#JoeyBadass

[jazziejax]

𝐍𝐨.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Kadeem ‘Unique’ Mathis x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Sometimes, having too much heart could be the death of you. It’s the main reason Mo acted the way she did, the answer was always no if it was t in her best interest. But for some reason, when trouble was dragged into her home, saying no was harder than ever.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - use of the n-word, mentions of violence, injury, language, mild angst, and a character struggling with head trauma-induced mood swings.

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - this was more for me than anyone else, idk if yall get done with Joey over here like that. UNEDITED, sorry for any grammar mistakes and spelling errors. Hope you guys enjoy!!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 6, 055+

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞, 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨,

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐜𝐚, 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟑

The orange streetlights outside cast long shadows over the brownstone’s stoop as Early sighed, tapping his fingers against his watch leaned against the side of his car. This was the third huff of breath he let out, becoming another as his eyes flickered around him, taking in the sound of the never sleeping city.

He looked up at the sound of the door unlocking, watching as his cousin emerged from the inside. She stood in the dim glow of the moonlight and the street lamps, coming out in an oversized Knicks T-shirt, her hair wrapped up in a silk scarf with rollers and Teddy bear slippers. Her fine was sure of hunched, her arms folded to offer herself some sort of beat so she wasn’t shivering in the cold.

She walked down her steps, a scowl on her face e at the sight of her shady and lowdown ass cousin.

They didn’t exchange any words she when stood before him, she just started at his tired face with her usual glare. She then aggressively shrugged at him, urging the man to bring up what this entire impromptu meeting at 2:30am was about. Early just sighed before leaning off of the truck and moving from in front of the door. She blinked at him before her eyes glanced into the window be no longer blocked. Her eyes landed on an unconscious man in his passenger seat.

Her deep brown eyes flickered from Early to the broken man beside him, and instantly, her expression soured more than before.

“No.”

Her tone was flat as she shrugged her shoulders with crossed her arms.

Early sighed. “Mo, c’mon.”

“No.” She repeated, firmer this time. “You know what time it is, Early? And you got the nerve to be knocking on my door with—” She gestured at man. “—this?Whatever this is, I ain’t interested.”

Early rubbed his forehead. “Look, I just need you to let him crash for a few days.”

Mo’nique cocked her head at him, a deep scowl on her face. “And why the hell would I do that?”

“‘Cause I ain’t got time to be playin’ caretaker.” Early said, exasperated. “You got a good heart. And a nursing license.”

Mo’nique scoffed. “You must think I’m stupid or some, nigga? What the hell did you bring to my doorstep, Earl?”

Early scratched his chin, looking anywhere but at her. “A favor, Mo. I did what I had to do, but I ain’t got time to be playin’ caretaker. I just need you to keep an eye on him ‘til he back on his feet.” He said. But Mo’s face didn’t change, she just started at the man, blinking once. Early hesitated, closing his eye and letting out a brief sigh before he then tried a different approach. “He ain’t got nobody else right now, Mo.” He said, staring at the younger woman with a slight solemn look. “He’s a good brotha in a bad situation.” He said.

She exhaled deeply, her gaze shifting back to Unique. He hadn’t said a word, leaned against the window, and he could see his labored breathing from where she stood. Her face was hardened into a frown as she looked back at her cousin, giving the man a duty look up and down. Finally, Mo’nique stepped aside. “Get him inside before my neighbors start asking questions.” She mumbled. Early let out a small sight at that, being his head in a quick prayer and a gesture of gratitude to the woman before him. He didn’t waste time. He guided Unique through the door, helping him onto the couch. Unique sank into it with a quiet wince, eyes closing for a moment.

She didn’t even linger to help Earky get the man out of the car, just turned on her heel to hold the door open for the men. She stood about ten feet away from the truck, watching as her cousin helped Unique out of the car. He was barely able to stand, leaning heavily against the door once he was up, his breathing ragged.

Early held the man up with a sigh, glancing down at him. “Man, you better not bleed on this lady couch. She’ll kill you ‘fore whatever did this to you finish the job. He strained out. Unique didn’t respond, just blinked sluggishly, his breath shallow.

Once he was closer, Mo’nique could see the quick stitch work on his face was holding, but he still looked like hell—bruises swelling, his jacket damp with blood that hadn’t fully dried, even though it looked like he changed. “What’s his name?” She asked as they stumbled up her steps, arms crossed. “They paused briefly in front of her, her cousin blinking at her before he answered.

“Unique.” He said, but there was a grumble of the same name from the man that held him. Early glanced at the beaten brotha in his arms, shaking his head subtly. Mo’nique just hummed. “Right.” She said before letting out a small sigh, not even questioning the weird name of the entirely odd situation.

Earl guided Unique through the door, helping him onto the couch. Unique sank into it with plush but old sofa with a quiet wince, eyes closed.

Mo’nique eased her way over to stand above him, arms still crossed. She furrowed her brows, looking at his face in the new lighting of her table side lamps. She slight winced. “You need to go to a hospital.”

Unique let out a soft groan and shook his head slowly. “Can’t.” His voice was rough, barely above a whisper. Mo’nique blinked down at the man before her eyes drifted to her cousin. “You owe me, nigga. Big time.” She said, looking him up and down. Earl sighed. “I’ll get you your money when he’s able to give me mine.” He said, gesturing over to Unique.

“Nah, you’ll get me what I ask you to get me, when I ask.” She stated firmly. Early let out a sharp sigh, becoming pissed off with the woman but trying not to show it. “Aight, Mo, damn.” He said, scoffing softly at her. Mo’nique exhaled sharply before her gaze drifted back over to the man on her couch, eyes scanning Unique from head to toe. She was no fool. She’d seen hurt men before—neighbors, old boyfriends, folks who got caught up in things they shouldn’t have. And a man like him? The kind that avoided hospitals? That meant trouble.

And just let it walk on through her home and onto her couch.

She shifted her weight, glancing back over at her cousin. “How long?”

“Uh, a couple days.” Early gave her a tight smile with a meek shrug.

Mo’nique narrowed her eyes. “That’s what you say.” She scoffed.

Unique, still barely upright, lifted a shaky hand. “Just need a place to lay low.” He muttered in a barely audible and scratchy voice. Mo’nique wasn’t to sure if he could hear everything they were saying or not, but there were money where he genuinely look knifed out, so maybe they were fading in and out to him.

Mo’nique studied the tattered man for a beat longer, then sighed, stepping aside. “Fine. But if he dies in here, that’s on you, Early.”

Early clapped his hands together at that. “Aight, well… my job here is done.” He said with a small sigh.

Mo’nique shot him a glare. “You better get me my money for this, Early.”She warned again, only to get waved off by the older man. “Yeah, yeah. You two play nice.” He said.

Early grinned, patting Unique on the shoulder before turning back to walk to the front door. “You’ll be good, Nique. Mo’nique here got a soft spot for helpless things.” He said before letting out a small laugh.

Mo’nique shot him a glare. “Nigga, get the fuck outta my house.” She said as she waked behind him to the front door. She shut and locked the door behind him, engulfing the house in its usual silence that Mo’Nique enjoyed. She let out a tried sigh before moving back over to her living room.

Mo’nique studied him for a beat. Then, without another word, she disappeared into the bathroom off side of the living room hall. When she returned, she had a first-aid kit in one hand and a damp washcloth in the other.

She didn’t waste time. She had work in a few hours, and she wanted to get at least a little more sleep before her alarm went off.

Settling onto the edge of the couch, she pressed the warm cloth against his skin, gently wiping away the dried blood and grime. Unique barely stirred, his breathing slow and heavy. He was out cold, but every now and then, his eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused. He didn’t say anything, just blinked sluggishly before his lids drooped shut again.

Mo’nique didn’t bother speaking either. There was no need. She just worked in silence, making quick, light passes over his face—no harsh scrubbing, no stinging antiseptics. She wasn’t trying to wake him up, just clean him up enough so he didn’t bleed all over her couch.

Once she was satisfied, she dabbed a little ointment over the worst of the swelling. He barely reacted. His body was too drained to flinch.

With a small sigh, she tossed the cloth aside and snapped the first-aid kit shut. She leaned back, arms crossing as she studied him one last time. He looked bad, but he’d live.

And that was all she needed to know.

Standing up, she stretched her arms above her head, letting out a quiet yawn. “I don’t know what the hell I just got myself into.” She muttered under her breath as she grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and using it to cover him as best as she could. She then glanced at him one last time before turning away.

With that, Mo’nique shut off the living room light and headed back to bed for a few good hours of sleep before 8:00am.

But that sleep didn’t last as long as she wanted it to.

The apartment was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old brownstone settling in the night. Mo’nique stirred, eyes blinking open to the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through her bedroom window. It wasn’t unusual for her to wake up at odd hours—sometimes it was just her body’s way of reminding her she needed water, other times, it was the silence itself that roused her. She glanced over at her clock, seeing 4:07am beaming at her with its red light.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, slipping her feet into her teddy bear house slippers before she made her way toward the kitchen. But as she stepped into the hallway, she heard it—a rough, labored cough from the living room.

Mo’nique paused, listening. Another cough, deeper this time, followed by the faint sound of shifting fabric, like someone struggling to move. The sound did scare her briefly before she remembered that she was now harboring a beaten man. Her lips pressed together, and she sighed, turning toward the living room instead.

Unique was still on the couch, but he looked worse than when she left him. His breathing was shallow, his head turned slightly toward the armrest, sweat dampening his forehead. His body was tense, as if even in sleep, he couldn’t find rest.

Then he coughed again, barely lifting a shaky hand to cover it.

Mo’nique frowned, shaking her head as she turned back toward the kitchen. If this fool didn’t want to go to a hospital, the least he could do was drink some damn water. She thought. She grabbed a glass, filled it, then hesitated before reaching for a straw. He was barely holding himself up earlier, and she had a feeling it wasn’t any better now.

When she returned to the couch, Unique’s eyes were half-open but unfocused, staring at nothing. He wasn’t fully there, lost somewhere between exhaustion and fever.

Mo’nique crouched beside him, setting the glass on the coffee table. “Hey,” She called softly. “You awake?”

Unique didn’t respond at first, just shifted slightly with a wince. Then, his lips parted, voice hoarse and slurred. “…Ronnie…”

Mo’nique stilled. Then she blinked in confusion.

Ronnie?

She didn’t know the name, but there was something in the way he said it—something dark, something raw.

Unique shifted again, a faint grimace crossing his features. “When I get to him…” he muttered in a threatening tone, but his voice was barely above a breath. “When I—”

His words faded into another cough, and Mo’nique sighed, grabbing the glass.

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” She murmured, slipping a hand under his shoulder. “You need to drink somethin’ before you choke on your own damn thoughts.”

Unique barely reacted as she helped lift him just enough to bring the straw to his lips. At first, he didn’t drink, and she was about to scold him for being difficult in his sleep. But then he took a slow sip, then another, his body trembling from the effort.

Mo’nique held the glass steady, pausing when his breathing hitched like it hurt just to swallow. “Take it slow.” She muttered. “Ain’t no need to rush.” She said softly, watching as he drank the water helplessly. She then felt the weight of him sag against her slightly, like he was too tired to hold himself up any longer.

After a few more sips, he pulled away, mumbling something under his breath.

Mo’nique furrowed her brows before she leaned in. “What?” She asked.

Unique’s eyelids fluttered, his voice even weaker than before. “…Shouldn’t be here.”

Mo’nique exhaled through her nose, lowering him back onto the couch. “Yeah, well. Neither should I.” She sighed.

She placed the glass back on the table and grabbed the small towel she’d left nearby earlier, dabbing the sweat from his forehead. He barely reacted, already drifting again, his face still tense even in sleep. Whatever happened to him—whatever this Ronnie did—it wasn’t just his body that took the hit.

Mo’nique sat there for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall in shallow breaths. Then she sighed, stood up, and pulled the blanket higher over him.

“Get some rest.” She muttered, more to herself than him. “You’re gonna need it.”

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The soft hum of Mary J. Blige’s “Love No Limit” played from the radio on Mo’nique’s dresser as she swayed her hips lightly, lint rolling her scrubs. Mornings in her home were hers alone—quiet, routine, familiar.

She had woken up before sunrise, her body trained to start the day early after years of working long shifts as a home nurse, not matter how much sleep she was running off of. She showered first, letting the steam ease the stiffness in her muscles, then wrapped her towel tightly as she moved through the house, making her usual rounds—checking her mail, pulling out an outfit, and applying a fresh coat of cocoa butter to her skin.

Now, dressed in navy-blue scrubs with a baby’s blue thermal under shirt, Mo’nique stood at her vanity, smoothing her baby hairs with a toothbrush dipped in pomade. Gold earrings, check. Brown lip liner, check. A final spritz of White Diamonds perfume? Check.

She gave herself one last glance in the mirror before heading to the kitchen with her nurses bad in her hand. But before she could reach for her coffee mug, she glanced toward the living room.

Right. Him.

She made her way over, peering down at Unique where he was still sprawled on the couch. He hadn’t moved much since last night—his face was still bruised, his breathing still shallow, but at least he was still breathing. His forehead wasn’t as damp as before, but she wasn’t taking chances. If this man was gonna lay up in my house, I ain’t about to let him die in it. She thought.

Quietly, she stepped away and grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from the cabinet, along with a couple of water bottles and a sleeve of saltine crackers. Setting them on the coffee table beside him, she huffed.

“Don’t say I never did nothin’ for you,” She muttered before disappearing into her bathroom to grab the small trash can, just in case he needed it.

She glanced around the room, thinking. If he woke up confused, he’d need to know where things were.

Crossing her arms, she spoke, not even checking to see if he was actually listening. “Bathroom’s down the hall.” She said, nodding in that direction. “If you gotta throw up or whatever, I’d rather you do it there than on my damn couch but I brought the trash just in case.”

She moved her hand toward the kitchen. “If you need something else to eat, the kitchen’s right there. Ain’t much, but it’ll hold you over.”

Then, after a pause, she exhaled. “And if you need some clothes—” She hesitated, before rolling her eyes at herself as she scratched her forehead. “Bottom drawer in my room. Some of my ex’s shit still there. Ain’t nobody comin’ back for it, so you might as well.” She shrugged.

Unique didn’t respond, but Mo’nique didn’t expect him to. She eyed him for a moment longer before smoothing out her scrub shirt and grabbing her purse.

“Alright, I’m out.” She said, mostly to herself.

She turned toward the door, but before she stepped out, she glanced back one last time. Unique still hadn’t moved, but there was something about the way his fingers twitched slightly, the way his chest rose just a little more than before.

Mo’nique shook her head, muttering under her breath as she grabbed her keys.

“Don’t die in my house.”

And with that, she was gone.

The sound of the front door clicking shut barely registered in Unique’s mind. He wasn’t fully awake—not really. His body felt heavy, weighed down by pain and exhaustion, and even though the apartment had settled into silence, his head was still loud.

Ronnie.

His name stuck to the inside of his skull like gum on pavement, the memories flashing in and out of his mind. The weight of his brother on top of him, the sharp crack of fists colliding with his ribs, the copper taste of blood in his mouth.

Unique gritted his teeth, shifting slightly, but the sharp pain in his side had him hissing through clenched teeth. Shit.

For a few minutes—or maybe longer, he wasn’t sure—he just laid there, trying to steady his breathing. He could still smell the faint scent of Mo’nique’s perfume in the air, mixed with something warm, something homey. Cinnamon and Cocoa butter.

He cracked his eyes open just enough to see the living room bathed in soft morning light. His gaze landed on the coffee table—a bottle of water, some Tylenol, crackers. As well as the television remote.

He swallowed, his throat dry as hell. Had she left that for him?

With slow, careful movements, Unique forced himself up just enough to reach for the water. Even that small effort felt like hell. His arms were weak, his ribs screaming in protest, but he managed to unscrew the cap and take a sip.

