#Unique x reader

[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 @thecookiebratz @playgurlxoxo @planetblaque @harmshake @sweettea-and-honeybutter @sageispunk @onyxstones-world @keyera-jackson @satoruya @urfavblackbimbo @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@blackerthings @caashmoneynae @euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @araybiaa

[henneseyhoe]

Milk Marie

Unique x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS: unprotected seggs(wrap before you tap!), dirty talk, after care, soft(ish)!Unique, pussy whipped!Unique, kinda short, das it(I think)

SUMMARY: Unique figures if he can’t get over her, he’ll get under her instead.

✮Prompt✮

✮✮✮✮

Girl, I want everything that come with you. Even if you got stretch marks and even two children. I can’t blame you, girl.

It seemed like he always ended back up here. Right here. In this bed. With this woman. Wrapped up in her sheets with his hands touching all the parts only the luckiest of men got the pleasure of even seeing. He swore they were meant to be, and she almost thought so too. He treated her so well, like the beauty she was, and she couldn’t be more grateful.

They had known each other since the sandbox, his mother always offering to watch her while her mother was at work and since that first time they met, they were connected at the hip.

No matter if they fell out and swore to stop fuckin’ with each other, they always ended right back together. No matter how many times she attempted to leave, he’d just find her again.

He hoped by the last time she left he’d be too tired of her bullshit to follow after her, but he was more resilient than he thought, and withdrawals are a muthafucka. Now he knows how the people he serves feel.

That first taste he had of her? It was like a babies first lick of sugar, addiction waiting to happen. The first time he came was like floating in outer space with no destination or desire to be anywhere else. And as ironic as it was, she looked innocent on her knees for him.

Her mouth worked its way down on him until the tip of her nose touched his stomach and her eyes began to water, her throat capturing his entire length. With no problem, she bobbed her head up and down on him, her mouth so sloppy that spit escaped from her lips and trailed down to his balls, making him shudder.

She took her hand and began spreading the spit around his heavy sack, massaging as she felt him throb in her mouth, the taste of precum already being prevalent on her tongue. He occupies his hands and digs his fingers into the couch cushions, knowing that she would stop and he’d be fucked if he reached for her freshly done silk press that was wrapped in a silk scarf, secure for those rough times.

Flashes of white appeared behind his eyes like stars as that familiar pull in the bottom of his stomach appeared once again, a warm sense of feeling covering his body as he came down her throat for the first time in months since he found out where she had been hiding. Which just ended up being her childhood home in the city over.

It took unique all but a mere few seconds to recover before he was pulling her up from her knees and into his strong hold, giving her that kiss of death before he got to doing his own damage. As he stood from the couch with no care about the jeans and belt still around his thighs, their tongues danced together in sync. Unique could taste every bit of both of them on her tongue, but he was never one to fuss about kissing after head if it was with her. He welcomed it if anything.

Tossing her body onto the bed, he takes a second to admire how the room hadn’t changed one bit since she became an adult. A doll house sat in the corner with dolls still inside, a memory of the last time she had played with them. Teddy bears that had eventually fallen off the bed when she was sat. Pink walls with brown, white, and gold for the future. A color pallet reminding him of something else in particular.

✮✮✮✮

“Nique~” She moaned sweetly, her hands gripping the sheets underneath her as the man above her pushed his hips onto her ass, his piece sinking into her ever so slowly. The stretch was always the same, the thickness of him leaving a burning sensation at her entrance the more he pushed into her, but it only stayed for a few seconds as she adjusted to his size, which was nothing average.

The thrusts were sensual and loving until he leans up off of her and pulls out just a bit further than usual, giving her the room to pull her ass up in the air and put a perfect arch in her back. She began bouncing herself back onto him, gaining speed and momentum as he meets her ass with his hips.

“Oh fuck..” He groans quietly.

His eyes were trained on the motions of her soft skin jiggling with every collide of their bodies. His thrusts only got harder from there, segments of moans falling from the girls lips. He didn’t even have to tell her how wet she was, the squelching sounds erupting from where they connected told her all she needed to know.

Switching the angle of his thrusts, he places one knee onto the bed and leans into her, his hands placed in the middle of her back just to make sure she wouldn’t be able to run from the lethal position. And running, she did not do, couldn’t do because of how he was holding her. Suddenly the bed dipped under them both with the strong force of his thrust making her collapse on her stomach, leaving the girl breathless after calling out to the highest one she worshipped.

“You feel that, baby? I’m in it?” He asks with his breathing unsteady, his balls tightening and her toes curling.

“Yes, Nique!”

She was in shambles trying to keep up with him. She could feel the tip of his dick pressing against her g spot, constantly slamming into it like a button, like he’d get some kind of prize if he pushed it correctly. He fucked her so hard, sweet compliments being the only things that contradicted the rough strokes. She could hear the belt buckle of his pants jingling around his ankles, remembering that they had barely been undressed fully before Unique got impatient and just shoved his pants down and her nightgown up before pushing her to her knees.

As Unique continued on with damn near breaking this girls childhood bed, he thought to himself. This was the pussy that niggas killed for. The type pussy that’d have you bussing back to back without a second thought about a condom. This was the pussy he thought about on those lonely nights when she was mad at him, when he had to take matters into his own hands and desperately jerk himself off, his mouth agape and muscles flexing as he cums all over his stomach to the beautiful thought that was her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She whimpers. At this point she could feel him poking at her stomach and being pressed against the mattress helped nothing. He would probably fuck her through the cushion if he could.

“Uh-huh. Cum on this dick, Princess. Lemme feel you wet this dick up, show me how good I make this pussy feel” He spoke, punching nothing but a thick 9 inch pole into her spine. The man gave her no choice but to scream and give him exactly what he wanted, which was her release.

✮✮✮✮

Between her thighs were messy and wet, coated with a layer of white cream that was from both of them. Unique gently wiped her down with a wet towel, careful not to swipe over her sensitive clit too fast or harsh.

“Shhh—“ She hissed, her thighs almost closing in on his hand. Unique’s eyes flickered from her core up to her expression. “My bad” He simply apologized before tossing away the dirty rag in a hamper next to the bed. Laying next to her on his back, he sighs. “you gon’ learn to stop running from what you love”

She smiles, turning her head to look at the side of his face, getting a view of that nearly perfect profile. “Who says I love you, Unique?”

He smirks. “I don’t need a second opinion on a fact”

And the cycle continues…

✮✮✮✮

Woke up and remembered I forgot the taglist chile! LMFAO(some tags aren’t showing up, dk why!)

🏷️ @thatone-girly @notapradagurl7 @swavydadon @miyahmaraj @planetblaque @msinterlude @milkiboo @bloodripleygal @stevelacyballs @naj-ay444 @blackelysian @shaolyninferno

[all444glo]

requests are open!!!

[kirishwima]

JJK guys when you see them with someone else (but it's a misunderstanding, really)

Part 1 ft Gojo, Toji

Gojo:

Toji:

[cheralith]

childhood bestfriend!kaiser who accidentally finds out who you gave your first kiss to after being under the impression you still had it.

sure, you both were reaching an age where most people had already kissed another, been bedded, under-age drank, but kaiser never took you as the type to be so… promiscuous (“your dad was okay with it?” he had asked. “why the hell would i tell my dad about that.” your eye roll had never been louder.)

it was apparently some classmate you had dated briefly back in early high school, a time where you had both were barely able to see each other since kaiser spent some time in jail after being framed and after being bailed out by his manager, spent the majority of his time in his team’s training clubhouse. it didn’t help that it was quite a few towns away from your own, so communication grew weary between you and him during that time.

so when you and him finally reconnected and began to settle down with each other once again at an older age, where you and him were blooming into college, he’s amazed to see how much you had grown during the past few years, how your featured had matured into themselves so elegantly that sometimes, when you weren’t looking, he’d examine each bit of your features to get a proper look.

it was a little difficult attempting to gain a proper stance from him, since all the training at bastard mündchen had clearly done a work on him both good and bad, but when kaiser felt himself relaxing more and more with each frequented interaction with you—he’s brought back to when you were both children and didn’t know any better of the world around you.

so imagine his shock when you accidentally let it slip out that your first kiss went rather wrong as you and him are watching some sort of foreign sports movie where the main character’s long-time love interest finally kisses him.

“god i remember my first kiss,” you say casually, making kaiser snap his neck towards you so fast.

first kiss? you had your first kiss already? before he did???

sure, kaiser had a good amount of fans that flocked to him every chance they got and perhaps he’s done a little bit of entertaining to them, but even so—he still hasn’t necessarily had such a moment shared with another. he never felt like he needed to focus on it… never felt like it was some deed worth prioritizing becoming the best striker… until now.

“huh?” kaiser shuffles in his place and furrows his brows tightly, a vein barely visible from his forehead. “whaddya mean first kiss? with who? when?”

the questions shoot out all at once, you can’t help but laugh at kaiser’s (supposed) curiosity. you suppose the suspense of knowing what happened to that runt he met at eight years old has experienced since his arrest.

“oh, it was just a classmate from one of my sophomore classes,” you wave a hand, as if it was completely nothing to hold much regard to.

kaiser twitched, his eyes flickering towards your ripened lips. “and you gave him your first kiss?”

“probably my last too,” you sigh out wearily, “haven’t really had much people interested in me since then.”

he fell silent, going to scan your face again once more as you fixated your gaze to the tv, circling in on your lips again that give a soft pout. he twitched.

“he got too excited and ended up moreso clashing his mouth on mine—we ended up clacking teeth pretty hard,” you snort out as you stare in quiet amazement at how tender and soft the tv’s couple’s kisses were. “it ended up hurting too much to try and continue.”

you bite your lip, concentrated. “i dunno, i just wish it was more slowly, more… in-the-moment.”

kaiser twitched once more. noticing your wistful gaze at the movie playing in front of you and him. he flickers his eyes toward the intimate scene that you seem so focused on. he pays attention to how the lips of the two characters flow in a certain rhythm and how they meld into each other. they seem loose, relaxed, and that lack of tension made the kiss seem much more romantic.

he thinks back to some of how his teammates greet their girlfriends with kisses, or how he’ll just see a random couple locking lips with each other in the bars his team and him tended to as a celebration of a victorious game. kaiser had never felt a compulsion to experience such a thing, but there’s a strange magnetic feeling he’s getting that tugs him closer to you that is very much not his own rationale’s doing.

he says it with too much confidence. he says it like he’s done it numerous times before, like he’s a master at it, despite never even paying such avid attention to another’s lips until now. so kaiser doesn’t know why, but he suddenly blurts out,

“then let me show you a proper kiss.”

[dreamyblanket]

I wonder if it is okay to have two y/n’s meet?

I just imagine some cookie like shadow milk or mystic flour cookie walks into y/n’s room to check on them and they see tiny y/n ontop of dragon y/n’s head

This is an absolute win in sm opinion! And I don't mind y/n's meeting at all!

[harmonysanreads]

Something tells me mydei's written by a woman, HE'S THE DREAM GUY FRFR😭🙏

Now that you mention it, that makes a lot of sense. So, Mydei —

Knows how to cook (most important)

Is good with kids (very important)

Adds milk to his pomegranate juice to make it pink (shows he doesn't care about nonsense like ‘girly colors’)

Is a History nerd (probably because he lived through a lot of it... I joke)

Doesn't like alcohol and almost never drinks (we love a sober man)

Is very handsome, hot and attractive and hot. Did I mention hot —

Can tear things to shreds with his bare hands (no one will dare mess with you if they know you're affiliated with him)

Not good at Math (but that's where we bring up the calculator)

Is the Crown Prince.

A cat person (?)

Is very patient (go tug at his hair and poke at his cheeks... if you dare :3)

Is not constrained by tradition and is willing to embrace new views. Very open-minded, even if it doesn't seem like it.

You'll just have to figure out a way around the immortality bit, don't lose this guy. But even if you're forced to, he'll wait for you. Because did I mention he's a patient man?

[acid-ixx]

Wouldn’t it be funny if Reader shows just a tiny amount of happiness to any one of the batfam, and the next thing you know they try their best to make Reader to do it again.

Example:

Dick:Makes a silly joke

Reader: Actually smiles and laughs at it

Dick: gloats about it to the fam

The BatFam: practically on all fours chasing after Reader to try and make them laugh

Don’t stress out with your writings (btw love your ‘again & again’ series❤️)

Take your time and don’t forget to drink water🫶🫶🫶

laughter is the best medicine

ft. yan! dick grayson, jason todd, and damian wayne

— masterlist !

more beneath the cut ! fluff ? with a mix of yandereness is my thing hehe. i love this ask sm <3 you guys are being fed well today !!!

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

ugh they're the definition of giving someone an inch and they'll be taking a mile. it would especially be annoying if it were dick on the receiving end of the line. but even if he'd be the one you'd take most precaution to, don't underestimate just how much your opinion holds the most value in the family. so they'll most definitely gloat about their achievement of making you smile or hell, even leaning against their shoulder willingly calls for a celebration.

trust me when i say that living in a stuffy manor already sucks, and they don't exactly like seeing you sulk and merely rot in your bed all day. so like any loving family would do, they'll try their damn best to at least see a quirk of your mouth or that faint glimmer in your that dick oh-so enchantingly talk about.

so it comes to them in the form of a surprise that one day, when your oldest brother accidentally trips over one of your expensive novelty ballpen, instead of nearly shouting at him for breaking one of your favorites, it was the "oomph!" sound his throat makes and his wide eyes when his ass directly landed on the floor that makes you crack into small giggles.

if it weren't for his enhanced hearing, dick would've crossed out your laughter as a hallucination, a product of imagination, something entirely impossible to produce, but no.

he had proven himself wrong.

once he turns back at you, he sees the crinkle of your eyes and your palm trying to cover your shit eating grin. the plump of your cheeks are so accentuated that he forgets the initial embarrassment he feels in the first place, replaced with awe at just how artfully captivating his sibling looks; sitting by

it's like a painting, he wishes it was. he wishes tim would be quick enough to capture the succession of your smiles in the live camera feed.

all because he couldn't believe it. couldn't believe that his baby bird is laughing. they're laughing and they look so mirthful and full of life when doing so.

yes, you're laughing at him, at his stupidity for being unable to detect a mere ballpen despite being trained to locate every known obstacle in a field.

but fuck, he was already raised at a circus to fulfill the role of an acrobat who entertains the crowd. what more could it be if that means he could play the role of a clown for you, his baby bird worth more than a thousand lives, whose laughter is equivalent to the immense euphoria that is filling his entire being?

give him an inch and he'll take an entire mile.

the next day, you'd be greeted with... a lot of peculiar instances within your family. all of which you would laugh at because it's not typical that your family displays mistakes, and you feel a bit better about yourself when their imperfections seem to seep out of their being— or maybe it's just your thoughts eating you up again, because is it just you or did jason, tim, and even damian, manage to at least trigger a reaction out of you?

tim would accidentally end up drinking orange juice right after brushing his teeth. his cringing expression, choked gargling and immense spitting is enough to guarantee a light chuckle from your seated form as you ate your cereal in peace, watching him as he tries to rid of the bitter taste on his tongue. although, bitter as it may, the sweetness and the aching of his tooth overpowers the regret he fills for gulping an entire bottle of orange juice down his throat.

he's so glad that he had set up multiple cameras and recorders at different angles prior to your time spent with him because he just couldn't stop watching your reaction in loop whilst he tried to continue his investigations within gotham's latest crime news. yet no matter how hard he attempts to control himself, his eyes couldn't stop looming over to your form, finding your reaction too incredibly cute to be ignored. yeah, he'll do his duties later. for now, he just needs to... screenshot every single frame of your expressions.

jason isn't much of a joker but when reading you one of your favorite stories, he had managed to mispronounce one of the words so badly that it ruined the narrative of the classical book he was voice acting for you. it was a stupid thing to laugh at, but for a guy like jason, who was an english nerd in his very prime, it would be hilarious— especially when his gothamite accent seeps into his vocabulary; which is very unbefitting for the voice of a character who was a princess that loves to wear frilly, pink dresses.

imagine a man, with a growl that vibrates through his skull, and muscles that bulge through his shirt, voices a princess of all people! his high pitched register for the character was already grating to your ears, but the sudden shift from an airy and girlish to deep and gruff with an added effect of a voice crack at the word "cake" was enough to let you burst out into laughs, your giggles echoing through the comfortable silence of the manor's library. for the first time in a while, you let jason wrap his arms around your shoulder, asking for your input about his tremendous acting skills.

jason never had many moments to cherish within the manor, preferring to stay over and outside of bruce's radar, but god does he love going through the batcave's live feed just to zoom in on your expressions, the grin on your face heavily reminds him of himself, back when he was the oblivious robin with no idea of what was coming to him. yet only now, he swears to protect your smile from never faltering.

damian takes his artistry skills seriously, constantly making a show of bragging to you whenever he has the opportunity to. but this time, he was incredibly pissed at drake for accidentally squeezing all the paint from the tube of oil paints he had stored by the drawers, and it was a shade closest to your skin tone, too; he meant to use that tube of paint for his next portrait of you. so like the petty child he is, damian sets on an hour long routine of drawing tim with monstrous features that screams the opposite of what he sports.

that means he had drawn multiple variants of tim with a hideous, actual bowl cut one. no seriously, his hair was a bowl and the strands that peeked out of it were spaghetti strands. in another drawing, his red robin outfit consists of plucked feathers and an elongated beak for its mask, what seems to be the pocket for the eyes now replaced with cat-like slits that makes the vigilantes expression looker idiotic and downright stupid. yet it felt therapeutic for damian to draw that his brother with what he felt was enough revenge to exact upon drake. that scum deserved a horrendously made portrait of him.

what he didn't expect was that you had stumbled upon his atelier, wanting to cure your boredom by painting a scenery when all of a sudden you had to drop all your equipment from your hands because... what the fuck was damian painting...? why is tim crawling across the floor in one of the portraits...? it takes a second or two for you to register the drawing's very detailed portrayal of a literal bowl cut, your laughter bursting out of the seams because no fucking way did damian actually draw something so hilarious and unserious. if you were anybody else, damian would've kicked your shins so violently you would've required a visit to the hospital. but because it's you... he chooses to sulk in the corner with puffed cheeks and burning ears as you approach the painting with said curiosity of a child and a laughter you can't stifle so easily.

at least it got you to stay in the same room as him for about an hour, with you giving your youngest brother more ideas to make the drawings even more unsettling than they already were, to which damian takes your tips to heart.

after you had eagerly (and shyly) showed the entire family you and damian's shared creation of a monstrosity, tim swears he'll never squeeze a tube of damian's paint anymore.

