid to let the memory fade.

#trevante rhodes x fanfiction #trevante rhodes #y'lan noel #fanfic

[essaysbyciara]

Thy Neighbor (Chapter 15)

[Chapter 1][Chapter 2][Chapter 3][Chapter 4][Chapter 5 + 6][Chapter 7 + 8][Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11][Chapter 12] [Chapters 13 + 14] 

I’m a writing struggle bus, y’all. I’m sorry. Here y’all go lol. 

As always, thank you for the likes, comments, messages and follows! If you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know! 

“I’m super excited about this event tonight!” Emily’s excitement is a welcomed addition to Ciara’s day. Stewing in her office all day, texts back and forth from Mahalia got too dark for her to handle. She feels ready to get over what happened, a night surrounded by a bunch of Christians should do it.

“I’m happy you’re excited. It’ll be a great relationship building exercise for you. I’m happy you took the opportunity to come with me. We look better showing up in numbers.”

Speaking of numbers, Ciara deleted Trevante’s number as she sat in her office, Beyonce’s “Lemonade” album loud enough for her ears to hear and her heart to be moved. Girl was mad. Not surprised but mad.

She starts to feel as if she took things too far in her mind with Trevante. Nothing about his behavior said that he wants to date her. She realizes that for her, that type of attention from a man is so missed that it feels easy to elevate their relationship beyond neighbor. But that late night phone call was so sweet, that dinner was so perfect. She didn’t want to let her dream become deferred but it felt necessary. She needed to move on.

Emily and Ciara walk into Proverbs. They marvel at the diverse staff and even more diverse program. Ciara’s Black and Emily’s Latina selves feel right at home.

“Emily Polanco? How are you?!” Hampton Scott, Proverbs’ director, barrels over to Emily for a hug. Ciara instantly realizes that Emily will not need her help tonight.

“Mr. Scott ran our mission ministry at my church for years. This is Ciara, our director of placement services at Protestant Placements.” Ciara shakes Hampton’s hand. As Emily talks with Hampton, Ciara excuses herself to take a walk around Proverbs’ space in hopes of talking to all the staff she can. Walking into the gym, she notices four Black girls trying to double dutch. Ciara can’t help herself as she runs to stand behind one of the girls to help her turn the ropes at the right beat. She cheers them on, encouraging them to jump into the dueling ropes. Their brightly colored barrettes and grins full of baby teeth light up Ciara’s spirit. There’s the joy she is looking for.

Trevante desperately wants to secure some joy tonight at Ngosi, his friend Michael in tow.

“Where's Yahya?” Michael asks, the grip on his drink growing tighter  by the second.

“Family trip, I think. His wife's family lives in California.”

“Bet. That dude Y'lan coming?”

“No, he had to work an event tonight. He's mad cool though.”

“You doing aight though? You look spaced out, fam.”

Trevante is happy that it's only Michael with him tonight at Ngosi. Michael, or Bakari, is the “good guy” of the crew. His public policy degree from Penn led him into a career of city planning and finance and into meeting his fiancee. Trevante often realizes that he's the only single guy of their crew. Michael shakes his head at Trevante's stories and Yahya vicariously lives through them. That's why Y'lan's induction into the crew was spearheaded by Trevante. He knew that once Michael marries and Yahya starts to act like he is married, the Friday night crew would probably be no more. He’d need a new running mate.

After yesterday's episode with Ciara, Trevante is in need of some good guy advice. After Ciara bolted from his car, he felt sick. “Am I that bad?” he thought, piecing together moments where he may have sent mixed messages to Ciara. Trevante, indeed, was a walking mixed message. He wanted to be around her yet was mad he couldn’t get in her. It felt super shallow, he reasoned with himself. But Trevante was an 100 percent type of guy. He did the right thing even if it was painful.

“Yeah… there's this girl…”

“Penicillin, bruh.”

“Don't do me like that, fam.” Trevante cuts a look at Michael whose laughs bristle throughout his butter pecan-hued frame.

“My bad, my bad … what's up?”

“If you were single, could you date someone that's celibate?”

Michael’s face colors intrigue. This is new to hear from Trevante, he ponders.

“Me? Probably. It'll be tough but if I think she's dope, I'd consider it.”