The water was cold, running down his throat like relief itself.

He sat there for a moment, staring at nothing, before reaching for the Tylenol. It took more effort than he wanted to admit to shake out two pills, but eventually, he got them down with another sip of water.

Leaning back against the couch, he exhaled, his body still aching but his mind slowly sharpening.

Mo’nique. Her face was sort of blurred in his mind, nothing but brown skin and her lingering scent the only thing he cold decipher at the moment. She didn’t talk much, a woman of few words, but she wasn’t dumb because she didn’t ask any questions. She knew he wasn’t just some random man her cousin dumped on her doorstep. And yet—she ain’t ask no questions.

He frowned slightly and couldn’t help but ask his leg why.

Most people would’ve been running their mouths, pressing him about what happened, trying to figure out who he was, what he did. But she just took care of him, gave him space. Left him with what he needed.

Unique glanced toward the hallway next to the TV. He could hear her voice in his head, that slight edge of attitude as she pointed out where everything was.“Bathroom’s down the hall… Kitchen’s right there… If you need some clothes—bottom drawer in my room.” Unique clenched his jaw, considering. He did have to piss.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself up. His body protested the whole way. His ribs felt like they were wrapped in barbed wire, tight and unforgiving, but he gritted his teeth and swung his legs off the couch. His feet hit the floor, the coolness of the hardwood grounding him for a moment. Every movement sent sharp pains through his body, his stomach twisting in discomfort, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand.

He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. The apartment was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city outside. Empty in a way he wasn’t used to. No buzzing street corners, no boys posted up, no threats lingering in the air. Just the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance, the soft hum of an old fridge. Sunlight filtered in through the blinds, casting long slants of gold across the floor.

For a brief second, he considered just staying put. Letting sleep pull him back under. But his body had other needs, and he wasn’t about to piss himself on Mo’nique’s couch.

With slow, deliberate movements, he pushed up from the cushions, gripping the arm of the couch as his legs adjusted beneath him. The room tilted slightly, his vision swimming for a moment before he found his balance. His side throbbed something fierce, but he ignored it, dragging himself toward the hallway.

Damn. This shit had him weaker than he thought.

After steadying himself, he made his way to the bathroom. The door she’d pointed to was slightly ajar. He nudged it open, stepping inside and bracing himself against the sink before dozing his best to relive himself in the toilet.

Afterwards, she turned back to the sink. He washed his hands before splashed cold water onto his face, wincing as the liquid met the cuts and bruises along his cheekbone. It stung, but it woke him up a little more, gave him something to focus on besides the dull roar of pain. He avoided looking at his reflection too long—he knew he looked like hell.

Making his way back to the living room, Unique eased himself down onto the couch, his body already demanding more rest.

He exhaled, his mind still circling the same thought over and over.

Ronnie.

What he was gonna do when he got to him.

His fingers curled into a loose fist, but exhaustion pulled at him before he could think too hard.

Eventually, his eyes slid shut again.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The elevator in the old Harlem apartment building was out again, which meant Mo’nique had to take the stairs. Five flights.

She huffed, adjusting the strap of her leather tote on her shoulder as she climbed. She had done this every weekday for the past two years, but that didn’t make it any less of a pain.

By the time she reached Apartment 5C, she took a quick breath to steady herself before knocking.

A few seconds later, the door creaked open.

“’Bout time,” Mr. James grumbled, leaning on his cane. “You gettin’ slower or these stairs gettin’ steeper?” He asked with an amused grin.

Mo’nique smirked. “I’d say both.” She said with a small huff.

The old man stepped aside, letting her in.

The apartment smelled like mothballs and Sunday dinner, mixed with the sounds of jazz records. The scent of simmering greens mixed with something sweet—probably Miss Doretha’s peach cobbler cooling on the counter. The couple had been married for 62 years, and even though they bickered nonstop, they still moved like two halves of the same soul.

“Doretha in the kitchen?” Mo’nique asked as she set her bag down.

“Where else would she be?” Mr. James muttered, moving to sit in his recliner. “Woman ain’t let me cook in 30 years.” He grumbled with his eyes trained on the television.

Mo’nique laughed, but as she glanced at him, she took note of the way he lowered himself into the chair. Slower than last week. More stiff.

“You takin’ them arthritis pills like I told you?” she asked with a quirked brow, already knowing the answer. Mr. James waved her off. “Them damn pills make me drowsy. I got things to do.” He huffed, only glancing at her before his eyes went back to ‘Good Times’.

“Like what?” Mo’nique asked, placing her hands in her hips.

“Like mindin’ my business.” He said.

Mo’nique rolled her eyes with a scoff, but she let it slide—for now. She had more pressing things to handle. “You is trouble, James.” She said with a small smile, giving him a faux reprimanding finger before turning away. She stepped into the kitchen, where Miss Doretha stood at the stove, stirring a pot of greens.

“Morning, sweetheart.” The older woman greeted, smiling warmly.

“Morning, Miss Doretha. Smells good in here.” Mo’nique said, inhaling deeply.

“Well, I gotta keep this man fed, or else he start actin’ up.” She replied in a moaning tired tone, tilting her head toward the living room as she rolled her eyes. All a roux about the man she loved deeply.

Mo’nique chuckled. “Yeah, I noticed.” She said before shitting her work bag down in the kitchen table. She grabbed a pair of gloves from her tote and got to work, first checking Miss Doretha’s blood pressure—steady, thank God. Then her blood sugar—a little high, but nothing too alarming.

“You eatin’ too many sweets?” Mo’nique asked knowingly, looking at the woman.

Doretha scoffed. “Just a little taste of cobbler last night.” She waved off.

“Uh-huh.” Mo’nique arched a brow. “And what about the night before?” She asked with a small tilt of her head.

The older woman smiled sheepishly. “Just a little taste then, too.”

“Yeah, that what I thought.” The nurse muttered. Mo’nique shook her head, but she couldn’t be mad. A little joy went a long way at their age.

After finishing up with Doretha, she went back to check on James—gently massaging his stiff joints, stretching his legs, making sure his blood pressure wasn’t creeping up again.

“You know, you keep skippin’ them pills, you gonna be walkin’ with two canes soon.” She warned.

Mr. James grumbled, but he didn’t argue.

After a few bite hours of care, a fresh round of bickering between the couple, and Miss Doretha forcing Mo’nique to take a plate of food to go, she finally packed up her things.

As she slipped on her coat, Miss Delores gave her a knowing look. “You alright, baby?” She asked, her brows furrowed softly as she looked at the woman.

Mo’nique blinked. “Yeah, why?” She asked.

“You seem a little… preoccupied.”

Mo’nique hesitated for a split second, a quick thought of the man laid up on her couch at this moment.

“Nah, I’m good.” She said, brushing it off. “Just a long morning.” She said softly.

Doretha studied her for a moment before nodding.

“Well, whatever it is, don’t let it worry you too much,” She said, patting Mo’nique’s hand. “You young. Got your whole life ahead of you.” She reassured. Mo’nique smiled, squeezing the older woman’s hand in return. “Thank you, Miss Doretha.” She sighed.

“And you need to be having some babies round here.” James chimed in from his chair in the living room. That caused Mo’nique’s smile to drop as she threw her head back with a sigh, although she was a bit amused, while Doretha turned ti the man with a frown. “James!”

“I’m not playing.” James said.

“Okay! Thank you, Mr.James!” Mo’nique cut in before the couple could start arguing. “I’ll see y’all tomorrow.” And with that, she headed out, the scent of peach cobbler following her down the hall, as well as the faint sound of the couple bickering.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mo’nique was sort of exhausted.

The winter chill clung to her skin as she made her way up the steps of her home, her tote bag heavier than it had been this morning. It had been a long day, filled with stubborn elders, last-minute pharmacy runs, and more stairs than she cared to count.

She let out a deep sigh as she unlocked the door, already looking forward to a hot shower and a quiet evening—except she had company.

When Mo’nique got back home, the apartment was dim, the only light coming from the TV flickering across the living room. She dropped her keys onto the counter that divided her small dining room from the view of the front door, kicking off her shoes. Her body was strained from such a long shift. She hadn’t expected much—maybe Unique would still be asleep, maybe he’d left, maybe he had gone through the food she left him.

But instead, she found him sitting on the couch, awake.

He wasn’t watching TV, though. Just sitting there, legs stretched out, fingers drumming lightly against his thigh. His face was still banged up, but at least he looked a little more like himself. More alert.

He turned his head as she walked in, his sharp eyes dragging over her. Assessing. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but she let him look. The aroma of baked chicken, rice, collard greens, and cornbread still clung to the takeout container she carried, the scent making her stomach tighten.

“Miss Doretha over-packed the plate again.” She muttered as she moved to the kitchen to set it down on the counter. “Swear she be actin’ like I got kids to feed or some.” She said. She wasn’t expecting a response, but Unique let out a low huff—maybe not quite a laugh, but the closest thing to one she’d heard from him yet.

“You hungry?” She asked, glancing over at him from the kitchen, which they could see each other from.

He hesitated for half a second before giving a small nod. Mo’nique didn’t make a big deal out of it. She just grabbed two plates, splitting the food between them, making sure there was a little bit of everything on each plate. She poured him a glass of water, too, then carried everything over to the couch.

“Here.” She handed him his plate first, setting the water on the coffee table before settling beside him with her own food, eyes in the TV.

Unique shifted, adjusting his grip on the plate, but the second he tried to lift his fork, his hand shook. It wasn’t much—just a tremor—but it was enough to make the rice slip right off his fork before he could get it to his mouth.

He clenched his jaw, tried again. Same result.

Mo’nique watched him struggle for a few moments before exhaling softly. She set her own plate aside, reaching over without a word. She scooped up a bite of food, bringing it toward him. Unique’s brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t argue at first. He let her feed him, eyes trained on her face, jaw clenching every now and then, but he took the food without complaint.

Until he didn’t.

The next time she lifted the fork, his hand shot up, smacking it away. Not hard, but enough to make the food drop back onto the plate.

“Nah.” He snapped, voice low and tight. “Ain’t no damn baby.”

Mo’nique paused, leveling him with a look. Unique was breathing hard, nostrils flared, anger flickering behind his eyes. She could see it, see the way it bubbled up from nowhere, hot and fast. Head trauma would do that—shortened fuse, paranoia and anxiety, emotions running wild before he could stop them.

But she wasn’t the one.

She leaned back slightly, taking the plate from his lap and setting it in the table in front of them before folding her arms. “And I ain’t got time for no attitude.” She said, voice cool. “You was obviously struggling because you were beat to fucking hell and back, what, a day ago? I was just trynna help you out. But I don’t have to do a damn thing. And I damn sure won’t take you talking time be any type of way.” She said, her tone not even ending in anger as she simply started at the man. “So, you hungry or not?” She asked, tilting her head towards the plate on the table.

Unique didn’t respond right away, jaw tightening like he was trying to swallow his pride.

“’Cause if not,” Mo’nique continued, picking up her plate again, “You can sit here and sulk while I eat. Don’t make no difference to me.”

The silence stretched between them. His fingers twitched against his thigh, and for a second, she thought he’d snap again. But then he exhaled sharply, glancing away.

“…Just gimme the damn plate,” He muttered.

Mo’nique blinked at him before she handed it over without another word, watching as he adjusted his grip and forced himself to eat on his own. His eyes didn’t look at her as he ate, caught in his own thoughts and concentration on eating properly. It was slow, and a little messy, but he managed.

And she let him.

Because as much as she wasn’t about to put up with his bullshit, she understood his frustration. He wasn’t used to this. To needing help. To accepting it. He was no longer the same man he was before and they both knew that, even if she had no clue who he was. So she couldn’t be angry with him, even if he was being a tad rude and now staying in her house. But what Earl said was right. She had heart, and even if it didn’t seem like that all the time in the outside, she was too forgiving.

@notapradagurl7 @foxybrownsugababe @blkandchic @jazzieinthefuture

[caashmoneynae]

MY MASTERLIST. <- click here for more!

❦

FAMILY AFFAIR.

JOEY BADA$$ x @thatone-girly 🤎

SUMMARY: in which Jo-Vaughn persuades Bianca to go on a family trip with him and their son. little does she know, the trip was a plot to get her back. ✨

❦

"𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗞 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗗 𝗧𝗢 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗡' 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢' 𝗙𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗗 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬𝗗𝗔𝗬, 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟," Bianca chuckled, folding up the clean and dry colored laundry, as she shook her head and Nia laughed at her reaction, "okay, finish the story. tell me how the date ended."

"okay so, after him talkin' about himself the whole date and not even giving me room to talk, reply, add on to what he was sayin' — nothing at all, the waiter came and dropped our bill off. after he paid for our food, this muh'fucka' said "you the quiet type, huh?" and bitch... when i tell you it took everything in me not to yell at that man inside that restaurant with all them white folks in there," Nia exhaled dramatically, curling her ginger hair, as Bianca let out a giggle and folded her cropped tank top, "that man was literally about to have me lookin' like a crazy ass mad black woman! like, nigga, this ain't no Tyler Perry movie!"

"and i'm not bitter. i'm mad as hell!" Bianca mimicked, quoting a line from "Diary of a Mad Black Woman", as she and Nia laughed in sync and Nia slightly jumped from almost burning her hand with her curling iron.

"bathe him, feed him, clothe him... uh, stop makin' those bubbles," Nia quoted, pointing her curling iron at her phone, as Bianca giggled and sat the folded laundry inside the large white basket, picking it up and tucking it under her arm while she grabbed her phone and headed for the staircase, "it's safe to say that i ain't go home with him and i blocked him when i got home. i can't stand a chatterbox ass nigga that don't give me room to talk, B. i'm so glad i drove myself there because i'll be damned if i'ma let him see where i stay."

"preachhh. it's one thing for me to do all the talking and you to talk back or for us to evenly engage in conversation, but it's another thing for you to do all the talking and i ain't got one word in! that shit gets annoyin'," Bianca exclaimed, shaking her head, as she walked into Kamari's — her 5-year-old son — room and sat the laundry basket on his toddler bed, "so, where you 'bout to go? 'cause i know you ain't gettin' dolled up for no reason."

"i'm surprised Joey even let you date with how obsessive he is over you," Nia joked, smirking, as she playfully winked at her phone and Bianca chuckled while she put away her son's clothing, "but i got a brunch date with this lil' white boy on my roster. i ain't never dated outside my race before, so we gon' see how this go."

Joey — also known as Joey Bada$$ or just Jo-Vaughn — was Bianca's baby father and old boyfriend. they were like two peas in a pod until they broke up a week before his tour for his '2000' album started. there was no bad blood in the breakup because the two just felt like they had drifted away from each other and were no longer compatible. they remained friends and still kept in contact with each other since they had a son, and they co-parented so well that most people still thought they were together, which the two of them were grateful for because it kept the media off their backs.

neither of the two wanted to be posted on blogs just because they broke up, so they continued to front for social media like they were still together, even though you could clearly tell they weren't.

despite this, Bianca still tried to branch out and date other men, but it never worked out because Jo-Vaughn would always find a way to chase them away, and sometimes Kamari would chase them away as well. ever since April — specifically, after he dropped his R&B single "Fallin'" — he had been trying to get Bianca back, and so far his attempts had been unsuccessful because Bianca didn't feel a desire to return to him. sure, he was an amazing boyfriend and an even better father, but Bianca believed that the two were better apart than they were together.

as long as their son was happy, she felt no need to return to his father, despite his numerous attempts of trying to romance her and make her his again.

"listen... we don't talk about that, okay? i'm lucky i managed to keep the boy i'm talking to now," Bianca chuckled, shaking her head, as she closed Kamari's closet and shut one of his drawers while she picked up the laundry basket and headed to her bedroom, "and girl, it's like 5 o'clock in the afternoon, what you mean 'brunch'? but okaaaay, i see you with the white boy on ya roster! you better work, Kali!"