[johanna-517]

"Special and unique"

(CHAPTER 9)

You giggle happily as you run around the house, Erick and Abel chasing you, exclaiming about how ridiculously fast you are.

Erick is four years older than you, while Abel is only two. You know perfectly well that they could easily catch up to a little girl like you, but they don't. They prefer to pretend you're faster than them just to make you happy.

They always have, doing everything to make you happy.

After a bit more running around the house, Erick finally decides to catch up to you, hugging you from behind and stopping you from running.

"Cielos... Esta princesa es demasiado rápida, por poco realmente no te alcanzó". ("Good heavens... This princess is too fast. I almost didn't catch up to you") Erick stated, smiling broadly as he lifted you into his arms, carrying you. You were definitely always amazed by the way Erick carried you whenever he could, no matter how heavy you were, he always used to carry you as if you were as light as a feather.

"Así es, nuestra pequeña (y/n) es realmente asombrosa! ". ("That's right, our little (y/n) is truly amazing!") Abel exclaimed between laughs, approaching you to give you a small pat on the head.

You couldn't erase the genuine smile that spread across your lips as you enjoyed playing with your precious older cousins.

At one point, without realizing it, you tripped over something and fell, unable to stop yourself from crying as you felt a slight pain as you fell. Your crying instantly worried Erick and Abel, who rushed over to you. Erick gently picked you up from the ground, his warm, protective arms wrapped around you while Abel's worried gaze scanned you, trying to determine if you had any serious injuries.

Abel sighed softly in relief when he realized you weren't hurt. He comforted you, telling you everything was okay as he reached out to gently brush the tears away from your small face, while Erick continued to hold you in his arms, keeping you safe.

Shortly after, your mother and aunt finish preparing the food, so everyone goes to the table and eats together, enjoying the delicious food while Erick and Abel each sit next to you.

Gosh... You really don't need anything else, you just need them. Those who were like older brothers to you, them... Who were always there to comfort you, to dry your tears and tell you that everything would be okay. You adored the kind and sincere words Abel always had for you, you adored the way Erick always protected you from everything, hugging you, his warm embrace seeming to keep you away from everything that could hurt you. You loved them... They are your true family.

You sigh lightly after remembering that moment from your childhood, it's just one of the many memories you have of when Abel and Erick took care of you.

As you stand near the desk in your room, you can't help but sigh slightly, looking out the small window with nostalgia.

"Abel, Erick... I miss you, so much," you murmured softly to yourself, unable to help but sigh again.

You're still worried because neither your aunt nor they have called you, constantly wondering why this is happening.

You try to push away the feeling of worry, concentrating instead on your notebook on the desk.

Math homework... You hate it, it's just annoying. You definitely couldn't tell if you hated math or Damian more.

You look at your homework in your notebook with complete disgust and contempt, mentally wondering whether it's worth the effort or not.

Anyway, you know that even if you do it, the math teacher will still scold you for everything, and Damian will still tell you that you're so stupid you don't understand math. So, whether you do it or not doesn't change anything, so why bother?

You close the notebook and put it back in your backpack, instantly... You feel a slight sense of guilt.

"Mamá decía que hacer las tareas de la escuela es importante... " ("Mom said doing homework is important...") You said softly, frowning in resignation as you took out your notebook again and put it on your desk, finally starting to do your homework.

You didn't want to do your homework, you were planning on not doing it, but... Remembering what your mother used to tell you made you reflect and finally do it.

After all, no matter how much time passes, you'll always remember everything your mother used to tell you perfectly well, you'll always heed her words. And if that means having to do the math homework you hate so much... Well, it doesn't matter, you'll do it, just because you know that's what your mother would have wanted.

You remember perfectly how, back in your school in Mexico, you loved every single subject; you were good at everything and found them all fairly easy to understand. But since you started studying here in Gotham, that changed... Every single subject in class became too complicated for you; you struggled to understand them; you simply could never concentrate enough to fully grasp them.

Maybe it was because your school in Mexico was very small and a public school, and maybe that's why things weren't as difficult there and you found it easy, while here in Gotham, you attend a popular private school filled with a myriad of different subjects and different teachers. Maybe that's why you're not doing well at Gotham High School now, or maybe it's simply because you hate Gotham, and your school, too.

After nearly an hour of struggling to finish your math homework, you finally finish, smiling broadly and proudly at yourself for finally finishing it. You look up, glancing out the small window in your room, noticing that it's raining outside.

Gosh, it really rains quite often here. But that's okay, you've always liked the rain.

As you idly watched the rain fall outside, another small memory appeared in your mind:

You were about six years old, your mother and aunt were gone, you were left in the care of your cousins.

As you looked out the window, you saw it was raining outside. You loved watching it rain outside, feeling calm as you watched it, so you sat down and stared at the window. Abel and Erick sat quietly beside you, staring at the window as well.

You still remember when you innocently asked them both if they also liked watching it rain outside. They laughed and said no, that it was boring watching it rain outside, but they only did it for you. That if that's what you wanted to do, they'd do the same and stay by your side.

You laughed too, the three of you laughed together as you looked out the window again, together.

You let out a small sigh after remembering them once more. You know, you know you'd give anything to be able to look out the window while it rains outside with them by your side once more.

Nostalgia floods your chest once again, and without being able to help it, you open one of the drawers and take out some blank sheets of paper, take a pencil and start drawing.

Do you remember... Erick's black hair, it was short and regularly tidy, he is tall, do you remember the dark color of his eyes, do you remember... The gentle and soft smile that always adorned his face every time he saw you.

When you finish drawing Erick based on what you remember of him, you smile slightly to yourself. Then, you take another blank sheet of paper, and now you begin to draw Abel.

Remember... Abel's brown hair, his hair almost always looked pretty messy, his hair was only a little longer than Erick's. His eyes were light brown, and... You also remember the wide, cheerful smile he always had on his face whenever you saw him.

When you finish drawing them, you can't help but feel proud and happy with the result.

Of course, you weren't the best artist in the world, but you loved all your drawings, simply because you drew them yourself. And these two drawings in particular will definitely be your favorites from now on, because they're drawings of two of the people you value most in your life.

You lean your head against the desk, letting out a small snort as you continue to hear the small drops of rain hitting the window.

You can't help but wonder... Do you really have to stay here forever? Your life at Wayne Manor isn't a life at all; it's simply your attempt to outlive your siblings. Here, you're ignored and ostracized by what's supposed to be your family, even your father.

Alfred is the only one who cares about you, always. He's looked out for you, even trying several times to include you in family activities, like watching movies together or having meals together. But now you've always rejected that, because you know you're not welcome to them, they don't need you around. They're perfectly fine living together with you away.

And that's okay, you don't care anymore. But what you really want is... Not to stay here forever. It's become clear to you that you don't belong in this mansion, you don't belong in this family. But it wasn't always like this, you haven't always been out of place... Before you came here, you had a home, one where you fit in perfectly, where you were loved and appreciated, where no one ever ignored you.

Every week, every month, every year passes... You can't help but miss your old life, your home in Mexico, more and more. You want to go back, to where you truly belong. You want to be with your aunt, with your cousins, you want to laugh happily while playing with Erick and Abel, you want to taste again the delicious food your aunt used to make.

You want to be in a quiet place, a place where you truly belong. You want to return to your old life, a life that circumstances forced you to leave behind.

You want to go back to the house you used to live in with your mother. Years have passed, and you don't want to forget what your precious old home was like. You want to touch the walls, sit on the living room couch where you always used to sit and watch cartoons, see your old little room with your favorite colored walls and your old toys, go into your mother's room so you can remember her better.

And yes, you're sure that if you set foot back in that house you'll definitely cry a lot, for the memories, for having had to leave that place even though deep down you didn't want to, for having spent so much time away from your true home.

But it's okay, you promise yourself; you will definitely return, return to your country, to the house you grew up in, where you truly belong. You probably won't be able to go anytime soon, but you'll make sure you go at some point.

After all... Anyone is always destined to return to their true roots.

Today, as usual, you went to the kitchen to have breakfast, when you arrived, you saw Alfred, who was already preparing breakfast for the others.

You sit down and eat your own food alone, since obviously, it's been a long time since you've had breakfast with the rest of the family, you prefer to eat breakfast in the kitchen, alone and with only Alfred around.

"Miss (y/n)... I would like to inform you that a new member will soon be joining the family," Alfred said, his tone as calm as ever as he continued to carefully prepare food for the others.

You froze almost instantly. A new member in the family? Bruce really dares to adopt someone new even though he can't even handle the children he already has? You let out a small sigh as you continue eating breakfast, thinking that Bruce definitely seems to enjoy adopting children more than you initially thought.

Alfred continued to tell you a little more about the newest member of the family. He's Duke Thomas, he's older than you, and now that he's been adopted by Bruce, he'll be arriving at the mansion soon to begin his new life here.

You can't help but mentally wonder about him. What's his personality like? Duke... Does he ignore you the same way your other siblings do? You don't know the answer. You want to feel hopeful, want to think he's different, that he might be the first person in this family who treats you well. A good older brother.

But you quickly push that thought away, not wanting to get your hopes up, not anymore. Whatever he is, it doesn't matter to you. He's just another of Bruce's children, someone new to this family, and you don't belong in this family, so it's none of your business.

Today you were tidying and cleaning your room. You preferred to do it yourself. Alfred already did too much for you; you didn't want him to have to take care of your room too. Besides, you told him you'd like to do it yourself because you find it entertaining, and cleaning and tidying really keeps you calm.

So, you took advantage of today to do it, because today you didn't have classes and you don't have any pending assignments, it's an excellent day to tidy up.

While you were doing it, you were quietly singing a Spanish song that you liked.

You liked to sing to yourself at times like these, mainly because when you were younger, you used to do the same with your mother. She always used to sing songs while she cooked or cleaned the house.

You loved listening to her sing, and as soon as you learned to talk, you tried to sing along with your mother too. The two of you sang together; Mom always said you had 'the voice of an angel.'

You smile slightly at the memory, as you continue singing to yourself. The habit of singing like this never left you, not even when your mother left. Or rather... You continue doing it precisely for that reason; because it reminds you of the sweet moments you spent with your mother. You don't want to ever lose a habit you learned from your mother.

Also... It was because of things like this that you liked the fact that your room was quite far away from the other family members' rooms. So, you could sing peacefully without worrying about someone hearing you. They could only hear you singing if they were literally right next to your door. And well... Obviously, no one would ever do that, so they'd never catch you singing, you thought.

Although... Fate would soon prove you wrong.

Duke walked through the mansion's long hallways. Great... He got lost again. He still finds it incredible how huge this mansion seems. Since he's only been here a short time, he still hasn't learned much about this place, so he can't help but get lost from time to time while walking through the mansion's hallways.

However, this time it seems worse. He no longer recognizes the hallways he's in now. It's probably because he hadn't been to this side of the mansion yet. At that moment, something pulls him out of his thoughts... He manages to hear a voice coming from one of the rooms. As he approaches the door, he hears it...

A girl's soft, sweet voice sounds like she's singing in Spanish. Duke is a little surprised at first, but he can't help but feel drawn to listening to her sing. It was the first time he'd heard a girl sing with such a soft, sweet voice.

Being too distracted while listening to you sing, Duke accidentally approached and leaned too much on the door, but since the door was ajar, it opened instantly and he fell to the floor.

Your eyes widen in surprise at the sight. But you calm down a little when you know it's Duke; you recognize him since Alfred had also shown you a picture of him. Still, you can't help but wonder why he's here, and what exactly he's doing at your door.

Duke's face turns red, completely nervous about being caught listening to you through the door. Really... He doesn't know if he should get up, or maybe it's better to stay there lying on the floor so he doesn't have to face you. He's too nervous to find the right words to justify why he was at your door. And he's afraid you'll think he's weird or something.

As you watched him remain on the ground, you noticed he was also a little nervous. Unable to help it, a small laugh escaped your lips, slightly amused to see him like that.

"Come on, get up... Calm down" you approach, and help him up.

Once Duke finally stands up, he wants to look away and hide how embarrassed he is right now, but he can't... Not when he notices the incredible color of your eyes. He keeps his eyes fixed on yours for a moment, amazed by the special color of your gaze; he's definitely never met someone with eyes like that.

When you notice him staring at your eyes, you look away, a little uncomfortably, wondering if he also thinks your eyes are strange. You decide to push the thought away and instead ask what he's doing here.

"You... How did you get here? Why were you at my door?" As soon as you asked, Duke quickly looked away, flustered again, trying to think of how to respond.

"I... W-well, what happened is that I was walking but since I've only been in the mansion for a short time I got lost and ended up here, so as I heard you from outside I decided to come over and ask for your help" Duke responded quickly, trying to sound convincing.

Yes, he just came to your room to ask for your help, not that he was really completely attracted by hearing you sing and came over just to listen to you a little longer, that's what he tells himself.

Hearing him, you doubt him a little but you believe him, after all, you knew that Duke has really only been in the mansion for a short time, and you better than anyone knew that during the first few days this enormous mansion seemed like a labyrinth, so it wouldn't be impossible that he really had gotten lost and that's why he came here.

So, you decide to help him. You both leave your room, and you guide him through the hallways, giving him a few quick directions to make it easier for Duke to find his way around the mansion.

Finally, they reach the main part of the mansion. As soon as they do, you say your goodbyes and quickly return to your own room. Duke watches you leave, sighing softly as he returns to his own room.

Being in his room, Duke sits on the bed, his thoughts lost on you.

So... You were (y/n) Wayne? Alfred talked about you before. Though it definitely felt a little weird to him that the others in the family never mentioned you, and Duke never saw you around the others. And when he arrived everyone welcomed him, except for you, and he worried because he thought maybe it was because you didn't like him. But now... He's finally met you. And you were nice to him, so he's convinced you don't have any ill feelings towards him, which relieves him a lot.

Anyway... You were definitely much more impressive than he thought. Duke can't help but replay over and over again in his mind the beautiful and special color of your eyes, oh, and your singing voice was almost magical, he definitely loved it. You were singing in Spanish at the time. Alfred mentioned that you were originally from Mexico, so you obviously know Spanish. That sounds pretty cool to him... He almost wants to ask you to teach him Spanish later too.

You were so adorable... Gosh, Duke always wanted a little sister, and of course, he never got one before, but now he has you! He'll make sure he's the perfect big brother to a little girl like you.

Maybe... He might pretend to get lost in the mansion's halls again just to ask you for help again. After all, he definitely made a point of memorizing the location of your room and then returning on purpose.