“I met this girl. Honestly, I've never met someone like her before. Super smart. Gym rat, dope cook, mad cute.”

“Your type. So what's up?”

“She don't fuck, my dude. At all.”

“She don't fuck or she won't fuck you?” Fair question to ask, even if Trevante’s response to it screams bewilderment at the thought of anyone turning him down.

“Both. It kills me. Like everytime I see her … I want this girl bad, fam.”

“First of all, you sound like a predator. Second of all, you gotta respect that she told you her wave. You ain't used to girls being that honest with you.”

That honesty, that genuine vibe he caught from Ciara, keeps him hooked to her every move. It doesn’t take much to bring him back to that moment in the hallway, the moment that started their journey. That coffee, that plate of food, that assistance on a work project, that three hour phone conversation, those moans from her bedroom. She’s the puzzle he can’t quite figure out. And he doesn’t want to stop working on it.

“Yeah, man. Was I wrong to tell her that I wasn’t down?”

“I mean, how long had y’all been dealing with each other?”

“Less than a month, bruh. I feel like I’m ducking out at the right time, you know. To not hurt feelings.”

“I know you. You hurt her feelings. That’s why you’re asking me about her.”

Michael and that “good guy” quality of his strikes again.

“Bruh. She stormed out of my car. On South Broad. During rush hour.”

“Sheesh. Okay, well … if you feel bad about how you approached the conversation, you can always apologize. If she doesn’t accept it, move on. But if she’s willing to listen to you, just keep it a buck with her. Maybe y’all can be friends.”

Trevante wants friendship but doesn't know how long it could be enough.

His new friend, Y’lan,  walks into the gym at Proverbs with two Black teenage boys in tow, fascinated by everything that he says. As he instructs the boys to grab basketballs from the closet, he notices a woman helping four little girls jump rope. Once he hears her laugh, he knows exactly who it is.

Y’lan heart starts to beat at the same syncopation as those ropes, watching Ciara take turns teaching the girls how to jump. She looks even more beautiful than he remembered, watching her hold her braids into a messy bun, her hoop earrings jumping at the same beat as her feet.  She's still loyal to those hoop earrings, he notes to himself. His palms grow sweaty, hoping she doesn’t notice him but almost praying that she does. Her laugh sounds so sweet, her encouraging words toward the girls sound heavenly. He knew this day would arrive but even still, he isn’t ready to say a word to her. Or rather he thinks she wouldn’t say anything to him.

Once Ciara leaves the girl with hugs, Y’lan walks out of the gym hoping that she wouldn’t notice him. He quickly walks into his office, trying to hide his head in some paperwork. As Ciara walks down the hallway, one of the girls from the impromptu jump rope class follows her. She’s suffering from a cut.  Ciara asks her where she can go for help.

“Mr. Y’lan can help me.”

Mr. Y’lan. Ciara feels her insides move like glitter inside of a snow globe. It couldn’t be, she thinks. She doesn’t want to follow up a moment of joy with a flashback of pain. But her issues took second to this little girl and her not-so-bleeding finger.

“Do you know where he is? I’ll walk with you.” Ciara grabs her hand.

“Mr. Y’lan! Mr. Y’lan. I hurt myself.” Y’lan looks up to see this little girl holding Ciara’s hand. Ciara looks at Y’lan, her eyes start to welt with tears. He looks so royal, such a monarch. That smoldering caramel skin, that smile glow back at Ciara. Those flutters, that glittery feeling, move to other places of her body.

“Let me get you a band-aid, Asia.” Y’lan trips over his chair as he walks to the closet to grab the first aid kit. Ciara tries to contain her laughter. She gives herself some praise too. Of course she still has him acting foolish.

Y’lan walks back toward Ciara, avoiding all eye contact as to not get lost in her energy. “You’re okay, Asia. Ms. Ciara can walk you back to…” Asia runs out before Ciara can escort her back to her fun, leaving both Ciara and Y’lan to stand inside of his office in pressure-inducing silence.

Ciara breaks first.

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[essaysbyciara]

Thy Neighbor (Chapter 11)

[Chapter 1][Chapter 2][Chapter 3][Chapter 4][Chapter 5 + 6][Chapter 7 + 8][Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] 

Hey, faves! 