"you a whole fool! but like i said, we goin' to brunch, i don't care what time it is and neither does he," Nia laughed, unplugging her curling iron, as she pushed her curled hair behind her shoulder, "and if i know Joey like i think i know him, he gon' run ole' dude off next, trust me. wait, speaking of him, where my nephew? i wanna see lil' KJ before my date, he's my good luck charm."

the "ole' dude" Nia was referring to was Malcolm. he and Bianca had been talking for about two weeks and had been taking things slow since he had just gotten out of a relationship. he was sweet, caring, had manners, and was good with kids since he had two nieces, and that alone made Bianca fall for him harder every day.

there was no doubt in Bianca's mind that Jo-Vaughn knew about Malcolm, but since he had never brought him up, she assumed that he didn't know.

little did she know, she was completely wrong.

"K is with his daddy. you know this week was his week to have him," Bianca chuckled, sitting the laundry basket on her king-sized bed, as she began to put away her clothing, "they should be here in a few minutes tho', the sun 'bout to start settin' in about an hour or so."

"take a picture of him for me and send it to me 'cause i ain't got a few minutes to spare, i got a date to go on," Nia advised, chuckling, as she put away her now cold curling iron and grabbed her phone, "i'ma call you later on tonight to tell you what happens, and if you don't receive a call from me tonight, i got covered in snow."

"Nia, please get off my phone with that shit," Bianca laughed, shaking her head, as Nia giggled and playfully stuck her tongue out at her, "have a good time playin' with ya snowman, Ni'Ni."

"shit, hopefully. bye, mamas!" Nia smiled, waving her goodbye, as Bianca smiled at her and let out a chuckle before waving back to her.

"bye, sunshine." as the call ended, Bianca chuckled at her friend's behavior and she shook her head as she put away her undergarments, tucking them inside a drawer before her doorbell suddenly rang and her head raised at the sound of it.

shutting the drawer, Bianca grabbed the laundry basket and carefully jogged downstairs as she headed to the laundry room, sitting the basket in the corner of the room close by the dryer while she speed-walked to the front door. unlocking and opening the door, Bianca was immediately greeted by Kamari hugging her leg, making the light-skinned woman smile widely while she bent down to pick him up.

"hi, papaaa!" Bianca smiled, wrapping her arms around him, as she kissed his cheek and Kamari giggled in her arms, "you had fun with Daddy this week?"

"yeah! we played gamesss, went out to eattt, and— Mommy, i made some friends at the playground!" Kamari smiled widely as Bianca let out a soft chuckle at his enthusiasm and ran her fingers over his neatly braided black cornrows.

"that's good! i want you to tell me allll about it when i finish talking to ya daddy, okay?" Bianca asked, lowering the toddler back to the ground, as she looked up at Jo-Vaughn and held out her hand, signaling for him to put his backpack in her hand while she grabbed the strap of it and handed it to Kamari, "go upstairs and unpack your bag, and when i'm finished talking, i'll come get you."

"yes, ma'am!" as Kamari excitedly ran off towards the staircase, Bianca and Jo-Vaughn locked eyes, and she noticed a small flirtatious smile on his face, making her let out a soft chuckle.

"why you lookin' at me like that, J?" Bianca asked, chuckling, as she looked up at the 6'1 male and rested one of her hands on her hip.

"i can't look at you?" Jo-Vaughn playfully smirked, running his tongue over his lips, as Bianca raised her brow at him and the two soon laughed in sync, "nah, i'm just playin', girl, how you been?"

"you askin' me this like you didn't see me last week," Bianca chuckled, earning a soft chuckle from her baby father, "but i been good, what about you? and how was Kamari?"

"a week is a long ass time, B. but i been good too, and you know KJ ain't never no trouble. he has his moments when he gets wanna throw tantrums 'cause he can't get what he wants, but other than that, he was good. he spoiled just like his damn mama." Jo-Vaughn chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets, as Bianca laughed and raised her brow at him.

"who spoiled his mama tho'?" Bianca asked, crossing her arms across her chest, as a small smile crept onto her face and she awaited his answer.

"ya mama and daddy did. that don't got nothin' to do with me 'cause i'on know nothin' about that," Jo-Vaughn jokingly shrugged, looking off to the side, as Bianca laughed and reached out to hit him, making him laugh while he grabbed her wrist, "a'ight, i spoiled you, damn. you out here tryna' get domestic and shit."

"because you lyin' like you ain't used to spoil my ass when we was together. and you wonder why 'Mari so spoiled... nigga, that's yo' doing, not mine." Bianca laughed as Jo-Vaughn laughed with her and let go of her wrist.

"if i have your permission... i wanna spoil you and him again." Jo-Vaughn announced, a smile on his face, as Bianca raised a brow and looked him up and down.

"what you got planned in your mischievous ass mind?" Bianca asked, leaning against the doorway, as she crossed her arms for a second time.

"i wanna take all three of us on a lil' family trip to Orlando. i know lil' man starts Kindergarten next month, so i wanna take him to Disney World before school starts, and i want you to come with us." Jo-Vaughn explained as Bianca glanced down at their feet in deep thought before looking back up at him.

"i'on know about that, Joey. i mean, it'll be good for him, but—"

"B, c'mon, man, you gotta' come with us. it ain't a family trip if he ain't got his mama. don't be like that, baby." Jo-Vaughn pleaded as Bianca cracked a small smile at him referring to her as 'baby' and she let out a soft chuckle.

"i told you about callin' me that, boy," Bianca chuckled as she pushed her black knotless braids behind her shoulder, "but i guess i'll tag along. for him, not for you."

"girl, stop frontin', you know you still love my ass." Jo-Vaughn chuckled, waving her off, as Bianca playfully rolled her eyes and softly chuckled.

"when we leavin'? and at what time?" Bianca asked, raising a brow, as a smile rested on her face and Jo-Vaughn smiled at her.

"tomorrow morning at 8. we flyin' over on my private jet, so go pack you and KJ a bag for the weekend and i'll see y'all tomorrow."

—

"all done, papa," Bianca cooed softly, smoothing the rest of the Vaseline on her hands on Kamari's brown-skinned face, as she gently kissed his nose and let go of his face, "go downstairs and lay on the couch. you can go to sleep until Daddy gets here."

"yes, ma'am." Kamari yawned softly, rubbing his eye, as he stood up from his bed and walked out of his room while Bianca rubbed her hands together to get rid of the excess shine the Vaseline had left.

surprisingly, getting Kamari up and ready at 7 A.M. wasn't as hard as you may have thought it was, and usually, it was difficult for Bianca to get him up early because he wasn't a morning person, but today was different. it was kind of challenging to get him out of his bed, but other than that, things went smoothly, which gave Bianca a slight shock.

nonetheless, she was grateful it didn't take him long because if it did, she most likely wouldn't have time to get herself ready.

walking into her bedroom, Bianca stood at her vanity mirror as she adjusted the zipper on her baby blue romper, her braids up in a ponytail and swinging easily with each movement her head made. while she adjusted her breasts in her top, her phone suddenly began ringing, and she walked away from the mirror as she walked to her bed and picked up her phone beside the packed suitcase, realizing that Nia was calling her and not Jo-Vaughn.

"good morning, sunshine." Bianca smiled, answering the phone, as she walked back over to her vanity and propped up her phone, seeing Nia's face pop up on her screen while she walked to her closet to pick out a pair of slides to put on.

"good morning, mamas— ooh, where you goin'?" Nia asked, noticing her attire and the bag on the bed, as Bianca chuckled and slipped a pair of her white Nike slides on her feet.

"Joey's takin' me and KJ to Orlando. i gotta' keep my voice down because he doesn't know yet, but he wants to take him to Disney World and wanted me to come along so it could be a family trip, so i told him i'd come," Bianca explained lowly, adjusting her feet in her shoes, as she walked over to her phone and noticed a smirk on Nia's face, "what you smirking for?"

"i'm not gon' say nothin' but this: when y'all asses come back from Florida, y'all gon' be back together. mark my words, B. you gon' forget allll about that nigga you talkin' to when you see ya baby zaaaaddy." Nia smirked, making Bianca laugh, as Bianca held onto her phone and shook her head, peeking out of her bedroom window and seeing Jo-Vaughn's car pull up in her driveway.

"whatever you say, Ni'Ni. just because i'm goin' outta' state with him doesn't mean i'ma go back to him. this is for Kamari, not us," Bianca chuckled, walking away from the window, as she walked over to her bed and zipped up her suitcase, "and speaking of him, he just pulled up. so, i'ma talk to you later on. make sure to run me in on what happened with Mr. White Chocolate last night."

"deny it alll you want to, B, i know him and i know you. he ain't gon' stop 'til he gets you back and you bound to fold underneath all that pressure, respectfully. it's only a matter of time, sweetness," Nia chuckled, raising her brow, as she adjusted the bonnet on her head, "but, i got'chu, i'ma definitely run you in when you get time. bye, mamas, have a safe trip."

"bye, sunshine, and thank you. i'll make sure to send you some pictures of your nephew to make your day." Bianca chuckled, smiling, as she pulled her suitcase off of the bed and rested it on the floor.

"you better. or i'ma hop on a plane to Orlando and beat yo' ass." the call ended after Nia's remark, and Bianca laughed at her statement as knocks sounded off at her door, making her smile slightly widen because she knew Jo-Vaughn didn't want to ring the doorbell in case Kamari was asleep.

walking downstairs with her suitcase and phone in her hand and her crossbody purse on her shoulder, Bianca sat the suitcase next to the couch and slipped her phone inside her purse as she walked over to the door and unlocked and opened it, revealing her baby father.

"i'm glad you knocked 'cause he's asleep." Bianca chuckled, stepping to the side and allowing him to come in, as Jo-Vaughn chuckled and cracked a smile at seeing Kamari asleep on the couch.

"i had a feelin' my lil' man was sleepin'." Jo-Vaughn chuckled, carefully scooping the toddler off of the couch, as Kamari gently writhed in his arms and Jo-Vaughn grabbed their suitcase, making Bianca furrow her brows.

"you gon' carry him and the suitcase?" Bianca asked, her facial expression resembling one of confusion, as Jo-Vaughn looked over at her and chuckled at her reaction.

"you carried him for 9 months, the least i could do is carry him to the car," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, making Bianca crack a smile, as Bianca let out a soft laugh and the two headed for the front door, "plus, you know i ain't never let you carry no bags, girl. especially if they heavy. you think just 'cause we not together no more that i was gon' stop doin' that?"

"just a lil' bit." Bianca chuckled, closing the front door, as she locked the door and tucked her keys into her purse while she walked to his car.

"well, you thought wrong, B. i'm a gentleman at heart, pretty girl," Jo-Vaughn flirtatiously smirked, winking at her, as he walked to his car and opened the back door, gently sitting Kamari inside while he buckled his seat belt and closed the door afterward, "and you bet not touch that door handle."

"yes, sir," Bianca joked, quickly putting her hand down since she was already reaching for the door handle, as Jo-Vaughn opened her door for her and Bianca smiled while she climbed into his passenger seat, "i done told you about that flirting, boy. but thank you, baby daddy."

"anytime, baby mama."

—

"ooh, nice jet." Bianca smiled, holding Kamari in her arms while his head rested on her shoulder, as Jo-Vaughn rolled the luggage to the plane and let out a soft chuckle.

"thank you, B. nice things don't come cheap," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, earning a small laugh from Bianca, as the two approached the jet and a man dressed in pilot attire walked out of the door, "B, this is Francis, he gon' be our pilot and our chauffeur when we touch down in Orlando. Francis, this is Bianca, my beautiful baby mama."

"it's nice to meet you, Ms. Bianca. i've heard so much about you," Francis smiled warmly, holding out his hand, as Bianca smiled back at him and shook his hand, keeping one of her hands on the toddler on her chest to keep him from falling, "if you don't mind me asking, who's the little guy in your arms?"

"it's nice to meet you, too! and this is Kamari, our son. he's not a morning person, so you'll probably see him awake once the plane lands." Bianca smiled, chuckling, as Francis smiled at her before his eyes landed on the bags in Jo-Vaughn's hands.

"i'll take those on the jet for you, sir, if you don't mind." Francis offered as Jo-Vaughn glanced down at the bags in his hands before handing them to the pilot.

"i 'preciate that, F. i'll make sure to leave you some tips before the day's over with," Jo-Vaughn smiled, watching him grab the suitcases, as Francis smiled and nodded his head before walking back up the stairs, making Jo-Vaughn look over at Bianca, "ladies first, right?"

"yeah, i'm glad you remember," Bianca joked, jokingly mugging him, as Jo-Vaughn laughed at her and Bianca made her way up the stairs, looking around at the interior of the jet with a smile, "oh, my God, it's gorgeous in here."

"i'm glad you like it. i was hopin' you did," Jo-Vaughn smiled, closing the jet's door behind him, "i know you probably wanna go back to sleep, so there's a bedroom back there for you and him to go. i'ma be back there in a minute."

"yes, baby father." Bianca joked, earning a laugh from Jo-Vaughn, as the two parted their ways and Bianca made her way to the back of the jet, opening the door of the bedroom and walking inside.

"oh, i just know this bed is comfortable as hell." Bianca mumbled to herself, looking at the queen-sized mattress, as she gently laid Kamari on the bed and took off his shoes, sitting them by the door while she took off her slides and placed them by his.

taking off her purse, Bianca sat it on the small wooden table next to the bed and unzipped it as she sat down on the bed and pulled out her phone, checking her notifications and going through them while she heard footsteps come closer to the room.

"made yourself at home?" Jo-Vaughn chuckled, a small smile on his face, as he closed the door and took off his shoes, leaving them beside Bianca and Kamari's shoes while he walked over to the bed.

"somethin' like that," Bianca chuckled, texting Nia back, as she turned off her phone and slipped it back inside her purse, "i can't wait to sleep on this comfortable ass bed. you picked a good ass mattress, J."

"you gon' be complimentin' me all day, huh?" Jo-Vaughn questioned, chuckling, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sat it on the other small wooden table on his side of the bed, "we got about a 4-hour flight anyways, so you'll be well-rested before we land."

"i just might, depending on what other surprise you got up yo' sleeve," Bianca chuckled, putting her legs on the bed, as she carefully grabbed Kamari and laid him between her and Jo-Vaughn, "and shit, i hope so. with how comfortable this bed is, it feels like i'm layin' on clouds."

"yeah, and you wonder why i bought it," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, laying on his back, as he rested his arms underneath his head and closed his eyes, "goodnight, baby mama."

Bianca chuckled softly and lay on the bed as she laid on her right side and her eyes gradually shut, "goodnight, baby daddy."

—

"Mommyyyy, wake up!" the sound of Kamari's enthusiasm-filled voice rang through Bianca's eardrums and she felt his dainty hands shake her by the shoulders, making a smile slowly spread across her face while her eyes fluttered open, "we're hereeee!"

Bianca's eyes locked onto her widely smiling child and she looked around the room to spot Jo-Vaughn, but he was nowhere to be found. assuming he was in the cockpit with Francis, Bianca let out a giggle at Kamari shaking her again, despite her being fully awake, and she wrapped her arms around his body while she sat up.

"your daddy told you where we were goin', huh?" Bianca asked, chuckling, as she smiled at the elated toddler and Kamari nodded his head eagerly.

"yes, ma'am. he told me we're going after we stop at the hotel." Kamari smiled, resting his hands on her shoulders, as Bianca reached into her purse and grabbed her phone.

"you know the name of the hotel, papa?" Bianca asked, turning on her phone, as she checked her notifications and Kamari played with the ends of her braids.

"yeah, but... i don't know how to say it. Daddy told me i said it wrong." Kamari explained, occupying himself with her hair, as Bianca chuckled and went through her unread messages, seeing some texts from Nia and Malcolm.