❦: (Note to emphasize that the reader used to be very smart in school, and would continue to be so at Gotham School too if it weren't for the circumstances. Losing her mother and being ignored by her father and brothers was a hard blow for a little girl like her, it wasn't right, that's why her academic commitment was greatly affected.// Oh and also, this time I wanted to make more mention of the reader's cousins, since at the end of the day, they are also very important in the reader's story. And welcome Duke to the story! Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter ♡).

✯/Tag list: @hopingtoclearmedschool @simpingpandas @ryuushou @ninihrtss @soulsire @artistwithcreativeburnout @the-dumber-scaramouche @khalinda-ev @sillysealsies @moon0goddess @bunniotomia @twismare @arwenyukiamoto @wizzerreblogs @ironsaladwitch @luckyangelballoon @burningkittenprince @wisefuncherryblossom @kksmush @icefox8155

[black-is-beautiful18]

Ambessa is not a butch. Canonically she is a bisexual woman who is very feminine. She just also happens to be a warlord. She can be soft and lovable. She loves being a mother. Headcanons are fun but I find it hard to read them, or just fics in general, when they call her a butch. Now I do enjoy some of them, but it’s mainly due to the fact that it seems like people are completely ignoring who she is and labeling her whatever simply because she’s muscular and that’s not ok. Also, whether you know it or not that feeds into stereotypes about Black women. It is that serious. I wish it wasn’t but…we don’t live in that kind of world. Show me her wearing dresses, picking out jewelry, applying makeup, getting her hair done….These are things we know she does from the book and show alone. Imma have to open up my docs cuz we definitely need more fem Ambessa fics out there.🧍🏾‍♀️

[jazziejax]

𝐈𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭?

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Kadeem ‘Unique’ Mathis x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Not one sort of relationship was perfect. Couples fought, friends argued, and it sometimes got physical in two different sort of ways…but whatever the relationship was between Unique and Mo’nique was far more complex considering they weren’t friends, far from a couple and she technically was taking care of him free of charge. But is that really it?

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - cursing, mental episodes, nudity, injuries, and that all I can think of rn…let me know if I missed anything please!

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I know it’s been a minute but this last semester is no. joke. I have been getting my ass lived with this classes and exams, but it’s all working out because ya sista is passing!!! I know yall want an update with everything else I have sitting around, AND ITS ALL COMING SOON!!! Just give me till May for consistency, I beg!!!! Also, I’ve been thinking about writing something for Kelvin’s character ‘Euri’ in O’Dessa…let me know if yall want that because I love a lil fruity man that gets freaky. I watched challengers!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 16,542+

Unique was already awake.

Had been for the past few minutes, caught somewhere between sleep and something else entirely. His eyes were half-lidded, his head tilted just enough to catch the way the morning light cast a soft glow over her features.

Mo’nique was still asleep, completely unaware of the way she had curled into him sometime during the night. Of the way, her fingers had brushed against his ribs, light and unconscious, before settling again. Of the way her breath, warm and even, ghosted against his shirt.

He had woken up expecting pain, the same dull, throbbing ache that had been his companion since that night. But this? This was different. His body still hurt only a bit, but his mind… his mind was quiet. For the first time in longer than he cared to admit, the weight pressing on his chest wasn’t unbearable.

He wasn’t thinking about revenge. Wasn’t thinking about Ronnie.

He was just here in the present. Something he hasn’t been able to do in a long, long time. And he wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.

His arm shifted slightly, fingers flexing like he wanted to move, to break whatever the hell this was before she woke up and made it something more real than it had to be. But something in him stopped. Something deep in his chest, something that he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time.

He let out a slow breath, eyes flickering to the clock.

Mo’nique would wake up soon. And then what? She’d pull away. Crack a joke. Or would she say nothing at all and act like none of this ever happened? And maybe that was for the best.

Still, when she stirred, a quiet hum slipping from her lips as she nestled just a little closer, Unique found himself hesitating. Because for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t want to let go.

But whatever he was feeling was soon to be over.

The first thing Mo’nique felt was warmth. Not the kind that came from blankets or the sluggish heat of a room in the morning, but something solid. Her mind was slow to wake, drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness, clinging to the last remnants of rest. She felt the steady rise and fall beneath her, the slow, rhythmic movement of breath. Her fingers twitched, grazing soft fabric, and that was when it hit her.

She wasn’t alone.

Her eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep, and the first thing she saw was black fabric stretched over firm muscle. It took her a second to register what—who—she was lying on. But once it did, awareness shot through her like a live wire.

Unique.

She was still pressed against him.

Her body tensed, her breath catching in her throat as reality settled over her like a heavyweight. Sometime in the night, she had moved closer. Or maybe he had? Either way, she was tucked against him, her cheek resting against his chest, his scent lingering on the fabric of the shirt she’d given him.

And worse? His arm—his damn arm—was close. Close enough that it might as well have been wrapped around her.

She should move. She should definitely move.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she lay there, her mind scrambling for an explanation, an excuse—anything—to make sense of how the hell she had ended up like this. She didn’t sleep like this, this well. Not with other people, even back when she had the chance to. She would always wake up in the middle of the night, sometimes multiple times.

But… she had slept this time. And she had slept well.

That realization made her stomach twist a bit.

Slowly, carefully, she tilted her head back, just enough to get a glimpse of Unique’s face. His eyes were still shut, his breathing slow, his other hand placed on his chest that rose and fell with every breath. Her pulse seemed to kick up, heat creeping up her neck as she looked at his resting face.

If I moved now, maybe I could act like this never happened, she thought. Maybe he’d keep his eyes closed and let her slip away without a word. So

Mo’nique sucked in a slow breath, forcing her body to move. Carefully, she peeled herself away from Unique’s warmth, taking extra care not to jostle him too much. The last thing she needed was to lock eyes with him after waking up damn near wrapped around each other.

The air outside the blankets was colder than she expected, making her skin prickle as she sat up, trying to fight back a violent shiver. She rubbed a hand over her face, still groggy but determined to shake it off. Her stomach gave a low, impatient growl, reminding her exactly what she needed to do next.

Breakfast.

She glanced over her shoulder. Unique was still lying there, eyes closed, but she wasn’t sure if he was fully asleep or if he was just pretending. Either way, she wasn’t about to stick around to find out. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she padded out of the room and towards the kitchen, scratching at her shirt curls through her scarf as she went. The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the fridge when she opened it.

As Mo’nique moved through the kitchen, focusing on getting breakfast together, she tried—tried—to push down the thoughts that had been lingering in the back of her mind ever since she woke up tangled against Unique.

Because what the hell was that?

She could still feel the warmth of his body against hers, the way her face had been pressed into his side like she belonged there. And worse? She had let herself stay. Just for a little while. Long enough to soak in the comfort, to let herself feel…the security it brought her.

That was the part that messed with her the most. It felt safe…and comfortable.

She hadn’t felt that way in a long time—not in a bed, not in the presence of a man, not in any situation where her guard was down and she was in one of her most vulnerable positions. But lying against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, the weight of his arm resting close, it had been so damn easy to just… let it happen.

She stirred the waffle batter a little too aggressively, jaw clenching as she forced herself to focus. It didn’t mean anything, she thought. They were just tired. It was cold. She had gotten comfortable—that was all.

But that tiny, treacherous part of her whispered back, Then why did you hesitate to get up?

She shook her head and reached for the waffle iron, pouring in the batter. Doesn’t matter. She had bigger things to worry about than how good it had felt to sleep beside Unique.

Instead, she put her energy into breakfast, pouring herself into the simple, steady motions of cooking. Eggs, bacon, waffles. Things she could control. Because whatever that was between them moments ago? That was something she absolutely could not.

And Unique was having a similar conversation with himself about it all in her bedroom. The moment Mo’nique stepped out of the room, Unique let out a slow exhale, a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, cracking his eyes open fully. He had been awake for a little while now, but he wasn’t in any rush to move. His body still felt like it had been through the wringer—because it had—and the comfort of the bed, the lingering warmth where Mo’nique had been, was too good to shake off just yet.

From the other room, he could hear the faint sounds of cooking—bacon sizzling, the rhythmic scrape of a whisk against a bowl. The smell of it drifted into the room, rich and warm, making his stomach stir with hunger.

He lay there, one arm draped over his forehead, letting himself soak in the rare feeling of not being in a rush to move, of not having to constantly be on guard. But moments later, when he heard the soft padding of her footsteps approaching again, he cracked his eyes open in time to see Mo’nique stepping back into the room, eyeing him with that sharp, assessing look of hers.

“You gotta use the bathroom?” She asked, arms crossing as she leaned against the door banister.

Unique gave a slow shake of his head, his gaze lingering on her a little longer than necessary. She was still in the clothes she slept in, her hair slightly tousled from sleep, but she looked… at ease.

She caught that look in his eye, paused for a beat, then just nodded before asking, “You hungry?”

This time, he nodded.

Another small nod from her, this one tighter, before she pursed her lips and turned to head back to the kitchen. Unique huffed out a quiet breath, watching her go. He still didn’t say much, letting the silence settle between them as she moved around the kitchen. But when she finally returned, balancing a plate in one hand, he let a smirk pull at the corner of his mouth.

“Ain’t this some shit? You buttering me up now?”

Mo’nique gave him a flat look before shoving the plate toward him.

“Nigga, shut up and eat.” She said before walking back out and gathering her food. She came back with a plate and sat herself back in the chair from last night. She didn’t even look his way as she cooked, the television on in her room and began eating.

They ate in silence for a while, the only sounds coming from the soft hum of the television and the quiet clink of utensils against their plates. The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air played on the screen, Will cracking jokes as the laugh track echoed through the room.

Mo’nique sat cross-legged in the chair, her plate balanced in her lap, stealing glances at Unique between bites. He was leaned back against the headboard, eating slowly, clearly enjoying the meal more than he let on.

After a few moments, she spoke, her voice casual but pointed. “You know, I don’t usually allow eating in my room.”

A slow smirk made its way onto Unique’s, barely glancing up from his plate as he took another bite of waffle. “That so?” He hummed.

“Mmhm.” She speared a piece of bacon with her fork, chewing thoughtfully. “Only reason I let it slide this time is ‘cause you half-dead.” She said.

Unique let out a low and breathy chuckle since it hurt to laugh, shaking his head. “Damn. A nigga sorta on his deathbed, and you still got rules.”

“Damn right.” She shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it. If anything, the corners of her lips twitched like she was holding back a smile, her brows raised a bit as she stared at him. Unique just hummed, taking another bite before glancing at her again. “So what, I’m supposed to be honored or some shit?” He asked with a small shrug.

Mo’nique rolled her eyes, finally giving in to the small smirk tugging at her lips. “Nah. Just don’t get used to it.”

Unique licked his lips, watching her for a moment longer before turning his attention back to the TV. He then hummed with a nod, acknowledging her suggestion.

They sat there and fished their food, Mo’nique taking their plates into the kitchen and placing them into the sink. She let out a sigh as she moved back to the room. She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, her gaze steady as she took in the man sprawled out on her bed. Unique had settled back against the pillows, one arm draped lazily over his torso, looking more at ease than he had any right to be. His eyes drifted over to when she lingered.

“What?” He asked, his voice low and scratchy, eyes flicking over to meet hers.

She tilted her head slightly, pressing her lips together before speaking. “You know, you’ve been here two, three days now.”

He blinked. “Yeah?” He shifted slightly, wincing at the soreness still settled deep in his muscles. He wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but the idea of her kicking him out did quickly cross his mind. And he hated how his heart damn near dropped at the thought. A sliver of something unsettling—something like hopelessness—crept in before he could shove it away.

Mo’nique sighed, her fingers tightening against her arms as she exhaled through her nose. “It’s time to take a bath, Nique.”

And that—that—he didn’t know how to react to.

For a moment, he just stared at her, processing. Of all the things she could’ve said, that wasn’t even on his radar. His lips parted slightly, brows furrowing as if he had misheard her. “What?” He questioned, making sure he heard her correctly.

She gave him a pointed look. “You need to clean up. I know you hurt, but you not that hurt. Paralyzed people take baths.”

Unique blinked, then scoffed, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he propped himself up on an elbow. “So you tryna say I stink?” He questioned.

Mo’nique rolled her eyes. “I’m saying you've been in about two different spots, same sort of clothes, for damn near three days. So yeah, it’s time.”

Unique let his head fall back against the pillows, exhaling through his nose. “Man…”

“No man.” She cut in, pushing off the doorway. “You gon’ get up, and I’ll help you if you need it, but I ain’t lettin’ you just lay here and rot.”

He eyed her carefully, the teasing glint in his eyes dimming just a little. There was something else in her tone, something that made his chest feel tight. She wasn’t saying this to mess with him—she was saying it because she gave a damn. She cared. And that… well, that did little something to him in his chest.

After a long pause, he finally sighed. “Aight, fine.”

Mo’nique raised an eyebrow. “Fine?”

“Yeah, fine.” He muttered, reluctantly and stiffly swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Damn. You real bossy, you know that?” He chucked out, feeling the aching pain he had in his sides.

Mo’nique smirked. “And you real hard-headed. Now come on.” She said, McIntosh over to him. Unique shook his head, but he didn’t argue. Didn’t push back.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mo’nique hadn’t really thought this through past the point of telling Unique to get up.

Because now, standing in the small, slightly humid bathroom, she realized how… intimate this was about to be. And when she turned to look at Unique, sitting on the closed toilet lid, watching her with that lazy, unreadable expression, she could tell he was thinking the same thing.

“You just gon’ stand there all day, or you actually gon’ help?” His voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it, like he wasn’t entirely sure how to navigate this either.

She exhaled through her nose and ignored the way heat crept up the back of her neck. “Shut up.” She mumbled. He huffed out a quiet laugh but didn’t say anything else as she turned the faucet, letting the tub fill. The water ran hot, steam curling into the air, and she poured in a little body wash, watching the bubbles rise.

“You got a preference?” She asked, nodding toward the shelf of soaps and shampoos she had on a metal rack in the shower.

Unique pursed her lips, cocking his head at her. “I look like I got a preference?” He asked, furrowing his brows at her.

Mo’nique rolled her eyes at his sassy attitude and grabbed what she usually used, setting everything within reach before turning back to him. The playful glint in his eye had dulled a little, his jaw set as he stared at the water. He looked tense, and for a second, she wondered if he was actually uncomfortable with all this. “Hey.” Her voice was quieter now. Softer. “You good?” She asked.

Unique blinked, snapping out of whatever thought had momentarily taken him. His eyes flickered to hers, and then he nodded, though the motion was slow. “Yeah.” He murmured, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Mo’nique wasn’t sure she fully believed him, but she didn’t push. Instead, she moved to help him undress, starting with his shirt. She hesitated for only a second before carefully peeling the fabric away from his body. He winced, sucking in a sharp breath as the movement aggravated his bruises, and Mo’nique bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to react to just how bad they still looked. Dark patches covered his ribs, his stomach, his arms—evidence of everything he had been through before he ended up here.

“Sorry,” She murmured, fingers barely brushing against his skin as she pulled the shirt off completely.

He shook his head. “It ain’t your fault, you’re cool.”

She nodded, then crouched to pull off his socks before moving to his sweats. He didn’t say anything as she slid them down his legs, didn’t make a single smart remark, which only made her more aware of the shift in the air between them. She didn’t even offer an inappropriate glance at his junk. Once he was undressed, Mo’nique reached for his arm. “Come on.”

He moved stiffly, but with her help, he stepped into the tub, the woman helping him lower himself carefully into the water with a quiet grunt. The heat must’ve soothed him at least a little because she saw his shoulders relax, his head tipping back against the edge of the tub as he let out a long breath.

“Good?”She asked, sitting on the closed toilet lid.

“Mmhmm,” He hummed, eyes half-lidded, the tension in his face slowly easing. She nodded at that, letting out a subtle him with her eyes still locked on his resting form. She let him soak for a moment before wetting a washcloth and lathering it with soap. “Alright, lean up.” She said

He cracked one eye open. “You gon’ wash me too?” He asked, and even though he was sort of guarded when it came to the thought, the idea of it did make him want to smirk a little. Maybe under completely different circumstances.

Mo’nique gave him a dry look. “You want me to?” She asked, quirking a brow at him.

Something flickered in his gaze at that, something unreadable, but after a beat, he simply leaned forward. She blinked at him before she began working methodically, her hands gentle but firm as she ran the cloth over his back, across his shoulders, and down his arms. She was careful around his ribs, making sure not to press too hard, but even still, she could feel the way his body tensed beneath her touch.