Warnings: LIGHTWEIGHT SMUTTY SMUTS in this chapter (I don’t know where on Earth my mind was at the day I wrote this but I’m not mad lol)

As always, hit me if you would like to added to the taglist. And THANK YOU SO MUCH for the messages, comments, likes and reads. You all are the bestest. 

"What can I help you find, Sir…?" The shopkeeper at the most expensive wine cellar in the city saunters up to Trevante, laboring with every step. "The lucky lady loves Riesling?"

Trevante lets out a slight laugh. Especially since neither him or Ciara got lucky.

Trevante and Ciara slept in their own beds that night after their date. After he asked her to come in, Ciara told him no. She even stuck out her tongue after she said it. Playfully cute but slightly annoying.

He started to think it was all a game. That she was in the business of  toying with every man that came her way. There was no way to deny their sexual tension.  And no way to deny that he heard her on the other side of his bedroom wall, releasing the boatland of tension she had inside of her. She had a complete disregard for noise too and he couldn't understand why she'd do all of that when the real thing was right next door. Celibacy was all a front.

He wanted to text her that he heard her but let it go. Trevante already played the scenarios inside of his head of how it would be if he and Ciara had sex with each other, the whens and wheres. Crossfit girl and gym manager girl ran too much. He just knew Ciara could take all of it.

After the coldest shower he could take, Alissa, the Crossfit girl, texted him to apologize for storming off the other day. He texted her back to prove it. She sent an attachment in return. It did enough of a job. He quickly forgot about what he didn’t get from Ciara that night. Alissa followed through.

"How did you know I was shopping for a lady?"

"Just a hunch, that's all. You know her favorite?”

“No, Sir. She just likes Riesling, that’s all I know. It’s a gift.”

“I have the best over here…”

Trevante follows the man to the back of the cellar, the smell of the oak slightly overpowering him as he goes. Scott, his boss, and Yahya, his friend, both recommended this place, their go-to when they need to buy something to make up with misses. Despite no setbacks of that sort, Trevante wanted to thank Ciara for helping him land the Proverbs contract. On that she followed through.

“Vinothek. Austria. 1997. Best.” And the most expensive. As Trevantes tries to pop his eyes back into his head, he receives a text from Y’lan. After agreeing to work with Proverbs, Y’lan and Trevante struck up a conversation, talking about football and life. Since moving back to Philadelphia, Y’lan struggled to find friends,  wanting to separate his play from work. And wanting to control his surroundings enough that he wouldn’t find himself waist deep in some women. So Trevante invited Y’lan out to his Friday night get togethers at Ngosi with Yahya and Michael.

Trevante, just following up. I sent all of the paperwork over to your email. Also I won’t be able to hang out Friday. Last minute event at Proverbs.”

No worries, man. Just let me know.

No doubt. Thanks, man. Do you have the contact from Protestant Placements?

Yep. I’ll text you her name and contact. Just let me reach out to her first so she knows you’ll be reaching out. Her name is Ciara.

Y’lan drops the phone onto his desk. Of course, God, of course. But maybe it’s another Ciara, he thinks. He avoided her like she was the plague but knew he’d have to see her eventually. Deep down he wanted to see her, no way to deny his heart. But did she want to see him? And would there be a way he didn’t have to deal with her at all. He doesn’t have to use Protestant Placements.

Sounds good. Thanks, man.

It wasn’t good.

Ciara wasn’t doing too good herself. As she sat on her living room floor, flipping through a PowerPoint, she couldn’t stop thinking about Trevante. She hadn’t heard from him all day, which felt weird. Ciara started to think that he felt a way about her turning him down. That it confirmed her thoughts that he just did what he had to do to get in bed with her. But then she felt like she gave herself too much credit. It isn’t that deep, she kept reminding herself. Get out of your head.

Her head kept her thinking about how it would have been better for Trevante to get her off that night and not herself. But she feared that having sex with him would introduce expectations and Ciara was prone to run. She wanted to run… and for Trevante to tell her to stop.

She starts to tug on her cotton shorts, shifting her whole self down to the floor. She couldn’t help it. Thinking about Trevante had her on edge. As her right hand creeps between her thighs, she hears a knock at the door. Fuck.