"it's the Waldorf Astoria hotel," Jo-Vaughn chimed in, walking into the room, as Bianca glanced up at him and Kamari looked back at him, "i was stuck between choosing that one and the Ritz-Carlton, but i made my decision about two nights ago."

"aren't both of those expensive 5-star hotels? don't be spendin' all that money at one time, J, i told you about that." Bianca advised, shooting a text to her friend and her talking stage, as she turned off her phone and slipped it back into her purse.

"as long as i'm makin' you and my son happy, i don't care 'bout nunna' that, B. and you know that," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, walking towards the bed, as he plopped down on his stomach beside Bianca and Kamari, "plus, it ain't like i'm not gon' get it back. the money flow don't stop, baby. ain't that right, K?"

"yeah!" Kamari smiled, watching his father raise his hand, as Kamari gave him a high five and Jo-Vaughn smiled at him while Bianca let out a laugh.

"you two are gonna be the death of me one day," Bianca chuckled, untying the black durag on Kamari's cornrows, as she removed the rag from his head and ran her fingers over his scalp, "where's Francis?"

"he went to go get the Rolls Royce so he can drive us to the hotel." Jo-Vaughn explained, watching Bianca slip their son's durag in her purse, as Bianca's brows furrowed and she looked over at him, playfully tugging at the gold hoop in his ear before reaching to remove his stocking cap.

"Jo-Vaughn, how much money have you spent?" Bianca asked, raising a brow, as she removed his stocking cap from his low-cut hair and ran her fingers over it while one of her acrylics slid through the side-parted cut in his hair.

"i'm not tellin' you all'at... you gon' be tryna' whup me." Jo-Vaughn defended, chuckling, as Bianca playfully rolled her eyes and the sound of a car horn sounded off from outside, causing Bianca to glance out of the bedroom door.

"Daddy, what's a Rolls Royce?" Kamari asked cluelessly, watching Jo-Vaughn get up from

the bed to grab his shoes, as Kamari climbed off of Bianca's lap and sat at the end of the bed so his father could put his shoes on.

"it's a car, little one," Jo-Vaughn explained, crouching down in front of him, as he grabbed one of Kamari's feet and slipped his shoe on, "remember when you saw that car on TV with the stars on the ceiling?"

"it's one of them?" Kamari asked in awe, his eyes lighting up, as Jo-Vaughn put on his other shoe and looked up at him with a small smile before nodding his head, "i wanna see!"

"Mr. Scott, i've prepared the car!" the sound of Francis's voice caused electricity to run through Kamari's little body, and he hopped off of the bed and ran out of the room as his eyes locked on Francis, who was standing by the door of the jet.

"Mr. Francis, does the car really have stars on the ceiling?" Kamari asked, smiling widely, as Francis looked down at him and smiled at his ecstatic face.

"yes, it does, little man. you wanna see?" Francis smiled as Kamari jumped up and down in excitement and quickly nodded his head.

"yes, please!" Kamari exclaimed excitedly as he and Francis left the jet, leaving Jo-Vaughn and Bianca there by themselves.

"his lil' ass gon' be bouncin' off walls all day long," Bianca chuckled, grabbing her purse, as she stood up from the bed and walked towards the door of the bedroom to slip on her shoes, "and i don't know how many times i gotta' tell you to stop callin' me pet names, especially in front of 'Mari. he's young, he could get confused."

"ain't nothin' for our lil' man to be confused about. his daddy loves his mama, that's all that is," Jo-Vaughn declared, a small smirk on his face, as Bianca slipped on her shoes and attempted to walk past him but Jo-Vaughn stopped her by wrapping his arm around her waist, "and i ain't stoppin' 'til i get you back, B, i told you that. you can resist it all you want, but by the time this trip ends, you gon' be all mine again, shorty."

Bianca stared into his eyes and her body tingled from his touch as she rested her hands on his chest and thought about pushing him away, but she soon got lost in her thoughts instead of acting upon them. his words sounded eerily similar to the words Nia had spoken to her this morning, and it made her wonder if Nia secretly was in on what Jo-Vaughn had planned, but knowing how Nia is, she wouldn't admit it unless it worked in her favor.

sooner or later, Bianca would eventually cave into Jo-Vaughn's advances. since the two were together for a few years, he knew all of her weaknesses, and he could easily use them to his advantage, which made Bianca slightly nervous.

one usage of one of her "worst" weaknesses, and she was bound to be bent over in their hotel room at the end of the night.

"whatever you say, Joey," Bianca mumbled, breaking their eye contact, as she felt

butterflies in her stomach and lightly removed his arm from around her, "stop tryna' romance me and let's go. Kamari ain't gon' be occupied with those stars for that long, J."

Jo-Vaughn chuckled and cracked a smile as he followed behind Bianca and the two made their way to the exit of the jet, his eyes trailing down her figure and stopping at her ass while he ran his tongue over his lips, "you got a point... but i know what can occupy me."

"Jo-Vaughn, i'ma slap yo' nasty ass with my purse."

—

"this room is beautiful... you really outdid yourself with this, J." Bianca chuckled, smiling, as the three walked into the hotel room and Kamari immediately took off running down the short hallway.

"i had to get the best for you and KJ, so i got a luxury suite. there's two bedrooms in here, a master bedroom and a kid's bedroom, so—"

"wait. one master bedroom?" Bianca asked, her brows furrowing, as Jo-Vaughn looked over at her and nodded his head, "so i gotta' share a bed with you?"

"you got a problem with sleepin' next to me, B?" Jo-Vaughn asked, chuckling, as the two made their way down the hallway and walked into the master bedroom that was across from the kid's bedroom.

"i'd rather sleep on the couch—"

"Bianca, if you think i'm lettin' you sleep on the couch, you must not know who you had a baby by," Jo-Vaughn cut her off as he sat their suitcases on the king-sized bed, "you not 'bout to sleep on that couch when this bed is sittin' right here, you heard? i'on know what typa' man you think i am, but i ain't the typa' man to let his lady sleep on the couch."

a sly smirk crossed Bianca's face at him fussing at her for wanting to sleep on the couch, and butterflies filled her stomach for a second time as she dropped the smirk from her face once she saw Jo-Vaughn look back at her and the two locked eyes while Bianca crossed her arms.

"yes, baby father," Bianca jokingly grouched, playfully rolling her eyes at him, as Jo-Vaughn chuckled at her and Bianca walked out of the room to check on Kamari, "Kamari Jahlil, stop jumpin' on this bed!"

Bianca laughed at seeing Kamari bounce on his bed and he giggled at her fussing at him as he slid off of the bed and walked over to Bianca, holding his arms up and signaling for her to pick him up.

"you wanna go look at the view with Mommy?" Bianca asked, smiling, as she picked him up and sat him on her hip while Kamari nodded his head and the two made their way to the living room.

opening the sliding door to the balcony, the summer breeze gently slapped the two in the face as they stepped onto the balcony, looking out at the clear blue sky and the warm sunlight shining over the sand and ocean across from them.

"it's pretty." Kamari spoke softly in awe, his dark brown eyes watching the sun reflect on the ocean, as Bianca smiled and nodded her head, removing her braids from underneath Kamari's arm and feeling them sway behind her head.

"it really is, papa," Bianca smiled as she heard footsteps behind her and looked over her shoulder, seeing Jo-Vaughn standing in the living room with his phone pointed towards her, "are you recording us?"

"maybe," Jo-Vaughn smiled, playfully winking, as he posted the video to his Instagram story with his song "Fallin'" attached to it and stuffed his phone into his pocket, "y'all ready to go to Disney World or y'all just gon' stand there and look at the view the whole trip?"

"i'm ready!" Kamari exclaimed, smiling, as he jumped down from Bianca's arms and ran over to Jo-Vaughn, making both of the adults laugh while Bianca walked inside and closed and locked the sliding door behind her.

"okay, Spongebob Jr, let's get you to Disney World."

—

"bye, Mickey!" Kamari smiled, waving goodbye to the employee in the Mickey Mouse costume, as the employee waved back to him and Bianca smiled at the sight, holding into his small hand while he clutched three of her fingers since her hand was too big to hold.

not only was the trip to Disney World enjoyable to Kamari, but Bianca and Jo-Vaughn enjoyed themselves as well. the family of three road rides together, took pictures, and even indulged in some of the food they had. despite underestimating how much fun she'd have, Bianca was starting to become grateful she agreed to come on the trip. though it was only for Kamari, she managed to enjoy herself as much as he did, and the smile on her face was almost as big as his.

though Kamari looked like Jo-Vaughn, it was safe to say that he and Bianca shared more mannerisms than he did with his father.

"you enjoyed yourself, papa?" Bianca asked, smiling, as she adjusted the Mickey Mouse ears on his head and the charm bracelet Jo-Vaughn bought for her at the gift shop jingled on her wrist with each movement her hand made.

"yeah! Daddy, can we go back one day?" Kamari smiled widely, looking up at his father, as Jo-Vaughn looked down at him and adjusted the matching Mickey Mouse ears on his head while he smiled at him.

"we can back for ya birthday next year, deal?" Jo-Vaughn offered, raising one of his thin brows, as he lowered his right hand down to him since he was holding onto his left one and held out his pinky finger, making Kamari's smile widen while his dimples poked through his cheeks and he locked his pinky finger with his.

"deal!" Kamari smiled as he and Jo-Vaughn gave each other a high five and Kamari looked up at Bianca while he held his pinky finger up to her, "Mommy, you're coming too, right?"

"of course, 'Mari. i wouldn't miss it for anything in the world." Bianca smiled, lowering her left hand down to him since he was holding onto her right one, as she locked her pinky around his and Kamari giggled in delight, the two sharing a high five while they approached the white Rolls Royce that Francis was sitting in.

"what else you got planned, J?" Bianca asked, averting her attention to her baby father, as she fixed one of her braids underneath her Minnie Mouse ears and Jo-Vaughn looked over at her, causing the two to make eye contact.

"you like boats?" Jo-Vaughn questioned, a small smirk on his face, as Bianca raised her brows and let out a soft chuckle in shock, watching him open the car door for her while Kamari slipped inside the backseat.

"Joey, you didn't." Bianca spoke in disbelief, getting into the seat next to Kamari, as Jo-Vaughn chuckled at her reaction and closed her door, walking over to his side and opening his own.

"i definitely did," Jo-Vaughn smirked, getting inside the vehicle, as he closed the door behind him and gave Kamari his Donald Duck plush while he looked up at Francis in the driver seat, "yo, Francis, you remember that boat dock i was tellin' you about two days ago? i need you to take me there."

"right away, sir."

—

"Jo-Vaughn!" Bianca gasped, her jaw dropping at the sight of the boat, as she looked over at him and noticed a wide smile on his face, "this is... oh, my God, it's so pretty!"

"and before you ask me about the price, i ain't buy it. i rented it for the day," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, holding Kamari in his arms, as the driver of the boat appeared before them and Jo-Vaughn bent down to dap him up, "wassup, bro. Bianca, this my homie Alejandro, he gon' be drivin' the boat for us. Al, this is my baby mama Bianca and our son Kamari."

"ah, so you the girl i hear him talk about often. it's nice to meet you," Alejandro smiled, his Spanish accent heavily audible in his speech, as he shook the woman's hand and looked over at Kamari before holding his hand up to give a high five, "hey, little guy."

"hi," Kamari smiled softly, giving him a high five, as he heard the sound of a dog barking and his eyes lit up, "you have a dog?"

"a baby French Bulldog, to be exact. you wanna see her, buddy?" Alejandro asked, smiling, as Kamari nodded his head and looked at his parents for permission, the both of them nodding their heads while Jo-Vaughn lowered him down onto the boat.

"Mala don't bite, do she?" Jo-Vaughn asked, holding onto Bianca's hand, as Bianca cautiously stepped down from the dock and into the boat.

"nah, she's a sweetheart. i made sure to train her well so she wouldn't attack non-threatening people," Alejandro assured as Jo-Vaughn stepped down into the boat and the sound of dog claws hitting the ground got closer to them, making the four of them look back and see the 2-month-old gray French Bulldog approaching them, "Ms. Bianca and Kamari, this is Mala, my dog."

Kamari smiled at the sight of the dog and approached the animal as Mala sat in front of him and looked up at him, watching him lower his hand down to her head while he pet her. Mala leaned into Kamari's hand and Bianca smiled at the sight as she pulled out her phone and started recording, making sure to get the adorable sight on camera so she could send it to her best friend.

"if you'll excuse me, i'll go start the boat."

—

"so you talk about me, huh?" Bianca asked, smirking, as she looked over at Jo-Vaughn and Jo-Vaughn chuckled, looking over at her while his arm rested behind her.

"it's hard not to talk about a woman that's heaven-sent," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, running his tongue over his lips, as he looked down at the floor of the boat and watched Kamari pet Mala, who was half-asleep in his small lap, "i still talk to my friends and my mama about you."

"Mama Scott still asks about me?" Bianca asked, her eyes lighting up at the mention of her ex-mother-in-law, as Jo-Vaughn looked over at her and nodded his head, a small smile creeping onto his face once he noticed the sparkle in her eyes.

"mhm. she still calls you her daughter-in-law," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, a smile on his face, as Bianca cracked a smile and looked out at the view, "when i told her i wanted to get you back, she told me she believed in me because she knew how much i love you. she told me "a man who truly loves a woman will fight for her", and it made me realize how much i care about you because i haven't given up on us."

Bianca felt butterflies flutter in her stomach for a third time and she looked over at him as the two stared into one another's eyes, their pupils dilating in love while Bianca's smile slightly widened. though she was talking to another man and going on dates with him, nobody could ever compare to Jo-Vaughn, and she knew this. she couldn't love another man as much as she loved him, but she had no shame in trying to see if she could find love in another person.

the men she dated after Jo-Vaughn were sweethearts and so was the one she was talking to now, but with how much time and effort Jo-Vaughn put into pursuing her, it seemed as if trying to date other men was practically a waste of time.

without either of them realizing it, their faces had gotten closer to one another's, causing Bianca's breathing to slightly speed up, and before the two could share a kiss, Jo-Vaughn moved his face back from hers, a small smirk on his face while he watched her mindlessly squeeze her thighs together.

"this motherfucker here." Bianca thought, feeling a pulse between her legs, as she wiped her sweaty palms on her romper and watched the man look out at the view.

"the view's nice, ain't it?" Jo-Vaughn complimented, changing the topic, as Bianca slyly pulled out her phone and opened her camera.

"it really is," Bianca added, glancing up at the scenery, as she raised her phone, "pose for me real quick."

looking back at her, Jo-Vaughn noticed the phone in her hands and he chuckled as he posed, making Bianca smile while she took the picture and went to her camera roll to see how it turned out.

"ooh, who that is? he look like he the man." Jo-Vaughn joked, a playful grin on his face, as he looked at the photo and Bianca laughed while she shook her head at him.

"don't get cocky, Joey."

—

"can i have a dog like Mr. Al?" Kamari asked, looking up at his parents, as the adults chuckled and Jo-Vaughn unlocked the door to the hotel room, opening the door and letting Kamari and Bianca walk in first while he walked in behind him.

"if you're good, i might buy you one for Christmas," Jo-Vaughn chuckled, closing the door behind him, as he watched Kamari walk down the hallway and Bianca walk over to the couch, "don't neither of y'all get too comfortable 'cause we leavin' in a minute."

"leaving? where we goin'?" Bianca asked, her brows furrowing, as Kamari peeked around the corner and looked at his father in slight confusion mixed with excitement.

"we gotta' eat, right? so i'm takin' y'all to The Palm." Jo-Vaughn smiled as Bianca's face dropped and her brows raised while Kamari's little brows furrowed and he looked between his parents.