“Relax.” She murmured.

Unique let out a quiet but tense chuckle, shaking his head. “Ain’t used to this, that’s all.” He said, trying to ease the uncomfortableness he felt. Mo’nique didn’t say anything to that, just kept going, moving to his chest. When her fingers brushed against a particularly dark bruise, she hesitated. She didn’t want to press down too hard, but the dark spot against his deep skin didn’t look too good. At her pause, Unique looked at her. “You gon’ ask?” He muttered, before closing his eyes once again.

Mo’nique’s lips pressed together. She knew what he meant. “Do you want me to?” She questioned as she continued.

He was quiet for a moment. Then, he shook his head. “Nah.”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. She ran the cloth down his stomach, over the planes of his torso, then dipped it into the water to rinse before handing it to him.

“You got the rest?” She asked softly, and she was hoping he would say yes because even though she was a professional at this, she didn’t know if she could handle all that just yet. Especially since she was still struggling with trying to surpass the thoughts from this morning.

Unique took the cloth, his fingers brushing against hers briefly. “Yeah.” He muttered.

Mo’nique stood, grabbing a large towel from the shelf and setting it on the counter. “I’ll be in the room if you need help getting out.” She said before turning to leave the room. Unique tilted his head slightly, looking up at her with something almost unreadable in his expression.

“Mo’nique.” He called just as she was stepping out.

She turned back to him “Yeah?”He held her gaze for a second before blinking and shaking his head, smirking faintly. “Nothin’. Just… thanks.”

Mo’nique didn’t know what to say to that, so she just nodded and slipped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her. And Unique watched the door for a long time after she left. His body was still tense, despite the warmth of the water. Despite the way, his muscles should’ve been relaxing. Though he thought he felt a noticeable decline in temperature when she left the room.

He leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, closing his eyes as he thought. Mo’nique wasn’t like the women he usually dealt with. She wasn’t falling over herself, eager to do things for him, but she also wasn’t that distant. She knew when to press and when to leave things alone. She told just enough to make him feel comfortable. She knew when to hold his gaze and when to look away.

And the way she had touched him… carefully, deliberately, without a trace of pity as she washed away more than just the grime. That shit messed with him. Because he knew what pity looked like. He had seen it in the eyes of plenty of people before. It had been years since he felt it in the way people used to handle him when Ronnie was still around like he was something fragile. He hated that shit.

But Mo’nique? She didn’t look at him like that. She didn’t treat him like something broken, even though this was all she knew. The beaten version of himself.

And maybe that’s why, for the first time in a long time, he actually felt something settle inside him. Something he didn’t quite have a name for yet.

He ran a wet hand down his face, shaking his head.

He needed to get a grip.

Because whatever this was, whatever she was doing to him— He wasn’t sure if he was ready for it.

Mo’nique was facing a similar internal conflict. She had closed the door behind her and exhaled, her back pressing against the wood as she stared at the floor. She hadn’t realized how much she had been holding her breath until now.

Her hands twitched at her sides, still warm from the hot water and touching him. From washing over his skin and feeling the tension coiled in his muscles. It was one thing to know he was hurt, to see the bruises peeking from beneath his clothes. But touching them? Feeling the dips and ridges of his pain? That was different. And it didn’t help that the attractive man had the body to match.

She ran a hand down her face, pushing away the thoughts that tried to creep in—the ones that told her that she shouldn’t care and that she had no business feeling anything about this man the way she did.

This morning, she had damn near woken up in his arms but wanted to fight him only yesterday. Hell, she had fought him. And now she was in there… washing his back, checking on him, feeling something she didn’t even want to name.

She couldn’t help but think of the way his body had been tense at first, but how it had relaxed once he settled into the tub. The way he hadn’t protested when she touched him, even though she knew he must’ve been uncomfortable from the bruises. His quiet moments. The strange, almost vulnerable look in his eyes when he thanked her.

Her body still felt warm from the proximity, from the way his eyes had lingered on her before she left. He had almost said something—she could feel it in the pause before he shook his head and that smirk slid into place like a shield. Mo’nique swallowed, taking another deep breath.

She wasn’t stupid. Unique was charming. He knew how to reel people in, how to make them feel special, even when they weren’t supposed to be. And yet…

She suddenly pushed off the door, shaking her head at herself as she moved toward the bed in the room. She wasn’t doing this. She wasn’t going to sit here and overanalyze something that wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

Because that’s all it was, right? It wasn’t supposed to mean anything….So why did it feel like it did?

Mo’nique just sat in the bed, arms crossed, as she listened to the sounds of the water splashing softly in the bathroom. Her mind buzzed with the strange shift she felt between herself and Unique, but she tried not to overthink it.

Helping Unique bathe hadn’t been as strange as she thought it might be, but now, the silence felt different. He was in there, and she was out here, and somehow the line between her role as someone helping him and something else was starting to blur. She couldn’t shake the feeling that things were shifting between them, and that shift made her heart beat just a little faster. The warmth of the moment was still lingering in the air, but it was a strange kind of warmth—one that didn’t just come from the hot water.

Her fingers tapped lightly on her arm, her thoughts drifting in and out of focus on the television screen. She didn’t mind helping him, but something about the whole situation now felt different. Everything had been different since yesterday and this morning didn’t make it any better. The tension between them had been building ever since he showed up at her place, and now it was hard to ignore.

This is all my fault, she thought.

The sound of the water finally stopped, and the silence hung thick in the air. She hesitated for a moment before pushing herself up from the bed and walking toward the bathroom. She knocked softly this time, hearing a muffled sound before she opened the door slowly, her eyes landing on him in the tub.

He was sitting there, leaning back, his eyes closed for a second before they fluttered open when he sensed her presence. Mo’nique could see him trying to steady himself, but he was visibly sore. His muscles were tense, his body battered from the bruises and the trauma, but he wasn’t about to show weakness.

“Need a hand getting out?” Mo’nique asked, her voice steady but not unkind. There was no hesitation in her movement as she took a step into the bathroom, her hands resting on her hips.

Unique’s eyes flicked up to hers, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I got it, Mo’nique. I ain’t that helpless.”

She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she watched him for a moment, trying to gauge if he could manage on his own. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel like a burden, but at the same time, she didn’t want him pushing himself too hard.

The silence stretched between them before she finally sighed, her voice a little softer. “No, you don’t. I can see that. You’re hurting, Nique.”

He scowled, but she didn’t back down. “Fine.” He muttered, his smirk turning into something more resigned. He looked down at the water, clearly not thrilled about being helped. “Just make it quick.”

Mo’nique moved in close without hesitation. She reached for the towel she had already set out for him, draping it over her shoulder before offering her hand to him. He met her gaze again, this time with something unreadable in his eyes, but he accepted her help.

She bent slightly to grab his arm and carefully assisted him as he stood up. His body was heavy with exhaustion and pain, and she could feel his muscles strain under her touch. She kept a firm grip on him, helping him steady himself, and though he didn’t complain, she could tell he appreciated the support.

When he finally stood, she handed him the towel, the rough fabric brushing against his skin. He wrapped it around his waist, but his eyes never left her. She couldn’t quite read him, but there was something about the way he looked at her that made her heart skip a beat.

“You good?” She asked, more out of instinct than anything, watching him carefully.

He nodded, though his eyes were still slightly clouded with the discomfort he was feeling. “Yeah. Just… a little sore. I’ll be fine.”

She nodded in return. “I know you will be.” She said, her voice softer now. “But you don’t have to do it all alone, Nique. You’ve got me.” She said, looking up at him. She then blinked once she heard what her words sounded like. “I mean, that’s what you’re here for. It’s my job.” She shrugged to let off some of the nerves she was feeling. Unique was quiet for a long moment, his gaze locked with hers. “Yeah.” He finally murmured, his voice lower than usual. “Guess I do.” She nodded.

Mo’nique then helped him slowly walk toward the bedroom, careful not to jostle him too much. He wasn’t exactly in the best shape, but she could see the effort he was putting in. She guided him over to the bed, letting him sit down as he exhaled a long, tired breath.

She took in a slow breath as she looked at him, sitting there on the edge of the bed, towel wrapped loosely around his waist. His skin was still damp, his body tense even though exhaustion weighed heavily in his posture. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of soap and warm water lingering in the air between them. She then swallowed, glancing over at the clothes she had laid out for him. “Alright.” She said, forcing some distance between them now. Mo’nique grabbed the hoodie from the chair and stepped in front of him. Unique watched her without a word, his gaze steady, unreadable. He sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread, hands resting on his thighs. He didn’t move, didn’t speak—just watched her.

She didn’t let herself hesitate. “Arms.” She said, holding the hoodie open.

He lifted them, letting her guide the blue fabric over his head. Her fingers brushed against his neck as she pulled it down, the heat of his skin lingering even after she let go. He adjusted the sleeves, rolling his shoulders slightly, but his eyes never left her.

She reached for the sweatpants next, kneeling to slide them up his legs. He lifted his hips just enough for her to pull them and the underwear into place. The air between them was heavy, thick with something neither of them named.

Once he was dressed, she grabbed the first-aid kit from the nightstand and sat beside him. The cut on his face had dried, but it still looked raw. She ripped open an alcohol pad, fanning it out before reaching up to touch his jaw. He didn’t flinch, but his body went still.

“This might sting.” She murmured.

A slow exhale left his nose. “Go ahead.”

She dabbed at the wound, careful but firm. His jaw tensed beneath her fingers. He was close—close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath, see the way his lashes flickered as she worked.

“You should be more careful.” She said quietly, pressing the cloth against his skin.

He huffed out something like a laugh. “Shit happens.” He hissed out through the stinging.

She didn’t respond, just kept cleaning the wound, her touch lingering longer than it needed to. The silence stretched between them, thick and charged.

After a moment, he spoke again. “You take care of people like this before?” He suddenly asked, his eyes locked on her brown ones that were focused on his scar. She paused at that, meeting his gaze. “No.” She said firmly. And his eyes darkened, something unreadable passing through them. But he didn’t push.

She finished by applying the ointment, her fingers featherlight against his skin. When she pulled back, her touch lingered for just a second longer than necessary.

“You done?” He asked, his voice low.

Mo’nique let out a slow breath, standing up. “For now.” She said. And with that, Mo’nique felt the tension shift again, heavier now. She didn’t know what the hell was going on between them, but she knew one thing for sure—it wasn’t going to be easy figuring it out. Now, it was time for her. She found herself standing in the bathroom, glancing at the mirror as she caught sight of herself, still a little damp from the close contact with Unique. The morning had already been a strange mix of routine and something… unexpected. She had taken care of him, helped him out of the tub, and made him breakfast—things she didn’t usually do for anyone, and yet it had felt natural.

The bathroom seemed colder somehow, the steam of the previous bath water barely escaping from the shower. She stared at the closed curtain, the sense of quiet anticipation building. Mo’nique wasn’t used to being the one who needed help, but today, with everything that had happened, she could feel the tension and exhaustion settling in her body. It had been a while since she’d felt so off balance.

She slipped off her clothes before moving to turn the shower on. She adjusted the temperature to something comfortably warm, then let the water stream down. As the water started to fill the air with a soft mist, she stepped in, closing the curtain behind her. She let out a long, slow breath, allowing herself to relax as the warmth enveloped her.

She closed her eyes, her mind wandering for a moment, her wet fingers running over her face. The scent of her body wash—vanilla, light and calming—mixed with the steam, and for a while, she let herself forget about everything. The world outside the bathroom, the responsibilities of the day, and the weight of whatever lingering thoughts she began to feel between her and Unique—they all felt distant as the water washed over her skin.

But soon enough, she felt the creeping need to hurry. She didn’t want to linger too long in here. She scrubbed her skin, each movement methodical, allowing the steam to lift the tension from her muscles. Part of her was still trying to figure out why she was doing all of this. Unique didn’t ask for her help; she had just given it, almost instinctively, after seeing the star of his injuries when her cousin dropped him off. But that couldn’t have been all that it was. She always told Earl off for his stupid and scamming ways while now she was doing free labor for a fully grown stranger.

Maybe it was just him… or maybe it was the way he seemed so comfortable and had gotten under her skin without even trying.

Mo’nique finished up her shower quickly, not wanting to overthink it. She turned the water off and stepped out, grabbing the towel she had left within easy reach. As she dried off, she glanced at her reflection in the fogged-up mirror. For a moment, her thoughts paused. She looked…not tried? And that was new for her. Her light eye bags were still but she had a fair glow to her skin that wasn’t usually there.

She wrapped the towel around her body and opened the bathroom door. As she stepped back into her bedroom, she saw Unique lying on her bed, looking at the ceiling with his hands behind his head, lost in thought. The soft hum of the television show playing in the background gave the room a quiet, almost domestic feel.

Mo’nique couldn’t help but feel a brief moment of uncertainty, but she brushed it off. As Monique stepped into the room, the only thing covering her was a towel wrapped snugly around her body, damp from her shower. The scent of her vanilla and coconut-scented body wash lingered in the air as steam followed her in. Unique, who had been casually lounging on the bed, glanced up—and immediately froze.

His eyes flickered over her, taking in the sight before him, his usual confident demeanor momentarily faltering. He hadn’t expected her to walk in like that, not without warning. His lips parted slightly as if he was about to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he dragged his tongue across his teeth, letting his gaze linger for a moment longer than necessary before looking away, masking whatever thoughts ran through his head.

Monique, completely unfazed or perhaps just pretending not to notice, walked past him toward the dresser, grabbing a bottle of lotion. She poured some into her palm, rubbing it into the exposed skin of her arms and chest, her movements slow and deliberate—but not intentionally seductive. It was just the way she moved, effortlessly drawing attention without trying.

Unique shifted in his seat, exhaling through his nose as he shook his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Damn.” He muttered under his breath, more to himself than to her.

Monique glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “What?” She asked, quirking a brow at him.

Unique then leaned up, resting on his elbows. “Nothin’.” His voice was casual, but there was something else underneath it—something unspoken as his eyes quickly took in her figure before moving elsewhere.

She held his gaze for a second before turning back to what she was doing, acting as if the weight of his stare wasn’t still pressing against her. She didn’t respond, just shook her head before she reached for the clothes she had set on top of the dresser earlier. The towel remained wrapped securely around her, but the way she moved—unbothered, completely at ease in his presence—made Unique’s jaw tighten just a little.

She gathered her things—a cut-off crew neck and a pair of fitted leggings—before heading back toward the bathroom. Unique’s eyes followed her, but he didn’t say a word. He just let his gaze linger, dragging over her bare shoulders, down to the curve of her thighs before she disappeared behind the door.

Once she was out of sight, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head to himself. She knew exactly what she was doing, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She had to! He thought.

A few minutes passed before Monique emerged again, this time fully dressed, her sweater hanging off one of her shoulders to show her bra strap while her black tights hugged her thick thighs and her cute curls were out. She padded barefoot across the room, the smell of cocoa butter clinging to her skin.

Unique was still in the same spot, this time leaning back on the bed with one arm propped behind his head. He looked her up and down, slower this time as if assessing something. “I appreciate it,” He suddenly spoke up quietly, his voice uncharacteristically soft. Mo’njque turned to him at the sound of his voice. “I know I ain’t made it easy these past couple days.” He mumbled.

She didn’t know how to respond to that. The words sat on her tongue as she blinked, but none of them felt right. Instead, she just nodded, the movement stiff, and smiled faintly. “Just don’t make me regret it.” She quipped anything to make him feel less like shit.

He grinned at that, a flash of that cocky smirk she had become familiar with making its way across his lips. “Nah, I won’t. But don’t think I’m gonna start letting you play nurse every time something goes wrong, though.”

Mo’nique rolled her eyes. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do. I’m the nurse here, Unique.” She sassed, tilting her head at him as she looked him in the eye.

But there was something in the way he looked at her now—something different than before. Less guarded, but still cautious. For the first time in days, it felt like they were both trying to figure out the space they occupied in each other’s lives.

“Alright, whatever,” Unique said, lying against the bed, looking out the window above the headboard. Mo’nique stayed where she was, leaning back against her dresser, watching as he got caught in her own thoughts as the sun shined down on him. Neither of them spoke again until he seemed to snap out of it, letting out a small sigh, and when he finally turned to face her, something about the air between them felt different.

Not better, not worse. Just… different.

“So.” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets.” What now? You got plans today?”