“Trevante. Hey!”

He could tell that he interrupted something important. As for what, he kept it clean.

“My bad for not texting you…”

“No, it’s okay. Come in…”

Ciara watches him walk into her apartment. His suit fit him like a glove. She wanted to rip him out of it.

“I got the placement. Just wanted to say thank you. Here.” Trevante hands Ciara the bottle. She can’t help herself, trying to stop the smile gracing her face. He didn’t have to do all of this, she thought. There are other things he could do, she thought. She brings herself back into reality.

“1997? Well, shit. Thank you, Sir.”

“The least I could do, you know.”

I know.

“You want to pop this thing open?” Ciara says as she walks into her kitchen, Trevante watching her in the most reserved yet intense way.

“I would love to but I have to get to the gym.”

Ciara felt dismissed. Understanding but still hurt. “But I spoke to my connection at Proverbs and they’re super interested in working with your organization for staff.”

“Oh? Yeah, cool. Give them my contact info.” Ciara eyes shift from gratitude to desolation. She didn’t want Tre to leave. But in her mind, he used her for what she had, nothing more or less. 

“Cool. I think he said that they have an event this Friday.”

“Nice. I’ll check them out. Thanks.”

Ciara starts to shift Trevante’s body toward the door which felt awkward to him. He felt like she wanted him to leave, like there was no need for him anymore. Even in that space, he felt like she was letting go. He hated it. 

“Cool, cool. Uh, I’ll get going but what about dinner when I get back from the gym. My place. Bring your bottle if you don’t dust it first.”

“First of all…” Ciara slightly laughing through the glee finally coursing through her veins “...I got some restraint.”

“You do. I learned.” Ciara’s head shoots back, slightly bewildered. She knew a shot when it hit her. Trevante has a smart-ass mouth and she’s likes it.

“Bye, Trevante. I’ll see you later.”

Trevante walks out of her apartment and Ciara walks straight into her bedroom. She bought some new batteries for a reason.  

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[essaysbyciara]

Thy Neighbor (Chapter 16)

[Chapter 1][Chapter 2][Chapter 3][Chapter 4][Chapter 5 + 6][Chapter 7 + 8][Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11][Chapter 12] [Chapters 13 + 14][Chapter 15] 

We’re getting close to the end of Thy Neighbor. Thank youuuuuuuuu for the likes, comments, follows and messages! 

Ciara breathes to break the inevitable tears.

“I can’t lie. I thought the first time I’d see you, I’d punch you in the face. But honestly, I’m just grateful that you’re okay.” Y’lan feels Ciara’s grace from across the room. He finds himself swept up in relief.

“Yeah, I … uh .... I don’t really know what to say to that, Ciara. I’m sorry.”

“How have you been, Y’lan?” The way she says his name sways his body even more. Ciara realizes that she missed saying it too.

“I’ve been okay. I’ve been working here for about a year.”

It’s been over a year since Ciara and Y’lan last saw each other. Y’lan realizes that Ciara hasn’t changed and in a good way. Just like that first time he saw her on Penn’s campus. She’s still rocking those four-and-a-half heels that caught his attention when he first met her.

“Yeah? What do you do here?”

“Director of programming and community engagement.”

“That’s awesome, Y’lan. Congrats.” Ciara meant that congratulations. Even though she feels her heart growing more angry, she’s fighting her heart with grace.

“How are things with you? How’s school?” Y’lan asks.

“Pretty good. I have a year left. Don’t know if I’m going to try for the PhD program. We’ll see.”

“They could use your brain up there, for sure.” She quickly remembers Y’lan’s affirmations and approval in between kisses inside of her apartment. She now feels swept up in his rapture too.

“Thanks. I’m excited for what’s next. But seriously, I’m happy to see that you’re okay. Straight up. I was worried about you.”

“Yeah, about that. I’m sorry. Stuff got rough. I moved over to Jersey, got engaged, lost track of everything. I meant to reach out...”

“Engaged?” Ciara’s throat begins to collapse on her as tears rush from her spirit. “Congratulations, Y’lan.”

Y’lan can’t bear to tell her that his relationship -- the one he hid from Ciara -- didn’t work out. He nods in return. He can tell that Ciara’s grace just ran out.