"what's The Palm?" Kamari asked, leaning against the wall, as Bianca looked over at him.

"it's a fancy restaurant, papa," Bianca answered as she turned her attention back to Jo-Vaughn, "and it's extremely expensive. you don't listen to me at all when i tell you not to spend so much money, do you?"

"it's for a good cause, ain't it?" Jo-Vaughn asked, raising his brows, as Bianca playfully rolled her eyes at him and Jo-Vaughn chuckled at her, "now you and K go get dressed."

"Joey, i didn't pack anything that would fit the atmosphere of a fancy restaurant—"

"who said anything about what you packed?" Jo-Vaughn asked, a small smirk on his face, as Bianca's brows furrowed in confusion and Jo-Vaughn's smirk widened at the sight, "go look on the bed in our bedroom, B."

Bianca stepped away from the couch and made her way down the short hallway with Kamari by her side and Jo-Vaughn walking behind her as she walked into the bedroom and saw three dry-cleaners bags on the bed, a shoebox on top of each bag and making a wide smile cross Bianca's face while she looked back at Jo-Vaughn.

"what's all this?" Bianca asked, smiling, as Kamari walked over to the bed and ran his tiny fingers on the small bag of clothing, lightly tilting his head at it to see if he could make out what was in the bag.

"i had Francis go pick up some clothes and shoes for me while we was on the boat. while you and K walked down the dock, i was talking to him about restaurants i could take y'all to and he told me about The Palm. as you could tell by the three bags and boxes, i ain't pack no appropriate clothes for a fancy restaurant either," Jo-Vaughn explained, chuckling, as Bianca approached the bed and her eyes lit up once she realized the bag in the middle had a dress in it, "the first one's mine, the second one's yours, and the third one's KJ's."

"now, for the second time, get dressed." Jo-Vaughn playfully smirked, raising his brow, as Bianca and Kamari looked at each other before looking over at Jo-Vaughn.

"yes, sir!"

—

"...it takes time to look this good and you rushin' me?" Bianca exclaimed from the bathroom, adjusting her ponytail, as she pushed up her breasts in her dress and made sure her areolas and nipples were covered and not slipping out, hearing footsteps approach the bathroom door and immediately recognizing whose they were.

though Bianca was slightly taken aback by Jo-Vaughn remembering what size she wore in clothes and heels, she couldn't lie and say that he didn't have good taste. he knew what looked good on her, and it was evident due to the dress he had Francis purchase.

"girl, if you don't—" Jo-Vaughn cut himself off once he saw her and a smile crept onto his face as he analyzed her from head to toe and licked his lips at the sight of her, "i knew you'd look good in that dress."

"i'm surprised you still remember what size i wear." Bianca chuckled, adjusting the silver 'B' necklace around her neck, as she picked up her silver hoops and put them in her ears, her eyes landing on Jo-Vaughn through the mirror while she slightly smirked at seeing him be memorized by her appearance.

"i remember everything about you, B." Jo-Vaughn admitted, admiration shining in his tone, as Bianca's heart fluttered from his words and she looked away from his reflection in the mirror, looking back at herself and watching a big grin spread across her face.

"you do?" Bianca asked, grinning, as Jo-Vaughn looked at her through the mirror and nodded his head, "so, you remember how i reacted when you told me that "Love Is Only a Feeling" was about me?"

"man," Jo-Vaughn laughed, shaking his head, as Bianca laughed and turned to face him, "you cried like a baby when i sang that shit to you. i ain't know whether to keep singin' or hold you."

"and you did both. i still remember that moment," Bianca smiled, chuckling, as Jo-Vaughn smiled at her and Bianca soon started blushing, making her break their eye contact while she turned off the bathroom and grabbed Jo-Vaughn's hand, "now c'mon and let's go eat. i know K's probably hungry as hell sitting in the living room in his lil' tuxedo."

—

"you put 'Mari to sleep?" Bianca asked, walking out of the bathroom, as Jo-Vaughn stood by his side of the bed and put his phone on the charger, laying it on the bedside table while he looked up at her.

"yeah, i just laid him down. after he went to sleep, i took a shower in the other bathroom so i wouldn't bother you," Jo-Vaughn explained as his eyes scanned her attire before locking on her oversized shirt, "you still sleep in my shirts?"

"i never stopped. you left some of your shirts at my house, so i kept wearing 'em." Bianca chuckled, earning a smile from Jo-Vaughn, as she walked over to her side of the bed and grabbed her phone changer from her bedside table, plugging her phone up and sitting it down.

though Bianca scolded Jo-Vaughn about how much money he's spent, dinner was probably her favorite part of their eventful day. the family of three conversed, ate, and still managed to have smiles on their faces. after they ate, Kamari had gotten sleepy, and he ended up falling asleep in the car on the way back to the hotel, which resulted in Jo-Vaughn carrying him up to the room and giving him a bath before putting him to bed.

Bianca's bath had left her relaxed and refreshed, and all she could think about was crawling into bed and heading straight to sleep, but with Jo-Vaughn around, she knew it wouldn't be that easy.

"i remember one time i came home from tour and saw you wrapped up in one of my hoodies." Jo-Vaughn chuckled, smiling, as Bianca laughed and walked over to the vanity near Jo-Vaughn's side of the room, sitting down on the cushioned chair in front of the mirror while she grabbed her head scarf.

"i was lonely and it smelled like you, okay? don't bully me for that." Bianca laughed, wrapping her scarf around her scalp, as Jo-Vaughn chuckled and walked towards the end of the bed, sitting down on it while he looked at her with love in his eyes.

"i miss you, girl." Jo-Vaughn spoke with an unintelligible tone in his voice, a small smile on resting his face, as Bianca looked at him through the mirror she was sitting in front of and ran her fingers through her braids.

"how can you miss me when i'm right here?—"

"nah, B, i'm talking 'bout when we was together. i miss us. i miss how shit used to be. i know we ended on good terms, but sometimes i can't help but to think about what would've happened to us if we didn't grow apart. you would've probably been my wife by now," Jo-Vaughn admitted as Bianca's eyes broke his eye contact and looked down at her lap, "i miss hearin' you call me all them cute nicknames. i miss kissin' you, holdin' you, spendin' time with you... i miss being with you, B. not being with you feels like a part of me is gone and there's a void in my heart. you're the missin' piece of my puzzle piece, girl. without you, i'll always remain incomplete."

"Jo-Vaughn..." Bianca spoke softly, searching for words to form a proper response, as she looked up at him through her mirror for the second time, letting her eyes tell the story her mouth couldn't say.

"i know you miss me too, B. you been frontin' for too long and i can see through all'at shit," Jo-Vaughn added, standing up from the bed, as he walked closer to Bianca and stood beside her, "but there's one thing standin' in my way of gettin' to you, and i know you know what it is."

Bianca parted her lips to speak but no words exited her mouth as she looked up at Jo-Vaughn, confusion filling her mind before it abruptly clicked that he was talking about Malcolm. Bianca's mouth shut at the realization and she swallowed the lump growing in her throat as she watched Jo-Vaughn's demeanor change and she wiped her now sweaty palms on her thighs.

"h...how do you know about him?" Bianca asked, her voice as low as a whisper, as Jo-Vaughn chuckled and cupped her face in his hand, rubbing her cheek with his thumb while he leaned down to her.

"you think Kamari not gon' tell me 'bout the nigga you been bringin' around him?" Jo-Vaughn questioned, raising a brow, as goosebumps spread across Bianca's body and her throat became dry, "you forgot that you mines, mama? hm? or do i gotta' remind you?"

Bianca gently gripped her knees to keep herself poised and her breathing turned irregular as she looked up at her baby father and swallowed the second lump growing in her throat before parting her lips to speak, "...remind me."

—

Bianca's eyes rolled back as the bed rocked underneath her, a pillow wedged between the headboard and the wall to keep from making too much noise. Jo-Vaughn's hand rested on her mouth to silence her loud noises and the arch in her back deepened at feeling him roughly smack her ass, making her whimper in his palm while he grabbed a handful of her braids and pulled her back to his chest.

"you been frontin' all day, baby. now look at you. being a good girl and takin' this dick how you 'posed to," Jo-Vaughn cooed, a small smirk on his face, as he let go of her hair and rested his hand on one of her breasts, teasing and tugging at her nipple while he kissed her earlobe, "you missed me, pretty?"

"y-yes! oh, God, baby, don't stop!" Bianca whimpered against his palm, gently wrapping her hand around his wrist, as she rested her other hand on top of the one on her breast and her brows furrowed while her nipples hardened against Jo-Vaughn's touch.

who would've known that this would've been the end result of their first day on their family trip? Jo-Vaughn might've known and Nia knew off the bat, but Bianca? poor Bianca was clueless about what was to come later on.

"youn' know how bad i been missin' you, B. how much i craved havin' you like this again. i missed hearin' you call out for me and moan my name while i gave you this dick like my life depended on it. i missed feelin' you hold on to me as tight as you could because i was overstimulatin' you and you couldn't take it. i missed watchin' those tears roll down your face as i hit that spot," Jo-Vaughn spoke explicitly in her ear, kissing her earlobe, as he sneakily slid deeper and Bianca let out a squeal against his hand, "hearin' you say my name gives me the best ego boost of my fuckin' life, mama. the way you moan it, whimper it, whine it, cry it out, drag it out... the way it rolls off your tongue could make a nigga buss right then and there."

"Jo-Vaughnnnn..." Bianca whined, her hips slightly bucking at feeling him thrust from a different angle, as she gently squeezed his wrist, "you m-make me feel so g-good, Daddy..."

"just like that, baby. say my name just like that. you look so pretty when you say that shit," Jo-Vaughn groaned in her ear, lightly tugging at her earlobe with his teeth, as the speed of Jo-Vaughn's strokes sped up and Bianca's eyes rolled back for a second time, "you got me hooked on you, girl. and you think i'm gon' let another nigga experience this? you got me fucked up, B."

"can't no other nigga make you feel the way i make you feel, and you know that. so for you to prance around with all these niggas on ya arm like they could even top me is some fuckin' bullshit, yo," Jo-Vaughn growled, removing his hand from her mouth, as he wrapped his hand around her neck and roughly squeezed the sides of it, "they can't make you cum like i can, make you moan like i can, make you run from the dick like i can, make you squirm like i can, make you cream like i can... shit, them niggas can't even eat this pussy like i can, baby. can't none of these muh'fuckas' compare to me, and you know that, shorty."

"you let them niggas in my pussy? huh?" Jo-Vaughn asked, his tone aggressive, as he turned her head towards him, "and look at me when i'm fuckin' talkin' to you, shorty. show me those pretty brown eyes."

"n-no, Daddy, i swearrrr! i-i swear, i didn't give 'em yo' pussy," Bianca whimpered, her submissive gaze locking with his dominant one, as she bit down on her bottom lip to suppress her moans and she felt herself become wetter from his possessiveness, making a feeble whimper come from her lips while her eyes fluttered a bit, "i-i was keepin' it t-tight for you, baby..."

"aw, you kept it tight for me, princess?" Jo-Vaughn smiled sadistically, shoving his inches deeper inside of her walls, as Bianca's jaw dropped and no sound exited her mouth while she vigorously nodded her head in response, "you ain't let ya old niggas hit? not even ole' dude you with now? — and you know exactly who i'm talkin' 'bout, so don't play crazy. i'm glad he ain't get to experience it... shit, he wouldn't be able to handle all this good ass pussy even if you offered it to him."

"well guess what, B? i'm comin' back for good, so let that nigga know all this shit mine," Jo-Vaughn growled, smacking her ass and leaving a red handprint behind, as Bianca felt his tip aggressively smash into her g-spot and she gasped, her grip suddenly tightening on him while her brows furrowed, "make any type of loud ass noise and i promise you i'll leave you here wet and horny without a single orgasm."

Bianca quickly covered her mouth and her eyes rolled back as her inner thighs began tingling, pleasure coursing through her veins while she felt herself slowly being pushed into overstimulation. tears pricked at her eyes and muffled moans and cries fell from her covered mouth as her headscarf slipped off her head and onto the bed, making her quickly grab it and toss it on the floor so it wouldn't be covered in her juices.

"babyyyy," Bianca whined, her brows furrowing, as she rested her hand on Jo-Vaughn's toned lower abdomen and attempted to push him away, "i-i can't—"

"mm-mm, move yo' hand, baby. you know you can handle this dick, c'mon now. look at how good you creamin' around it, princess, and you tellin' me you can't take it?" Jo-Vaughn questioned, a smirk on his face, as he raised his brow at the woman and watched her slowly retreat her hand from his stomach, making his smirk widen while he watched her body temple, "there you go, mama, look at you. takin' this dick like a big girl. i knew you could do it, you takin' all of it so good."

"it's s-so muchhh," Bianca cried, tears slipping down her cheeks, as a sadistic smile found its way onto Jo-Vaughn's face for a second time and he lightly tilted his head at her, "y-you hittin' my spot, Daddyyy..."

"i wish you could see how pretty you look right now. tears rollin' down ya face, hand coverin' ya mouth, eyes unfocusin' and rollin' back... you look so fuckin' good with that fucked-out look on ya face, mama," Jo-Vaughn cooed, biting down on his bottom lip, as Bianca's legs began to tremble and her cream and wetness began coating her inner thighs due to how rapidly it was oozing out of her, "i'm the luckiest muh'fucka' ever, mama. as long as i got you, i'll be the happiest nigga on the plant. this fame and fortune don't mean shit to me if i ain't got you to share it with. you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Bianca. and i'll be damned if i gotta' stand by and watch another nigga experience the way you make me feel. i love you too much to let that shit just ride past me."

"i-i love you so much more, Jo-Vaughn," Bianca moaned, both of her hands now covering her mouth due to how much intense pleasure was hitting her at once, as her eyes rolled back for the millionth time and she tossed her head back onto Jo-Vaughn's broad shoulder, "o-oh, my God, i'm 'bout to cum!"

"tell me you mines and i'll let you cum. c'mon, let me hear those words leave those pretty lips," Jo-Vaughn cooed, kissing up and down her neck, as Bianca roughly bit down on her lip to suppress the loud moan that wanted to exit her mouth and her grip tightened on her face, "if i don't hear you say it, don't even think about bussin', pretty."

"i'm yours! yours, yours, yourssss! please, please, please let me cum! i can't hold it anymore!" Bianca cried loudly, her loudness being muffled by her hands, as tears streamed down her face at a quicker rate and she sobbed into her hands, her orgasm practically screaming to be released.

"cum for me, princess. let it alll out on yo' dick. gimme all that good shit." Jo-Vaughn's words made Bianca's knees buckle, and she leaned onto him for support as sounds of her gushiness sounded out into the bedroom and her jaw dropped, her eyes rolling back and her back arching deeply while her climax hit her like a freight train. a squeal fell from her lips as she came, her walls clenching and unclenching around Jo-Vaughn's phallus and earning groans from him as it did so.

her body tensed up and her bottom lip retreated between her teeth as she bit down on it so hard that it nearly bled, her chest heaving up and down at an irregular pace while Jo-Vaughn's deep strokes began slowing down. he placed kisses on her neck, ear, and the side of her face as he stroked her through her orgasm, his grip loosening on her neck while he caressed her breasts. removing her hands from her mouth, Bianca let out a soft and heavy sigh and her body relaxed as her vision corrected itself while she stared at the ceiling, letting everything that happened marinate in her mind while she breathed in through her nose and out through her parted lips.

"you know i love you, don't you?" Jo-Vaughn mumbled against her neck, making Bianca smile, as Bianca chuckled and ran her tongue over her lips, letting go of his wrist and wrapping her arm around his neck while she rubbed the nape of his neck.

"I know, baby, I know. I love you too."