Mo’nique glanced at the clock, realizing it was almost past noon. “Actually.” She said slowly, rising from the dresser, “It’s my off day. It’s why I slept in so late.“ she shrugged. She then eased her way over to the door, her arms crossed. “And I’m glad you asked because now it’s time to move. Come on, we’re going to the living room.” She said, her voice calm but firm.

Unique didn’t immediately budge. He sat there for a few seconds, the bed creaking under his weight, as he looked at her like she had just asked him to run a marathon. There was reluctance in his eyes, his muscles still sore from the last couple of days of recovery. Finally, with a deep sigh, he slowly pushed himself up to sit at the edge of the bed.

Mo’nique watched him for a moment, her patience wearing thin. When he didn’t make any further effort, she cocked an eyebrow and glanced at him. “Come on.” She urged, jerking her head towards the open door, her arms outstretched as if beckoning him like a baby.

He stared at her, a mix of disbelief and exhaustion in his gaze. “What? You’re not gonna help?” He asked, his tone a little dry.

“No.” She replied flatly, her voice matching the playful annoyance she always managed to carry so easily.

Unique let out a frustrated grunt, his hand gripping the edge of the bed as if it were the only thing keeping him steady. “First you don’t want me moving on my own and now you’re forcing me? What’s wrong with you, B?” He asked, scrunching his face up at her.

Mo’nique gave him an amused look as she looked down at him. “You gotta take it one step at a time, B.” She said, not even trying to hide how his annoyance was making her grin as she relayed his slang. “Baby steps.” She teased. “It’s called rehab, man. I know you’ve heard of it. Now ease up and walk from the bed to the door.” She motioned toward the door as if it were some grand distance to cross.

The corner of Unique’s mouth twitched, a reluctant grin playing at the edge of his lips, even as he felt the ache in his limbs and irritation gnawing at his brain. Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself to his feet. He was still a little stiff, and still sore, but there was no denying the way her eyes were on him, making him feel like he had no choice but to comply.

With a grunt, he took a slow, measured step toward the door. Each movement was labored, his body protesting, but there was something about her unspoken challenge that kept him moving. The whole process felt ridiculous, but at the same time, he couldn’t help the way a small sense of accomplishment settled in when he finally stood at the doorframe, looking down at Mo’nique, who hadn’t moved from her spot.

She gave him a nod of approval. “See? Told you. One step at a time.” She smiled up at him. Unique rolled his eyes, trying to hide the slight pride he felt in the accomplishment. “Yeah, whatever man.“

“Now, let’s get you to the living room.” She added with a grin as if the hardest part was already over. With a sly look, she nudged her chin toward the couch outside. “Come on, I’ll even let you have the remote.”

“Damn.” He muttered, more to himself than to her, but she was already walking toward the living room. A small smile tugged at his lips as he moved, and though he was still sore, there was something oddly comforting about the way she was guiding him—slowly but surely—into a rhythm.

As they reached the living room, Mo’nique helped him down before he moved to flick open the curtains, allowing the sunlight to spill into the space and fill the room with warmth. “It’s good for healing.” She said as she settled onto the couch, smoothing out a blanket and pulling it over her lap. She looked over at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to say something.

He simply slouched into the couch with a sigh before reaching for the remote. It felt strange, this new pace of life they were setting, but with her help, he was starting to feel a little more human again.

Mo’nique, with her usual ease, grabbed a Hulk Marvel comic from a stack under the first layer of the glass coffee table and flipped it open, her attention quickly shifting to the colorful pages. For a while, the two sat in comfortable silence, the sound of the television humming in the background as the weight of the world seemed just a little lighter at this moment.

Unique, however, lazily flipped through channels without much intention. Mo’nique glanced up from her comic, her attention divided. She knew he was trying to find something decent to watch, but he seemed more interested in aimless channel surfing than anything else.

A few minutes passed, and then, as if by some cosmic alignment, he stopped flipping and landed on a familiar tune. The theme song of The Nanny filled the air—bouncy and cheerful, its catchy beat making Mo’nique’s ears perk up. She let out a small gasp of excitement, her eyes lighting up as she glanced up at the screen.

“No way!” She grinned, sitting up a little straighter, completely abandoning her comic. “I love this show!”

Without thinking, she began humming along to the theme song, her voice matching the rhythm. Unique shot her a side-eye, taken aback by her uncharacteristically cheerful mood. His expression was unreadable, a mix of indifference and curiosity. “Really?” He muttered, clearly unimpressed by the sudden burst of enthusiasm.

But Mo’nique couldn’t help herself. The Nanny was one of those shows that always lifted her spirits. The way Fran Drescher’s voice bounced off the walls, the ridiculous antics of the characters—it was her kind of comfort TV. Not as good as Living Single, but it was nice. She mainly liked how Fran dressed.

And for all his cool-guy front, Unique was soon getting pulled into the magic of the show. He was trying not to look too interested, sitting back with his arms folded, but it was obvious that his eyes were glued to the screen. He couldn’t help it. The wit of the characters, the pure absurdity of the plotlines, it all tugged at him in ways he wasn’t expecting. His initial indifference started to crumble.

Mo’nique noticed it, though she didn’t acknowledge it right away. She just let herself enjoy the show, occasionally humming along or making little comments about the plot as she sipped her coffee.

Unique cleared his throat, shifting in his seat, still trying to act cool. “You know, this show is kinda… entertaining.” He admitted, his tone almost sheepish. It was rare for him to admit when something amused him, but today felt different. Mo’nique’s easygoing nature, her enjoyment of the little things, made everything seem lighter. He was starting to appreciate the weirdness of The Nanny too.

She smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I told you,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder as the show continued. “The Nanny is the shit.” She cheesed. “Ooo, you have to watch Living Single too. Love that show.” She mumbled to him, trying not to speak over the television and disrupt his watching experience, and she never once took her eyes off the screen. Unique just gave her a sidelong glance, not saying much more, but his lips twitched into a small, reluctant smile. She’d caught him. Caught him enjoying a show he probably never thought he’d watch.

The episode of The Nanny ended with the familiar jingle of the closing credits, and Mo’nique wasted no time snatching up the remote, flipping through channels with a lazy sort of interest. Meanwhile, Unique had gotten comfortable, sifting through the stack of comics she had pulled out for herself, but they soon caught his interest. He wasn’t much of a comic book dude, but something about seeing them neatly organized in her collection made him curious. He flipped through a few pages of The Incredible Hulk, catching glimpses of intense battle sequences and inner monologues.

It all felt oddly domestic, the two of them sitting on the couch, a blanket between them, the glow of the TV filling the room with warmth. Mo’nique didn’t think much about it—she was content, just sitting there, the weight of the world feeling a little lighter. Maybe it was the sun streaming through the windows, maybe it was the comfort of the moment, or maybe it was the quiet company they’d found in each other over the past few days.

Then, the shrill ring of the phone cut through the room.

Before Unique even thought about it, Mo’nique was already moving. She barely hesitated before leaning across him, her body nearly brushing against his as she reached for the phone sitting on the side table. His eyes followed her instinctively, the closeness catching him off guard.

Her scent—warm, familiar, and sweet, that same cinnamon and vanilla, with something else he couldn’t quite place—filled his nose as she brought the receiver to her ear. He didn’t even pretend not to look, his gaze trailing from the loose curls that framed her face, down to the way her sweatshirt draped over her body, teasing at the curves underneath.

She rolled her eyes after a brief pause. “It’s my cousin, Earl,” She clarified to him, already sounding exasperated.

Unique smirked to himself, knowing that eye roll probably meant Earl was calling with some nonsense. He turned his attention back to the comic, half-listening as Mo’nique talked to her cousin.

“No, I ain’t been holdin’ him hostage.” She said dryly. “He’s as fine as he can be. Walkin’ and everything.”

Unique huffed a quiet laugh at that, still pretending to read. She spoke with Earl for a few more moments before suddenly, she was holding the phone out to him.

“It’s for you.” She said, tilting her head toward him.

Unique arched a brow but took the receiver anyway. “Yeah?”

On the other end, Earl’s voice came through, casual but laced with something just short of concern. “Damn, nigga, I gotta check on you myself? You still breathin’?”

Unique hummed, stretching his legs out. “Barely,” He muttered, his middle sort of dropping since he now had to think about the situation he was currently in.

“Uh-huh. Mo’nique takin’ care of you, I see. You eatin’? She got you doin’ yoga or some weird shit yet?” He asked. Unique let out a half-assed chuckle. “Nah, but she got me walkin’ like an old man, so I guess that count.” He shrugged.

Earl snorted. “Good. You ain’t got time to be laid up forever. You know you owe me, right? This little hospital recovery situation you got goin’ on ain’t free.” He stated. Unique rolled his eyes, leaning his head back against the couch. “I know what I owe, Earl. Ain’t gotta remind me.” He said, not even trying to hide how pissed his tone sounded.

“I mean, I do, ‘cause I know how y’all niggas get when a woman playin’ nurse. You get too comfortable, next thing you know, you tryna post up and start a life.”

Unique smirked. “Nigga, shut up.”

Earl laughed, but his tone shifted slightly, turning a bit more serious. “For real, though. Don’t let all that home-cooked food and soft hands fool you. She doin’ you a favor, but it ain’t forever. You gettin’ back on your feet soon, right?”

Unique exhaled through his nose, glancing toward Mo’nique, who was still settled beside him, flipping through channels without care. “Yeah, man. I’m workin’ on it.” He said, looking at the woman.

Earl let out a satisfied hum. “Aight. Just checkin’. Don’t say I ain’t look out.” Unique only grunted in response before saying a quick, “I’ll hit you later,” and hanging up. He shook his head slightly, letting the phone rest on his stomach.

His attention drifted just as Mo’nique got up from the couch, stretching her arms above her head. Her off-the-shoulder sweater allowed him to see more of her once she stood, and her position showed him much more for a few seconds before she headed toward the kitchen. Unique barely listened to the background noise of the television now, too focused on the way she moved.

She pulled open the fridge, bending slightly to look inside, and his eyes dropped to her form. Those black leggings she had on turned out to be a body suit that clung to her like a second skin, but the oversized gray sweatshirt she threw on over it gave the illusion that she was just wearing tight pants. His gaze lingered, trailing the curve of her hips, the way her stance shifted as she rummaged through the fridge.

Yeah, Earl had a point. This was comfortable—too comfortable. And yet, Unique didn’t feel the need to move just yet. He blinked before placing the phone back and then picking up the coming book.

It wasn’t long before the scent of sautéing onions and garlic filled the small apartment, weaving through the air and settling over the living room where Unique sat, still flipping through one of Mo’nique’s comics. She moved back and forth in the kitchen like it was second nature, checking on what was sizzling on the stove, and then making sure the oven was doing its job. It was a simple meal, but a full one—pan-seared ribeyes with a rich gravy, mashed potatoes, and a side of roasted green beans. Nothing extravagant, just something hearty, something that would stick to the ribs.

As she moved past the couch again, heading back toward the kitchen, her eyes flicked toward the television. “You watching this?” She asked, nodding at the screen.

Unique barely looked up from the comic in his hands, shaking his head. “Nah,” He murmured, holding up the book in explanation.

Without hesitation, she grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. The room was quiet for a moment, save for the distant hum of the oven and the occasional bubbling of something on the stove. Then, instead of walking straight back to the kitchen, Mo’nique veered toward the record player sitting next to her bookshelf.

Unique’s eyes lifted from the comic, watching as she crouched slightly, thumbing through a stack of vinyls with the same kind of careful selection she used when she was prepping ingredients. His interest was piqued—not just at the records, but at the ease with which she moved through this space, the quiet confidence in how she did things without making a big show of it.

A moment later, the soft crackle of the record player filled the air before the unmistakable voice of Sade poured into the room.

“This may come… this may come as some surprise…”

Unique recognized it immediately. Love Deluxe. The kind of album you let play straight through without skipping a single track. His lips twitched in amusement as he glanced between the page in his hands and the woman in front of him, absorbing one more than the other.

Mo’nique, still facing the record player, adjusted the volume slightly before swaying a bit as she made her way back to the kitchen.

“I won’t pretend that I intend to stop living…”

Unique let the words settle over him, leaning back into the couch as he took it in. After a few seconds, he finally spoke. “You got good taste.”

Mo’nique turned her head slightly, stirring something in a pot as she smirked. “You surprised?” She asked.

Unique shook his head with pursed lips. “Nah,” He admitted, setting the comic down on the arm of the couch. “I just ain’t met a lot of people my age who actually own vinyls. It’s all about the cast now.” He shrugged before looking over at the stand that held the records, and he could recognize most through the class. “You got a nice collection.”

She chuckled, glancing over at him. “Ain’t nothin’ like hearin’ music the way it’s supposed to sound. Ain’t nothing gon’ ever replace this.” She stated, gesturing very to her record stand. Unique nodded in agreement, a spark of appreciation in his eyes. “You sound like me. I had something like a record shop back in the day.” He added.

Mo’nique arched a brow, pausing for a second. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Unique said, stretching an arm along the back of the couch. “Had everything in there—old school, jazz, soul, hip-hop. Kept the classics in rotation. People used to come in just to talk music, even if they wasn’t buyin’ nothin’ or getting tailored.”

Mo’nique smiled, clearly impressed. “That’s dope. You still got it?” She asked. And Unique hesitated. He blinked, glancing at the spinning record before shaking his head. “Some like that.” He said. He didn’t elaborate, and Mo’nique didn’t press. Instead, she simply hummed in acknowledgment, letting the music fill the space between them again.

“I won’t pretend… I’m good at forgiving…”

She stirred the pot once more, then moved to check on the steak in the oven, the glow of the kitchen light making her sweatshirt appear almost silver as she moved. Unique watched her, his fingers absently drumming against the couch as he took in the scene.

“You a big Sade fan?” He asked after a beat.

Mo’nique grinned. “Huge. My sisters used to play her albums when our mama made us clean the house.”

Unique smirked, nodding. “A classic for real. ‘Cherish the Day’ might be my favorite track off this one.”

“Mmm,” Mo’nique hummed approvingly. “That’s a good one. But for me? It’s ‘Kiss of Life.’ Great song.”

Unique chuckled, shaking his head. “You a romantic.” He stated more than asked.

She let out a small scoff, giving him a knowing look. “And you ain’t? I mean, who the hell isn’t?”She asked. But Unique simply tilted his head, considering. “I appreciate good music, that’s all.” He shrugged.

Mo’nique laughed softly, shaking her head before turning back toward the stove. The room felt lighter now, more familiar in a way that hadn’t been there before. Unique stretched out his legs, letting the smooth melodies wash over him, feeling…an odd sense of peace.

“So, what happened with the record shop?” Mo’nique asked, her voice cutting through the music. She kept her tone casual, but there was a pointed curiosity behind it. Unique exhaled through his nose, shifting slightly. He didn’t look up from the book, his jaw tensing momentarily as quick thoughts of recent events played out in his mind. “Had to let it go.” He said, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t just a shop. It had never just been a shop. And something about the way she was looking at him over her shoulder told him she knew that, too.

She arched a brow at his silence, waiting to see if there was more before she spoke again. His tongue poked at his cheek, the habit of keeping shit vague kicking in before he could stop it. “Wasn’t just a record store.” He admitted finally, the words slow, careful. He didn’t really know why he was presenting this information. It’s not like he trusted Mo’nique or anything. But his life was in her hands, in a way, and she hadn’t done anything to prove that she was unworthy of a little openness between them. “Had some… other things tied up in it. Business got hot, I had to step away.” He practically mumbled.

Mo’nique hummed, scraping the bottom of the pan with her spoon. “Mmm. I figured it was something like that.

Unique’s gaze drifted up towards her, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Is that right?” He asked.

Mo’nique turned to him with a small smirk. “C’mon, Nique. A young nigga in the ’90s owning a record shop and actually making real money off it? Either you had old money, or you had a side hustle. And, not to be a bitch, nothing about you gives trust fund baby, B.” She says, a small wince on her face near the end.

Unique let out an audacious chortle, shaking his head. “And you peeped all that from Earl dropping me off on your doorstep?”

“I peep everything.” She said simply with a shrug, moving to chop up some fresh parsley before she let out a large sigh. “It ain’t nothing new.” She mumbled, but it was loud enough for Unique to hear her over the cooking, causing him to question what that statement meant. For a second, he just watched her, waiting for the follow-up questions—the ones that usually came whenever people got even the slightest inkling of what he did. The ones about how deep he was in, how much money he made, whether he’d ever been locked up.

But Mo’nique didn’t ask. She didn’t even look surprised. She just took it in stride, like it was just another piece of information about him, no different than him telling her his favorite color.

It threw him off a little.