Ciara’s now running on empty. “Like I said, it’s good to see you’re okay. Good luck with the new position. I have an intern here so I’m going to go check in on her but it was good seeing you.”

“Ciara, wait? Is your number still the same? Maybe we can meet for coffee soon.”

Ciara feels triggered. She’s ready to snap. But she’s tries her best to be the light and salt of the Earth in a moment when she wants to crucify the hell out of Y’lan. “Yeah, it’s the same. Let me know. Bye.”

Ciara’s hustles out of Y’lan’s office and into the nearest bathroom. Her tears hit the top of her dress before she can get inside one of the bathroom stalls. She quickly pulls out her phone to text Mahalia. She desperately needs her friend.

As she gathers herself, Emily texts her to check in on her whereabouts. Ciara considers that the green light to get out of there. Once she finds Emily, she makes up a story that she isn’t feeling too well and needs to head out. Emily consoles her and agrees to leave the event early.

Ciara waits to do the hefty mental work about what happened until Emily leaves her car. After dropping off Emily, Ciara checks her phone franticly to see if Mahallia texted her back. No dice. As she drives, she stewes on the fact that Y’lan is, for all she knows, married. He must’ve known his wife when he and Ciara were dealing with each other. Was Ciara an emotional sidepiece to Y’lan?  No wonder he didn’t want her to come to his church. He had a secret to hide.

Ciara lands her in parking lot, still checking her phone for Mahalia’s text. As she gets to her door, she digs into her purse to find her keys. They are nowhere to be found.

Ciara's frustration turns into tears. With every receipt she tosses in the air, every ruffle through paperwork, every shake of a book, her spare key eludes her. She wants so desperately to get into her apartment, to curl up into her blanket and cry. Seeing Y'lan was one matter but hearing that she never had a chance to be his woman hurt the most. She wanted intimacy and never received it because Y'lan didn't have enough go around.

Ciara comtemplates dumping out her purse in the middle of the hallway. This spare key has to be found. As she digs in her purse for what feels like the hundredth time, a booming voice breaks her concentration.

"Hey. Are you okay?" Trevante looks down to see Ciara crotched down in front of her door with the nether regions of her purse almost ripped to shreds. Her eyes scream drained, tears still wallowing in the pits of her eyes. He can tell that she's been crying. And he feels the need to help her do something about it. The same way a certain someone did for him.

"I can't find my damn spare key," Ciara says, which she follows up with a sniffle she can barely hide. Trevante gave her day a bad start and Y'lan made it worse but in that moment, she feels relief that someone cares to ask if she needs help. Even if it's Trevante. She exhales loudly, her face growing tiresome.

"Look, come into my apartment. I don't want you out here by yourself." Trevante lifts up Ciara with no effort,  holding her wrist gently enough as to not make her feel forced.

Trevante's apartment is the bachelor pad she thinks of it to be. Right now, it is a safe space to reorient herself.

Ciara finds the couch and plops down her fatigued frame. As she dumps out the contents of her purse on top Trevante large oak wood coffee table, a shiny object drops by her feet. It's her spare key, her golden-hued saving grace.

"I found my key, Tre. I'm going to go home..." Ciara turns around to find two wine glasses and that $300 bottle of wine she returned on top of Trevante's kitchen island. But no Tre. He enters into his living room still in his work clothes, blazer off and sleeves rolled up. His tie went missing too. If this is what coming home to Trevante would be like, Ciara felt so good to receive a preview.

"You found what?"

"My spare key. Thanks for letting me sit here and look for it. I'm going to head home..."

Trevante doesn't want for Ciara to leave. Her work dress and heels fit her frame so tight, Trevante wonders what it would be like to watch her get dressed in the morning. As that would be privilege, so would be Ciara choosing to stay to hear whatever Trevante has to say. He’s shooting his shot. To apologize and maybe receive a second chance to prove to Ciara that he can handle her request.

"Yeah, no problem."

Ciara walks to the door but stops. A drink wouldn't hurt. A drink with the man who set the standard for her terrible day but yet she wants to forgive desperately? A bonus.

"I do need a glass of wine though unless this is for someone else..."

Trevante can barely contain his grin.

"It isn't."

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