[foxybrownsugababe]

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐞 ๋࣭ ⭑

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

❝ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞…𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐲𝐨 𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞! 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐭-𝐮𝐩𝐬! 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝! 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥! ❞

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 | 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 | 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 | 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 ��𝐲 𝐉𝐚𝐳! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ -

[mentalanguish]

Long Live A$AP Yams

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[instructionsonback]

[dimitaralekseevdimitrov]

[monsieurharlemboy]

Joey.

[trippybandzzz]

8/2019

[lamoodz777]

Joey Badass

[millianthaqveen]

Joey Badass

[jazziejax]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝?

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Kadeem ‘Unique’ Mathis x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - After a night that went south, Unique finds himself banged up and under Mo’nique’s watchful eye. Stubborn pride and lingering tension make for a long night, but somewhere between the silence and the unspoken words, something shifts. But all the can be summed into one simple phrase that says so much. “You good?”

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Strong language, mild injury description, tension (both unresolved and otherwise), and a whole lot of stubbornness.

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - this is mainly for me babes, I’ve always been a Joey Badass girl HEAVY! I’m not even too sure if you guys like this, but I know I do and��that’s all that matters to me. UNEDITED, sorry for the grammar mistakes and spelling errors! (Also, that might be my best summary yet?…)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 10,183+

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞, 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨,

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐜𝐚, 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟑

The air between them was thick with something unspoken, the weight of it settling in the quiet that followed their meal. The TV flickered, casting dull shadows across the apartment, but neither of them was really paying attention.

After Unique’s little spat, they sat in silence until they were full to their stomachs content. Once finished, Mo’nique had taken the plates away without a word, moving through the small kitchen with a casual ease, rinsing off the dishes before stacking them in the sink. Meanwhile, Unique sat there, arms folded, eyes occasionally drifting toward her before flicking away again. His mind was elsewhere—half on the ache in his body, half on something he couldn’t quite place.

He still wasn’t used to this. The stillness. The way she moved around him like he was just… there. Like she wasn’t tiptoeing, wasn’t waiting for him to be a threat.

When Mo’nique finally reappeared after she escaped to her room for a bit, she had changed out of her scrubs, swapping them for an oversized jersey that draped loosely over her frame, boxer shorts barely peeking beneath the hem. She had on socks this time, the soft shuffle of her steps the only sound cutting through the quiet.

She leaned against the wall near the TV, arms crossed, head tilted slightly as she looked over at him.

“You ready to get outta them clothes?” She asked, her voice soft as she gazed over at him. Unique could barely see her in the dark room, the light from the television blurring his visions of the dark hall she stood next to. His brow lifted slightly, a ghost of something amused flickering across his face. “You offering to undress me?” He asked, but there wasn’t humor in his tone, his voice flat as he looked her in the eye.

Mo’nique rolled her eyes. “I’m offering to help your dumb ass before you rip another stitch trynna do it yourself.” She said, tilting her head at him. The wisp of amusement faded from his expression, but he didn’t snap this time. Didn’t throw the offer back in her face. Instead, he exhaled sharply through his nose, shifting slightly against the couch. The clothes he’d had gotten from Earl were beginning to… stiff, sticking to his skin in places where the bandages were still fresh. He’d been in them too long.

He didn’t answer right away, but Mo’nique caught the subtle way his shoulders dropped. That was enough. She nodded softly before moving back to her room. He could hear her opened the heavy wooden drawers over the sound of ‘What’s Happening’ on the television. He heard the item close and then she was in the hall again, walking towards him with a black shirt and grey sweats.

“Alright.” She murmured. “Let’s do this.”She moved toward him, standing over him for a beat before kneeling down at his side. Her hands moved carefully, not lingering, not making a big deal out of it as she worked to slowly ease the hoodie over his head. His body was tense beneath her touch, but he let her do it, gritting his teeth through the stiffness in his joints.

When the hoodie was off, she reached for the hem of his undershirt, pausing just for a second to glance at him.

“You good?”

Unique gave a short nod, jaw still tight as he avoided her eyes, and she continued. The fabric peeled away from his skin, revealing the bruises and bandages beneath. Mo’nique didn’t react—no sharp inhales, no pitying looks. She just grabbed a fresh shirt from the pile she of clothes she just brought out of her room with her, helping him into the fabric.

Then, her hands moved lower.

Unique stiffened as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his sweats, her touch firm but not hesitant. His breath hitched, but he didn’t stop her.

“Lift your hips a little.” Her voice was quiet, there was a softness in it. Not shyness, just something of care, but still matter-of-fact care. He exhaled hard through his nose, shifting just enough to let her slide the fabric down his legs. The motion sent a ripple of pain through his body, a quiet grunt slipping from between his teeth. Mo’nique caught it, her gaze flicking up, but she didn’t comment.

She just kept going, peeling the sweats off completely before grabbing the fresh pair she’d set aside for him. She worked quickly, guiding his legs through them, tugging them up with the same no-nonsense efficiency she’d had all night.

By the time she was done, Unique was tense, hands gripping the couch like he was trying to ground himself. His breathing had evened out, but his jaw was still tight, his pride clearly warring with something else deep inside of him.

Mo’nique sat back on her heels, looking up at him.

“You good?”

Unique didn’t answer right away. Just exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face before muttering, “Yeah. I’m good.”

Mo’nique gave a small nod, pushing herself back to her feet.

“Aight, then.” She said, and after that she didn’t linger. Didn’t make a big deal out of it. She just turned, heading back toward the kitchen to grab herself a glass of water, leaving him to sit with whatever was running through his head. And for the first time that night, Unique wasn’t sure if he wanted her to walk away.

But their night had ended with nothing but silence between them.

After she had helped him change, they’d gone their separate ways—Mo’nique retreating to her bedroom while Unique stayed on the couch, his body stiff, his mind restless. He let out a sight after another, leaned back against the couch with his eyes closed, wishing that an ounce of rest would come to him and soothe his aches. The pain in his ribs made it hard to get comfortable, and every time he closed his eyes, he felt like he was sinking—into the cushions, into memories he didn’t want to revisit.

Sleep came in short, fractured bursts, but it never stayed for long.

Mo’nique, on the other hand, had managed to drift off, her body finally giving in to exhaustion. But something always pulled her awake. And this time it was a sound.

Her eyes snapped open, her heart thudding as she lay there, trying to place it. She could see the apartment was dark from her open doorway, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only familiar noise—until she heard it again. A faint, uneven shuffle from the hallway.

She sat up quickly, quickly blinking the sleep away before pushing the covers off. Her bare feet hit the floor, and she barely stopped to grab the robe draped over her chair before stepping out of her room.

The sight in front of her made her stomach clench.

Unique was in the hallway, hunched over slightly, one hand gripping the wall while the other hovered near his stomach. His movements were sluggish, unsteady, like he was walking through water. The faint sheen of sweat on his forehead caught the dim light from the bathroom, and for a second, she thought he was about to drop right there.

“Hey—” Mo’nique moved without thinking, closing the space between them in a few quick strides.

Unique barely turned his head at the sound of her voice. His body twitched, muscles tensing as if he hadn’t recognized her at first. His breath came out harsh, labored, and she could see the way his jaw clenched, his eyes darting from the floor to the bathroom door like he was struggling to process where he was. “Damn it.” He muttered under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. His balance swayed, and Mo’nique caught his arm, steadying him.

“What the hell are you doing?” She hissed, but there was no real bite to it. More concern than anything.

“Tryna take a piss,” Unique grumbled, voice rough with frustration. “Or is that against the rules now?”

Mo’nique ignored the attitude, shifting to press a firmer hand against his back, guiding him toward the open bathroom door. “You can barely walk straight.” She sighed, her racing heart from her sleepy start calming more in her chest. “I ain’t drunk, I’m good.” Unique groaned out through the pain he felt in his ribs.

Monique didn’t argue. She knew there was no point. The man was stubborn, but his body wasn’t lying—he was damn near shaking, every step looking like it might be the one that took him down completely. She got him to the toilet just in time, stepping back slightly but not leaving altogether.

Unique braced himself against the sink with one hand, his fingers gripping the edge like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His other hand worked at his waistband, but his movements were slower than they should’ve been. Then, he glanced over his shoulder.

Mo’nique hadn’t realized she was still watching until he spoke. “You just gon’ stand there and stare?” His voice was dry, edged with something that could’ve been amusement if he wasn’t clearly in pain. “Or you tryna help me with this too?”

Heat rushed to her face quickly at that. “I—” Mo’nique snapped her mouth shut, realizing she’d been caught doing something she had no intention of actually doing. She turned on her heel so fast she almost tripped over her own damn feet. “Sorry,”She muttered, pushing the bathroom door almost closed before standing just outside, her back to it. She scolded herself, the vile of embarrassment though out her system from her chest. She tried to physically shaking the thought of they happened away, as well as the quick image of his tall figure using the bathroom out of her mind.

She could hear him—faintly. The rustle of fabric, the soft exhale he let out as he finally relieved himself, followed by the trickle of his urine. It shouldn’t have flustered her, but it did. It wasn’t anything inappropriate, nothing she hadn’t experienced in her line of work, but something about it felt different now.

Maybe it was the fact that Unique wasn’t just some client or patient—he was a man who had been nearly beaten to death was forced to care for by her cousin wishes and now here she was, listening for the slightest sound that might mean he was about to hit the ground.

Or maybe because she hadn’t expected him to call her out like that. Maybe because she was still picturing the way his body had trembled under his own weight, how easily he could’ve collapsed right there if she hadn’t woken up.

She just shook her head. Get it together, Mo.

The water ran for a few seconds, then the door creaked open. Unique stepped out looking just as exhausted as before, but at least some of the tension had eased from his face.

Mo’nique didn’t hesitate—she moved to his side again, slipping an arm around his waist to help steady him. He let her, but the second she started leading him away from the living room, he stiffened.

“Where we goin’?” His voice was wary, like he didn’t trust the answer.

“To my room,” Mo’nique said simply, adjusting his weight as they moved.

“The fuck for?”

She ignored him as she silently rolled her eyes, focusing on keeping them both upright as she got him through her bedroom doorway. Unique’s feet dragged slightly, but when they reached the bed, he let himself drop onto the mattress with a low grunt. The bed took his weight immediately, the mattress sinking beneath him. He was breathing heavier than he wanted to admit. His head still throbbed, but the dizziness had eased—just enough for him to look up at Mo’nique, standing there with her hands on her hips like she was assessing a problem she had yet to fix.

“You shouldn’t be sleeping on a couch in your condition.” She said, her voice firm but not unkind. “It’s bad for your recovery.”

Unique stared at her, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Then, his eyes flicked past her, toward the bed, then back again. “Where you gon’ sleep at?”he asked.

The question sat heavy in the air between them.

Mo’nique’s lips pressed together as she blinked. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Her eyes moved to the bed—big enough for two, but that wasn’t the issue.

The issue was him. She knew Unique wasn’t a man who liked feeling vulnerable, and sharing a bed—after everything, after the night they’d had—felt like a whole new level of vulnerability she wasn’t sure neither of them wanted to cross.

But at the same time…

Mo’nique just exhaled through her nose, her decision made before she even said it out loud. She then shrugged. “Out there.” She jutted her head toward the door, vague.

Unique assumed she meant somewhere beyond the stairs, near the kitchen—probably a guest room or something that she had upstairs. He didn’t question it. His mind was already foggy, his body heavy with exhaustion. She then began to move with quiet efficiency, adjusting the pillows behind Unique’s back, making sure he had enough support. He grunted when she helped lift his legs onto the mattress, the strain in his ribs evident in the way his breath hitched.

“Relax.” She murmured, more out of habit than comfort.

Unique didn’t say anything, just let his head sink into the pillow with a slow exhale. His body felt like it was made of lead, but the sheets were warm, the bed softer than the couch had been. Even in his battered state, he could tell Mo’nique had taken care to make it as comfortable as possible.

She grabbed the blanket folded at the foot of the bed before draping the duvet over him. She then stepped back, surveying him like she was making sure he wouldn’t get up again. “I’ll be out there if you need something.” She said softly. Unique just blinked with a subtle nod. Mo’nique watched him a second longer before turning on her heel and heading for the door.

She didn’t say goodnight. Didn’t hesitate. Just left.

And she didn’t go up the stairs. Didn’t even look at them.

Instead, she walked straight for the couch, dropping onto it with a sigh, letting her body relax into the worn cushions. The same spot he had been laid up in since he got here. She even noticed the faint warmth left behind from his body, making the plush cushion he’d worn in even more comforting. She knew she could’ve taken the guest room. Could’ve gone upstairs and stretched out in the much bigger bed with softer pillows and blankets, but she wouldn’t. She didn’t think she could bring herself to do such a thing.

One thing she didn’t do, was sleep upstairs. Ever.

She had had never said why. She wasn’t sure if anyone even knew. It wasn’t something she just… told people. Because explaining it would mean bringing up things she had long buried. Things she still carried in the quiet of the night.

So when people asked, she just shrugged. The few friends she would have over would ask why her room was downstairs, and the only answer they would ever get was that,“I can’t hear from all the way up there.”

And that was the truth. Just not all of it.

Her right ear had been useless since she was fifteen. Since the night she learned what it felt like to be completely helpless in the dark. Since the moment a man had crept up the stairs of her childhood home, knowing she was the only one up there. Since the first time she realized there was nothing more terrifying than silence—true silence, the kind that only existed when something vital was taken from you.

She didn’t talk about it. Didn’t let herself think about it too long. Instead, she stretched out on the couch, pulled the blanket Unique used over herself, and closed her eyes.

And for the first time in a while, sleep didn’t feel like a battle.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Unique slept hard. Deep. The kind of sleep that felt foreign after weeks of restless nights filled with nothing but pain and half-conscious nightmares.

And he was a light sleeper, always had been.

So when the faint sound of movement stirred in the room, his body registered it before his mind did. His muscles tensed, his instincts pulling him from sleep, but he kept his eyes shut, listening.

There were soft footsteps. The subtle rustling of fabric. A drawer opening, then closing just as quietly.

All their movements were careful. Deliberate.

His senses sharpened just enough to recognize the faint scent of something familiar when they waked closer—something soft, a mix of coconut and that lingering scent of cinnamon. Mo’nique. She was trying to be quiet as she moved around the room, presumably getting ready for work.

His body relaxed slightly at the realization, but he kept still, kept listening. The sound of water running, then stopping. The soft scrape of a toothbrush against teeth. The faint shuffle of movement as she went through her morning routine. There was something soothing to it all, listening to her move around as he pictured what it all looked like within his mind. The gentle hum she would let out every now and then from a single, probably filling in for the music she usually listened to when she got ready. Plus the strong scent of her bed and whatever she sprayed into her skin was intoxicating, the smell making him almost drift off into sleep again.

So, for a while, he didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes at all.

Not until he felt it the weight of the unspoken awareness that came when someone was looking at you.

His eyes blinked open slowly just in time to catch her gaze in the mirror on her dresser that was diagonal to him. For a split second, Mo’nique froze, her dark eyes widening slightly, her hand stilling where it hovered near her face as she put on her jewelry. Her reflection betrayed her—just a little—before she schooled her features and turned toward him fully.

“You’re up.” She noted, voice level, casual but soft as she looked down at him. Unique just blinked at her, and the sun shining softly through the curtain windows above her bed made her aware of how pretty his eyes were. As well as the pretty lashes that framed them. She snapped out of her thoughts when Unique rubbing a slow hand down his injured face before pushing himself up slightly.

“You ain’t quiet as you think.” He muttered, voice still rough with sleep.

Mo’nique just smirked slightly. “You just sleep light as hell.” She said. “Trust me, I’m the same way.” She emphasized, the king him a look as she alluded to the mess of last night. She laughed a little, all while putting her earring in. Unique met out a small chortle with her, his eyes trained on her glossed lips that held a small smile. She moved toward the dresser, grabbing her keys before turning back to face him, arms crossing loosely over her chest.