He tapped a finger against his knee, watching her from the couch. “You don’t wanna ask nothin’ else?” He asked, and though somewhat genuinely, he was trying to pry more context out of her due to her previous statement.

Mo’nique shrugged. “Nah.”

Unique blinked. “Nah?”

“Nah.” She tossed the chopped parsley into the pan. “Ain’t my business unless you want it to be.”

That made him pause. Most people either wanted in, wanted to know the extent of it, or wanted to use it against him somehow. But she? She really didn’t seem to care one way or another. Something about that settled in his chest in a way he didn’t expect.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The meal came together smoothly, the air rich with the aroma of seared steak, garlic-buttered potatoes, and slow-cooked greens. Mo’nique worked with an effortless rhythm, moving between the stove and counter, plating everything with the same care she put into cooking. She drizzled a dark, velvety sauce over the steak, letting it settle before giving it a final once-over. Satisfied, she grabbed a fork and knife, setting them on the plate before heading toward the living room.

Unique was still lounging on the couch, one hand draped lazily over his stomach, the other flipping absentmindedly through another comic from her collection. He glanced up when she walked in, his eyes flicking from the plate in her hands to her face.

“You ain’t gotta serve me like that, B.” He muttered though he was already sitting up, adjusting himself to make room.

Mo’nique smacked her lips. “What are you gonna do? Come get it?” She asked, and before he could even think of what to say to her jab, she rolled her eyes. “Just eat the damn food.”

She pulled the coffee table closer before setting the plate down in front of him, then grabbed her own and sat beside him. The television remained off, the room bathed in the soft golden glow from the lamps, and Sade’s voice floated through the space like silk, setting an easy, intimate mood.

Unique picked up his fork, cutting into the steak. The first bite was met with a deep, satisfied hum. “Damn,” he said, glancing over at her. “Aight, I gotta give it to you. You did that.”

Mo’nique smirked. “I know.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he scooped up some potatoes next. They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the occasional scrape of silverware and the soft croon of Kiss of Life playing in the background.

After a few bites, Unique leaned back against the couch, his gaze drifting toward her. “Aight, so I told you about me. What’s your story?”

Mo’nique lifted a brow. “My story?” She asked, chewing.

“Yeah.” He nodded toward her. “You know shit about me, but I don’t know much about you ‘cept that you know how to cook, you got good taste in music, and you read comics. What else?”

She stabbed a piece of steak, chewing thoughtfully. “Ain’t much to tell.” She muttered, looking off in thought as her mind tried to come open with something.

Unique gave her a look. “C’mon, B. Ain’t nobody that simple.” He said, raising a brow at her. Conversation was light between them, a track contrast from the small pout they found themselves in yesterday. But everything seemed to be progressing nicely, and they both thought that maybe their time together after all wouldn’t be that bad.

Mo’nique smirked, tilting her head slightly before glancing away. She hadn’t expected him to ask about her, not like this. Most men in his position were content with talking about themselves, but Unique seemed genuinely curious.

She exhaled, rolling her shoulders. “I’m from Harlem. Move to Queens five years ago for work after I graduated. Been on my own for a minute now. I nurse old people sometimes, keep to myself.” She listed plainly before looking over at him once she finished.

Unique nodded slowly, waiting for more.

Mo’nique shot him a look. “What?” She asked, tilting her head

“You said sometimes. Is nursing all you do?”

“I do hair sometimes,” She said, sipping from her glass of water. Unique hummed, watching her as he took another bite. “You got people out here?” He questioned, such a question sounded weird coming from his mouth, but Mo’nique didn’t seem phased.

“Not really.” She shrugged, pushing her greens around her plate. “Cousins and whatnot, but I don’t be around them like that. Just Earl when he feels like bothering me.” She said, and let out a sigh at the thought of the man.

Unique smirked. “Yeah, I peeped that.”

She rolled her eyes. “I guess he means well. I don’t see it. And he annoying as hell.” She stated.

“Ain’t that what cousins supposed to be?”

Mo’nique chuckled at that, shaking her head.

For a while, they just ate, letting the conversation flow naturally. Unique asked questions here and there—nothing too deep, but enough to get a feel for her. And Mo’nique, to her own surprise, found herself answering without hesitation. It felt nice to open up like this. It’s been a while since she’s done out and spoken to someone new, and getting to experience and tell stories all over again.

There was an ease to it, the kind of thing that didn’t need to be forced. And as the record played on, and their plates gradually emptied, it became clear that, somehow, without even realizing it, they had settled into something… familiar. Something comfortable.

Neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt it.

“Speaking of family,” Mo’nique said, cutting another piece of steak. “My sisters and their kids sometimes visit on the weekends. Just giving you a heads up.”

She glanced over at Unique, a small smile playing on her lips. He had slowed down on his food, now just lazily pushing the last bit of potatoes around with his fork. He raised a brow at her words.

“How many you got?” He asked.

“Two. Both older,” she answered. “Tasha and Renee. They got four kids between them.”

Unique hummed, nodding. “You close with ‘em?”

“Mhm. They were on my ass heavy growing up,” Mo’nique admitted, smirking slightly. “Acted like they was my mama sometimes and other times I couldn’t even get them to hang out with me.”

He chuckled at that, picturing it. “That's why you left Harlem? Needed space?”

Mo’nique’s smile faded a bit as she looked down at her plate. She leaned back slightly, rolling her shoulders. “Something like that.” She said tensely. “Harlem’s always gon’ be home, but it started feeling too small, you know? Needed a change, and Queens felt… I dunno, different.” She shrugged, reluctantly glancing up at him. Their eyes connected but her behavior didn’t seem to be apparent to him, or he simply ignored it.

Unique nodded slowly like he understood exactly what she meant. “Yeah. I get that.” He sighed, looking down at his own plate.

She watched him for a beat, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “You ever think about leaving?” She asked softly. Unique chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment before exhaling sharply through his nose. “Nah.” He said, looking back up at her. “This home. This all I know.” He shrugged. There was something in the way he said it—final, but not necessarily proud. His words seemed to settle after he said them, the man clenching his jaw as thoughts of every moment that happened, leading up to the predicament he was in currently. His finger flexed as his mind flashed thoughts about his brother, but blinking seemed to do the trick to settle the rage he could feel building up.

Mo’nique noticed but didn’t press. She simply nodded, accepting his answer as it was. A quiet moment passed between them before the phone rang again.

She barely thought about it before moving, instinct kicking in as she sat her plate on the glass table and leaned across Unique—again.

This time, she still wasn’t as careful about the space between them as she moved out of habit, but her eyes caught his just as her fingers wrapped around the receiver.

Her breath hitched.

He was staring at her, those dark eyes locked onto hers, unreadable but intense. She hadn’t realized just how close she had gotten, her chest nearly brushing his. And he noticed how long and luscious his lashes made his brown irises. For a split second, she couldn’t move, frozen under the weight of his gaze.

Unique didn’t say a word, didn’t move either—just sat there, watching her.

Mo’nique swallowed, tightening her grip on the phone before pulling back, blinking as if shaking something off. She sat back into her spot, crossing her legs softly before holding the phone up to her ear.

“Hello?” She said, voice smooth despite the slight flutter in her stomach.

The sound of faint music and chatter filled her ear before a familiar voice cut through.

“Girl, where you at? We all about to go out tonight. You coming or what?”

Mo’nique sighed lightly, already shaking her head. “I can’t tonight.”

“What you mean you can’t? You said—”

“You know my sisters sometimes come over on the weekends.” She cut in smoothly, her voice holding a faux sadness like she truly regretted it. She glanced at Unique as she spoke, catching him watching her again, though this time he was back to eating as if the moment between them hadn’t just happened.

Her friend groaned on the other end, clearly not buying it but knowing better than to argue. “Man, whatever. You always got some excuse.”

Mo’nique smirked. “You’ll live.”

Her friend sucked her teeth before finally hanging up.

Mo’nique lowered the phone, exhaling softly as she set it back down. She turned her attention back to Unique, who was still watching her, still eating, still relaxed. She picked her plate back up, schooling her face into something unreadable as she resumed eating, pretending like nothing had happened.

Unique eyed her as she picked up her plate, acting like he hadn’t just watched her come apart for a second when she leaned over him. He let her have her moment, let her pretend, but he wasn’t gonna let her slide that easy.

“Who was that?” He asked, his tone casual, but his eyes sharp.

Mo’nique jerked her head back slightly, her lips curling into a teasing grin. “Uh! Is that any of your business?” She quipped.

Unique let out a short breath of air, somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff. He shook his head, leaning back against the couch, his tongue running over his teeth.

“Sorry.” He muttered, throwing his hands up slightly.

Mo’nique smirked before stabbing another piece of steak with her fork. “If you must know.” She said, chewing slowly, drawing it out. “It was one of my homegirls. They wanted me to go out tonight.” She said uninterestedly.

Unique’s chewing slowed as he took in what she just said to him, and the conversation he heard her have over the phone. His jaw tensed slightly, brows furrowing as something shifted behind his eyes. “You could’ve went out tonight.” He said, his voice noticeably flatter.

Mo’nique blinked at his tone, her fork pausing midway to her mouth. “I mean, I guess, but I didn’t really want to.” She shrugged.

“Yeah, but you said your sisters were here,” Unique shot back. “Your sisters ain’t here.” He stated with a shake of his head.

Mo’nique’s brow lifted, her lips parting slightly at his sudden shift in tone. “Well, I couldn’t say there’s a man in my home that I’m taking care of, could I?” She pointed out. And though she was still poking fun, her situation was obviously true and real for both of them.

But that didn’t land the way she thought it would.

Unique’s face twisted, something dark flickering in his eyes as he straightened up slightly. “See! That’s why you ain’t wanna go.” His voice edged with something heated now, something irritated. “I’m not keeping you from going out. You can go have fun. I ain’t some fuckin’ baby that needs your constant attention.” He hissed

Mo’nique narrowed her eyes at his sudden mood change, jaw tightening. “I didn’t say you were, Unique.” She stated in a firm tone as she became increasingly angry.

“You didn’t fucking have to, Mo’nique.” He snapped.

She stared at him for a moment, letting his words sit in the air before exhaling sharply through her nose. She put her plate down on the coffee table, sitting up straighter.

“You doin’ a lot right now,” She said, shaking her head as she let out a humorless chuckle to stop herself from becoming angrier. It’s why she set the plate down. Not only because was she done was eating, but having a knife and fork in her hands wasn’t going to make her feel any better with a man currently yelling at her. Unique scoffed, his tongue clicking against his teeth. “Nah, you doin’ a lot.” He shot back. “Lyin’ about why you ain’t wanna go. Actin’ like you stuck here, or some shit. Like I got you tied up in this motherfucker.” He grumbled, the plate on his lap long forgotten as he dropped his utensils a while ago. He let out a tired sigh as he moved the plate to the table as well, feeling his annoyance rise, though he didn’t see how irrational it was.

Mo’nique’s lips pressed together, her temper starting to bubble. “I didn’t lie, nigga, I just didn’t feel like goin’.” She said firmly. “And you not about to sit here and act like I said somethin’ I didn’t.”

Unique shook his head, his knee bouncing now, his hands rubbing against his sweatpants. His head was starting to ache and throb, pressure building behind his eyes, and for some reason, it all just irritated the fuck out of him. “You don’t even know me like that,” He muttered, shaking his head. “So you can quit actin’ like I need takin’ care of.”

Mo’nique scoffed at him and threw her hands up. “Nigga, you got a whole ass head injury! You can barely fucking walk! You do need takin’ care of!” She yelled. “Matter of fact, you need a fucking doctor from an actual hospital!” She shouted, looking over at him.

That made Unique’s jaw clench, his nostrils flaring as he exhaled sharply. He wanted to argue that, wanted to bark something back at her, but he couldn’t. Not without lying. Mo’nique watched his face, saw the way his frustration boiled under the surface, and sighed heavily. She shook her head, running a hand over her face.

“I stayed ‘cause I wanted to, Unique. Not ‘cause I had to.” She said, her tone softer but still firm. “Ain’t nobody makin’ me do shit.”

But Unique’s knee kept bouncing, his jaw working. He tapped his fingers against his thigh, his head still pulsing, his mood still sour, but he didn’t say anything for a long moment. Stewing in his own head while the music played on in the background, Sade’s voice smoothing over the tension in the room. Mo’nique’s words hung in the air for a second, but Unique wasn’t the type to let shit slide—not when he was already on edge. Then finally, with a low scoff, he muttered, “Whatever, man.” He said, shaking his head.

Mo’nique rolled her eyes at him before picking her plate back up and scoffing. “Childish ass.” She mumbled as she walked over to dump the scraps from her plate and then placed the dirty dishes in the sink, the ceramic and metal clacking together loudly.

His head snapped toward her as she walked away, eyes sharp, something dangerous flickering behind them. “The fuck you just say?” His voice was low, like the warning before the storm.

Mo’nique turned and met his glare head-on, not backing down. “You heard me.” She said.

Unique let out a dry, humorless chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. “Oh, so now I’m childish? ‘Cause I ain’t sittin’ here lettin’ you treat me like I’m some fuckin’ burden? Are you stupid?”

Mo’nique’s lips parted slightly, her frustration bubbling over as she turned to face him full in, walking back over into the living room. “Watch your fucking mouth, Unique! I never said that shit! You keep twisting my words like I said somethin’ I didn’t because you’re in your fucking feelings or whateva!” She yelled, frantically waving her hands since it was the only thing that could explain any of the shit he had running through his mind.

Unique scoffed, looking away for a second before snapping his eyes back to her. “You did, though. The way you said it—like you ‘takin’ care’ of me. Like I need you! Like I’m some lil’ nigga you gotta look after. I don’t need shit from you!”

Mo’nique let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. “You act like I said you was helpless. I ain’t say none of that. You the one that got in your feelings over some shit I ain’t even mean like that.”

Unique’s jaw tightened, his fingers moving to press against his forehead as the pain behind his eyes became too much, making everything feel ten times worse. “Man, you don’t get it.” He muttered. “You just don’t fucking it get it!”

Mo’nique narrowed her eyes. “Then explain it to me.” She said, placing her hand on her hips.

Unique looked at her then, really looked at her, like he was trying to decide if it was even worth saying out loud. But his head was hot, his emotions tangled, and the words slipped out before he could stop them. “I spent my whole life makin’ sure I was the one takin’ care of shit. I built myself up, made my name, made sure nobody ever had to look after me.” He said fondly, hitting his hand against his chest as he looked up at her. “So yeah, when you sittin’ here talkin’ like I’m some responsibility—like I’m some job—I don’t like that shit.” He hissed.

Mo’nique stared at him for a second, processing, before shaking her head. “That’s your ego, Unique. Not reality. And that ain’t my fucking problem.” She spat. And even though she was angry, she didn’t feel bad for the man. She always had, since he arrived. She didn’t know what he did to end up in the situation he was in, but living with pain had to be a fate worse than dying, and his pain was unimaginable. But she couldn’t sit here and just let this man disrespect her, even if she was going through shit she couldn’t quite fathom.

Unique shook his head, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek, his irritation still simmering. But for some reason, when she said that, when she poked at him just a little bit, it made something in his chest twist—not in anger, but in something else. Something that made him drag his eyes over her, from the way she stood up all defensive, to the way she was holding that fork earlier like she might jab him with it if he said something outta pocket.

Silence stretched between them for a second, the air thick, charged.

Then, finally, Unique let out a breath, shaking his head with an almost amused smirk. “You a piece of work, you know that?”

Mo’nique smirked right back. “And yet, here you are, still sittin’ in my house.”

Unique let out a dry laugh, low and humorless. “Yeah, here I am.” His voice was tight, his jaw clenched. “And maybe that’s the problem.”

Mo’nique’s faux smirk faltered for half a second before she scoffed, folding her arms. “The problem?” She echoed, eyes narrowing. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Unique sat up, his body tense, his glare sharp. “It means maybe I shouldn’t be here! Maybe I should’ve never been here in the first place!” His voice boomed through the apartment, bouncing off the walls.

Mo’nique let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, so now it’s my fault you sittin’ in my damn house? I ain’t force you to be here, Unique! You think I dragged your ass off the street and made you sit on my couch?”

“You ain’t force me, huh? Oh okay, you ain’t force me.” Unique leaned forward, eyes blazing. “Then why the fuck you actin’ like you stuck with me or some shit?“

Mo’nique threw her hands up. “When the fuck did I ever say that?!” She asked. “Huh?! When? You makin’ shit up in your head and then gettin’ mad about it like that shit real!” She yelled.