“I got some clients I’m seeing today.” She said, her tone shifting just slightly—less casual, more purposeful. “I’m gonna see if I can grab something stronger for you. You ain’t gonna heal right if you can’t get no real rest.” She said and she began grabbing her work bag. Unique watched her for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before he scoffed softly.

“Who said I need all that?”

Mo’nique eye moved up and gave him a look. One of those looks that made it real clear she wasn’t in the mood to entertain whatever performance he was about to put on. “You woke up damn near pissing yourself last night.” She reminded him, out loud this time, tilting her head. “And don’t act like you wasn’t struggling just to walk to the damn bathroom.”

Unique clenched his jaw slightly, looking away.

She had a point. And he hated that she had a point.

But he didn’t argue. He didn’t say anything, really, there was nothing for him to. He just leaned back against the headboard, running a slow hand over his growing haircut.

Mo’nique lingered for a second, watching him, before exhaling through her nose. “I’ll be back later.” She said simply, turning to grab the rest of her things.

She left without another word, the scent of coconut and cinnamon trailing behind her.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mo’nique’s morning followed the same rhythm. She moved through the days the same way she always had—by muscle memory, by habit. She arrived at Richardson abode after waking up five flights of stairs, greeting the elderly couple that did the same just as enthusiastically.

She spent the better part of the morning at the older couple’s home, as she always did, moving through the small, cozy space with practiced ease. She cleaned, refilled medication bottles, adjusted pillows, and made sure Miss Doretha ate a full breakfast, all while listening to her talk about the latest neighborhood gossip.

“Ms. Laney’s grandson got locked up again.” Doretha muttered. “For real?” Mo’niqie asked, playing into the woman’s gossip session for her sake, but she was also interested in the neighborhood drama since she didn’t go out much. “Mmhmm.” The woman hummed as she shook her head, sipping at her morning tea. “That boy just don’t learn. This ‘bout his fifth one. And it’s a different woman, chile.” Mo’nique hummed in response, keeping her thoughts to herself as she straightened out the old woman’s afghan.

After Miss Doretha, it was Mr. James. He was more of an independent man, so her visits to him were mostly for company, even though the pair lived in the same house. His resting station was in his lady boy in the living room, so she made sure he took his pills on time and didn’t burn down the kitchen trying to make his own lunch when Doretha was resting. She sat with him for a while, letting him ramble on about whatever crossed his mind, before eventually glancing at the time.

“I gotta head out early today, Mr. James.” She said, rising from her seat. “Got another client to see.” The old man just waved her off, muttering something about how she worked too damn much.

She didn’t disagree.

“There’s some sandwiches in the fridge if you want a snack, your weather and juice is right next to you. And Doretha has some neck bones slow cooking in the stove. Don’t touch that pot, James. That woman will kill you.” She remind him with an amused smile, watching as the old man gave her a turned-up lip, even though they both knew she was correct about the man’s wife.

She left small wave before dashing down the stairs to make the short drive a few blocks away to the next stop on her list—Mr. Roger.

Roger was one of her easier clients. She only saw him twice a week, mostly to help with household things and make sure he was sticking to his medication schedule. That time in between, his nieces and nephews would come over and spend their time with him. He was an older man, but sharp, with a habit of watching people too closely and picking up on things most would miss. Which is why Mo’nique was careful.

She kept everything routine. Kept the conversation light as she moved through the motions of her usual tasks. She cleaned, set out fresh clothes for him, prepped his lunch. Everything normal.

But when it came time to take his medication, she hesitated. Her fingers lingered over the pill bottles for just a second too long. Long enough for her to see the subtle twitch in her appendages. She was nervous.

She had never done anything like this before, never thought she would have to. It was never even a consideration.

But she had to ask. Because there was a man at her house that was going through a hell of a lot of pain and she wasn’t evil enough to let him suffer through that. This is for Unique. She said to herself.

Clearing her throat lightly, she kept her movements easy, her voice even. “Hey, Mr. Roger.” She started casually, picking up one of the bottles. “You still takin’ these strong ones?”

Roger gave her a look, sharp eyes narrowing slightly.

“Why you askin’?”

Mo’nique forced a small shrug. “Been havin’ some back pain. The Richardson’s elevator’s broken and oven been carrying everything up five flights of stairs everyday. Was just wonderin’ if you had any extras I could buy up of you.” She kept her tone light, casual, like it was just another part of their conversation. The lie slipped off her tongue like it was the truth, and her refilling his pillow container was the perfect excuse to avoid his eyes.

Roger didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied her, his sharp, knowing gaze sweeping over her face, down to her hands still hovering over the pill bottles. Mo’nique resisted the urge to fidget as she glanced over at him due to his silence. She knew better than to show weakness, especially with a man like Roger, who could read people like a damn book.

Finally, he hummed, leaning back in his recliner. “Back pain, huh?”

She nodded, keeping her expression neutral.

“Uh-huh,” Roger said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Funny. You young. Don’t seem like the type to be needin’ these kinds of pills.”

Mo’nique forced a chuckle. “Getting’ old before my time, I guess.”

Roger let out a low sound, something between a laugh and a scoff. Then, to her surprise, he leaned forward, reaching for the pill bottle himself. Mo’nique stayed silent, watching as he rolled a few pills into his palm.

Then, without another word, he held them out to her.

She hesitated for just a second before reaching out, taking them, fingers brushing against his rough skin.

“You be careful with them,” Roger warned, voice low, knowing. “They strong. Might take a lil thing like you out. Break ‘em in half and take it after a nice big meal.” He said. Mo’nique nodded once. “Thank you, Mr.Roger.” She said softly. The man simply hummed as she pocketed the pills and getting back to work like nothing had happened.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

Unique had never been one to sit still. He was always moving, always thinking, always scheming his next move. But now, he was trapped in this weak, useless body. He had nothing but time on his hands. Time to just lay there and think. And the television was just a sound to save him from just how suffocating the silence could actually be.

His mind had never felt like this before. Not this disjointed, this foggy, this broken. It jumped from thought to thought, memories playing out in flashes—too quick to catch, too loud to ignore. Everything was so loud and confusing that it sometimes sent his body into a panic even though nothing was happening. There was just so much going on with him, inside and out. His ribs ached, his head throbbed, but none of that pain compared to what burned in his chest.

Ronnie. His own fucking brother.

The memory hit like a freight train.

The record store. The betrayal.

Ronnie’s voice, cool and detached, as if he wasn’t talking about his own blood. “You ain’t fit to run shit no more.”Then the blows. The kicks. The pain.

His brother had left him there to die. Beaten. Broken. Tossed his body aside like some nobody ass nigga from the corner.

And Unique had barely made it out. He should’ve been dead. Hell, maybe he still would be. Because what was he now? A man who couldn’t even sit up on his own? A man who had to piss with help? A man who couldn’t fight back?

He clenched his fists, rage bubbling hot under his skin, the muscles in his jaw twitching.

He wasn’t no invalid. He wasn’t weak. And he was going to show Ronnie that.

But he had to get up, and he had to move.

He threw the comforter from his body. Gritting his teeth, he pressed his hands against the mattress, trying to sit up. Pain exploded down his spine, his ribs screaming in protest, but he ignored it, letting out a few small groans to ease the pain. He pushed harder, and his vision began to blur. His head began to spin. But he had to move.

He managed to get one foot planted, body trembling under its own weight, sweat beading along his forehead. His breaths came quick, sharp, through clenched teeth. Just a little more. He thought.

But then the room tilted. And his knee buckled.

And before he knew it, suddenly he was falling.

A sharp grunt escaped him as he hit the floor, body crumpling like dead weight. Pain ripped through him, a white-hot shock to his system, stealing the breath from his lungs. He took in shaker gasps as the pain wavered over him, sending shock after shock. He waited it out, letting the pain subside into its neutral ache that he would feel when he breathed.

Then he just laid there, body frozen, the reality of it sinking in.

He couldn’t do shit.

A slow, shaking breath left him, and then came the anger again. It curled hot and violent in his chest, bubbling up his throat until he let out a guttural, frustrated roar, his fist slamming against the hardwood floor with whatever strength he had left.

He wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He was Unique. Fucking Unique. The Top Dawg even after he left the fucking pin! The man who ran the streets. The man nobody could fucking touch.

But Ronnie had touched him. His own brother had broken him. And now, he was here. Weak. Stranded. Living off the mercy of some woman he barely knew.

He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his breathing to slow, his heartbeat to settle. The pain in his skull pounded, his own thoughts turning against him. The rage didn’t go away. It just sat there, festering.

Ronnie was going to pay for this.

But first, Unique had to get back on his feet.

The pain was relentless, clawing at him with every breath, but he wasn’t about to stay crumpled on the floor like some helpless fool. Grinding his teeth, he forced his arms beneath him, pushing against the hardwood. His body protested, muscles trembling, ribs screaming in agony, but he pressed on, letting out shake breaths to relief the pain the best way he knew how.

Slowly, inch by inch, he got one knee beneath him, then the other. His vision swam, black spots dancing at the edges of his sight, but he refused to let them pull him under.

“Come on, man.” He muttered to himself, voice hoarse. It took damn near all the strength he had left just to rise to his feet. His knees wobbled, his balance barely holding, but he was up. That was all that mattered.

The living room was only a few steps away.

Yet, with the way his body was screaming at him, it might as well have been miles.

Each step out of the room was a battle. A slow, agonizing shuffle. His breathing was ragged, sweat beading along his temple, and the fall from earlier had only made everything worse.

By the time he reached the hall, he felt like he had just fought a war. He waved his way on the wall, all the way to the moving room. He paused by the television, the same wall he removed Mo’nique leaning against before she changed his clothes. He took in a deep breath as best as he could, the pain in his side not letting him inhale deeply. But he did catch the scent of coconut in the air, and that seems to be the things to keep him pushing as he leaned off the wall and began the journey to the couch.

And he made it to the sofa five feet away with minimal problems. His fingers gripped the armrest as he eased himself down, biting back a sharp hiss as pain flared through his ribs. His body slumped into the cushions, muscles twitching from exhaustion.

That’s when he noticed it.

The blanket. The pillow. That strong scent of a cinnamon treat with the fresh smell of coconut.

His brows furrowed, gaze narrowing at the sight. He had assumed Mo’nique slept upstairs, probably in some guest bedroom or something, far away from his crippled ass. But this? This meant she had slept here.

Why? He asked himself.

He didn’t have the energy to think too hard on it. His stomach twisted with hunger, and his throat felt dry. The crackers from last night were still sitting on the coffee table, and even though they were stale as hell, they were better than nothing.

With slow, shaky movements, he reached for the package, tearing off a piece and shoving it into his mouth. Dry, salty, barely satisfying, but it was food. He chased it with a bottle of water, gulping greedily, relishing the cool relief against his parched throat.

Then, he finally let himself sink into the couch.

The cushions were still warm from where she had been. That soft, cinnamon scent lingered in the fabric, surrounding him, filling his lungs with every slow breath. He felt himself almost sink into the cushion, wafted by the mix of her scent that was lingering him to into slumber.

And for the first time since waking up in this house, the tension in his body eased just a little. His eyes grew heavy, the exhaustion creeping in, but the pain in his ribs wouldn’t let him fully drift off. So, instead, he just laid there. Staring at the ceiling and listening to the hum of the television from her room. Drowning in his own thoughts.

The minutes stretched into an hour, maybe more. Unique wasn’t sure. Time felt slow, his body weighed down by exhaustion, yet sleep never fully took him. His ribs ached with every breath, a dull, persistent pain that kept him tethered to consciousness. The only thing that grounded him—kept his mind from spiraling—was that damn cinnamon scent. It clung to the couch, the pillow, even the blanket draped loosely over the armrest. It made no sense why it settled him, but it did.

The hum of the television from her room still persisted, though the house was settled in a quiet stillness as he drakes the sounds out. He could hear the occasional car passing outside, the creaks of the old building settling, but nothing else. His fingers absently toyed with the frayed edge of the blanket.

His stomach twisted again, reminding him that a handful of stale crackers wasn’t enough. He needed real food. Something warm. But he wasn’t about to go searching through her kitchen like a damn fool. His pride wouldn’t let him.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, the sound of keys jingling outside the front door snapped him from his haze.

Mo’nique.

He didn’t move, just listened as the door unlocked and opened. The shuffle of her shoes against the floor, the sigh she let out—tired, heavy. Like she’d had a long day. Then, the click of the door locking behind her. The rustle of plastic bags.

Unique closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly through his nose. He hadn’t realized how much he had been waiting for her to come back until now. She was home. And for some reason, that made him feel just a little less alone.

Mo’nique stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind her with her heel. She balanced two grocery bags in one hand, two pizzas in the other and her purse slung over her shoulder. She was exhausted. The day had been long, and her body ached from all the walking, all the work.

She tossed her keys onto the counter before moving toward the kitchen, but a shift in the living room caught her attention.

Unique.

He was awake. Barely, but awake. His body was slumped into the couch, his head resting against the pillow she had used the night before. His eyes cracked open just enough to meet hers, heavy-lidded, sluggish. He barely moved his head, his good eye tracking her as she stood in the doorway. His lips parted slightly, his throat dry from the crackers he’d eaten earlier.

“I thought I told you to stop moving around?” Mo’nique questioned, a small sigh escaping her as she took in his worn-down state.

Unique scoffed, shifting a little, though the motion sent a sharp pain through his ribs. “Yeah, and I thought I told you I ain’t tryna be laid up like no damn infant.” He muttered, voice thick with irritation. “What, you want me to piss myself next too?”

Mo’nique rolled her eyes. “I don’t remember you saying anything like that.” She mumbled as she moved to the kitchen, ignoring his last question. She heard Unique scoff softly at her but she ignored him, not wanting to argue. She had learned quickly that arguing with him in this condition was pointless—his mind was still scrambled, his emotions too raw. Instead, she set the bags and the boxes down on the counter before making her way over to him.

“Come on.” She said, reaching for his arm.

Unique eyed her warily. “For what?”

“To get you off this damn couch.” She said, her tone leaving no room for debate.

He let out an exasperated sigh but didn’t resist as she helped him up. It took time—each movement slow and calculated, every shift met with a sharp inhale or a clenched jaw on his part—but eventually, she managed to get him back into her room. As she guided him toward the bed, he gave her a side glance, his gaze flickering toward the couch still covered in a faint imprint of where someone had slept.

“You ain’t tell me where you slept last night.” He muttered, voice quieter now, almost as if he already knew the answer. Mo’nique’s hands hesitated for just a second before she steadied him against the mattress. “You need to sit down.” Was all she said, avoiding the question entirely. Something that Unique noticed. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t press. He was too tired for that.

Once she had him situated, she disappeared upstairs, gathering pillows and an extra blanket from the guest room before coming back down and placing some of them neatly on a chair in the corner of her room while he placed the others on the bed and around his figure. She left the room for a bit before coming back with a box of pizza. “Here,” She said. “Eat first. Then I’ll give you the medicine.” She said as she sat a bottle of water next to him.

Unique huffed but didn’t argue. He was too damn hungry to act stubborn. While he took his first few bites, Mo’nique grabbed some clothes from the dresser and waked out of the room. He heard her step into the bathroom over the sound of the television in front of him, stripping out of her work clothes and into something more comfortable. And when she came back out, Family Matters was playing softly in the background. She was now dressed in a black tank top with blue boxer shorts on, her feet clad in fluffy white socks.

She glanced over at Unique. And for the first time since she found him, he looked a little at peace. His swollen eye was still heavy with exhaustion, but the food seemed to ground him, his shoulders less tense than before.

She exhaled as she put her old clothes away, before moving to sit on the edge of the bed, looking at him eat. “You let me know when you’re done.” She said, voice softer now. “Then you can take the medicine and get some real sleep.”