Unique slammed a fist against his thigh, his breathing ragged. “You think I’m makin’ shit up? You think I don’t see the way you act? The way you talk to me like I’m some charity case?”

Mo’nique’s eyes widened, and then she snapped.

“You know what? Fuck you, Unique!” She shouted, stepping closer, her voice shaking with anger. “Ain’t nobody treatin’ you like no goddamn charity case!” She said, getting closer to where he sat on the couch. “You sittin’ here poutin’ like a little fucking boy ‘cause I ain’t tell my homegirls I got a nigga laid up in my house? Is that what you’re really angry at? Huh! Is that it? You want me to put you on the lease or some shit? You want me to announce you?”

“Don’t play with me, Mo’nique.” Unique’s voice was low and lethal, his chest rising and falling as he glared at her.

“Or what? What the fuck you gon’ do?” She snapped right back, stepping even closer, damn near toe-to-toe with him and she bent down to be near his eyes level. “’Cause you ain’t scarin’ me, nigga. At all! You wanna throw a tantrum ‘cause I chose to stay in instead of goin’ out? Like I made that choice ‘cause of you? Get the fuck over yourself!”

Unique was breathing hard now, his fists clenched at his sides, his body rigid. His head was pounding, the anger clawing up his throat, his vision damn near shaking.

“You so full of shit, Mo’nique!” He bellowed, his voice vibrating through the walls as she shouted in her face.

“And you so damn insecure, Unique!” She fired back, eyes blazing. “What, you think every little thing I say is some secret message about how I don’t want you here? Like I gotta prove somethin’ to you every damn second? Ain’t nobody got time for that shit! Nigga, I barely fucking know you!”

Unique’s nostrils flared as they glared at each other, the air between them thick, electric with tension, their chests heaving, their bodies taut like they were seconds away from either tearing each other apart.

Mo’nique then suddenly scoffed and turned away, shaking her head as she snatched his plate off the table. “Is that it? Is that all?” She asked him. “Cause I’m done talkin’ to you, man.” She muttered.

“Good,” Unique snapped, flopping back against the couch with a sharp exhale. “Shit.”

And so the air between them was still thick with the remnants of their argument, tension hanging like smoke in the small apartment. Mo’nique moved through the kitchen with mechanical precision, scraping the plates into the sink and washing them with a quick but forceful scrub, the sound of water splashing echoing around the apartment. She wasn’t sure if she was cleaning out of necessity or out of sheer frustration—maybe a little of both. Her movements were sharp and quick, and there was an edge to her, a rawness in the way she held herself that hadn’t been there before the argument.

Unique, meanwhile, had collapsed back onto the couch, his body sinking into the cushions as his head throbbed with the aftermath of both his injury and the fight. The heat of anger still simmered beneath his skin, but the fatigue was quickly drowning it out. He stared at the ceiling, willing the pounding in his skull to ease, his mind racing over what had just happened. He was pissed—pissed that she didn’t get it, that she couldn’t see why he didn’t want to be coddled. But that didn’t mean the argument was over. It couldn’t be. Not yet.

Mo’nique finished cleaning the dishes and wiped the counters with a quick swipe of the rag, tossing it onto the sink and wiping her hands on a dry one. She didn’t say a word to him as she turned away, but she could feel his eyes on her as she walked across the room. She could feel the heat of his gaze even without looking at him as she walked to her room, and it made her skin crawl. It wasn’t the same look from earlier—it wasn’t even anger now. But it was something else.

She sighed once she walked into the space and then looked at the couch. She’d promised him she’d help him get to bed, but the idea of sharing the same space after what just went down didn’t sit well with her. She needed space, but he was hurt—he was the one who needed help. But she needed to get ready for bed before he even thought of the idea of entertaining him.

It wasn’t long beefed she walked back out of the room, in tight shorts and a basketball jersey with her hair wrapped. She made quick work of cutting off the record player after she walked into the small living room. She still looked angry from the argument that occurred moments ago, and it was also evident in her tone as she stood near the coffee table and spoke. “It’s time for bed.” She said flatly, her voice betraying nothing of the emotion she was hiding.

He didn’t move at first. Just stared at her for a moment. His expression was hard to read, but she caught the way his jaw clenched, the way he shifted as if he was torn between stubbornness and physical pain.

“You gonna help me or not?” He asked, his voice rough from the shouting.

Mo’nique rolled her eyes. “If I wasn’t going to help you, I would’ve left your ass here.” She said. She then walked over to him and offered her hand. He stared at it for a long beat, his brow furrowed. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want help—it was that he hated needing it. And he hated that she knew it. She always seemed to know just when to push his buttons.

He took her hand, though, begrudgingly, allowing her to help him up. They moved slowly, his body aching with each step as she guided him toward the bedroom. The silence between them was heavy, thick with unspoken words. They hadn’t resolved anything. It felt like the argument was still alive like it was hanging over them, waiting to be picked up again.

When they made it to the bed, Unique collapsed onto it, groaning in pain, his hand pressing against his ribs as if he could somehow ease the ache. Mo’nique stood over him, arms crossed, looking down at him for a moment. She wasn’t sure if she was still mad at him or just frustrated with the whole damn situation.

“You need your meds.” She stated, her voice a little softer now, though it was still tinged with irritation.

Unique nodded, eyes closed, his face tense. “Yeah.”

Mo’nique went to the dresser, grabbed the pills and a bottle of water, and brought them back to him. She handed him the water first, then the pills, watching him swallow them without a second thought. He looked almost too tired to care.

She stood there for a second, looking at him, her arms still crossed. Her patience was thin, but there was something else, too. Something like concern buried beneath the anger. “You’re gonna be alright?” She asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it. She couldn’t help herself.

Unique didn’t answer right away. His eyes flickered up to meet hers, and there was something unreadable in his gaze before his eyes drifted away seconds later. “I’ll be fine.” He mumbled.

Mo’nique nodded, swallowing the sigh that threatened to rise in her throat. She turned to leave, already planning to crash on the couch for the night. She couldn’t be in the same bed with him after everything that happened. She didn’t want to sleep next to the guy who just screamed at her.

But before she could walk away, his voice stopped her again.

“Where you going?”

She turned, an eyebrow raised in challenge. “I’m not sleeping in here with you, Nique. You know that.” She sighed.

A few moments passed before Unique finally spoke, his voice low, strained, as though it hurt to admit something. “You don’t have to sleep out there.” He said. “I know…. we have our troubles, but you don’t have to do that. Be out there alone.” He uttered.

Mo’nique stared at him, a mix of disbelief and frustration clouding her face. “What, now you want me to babysit you? After all that?” She asked, gesturing a hand out of the room, alluding to the whole reason there was so much tension between them, to begin with, all while trying her best to surprise the way his words tugged at an unfamiliar place deep within her chest.

He didn’t back down, his gaze hardening, his tone firm. “I’m not asking you to babysit. I’m asking you to be here.” He admitted.

And she wasn’t sure why, but something in his voice—the vulnerability beneath all the bullshit—struck a nerve. She took a slow, steady breath, trying to steady herself, to figure out what the hell to do with this whole situation. Mo’nique didn’t know whether to feel relieved or irritated. There was something so raw about his admission, something that made the hardness in her heart crack just a little. She stayed quiet for a moment longer, biting back the urge to snap something back at him.

She didn’t want to give in. She didn’t want to let him win. But she couldn’t ignore the fact that he was hurt, that he needed help in a way that went beyond just the physical. And maybe that was the worst part—because no matter how mad she was, she couldn’t just walk away and leave him to deal with this shit on his own.

Mo’nique let out a long sigh, biting her lip. She turned back to him, walking slowly to the bed and sitting on the edge.

“I’ll stay.” She said quietly, her voice softer than before. “But I swear, if you pull this shit again tomorrow, I’m out. Don’t think this means I’m just gonna forget everything.” She stated firmly, not meeting his gaze.

Unique gave her a tired, almost defeated nod. He didn’t argue. For the first time that night, the fire in his eyes had dulled. He still looked sort of pissed— frustrated. But there was something in the way his posture had softened, something in the way his voice had changed when he spoke, that made Mo’nique realize maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one who needed to cool off.

“Fine. I get it.” He muttered, his eyes drifting closed.

Mo’nique stayed by the bed, watching him for a moment before leaning back against the headboard. She didn’t try to get comfortable, not yet. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to forgive or forget. But for now, they were here. In this moment, together. Silent, but present.

The argument still lingered in the air, but at least they weren’t yelling anymore. And maybe that was enough.

The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of Mo’nique breathing, trying to settle her thoughts. Her gaze kept drifting towards Unique, who was now lying in bed, under the covers with his eyes closed, the tension in his face giving away just how much the day had taken out of him. He looked fragile, vulnerable in a way that made her stomach twist. The anger was still simmering beneath her skin, but it was buried under layers of exhaustion, the kind that only came from spending hours fighting someone who should have understood her better.

She shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, biting her lip as she tried to hold back the urge to say something—anything—to break the silence. But she didn’t know what to say. She had nothing left in her to keep the argument going, but still, something tugged at her chest.

A few moments passed before Unique finally spoke, his voice low, strained, as though it hurt to admit something. “I know…I know I’m not the easiest to be around right now.” He mumbled. His words then hung in the air, heavy with meaning. She didn’t say anything in response, just letting out a sigh as she began to sink down in the slot next to him, letting exhaustion guide her. She wasn’t ready to forgive, but she was willing to try to make peace.

With a sigh, she shifted on the bed, her shoulder brushing against his as she finally spoke. “I’m not perfect either, Nique.” She said, her voice soft as she spoke with her eyes closed, her head tilted his way. “I know I pushed your buttons. I didn’t mean to go off on you like that.” She said it quietly, the words coming out slower than she wanted, but they felt necessary. She didn’t want to be angry anymore. Not tonight.

His eyes were locked on her face, expression softer now, though his eyes still held the same exhaustion. “I get it.” He said, taking this opportunity to really analyze her features since she was so close and resting. “I get why you were mad. And… I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just… I don’t like feeling like I’m a burden.” He admitted quietly.

Mo’nique’s breath caught slightly, hearing the vulnerability in his voice. “You’re not a burden, Nique.” She murmured, opening her eyes and connecting them with his, those of which were already on her. Her voice was quieter now, less harsh. “But you can’t shut me out when you need help. You can’t push me away like that.” She stated.

He looked at her before he nodded slowly, his eyes meeting hers for the first time in what felt like forever. “I know. I’m sorry. I… I’ll try to do better.”

She didn’t answer him right away. Instead, she just let out a long breath, leaning her head back against her pillow. She felt the tension in her body start to loosen, the weight of the argument slowly slipping away as she closed her eyes for a moment.

“I’m not saying I’ll be perfect either,” Mo’nique said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But… we’ve gotta figure this out. I don’t want to keep fighting with you.” She admitted softly.

Unique didn’t say anything else for a long while, and they sat there together in the quiet of the room, the weight of everything still there, but no longer feeling like it was going to tear them apart. The silence stretched between them, thick but not suffocating. Her eyes closed, his eyes on her. She didn’t expect everything to be fixed right away, but maybe—just maybe—they were both ready to start trying.

Finally, Unique shifted in bed, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. “I don’t need you to fix everything, Mo’nique. I just need you to be here.” His voice was soft, a little hoarse like he was saying something he’d been too stubborn to admit before.

Mo’nique smiled faintly at the admission, even though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was still processing it all—still sorting through the mess of their feelings and the remnants of the fight. But for the first time that night, it didn’t feel like the world was closing in on her. For the first time that night, things felt… quieter.

“Fine.” She said, her voice low but firm before she yawned. “But if you ever pull that shit again, Nique…”

He let out a quiet chuckle, cutting her off. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll be good.”

Mo’nique nodded, his gaze softening as he glanced over at her. She felt the heat in her chest, the anger still there—but for the first time in hours, it was starting to subside.

“Good night, Unique.” She said quietly, her voice almost a whisper.

He closed his eyes, his hand resting by his side. “Good night, Mo’nique.”

And for the first time all night, they both finally let themselves relax, letting the weight of their arguments fade as they drifted into an uneasy, but much-needed, silence.

@notapradagurl7 @foxybrownsugababe @jazzieinthefuture @blkandchic @thecookiebratz @playgurlxoxo @planetblaque @harmshake @sweettea-and-honeybutter @sageispunk @onyxstones-world @keyera-jackson @satoruya @urfavblackbimbo @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blackerthings @caashmoneynae @euphorichappiness10

@life-in-the-slut-house @araybiaaa

[eepy-cookies]

Black Sapphire and MY/N's ship name I've been calling them mentally is just Radio Silence

-🪼

So, your telling me that we got…

And lastly that will never be told completely

What has this blog had become? XD

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

I wonder if anyone would know how to deal with an infected apocalypse Yuu?

First Years In Hell

***

This is actually something I think abt a lot. The first years in apocalypses together and shit. I actually had a weird idea on this and inspiration struck so lemme ramble. This ramble turned I to a full on fic of 4.2k words so...

Content ahead: Yuu is GN with no description, Fluff to comfort to romantic to hurt no comfort, angst ending as thats my brand, poly first years sorta (minus Ortho ofc), group make out session, alcohol, decriptions of violence Idk, Rambley because Yuu and everyone are losing their shit.

***

Imagine it. A zombie apocalypse has happened and the world seems to have collapsed much too fast for all of you.

Yet right now, at this moment, it doesn't matter.

You are all gathered around the crackling fire in front of you, having found a safe place in a dilapidated building for the night. Epel is cracking open a can of some god awful processed mush with a knife like he does his apples. Jack is ensuring the fire is fed. Your head rests on Ace's shoulder along with Deuce on the opposite side, enjoying the moment of warmth and comfort. Ortho is there in sleep mode to conserve himself...

The boy insists that he doesn't need rest and his battery can last a long time, even some of his parts that were bent and warped still functioned well enough. Deuce maintains him the best he could. You all look after the boy like he’s human, like he’s the collective little brother. His battery can last forever yet you all carry rudimentary batteries on you just in case. Perhaps too much. They may not work on him but just maybe, maybe they can also be used in an emergency, not just to charge your own devices.

Sebek, ever the stubborn, ordered Ortho to rest, and that HE will keep first guard for the night. The knight, yes you call him a knight and not some knight in training as he earned that title in everyone’s eyes, stands tall and surveys the area carefully. His was hand on the hilt of his sword ready to draw it at the drop of a single leaf. He was so… so… charming. Caring. Sweet. Though you can never say it out loud. Such cutesy terms to describe him were silly but accurate and he'd deny every one.

“Food's goin’, should be done in a minute or so. I’m gonna set some traps.” Epel got up, stirred the small cooking pot of assorted rations and then started searching in his own bag. There was a good wire and scrap in there, along with the wire saw he used to help cut down some wood. Empty aluminum cans were pulled out, along with spare wire.

”Don’t use too much.” Jack murmurs. Those cans were like gold. So much you can craft from them alone. “I know, I know ‘m just gonna set up some noise makers.” Sebek looked at him with his stern gaze. “I will watch.”

… The food smelled good for slop. Ace looked at the boiling pot, blinking a few times. “Alright I'll finish it off.” Ace sighs before Deuce pushes him back down as he tries to get up. “Nah, I got it.” Ace doesn’t argue, it's clear he’s tired from all the magic he used and Deuce wants to occupy himself. Jack watches Deuce stir the pot emptily. The wolf usually does rounds to make sure everything is in order but today he just stares out.

Perhaps it was from the conversation earlier today. When Ace mentioned he hoped his brother and his parents made it to a safehouse. Everyone was silent for a moment, letting the weight sink in, agreeing with the sentiment. You don’t know who started crying first. If it was Deuce regretting not being a good son for long for long enough. If it was Sebek's restrained breakdown to not give away your positions. If it was Ace that started it all. Maybe it was Ortho shaking in all his metal. Epel crying for his meemaw. Maybe it was you who was already so far from home when this all happened.

Jack, though clearly shaken, told everyone to pull it together. It isn't safe to cry in the wastelands. I guess right now it finally seemed to have caught up to him. Shittest vacation ever. Seriously. One trip out of NRC to have some fun as first years then this? With every means of transport and teleportation now gone? Just you dumb fucking luck. You swear you have to be cursed. Some trouble magnet with all the dumb situations you’ve been in since getting stuck in this world. It was all your fault.

”Cripes!” Deuce hissed out as some of the soup popped out and burnt him. Hah, it was funny. Even now he’s trying to clean up his act by cursing less. “Tch… Loosey Deucey over here…” Ace snickered. “Oi!” Deuce glared over at him but didn't retaliate, focusing back on the soup. Jack actually lets out a hum of amusement, spirits lifting slowly.