Unique didn’t say anything at first. He just chewed slowly, glancing at the television but watching her. After a long moment, he muttered with a small nod, “Yeah… alright.”

Mo’nique nodded at him before standing up from the bed and walking out of the room. She moved to the living room and sat curled up on the couch. Some time passed and then she had newspaper spread across her lap as she worked through a crossword puzzle while episodes of ‘Sister, Sister’ played. The soft hum of the television filled the quiet living room, the glow from the screen flickering against her skin. She had already eaten a few slices of pizza, her half-empty glass of water resting on the coffee table beside her. It was one of those rare, peaceful moments she allowed herself—a small pocket of calm after a long, exhausting day.

Her pen scratched against the paper, pausing only when the sound of movement caught her attention. She glanced up, her tired eyes narrowing as she watched Unique’s tall frame slouching through the hall, his bare feet dragging against the floor.

She sighed heavily, already feeling the frustration bubble in her chest.

“I told you to tell me when you were done so I could bring you the medicine.” She said, voice thick with exhaustion. Unique scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “I know that. I just gotta use the damn—”

Before he could finish, his steps wavered, his body suddenly buckling beneath him. He stumbled hard, his shoulder knocking against the wall before his legs fully gave out, sending him crashing onto the floor.

“Unique!” Mo’nique yelled. She was up in an instant, the newspaper slipping onto the floor as she rushed over to him. She crouched down, reaching for him, but Unique immediately shoved at her hands, his movements sluggish but stubborn.

“I don’t need no help!” He snapped, his voice laced with irritation and pain. “Get off of me!” He tried pushing himself up, his arms trembling under his own weight. “I got this! Move!” But he didn’t have it.

His limbs refused to cooperate, his body betraying him just as his mind did. And when Mo’nique reached for him again, he lashed out, but his small swings were weak, uncoordinated.

She had enough.

Without warning, Mo’nique smacked him—once, twice, then again—sharp, quick blows to his arms and chest, nothing hard enough to hurt but just enough to make him flinch, to shake him out of whatever pride-fueled tantrum he was throwing.

“Stop!” She snapped, her patience officially burned to ash. “Stop it!”

He stilled, his breathing heavy as his frustration simmered just beneath the surface. That anger was still there, alive in the hard set of his jaw, in the way his nostrils flared with every breath. But he was too weak to fight her. Mo’nique grabbed his face, her fingers pressing into his cheeks as she forced him to look at her.

“Stop. Just fucking stop it!” She spat, her voice shaking with frustration. “You are not capable of doing shit right now, do you understand me?! And I will not have you acting a damn fool and treating me any kind of way in my own fucking home! You will either get the fuck out or act right! Am I clear?” Her eyes were large and full of rage as she looked at him.

She was met with silence due to her question.

Unique’s stare was hard, his jaw clenched beneath her grip, his breathing ragged from both anger and pain. He didn’t answer, didn’t blink. Mo’nique took his lack of response as an answer.

With a sharp and shaky exhale, running on adrenaline, she pulled back and moved to help him up. This time, he didn’t resist. He let her guide him to his feet, his body still shaking from the effort. The trip to the bathroom was slow and painful, every step an exercise in patience. When they finally made it, she helped him inside, making sure he was steady before stepping back.

But she didn’t leave. She stood there with her arms crossed, staring at him with a hard, expectant look.

Unique, still catching his breath, frowned. “The fuck are you doin’?” He asked.

Mo’nique didn’t say anything. She just clenched her jaw at him before she turned her back to him, giving him space but making it very clear she wasn’t leaving the bathroom.

He sighed, long and deep, before finally just giving in and doing what he came in there to do. His pride was already too wounded to argue any further. The bathroom was quiet, save for the sound of Unique’s uneven breathing and the faint hum of the overhead light. His body still ached, his limbs still weak, but his frustration burned hotter than his pain.

He glared at Mo’nique’s back, her stance rigid, arms still crossed tight against her chest. She didn’t turn around, didn’t move an inch. She just stood there, staring at the wall across the hall the held a picture of little her, smiling with her gapped teeth. She easy stating close. Close enough to help if he fell, but far enough to give him the illusion of space.

And it shouldn’t have felt as intimate as it did.

With a sharp exhale, he gripped the sink for balance, his fingers wrapping around the cool porcelain as he tried to collect himself. His reflection in the mirror from the mall corner of the mirror he caught, stared back at him—his swollen eye, the bruises darkening along his jaw, the large cuts down down his face. He barely recognized himself.

He didn’t want her to see him like this.

But she already had.

He sighed again, this time with a little less heat. “You really gon’ stand there while I take a piss?” His voice was lower now, still rough but missing the bite it had before. Mo’nique didn’t move. “You fall, and you bust your damn head open, who you think gotta pick your big ass up?” Her voice was steady, matter-of-fact, but there was something else there. Something tight.

Unique let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “So this how it is now? I can’t even take a leak without you breathin’ down my neck?” Still, she didn’t budge.

“Tough.” Was all she said.

His jaw clenched, but it wasn’t fully in anger. It was something else. Something he couldn’t name.

With a shake of his head, he carefully shifted his weight and reached for the waistband of his sweats. His movements were slow, deliberate, but he got them down enough to relieve himself.

Mo’nique remained turned away, but the tension in the room thickened, something unspoken stretching between them, wrapping around them both. Unique could feel her presence—solid and unmoving. She could hear every breath he took—deep, uneven and laced with exhaustion.

And neither of them said a damn thing.

When he finished, he exhaled sharply and adjusted his sweats back into place. He was drained, the trip alone taking more out of him than he was willing to admit. But he swallowed whatever lingering pride he had left and mumbled, “Aight. I’m done.” He said tiredly, fed up with how awkward this situation currently was, that was also laced with something neither one of them knew.

Mo’nique turned then, her expression unreadable as she took a step toward him. Without a word, she reached for his arm, gripping him firmly but gently, guiding him back toward the sink.

“Wash your hands.” She muttered, flipping the faucet on for him. Unique scoffed, but there was no real bite behind it. “Okay, Mo’nique.” He stressed. “Damn, you actin’ like I don’t got no home training, B.”

She didn’t respond. Just stood there, watching as he let the cool water run over his hands, the soap mixing with the bruises along his knuckles. She was so close now. Close enough that he could smell her—cinnamon, cocoa butter, and fresh scent of coconut, that he concluded was from the shampoo and conditioner she used when he was closer to the shower. Her smell was warm and familiar. And she was close enough that if he turned his head just slightly, his shoulder would brush against hers.

But neither of them moved.

And neither of them spoke.

The tension that had been simmering between them since the moment she found him was no longer just frustration, no longer just stubbornness and pride clashing together. It was something else now. Something heavier…and a little dangerous.

Unique let the water run over his hands a second longer before shutting it off. He grabbed a towel, dried them off, then finally turned his head to look at her, her eyes already on him.

They stood there for a moment, locked in something they couldn’t name. And then, just as quickly as it settled over them, Mo’nique pulled away, clearing her throat. “C’mon.” She said, her voice back to something normal. “You need to get back to bed.”

Unique didn’t argue. He just let her lead him out of the bathroom, both of them pretending like nothing had just happened. Even though they both knew—something had.

When she tried to direct him onto the bed, though, he paused, his gaze flickering toward the couch outside.

“You not sleeping out there?” He asked.

“Shut up, Unique.” She said with a roll of her eyes. pressing her palm against his chest to get him to sit down. He exhaled sharply but obeyed, his body too weak to argue anymore. He was also short of thrown with the use of his name coming from her mouth. This was the first time he was really paying attention it.

She moved through the room quickly, grabbing a clean glass and filling it with cold water before handing it to him along with a single pain pill. “Take this.” She instructed. “I don’t wanna hear no complaining later about how you can’t sleep ‘cause you hurting. That yo fault, nigga. I told you to sit the fuck down somewhere, man.” She spat, rolling her eyes at him again, her pissed tone making that Harlem accent pop.

Unique took the pill without a word, swallowing it down with a few gulps of water. Meanwhile, Mo’nique cleaned up the space, putting away the leftover pizza, gathering a few extra bottles of water for him while she threw away the empty ones, and turning off the lights one by one until only the dim glow of the television remained. She then finished by closing the door.

Then, instead of making her way to the couch, she pulled the chair in the corner of her room closer to the bed and sat down, her body sinking into the cushions as she got comfortable with the blanket that hung off the back.

Unique frowned at her. “Is that really necessary?” Be asked, shifting under the blankets. Mo’nique paused her movements while getting comfortable and shot him a sharp look. “Shut the hell up and go to bed.” She sighed out.

He exhaled through his nose, but he didn’t argue.

Still, as he settled deeper under the covers, his gaze kept drifting towards her from the television. Watching as she adjusted in the chair with her eyes closed, as she shifted in search of a comfort that came to her a little too easily. The irritation from earlier lingered, but underneath it was something else—something heavier.

Minutes passed, the soft sounds of the show ‘Martin’ filling the room. Then, finally, he spoke again. “Just come sleep in the bed, B.” He muttered, his voice rough but quieter this time. Mo’nique’s eyes flickered open, her lashes heavy with exhaustion, but her stare was sharp when it landed on him. She didn’t answer right away, just let the silence stretch between them, the soft glow of the TV flickering against the angles of her face.

Unique held her gaze, his expression unreadable, but there was something about the way he said it—low, gruff, not quite an order but not really a request either. It was the first time tonight that his voice carried something other than irritation or defiance. And this was the first time he’s ever really talked.

She sighed, rubbing a hand down her face before shifting in the chair. “I’m good right here.” She mumbled, adjusting the blanket around her. “Just go to sleep, nigga.”

Unique licked his lips, his jaw tightening as he settled onto his side, facing her on the right side of the room. “You ain’t gotta act like I’m gon’ bite you.” He muttered, his voice carrying something else now, something heavier. And Mo’nique couldn’t help but wonder if that medicine was affecting him heavy Mr.Roger said it would.

Maybe I should’ve broken that pill in half. She thought. She then scoffed, shaking her head, but she didn’t bother responding. Her arms folded across her chest, her head tilting against the back of the chair as she exhaled deeply. She closed her eyes, but Unique knew she wasn’t really asleep.

He watched her, his body still aching, his pride still bruised, but that thick thing in the air between them had only gotten heavier. Along with the spicy and sweet scent that lingered in the place she spent most time in. He could still smell her as if she was closer to him—cocoa butter and cinnamon, warm and familiar. He could still feel the ghost of her hands on his face, the fierce press of her fingers against his skin when she forced him to look at her. He blinked slowly, the effects from the pill not hitting him yet, but was being carried away by the drowsiness that the heavy beating left him with.

Minutes passed. Maybe longer. The television droned on, the laughter from the sitcom sounding distant. Then, barely above a whisper, Unique spoke again. “Mo’nique.” He crooned, blinking at her figure curled in the chair. She didn’t answer, but he saw the way her fingers twitched against the blanket.

“You really just gon’ sit over there all night?” His voice was quieter now, something softer beneath the words, something he wasn’t even sure he wanted her to hear. Mo’nique let out a breath, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip with her eyes still closed. She should’ve ignored him. She should’ve let the tension settle, let the exhaustion pull her under. She didn’t even move at first. Didn’t even look at him.

But eventually, after a long pause, she let out a slow breath, her shoulders relaxing just a little. With a deep sigh, she opened her eyes, staring at him for a long moment before she finally pushed herself up from the chair.

Mo’nique stood there for a moment, her eyes locked on Unique, her expression unreadable. He had his good eye barely open, staring at her in that same stubborn way he always did, but there was something different this time. He wasn’t challenging her. He wasn’t about to fight her on it. He was just… waiting. She sighed, rubbing a tired hand down her face before finally moving. She walked over, each step slow, deliberate.

“Move over, man.” She muttered, walking up to the right side of the bed and pulling the covers back. She slid in beside him, careful to keep space between them. Unique, already lying on his side, shifted just enough to make room, but he didn’t say saying. She climbed in, keeping a healthy distance between them, her back turned to him as she adjusted the blankets over herself. The mattress dipped under her weight, and for the first time that night, the room felt still.

Neither of them spoke.

‘Martin’ played low in the background, the laugh track echoing softly against the walls. Unique lay there, staring at the screen but not really watching, his body still aching, though softer than before. But for the first time since he ended up in this damn house, he didn’t feel completely restless. Didn’t feel like he was alone.

Mo’nique shifted beside him, tugging the blanket up higher. She was close enough that the scent of her lingered in the air, that same cinnamon warmth that clung to the pillows and the couch, but her this close, he could smell a hint of vanilla on her.

He swallowed.

“Thanks.” He muttered after a while, voice gruff. It was barely above a whisper, like the word itself had been forced out of him. Mo’nique didn’t move, but he heard her sigh.

“Go to sleep, Unique.”

He exhaled through his nose, letting his eyes drift closed. The pain in his ribs kept him from getting comfortable, and his mind still raced with the echoes of everything that had happened, but somehow… this wasn’t so bad. Maybe, just for tonight, he could rest.

And for the first time that night, neither of them fought. Neither of them spoke.

The tension didn’t disappear—it shifted, softened.

And finally, finally, sleep came.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The room was still, save for the quiet hum of the television casting faint light over the walls. The clock on the dresser directly next to her read a little past three in the morning when Mo’nique stirred, her body shifting under the blankets.

She hadn’t woken up from restlessness this time. No nightmares. No tossing and turning. Instead, it was the unfamiliar warmth pressing against her, the solid weight of something firm and unmoving beneath her cheek.

Her eyes barely cracked open, her breath soft against the fabric black fabric. It took her a second to register it.

It was Unique she was pressed against.

At some point in the night, she had gravitated toward him, her face now buried against the broad expanse of his chest. He was still lying on his back, his breaths slow and even, completely unaware of her pressed against him. His arms were above his head, completely knocked out and comfortable, available for her to roll over and lay against.

She should’ve moved. Should’ve pulled away.

But she didn’t. And she blamed it on being to tried.

There was something about his size, the security of his warm body against hers, settled something deep in her bones. And yes, maybe that was a little pathetic of her in the moment but she honestly has bigger fish to fry than the awkward moment she’d have to face tomorrow morning. Her half asleep mind was going to bask in the moment she was currently in. Mo’nique wasn’t used to feeling safe in her own bed—not since she was a little girl—but for the first time in years, she think she did.

Her eyes fluttered shut again, her fingers twitching against the fabric of his shirt as sleep dragged her under once more. Subconsciously, she nuzzled deeper into him, her face brushing against the warmth of his side muscles before she fell completely still.

Then the next time Unique woke, it wasn’t due to the dull ache in his ribs or the throbbing in his skull—it was to warmth. A soft warmth that was really close.

His eyes cracked open, blinking against the dim light of the room. It took a moment for the haze of sleep to lift, for him to register the weight draped against his chest.

Mo’nique.

Sometime during the night, she had turned, ended up facing him, her body tucked close with her head resting near his arm like a pillow. And somehow, without realizing it, his arm had made its way around her, not fully holding her, but resting close enough that the heat of her skin seeped into his own.

And for a second, Unique didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe when the sight of her sleeping face pressed against his side imaged his vision.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had woken up like this, tangled up with a woman, and the warmth they shared bleeding into his tired bones. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept this damn well.

Since Ronnie. Since everything. He didn’t even think he slept this well before this all happened. His body still ached, but for once, his mind wasn’t racing. The anger wasn’t gnawing at him like an open wound. He felt… calm.

Mo’nique shifted, still deep in sleep, her breath warm against his shirt. Unique swallowed thickly, eyes flickering toward the clock.

It was almost time for her to wake up.

And he wasn’t too sure if he wanted this to be over.

@notapradagurl7 @foxybrownsugababe @jazzieinthefuture @blkandchic

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what do yall wanna see lol idk what to write fr I just be having thoughts. lolll

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