”Jeet?” Epel asked, walking back to the fire. “Huh?” Ace gives him an odd look. “Jeet?” “Don’t know what that means.” Epel let out a sigh, hands on his hips. “Did ya eat? The food looks done.”

”…” There were more aluminum cans in Epels bag with the tops cut off. It was what you all used to scoop up the soup that was made. Sebek filled his can quickly before turning back to guard. “… Why don’t you join us Sebek? We're still up after all.” You say to him, making him tense a bit.

”Nonsense Yuu, I must keep watch.” You let out an annoyed sigh. “Come on Sebek. Let's enjoy this moment together okay? It was a good day! Sure there were some hiccups but there were more highlights. Got more good stuff from the wandering merchants, no zombies, nice weather… And were so much closer to the outpost. We can make it tomorrow! Plus, after tonight our meals are gonna get better, we're just using up the old ones. We can actually make a proper breakfast in the morning!”

Sebek looked off. “… Please?” You just want to pretend everything is normal. That this was just another camp Vargus trip. Not some living hell. “I mean Jack will definitely hear any trouble first with those big ass ears of his.” Jack shoots you a look. Despite that, his ears wiggling told the story.

Sebek sighed, then relented, sitting down at the fire and sipping the soup. Epel hums as he slurps his can. “This is good.” You all followed, surprised at how good it is. Small conversations and stories are shared as you lean more onto Ace in exhaustion. Deuce leans into you also. Jack soon follows, resting close by, tail out in hopes to protect you three from the cold. Epel was there too. Conserving body heat. That's all you were doing. But deep inside you all knew that you all missed some sort of skinship. Sebek merely looks at the pile, then to Ortho nearby in sleep mode. He huffs, then gets up to keep guard. Right next to all of you.

The following day was a blessing. Made breakfast. Beat down one zombie with magic and it was the only you saw. You all found a spring to wash your filthy casual clothes along with the dumb NRC uniforms as well. Epel even came with his dorm uniform, Vil’s orders but like hell he’d listen to him out here. It came in clutch actually. It was cut up into an array of blankets for each of you. Light and airy yet wonderfully warm. Some scrap was used to make Ortho a small scarf.

Then there it was: the settlement you all were waiting for right in front of your eyes. Ortho was right, it was a big one. Sure, perhaps it wasn’t a safe house but it was protected well. It was an entire town, fit with shops, hotels, wifi, even entertainment. After getting checked for bites you all scurried to barter and trade with various shop owners for cash to buy a room for an Inn.

It was barely enough for one room but you’ve all had to be crammed in tighter spaces before so what does it matter. At least it was a king bed, enough for you all to fold on top of each other and pass out in. The mattress was a lumpy stiff haven. Food at the inn was cheap but you will need jobs, at least for a bit as you all figure out what to do from here.

For now, you are all able to actually use your phones. Go through old photos, videos, hell even people on magicam were active, sharing useful information for everyone. Vil was posting. Cater too, his magicam actually being a great resource for crafty survival tips. Those two were okay at least. Ortho was already cracking better numbers here.

“Mom?” Deuce held his phone to his ear as he paced around anxiously, before shouting ‘mom’ again with a tearful smile as he collapsed. “You’re still alive!” There was sniffling and weeping but everyone was happy for him. He had his moment uninterrupted.

Tomorrow the job hunt began. Sebek was easily taken in as a guard, Epel was a farmhand, Jack would deliver and unpack crates, Ortho helped with settlement planning, Ace mainly did side gigs and Deuce actually acted as security in quite a few places. You worked at the Inn you were stayed at, it lessened the rent for sure.

It was actually nice the few weeks you were there. It felt normal. Even doing the most mundane tasks you took for granted was bliss. You’d all return to your shared room as you chatted about the day, deciding what to do for dinner and who’s sleeping where this time.

Then one night, one of the best things since all of this happened. Ortho made contact with STYX. You all gathered around his projection watching with rapt attention. Idia was there. There was a sweet reunion before he started up business.

Damn near everyone at school was fine, and made it to the STYX safehouse with him. It was a relief. “Lucky assholes.” You think Ace murmured. The coordinates and map was now with you. It was a week's worth of walking away and no way are any of the vehicles here built to go far out at all.

“Maybe a blast cycle?” Deuce hums. “If you can find one that fits us all.” Jack smirked a bit at Deuce’s ‘oh right’ face. “Besides they were probably ripped apart for materials.”

”Welp,” you sigh, “We walked this far, may as well continue right?” Everyone sighed. They knew it was the only way.

Tonight called for celebration however, Ortho was out for supplies for the trip and quick repairs and said not to worry about him. To continue to celebrate. You all sat in the inn, indulging the food and music and laughter of the bards. Hooting and hollering as you make your toasts and talk about how far you all made it and how things are looking up.

Hells, there was even a tinge of alcohol involved. Just a bit, not like the others drank too much you think but you definitely had at least two of whatever the hell. You were tipsy for sure, maybe buzzed. The lively environment influenced you to. It had you giggly, your friends more so with all of their dumb jokes.

Ace was leaning next to you. Maybe he drank a bit too or you were just wobbly but you both look at each other's eyes and features. You don’t remember what you were talking about but it devolved into quiet. “… I like you Yuu, I like you a lot. I mean… You and the rest of them…” He was leaning into you now. “Are probably the greatest ones I met…” Your noses touched. “I like you too.” “Haha really? How about you prove—“

You don’t remember who initiated the kiss but you remember his soft lips and chapstick on your own. You remember Deuce standing there shocked before he was pulled in and you were all over each other and no doubt got drunker from each kiss shared. You swear you remember Sebek's flustered face and how you all trudged up the stairs aftwe r being told to go rest in your room where all of you then collapsed onto the floor. You don’t remember much about Jack and Epel but there’s fur on your shirt and Epel was on your chest as you stared up from the splintery floor you laid on.

It wasn’t brought up again. Not acknowledged. For the most part. Sometimes you would all have knowing looks in your eyes and small quiet moments between you that have you both a bit flustered when nothing even romantic is happening. Nothing happened that night. Nothing at all.

Maybe it’s because it was a lot to take in. Maybe it was too fast and confusing. Maybe you all don‘t know how to proceed. Where would you take this? How would this work? Perhaps they don't want to admit their feelings but you won’t either.

I mean it was just much needed skinship. A coping mechanism even. A way to live out all the things they may not have in the future. There will be no prom. No girlfriends or boyfriends out here in this environment. No fancy dates. No crazy but reasonably dangerous adventures. You knew a few of them dreamed of marriage, kids even, but that may never happen like this.

That was it, yeah. It was another break from reality. It was just like a movie scene of a stupid coming of age movie where the protagonist has a wild night out that shapes his life and is the beginning of a stupid adventure. It was just pretend. Business as usual. All that mattered is that you were all still a team. That all of you would go to extreme lengths to protect each other.

It’s for the better. You don’t know if you don't mind it or not. So much yet nothing changed. Everyone stays by each other's sides not out of obligation or some crazy plot but because you all care for each other.

Ortho did lecture you all about passing out on the floor. Seriously, what were you all doing? Did you really party that hard when you all have to start your walk today? At least you all made it up safe.

Perhaps drinking wasn’t the best idea. You have a minor headache now but nothing too bad. There weren’t a lot of zombies. It all felt off. You weren’t gonna look a gift mouse-horse in the magic though right? Or however that saying goes here.

The night was lovely though. Sharing stories around the fire. Remember when Epel got bit protecting Ace and everyone freaked out? Thank god catching diseases by saliva was as rare as it is. Or the time you walked past graveyards in a rush because you all didn’t trust it. How for once you all celebrated finding a dead body because it was too eaten up to turn? Having to eat bugs? Or that time where everyone was in a rough spot but we fought everyone off like a badass? Remember how grocery stores were a thing? Crazy in retrospect. Stories were shared and shared and shared until the sun rose.

For the next few days it was nonstop walking. The expedition slowed a bit. Half a week behind. It was fine though. You all were getting by great. Maybe you should have considered buying a mule. Slowly but slowly you were right there to the base. Just a few more hours away. Play it safe.

It was going well. So well. You see the shelter right there. You were saved.

A horrible gurgling was heard from the right of you from the woods. Everyone was tense and ready to fight. Your pistol ran out of ammo but you still got your blade and bow. You don't need any magic… but it would be nice.

These zombies were quick, no doubt freshly turned. They charge at an unsettling speed, janky movement making their top half flop. One down. Two down… More came out. An ambush!

Three was incinerated. Four was sliced down the middle… God it went for a bit too long but it was over. Magic is now spent and the adrenaline makes you exhausted.

It wasn't over. Of course it wasn’t over. You’re a goddamned curse. Everything goes wrong around you. It was naive of you to even think that good things happen around you. Trouble always finds you. You have a goddamned flaw on this very universe that shouldn’t even be here and the world is punishing you for it. Maybe if you just didn’t join them, they would have been safer.

The bone chilling cries of a new-risen zombie boomed much too loud. You all swallowed, backing away before you saw it. This wasn't just any mutant— it was a mage. A mage that overblotted. Their skin was pale but they looked intact for the most part. Just like a human.

Fresh zombies are always the most terrifying. Not because of the extreme strength brought on by adrenaline or that they are bullet sponges that can fight for hours. It was because the mind of the original person was still there. Their habits, their speech.

The zombie just stared, wide eyed… and their pupils dilated. The creature's rotting jaw turns upwards into a wicked smile of clacking teeth. One hand was playing with its filthy hair like it was trying to tie it back— something no doubt the original person would have done. Their mind isn’t fully gone yet and it’s unsettling for you to see them as a person that had hopes, dreams, goals in life. What they were before…

“Hi. Hi. Hello.” it tried to speak as much as it's corrupted mind would let it

To say they charged at you was an understatement. They were the damn carriage that hit you at Mach fuck. Adrenaline is a terrifying thing. Its teeth clacked with each attempt to bite you as you managed to wrestle out from beneath it despite the lacerations you sustained. A bite from them may actually kill you.

“YUU!” Jack screamed out.

”Fuck! I can’t put them in glass, I can’t even cast it!”

There was a shriek from you as the nrw turned above you grabbed your leg so tight— too tight— the flesh is coming right off! Your cries did nothing to stop it nor did the damn knife that you sunk into its head over and over. It doesn’t budge, doesn't flinch. You're lucky to have been alive this long.

The creature was then pushed off of you— not before taking a good chunk out of your leg. Fuck it may have to be amputated— where was Epel’s wire saw again? You don’t know but it hurts and you can barely stand to help as you can only watch Jack tearing the monster apart in wolf form and Sebek trying to cut through its sick mutant neck. A panic rushed through you, Jack is using such strong magic with full blot—

”Yuu!” Epel slid over to you as did Ortho and dropped down to assess your wound. “Cmon cmon!” Epel was putting pressure on one of the punctures as Ortho scanned. “Cover us!” The card duo already were. Deuce was up close and personal with each jab, each cut that did nothing to it. Ace was crazy enough to take off his overcoat and get behind the thing to wrap it between its mouth. Helping to slow its bite speed. “C’mon Sebek, I’m gonna try to pull it back so you can dismember it!”

Fuck fuck fuck. You're a sitting duck that invited the other two to join you. It’s not worth it. “Don’t worry about me right now! Go help them take it down!” Epel looked at you as if you were crazy. “But Yuu, you’ve sustained critical blood loss!” Ortho yelped. You took in a breath, “And if they die I’ll continue to bleed out anyways— help them!”

They couldn't argue. Epel just took off his coat and handed it to you to cover your thigh. All you can do is watch. Orthos lasers were weakened, Epel’s weapon could only do so much and he was just an inch away from the thing. It’s no good. It caught you all on an unlucky day. This was it… No no no. You’re smart, you can do this. You’ve survived this long.

The tree! A thick Redwood! It looks as though the base was rotting out at a wonderful angle. Epel’s wire saw peaked out of the bag near you… You know what you have to do. No, you aren’t using the saw to cut down the tree, it would take too much time. You’re dead either way.

The monster's torn jaws are just now inches away from Sebek as it leaped forward, just to be pulled back by a wire saw around its throat. “YUU! What are you DOING?!” Sebek was yelling and so were the others. “Yuu! You only have a 2% survival rate!”

You know. You know you're dying. May as well go out like this.

The beast tries to shake you off as you direct it to face the tree with the wire around its neck like a horse with its bridle. Sebek taught you this now that you think about it. It tries to shake you off again and you allow it— backing up a good distance towards the tree in hopes it charges. Ace realizes what you are doing, then everyone else does too.

”Yuu no!” Who was it that said that? They sounded hysterical and it would be something you would totally hold over them. You can't hear them over the pounding in your head and rancid clicking of the creature. And you really can't hear them when you feel the sudden slap of the tree against your back and the beast's teeth tearing off some flesh of your stomach.

It was blurry. And painful. But the rush— oh the rush of it all was pure euphoria. Your body slipped out from the creature as it charged into the tree, tossing you to the side and allowing you to see that thing get crushed instantly. It was wiggling still, but it was trapped and that’s all it mattered. I mean look! Deuce just finished it off! Or is it Ortho? Sorry, it's just so hard to see.

A chorus of ‘Yuu’’s sang to you and your vision is obscured by shadows. You feel hands all over, pressing, holding, supporting. Someone above you put your head onto his lap. You know what it feels like. Yes, you remember that.

They’re leaning in so close. It was Deuce just right above you. You see them now. Jack’s in now in his usual form as he supports a few broken parts of your body. Orthos is trying to cauterize wounds, scanning rapidly, desperately, as Ace and Sebek and Epel all try to help. Everyone seems to be holding onto you for comfort though.

“Nonononono—“ Ace shakes and Sebek is letting out strings of ‘damn it’s fall from his mouth in anger. They’re all clinging, desperate, hoping somehow they can save you.

You know it.

They know it.

You’re not surviving this one.

“Hah… it's useless you know? I’m dying. There's nothing you can do.” It feels like you swallowed burning hot coals as you speak.

“Shut yer damn mouth you— you…” Epel was crying now.

“This can’t be happening.” Jack shakes, eye wide.

Ortho is trying to rationalize it all, blubbering any possible solution or possibility, scanning for rates over and over and over until he dissolves into sobs. “You’re DNA might have a cure— you can't die!”

“The audacity of you humans! You—- You aren't to leave us! I COMMAND you Yuu. That you ARE NOT going to succumb to this! SO DON’T ACT LIKE YOU ARE!”

Deuce choked. ”Yuu.. Please don’t.. Please don’t go. You‘re… you‘re my best friend you believed me— all of us! I can’t— I dreamed of us graduating and…”

”No. This is it. It’s over… Guys, if you need my body to sustain you—“

”Hell no! Don’t even finish that sentence!” Ace hisses. “Please… not like this..”

”Don’t worry, don’t worry… I’m at peace, truly. It was an honor to be with you all. I’m glad I’m dying with you around me, I’m even more glad you are all okay.”

”Yuu…” Deuce is leaning down trying to wipe away tears. You may as well reach up to kiss him one last time right? Your breath hitches as you do and when you pull away Deuce is shaking.

”Just promise me alright? Promise me that you will all live, not just survive, live. That you will all be kind to each other after this okay? That you will all… kick ass if you need to!” You had a much nicer thought but they were incoherent. Your mouth can't catch up to your brain. “Promise me okay?” Tears were now finally falling. “Can you just hold me a little more? Please?”

The sun is pretty. It's even nicer when you're around all your friends and being held like this. If only you could have done this back then.

“… I think I’m just gonna close my eyes and rest a bit…”

Then everything faded.

Sobs and shouts and cries was the only music played at your funeral.

[skitterplant]

Some future scenes from Overshadowed

Drawing unhinged clowns is just,,,,,, so therapeutic

[spiderlilywritings]

Ronin Beaufort Boyfriend Headcanons

Trigger Warnings: mentions of blood, murder, gore

Well. You're in for a wild ride with Ronin Beaufort as your lover. He's not a green flag by any means, but he cares and genuinely loves you, even if he shows it in twisted ways sometimes. (Hearts drawn in blood, maybe giving you an aorta, sending pictures of his gruesome murders in #killer_shit with the caption "this for You, baby" and oh would you look at that, it's the guy that's been harassing you yesterday—)

Never runs out of nicknames for you. Will probably come up with the cheesiest/sappiest nickname just to see your reaction. It cracks him up. ("Baby. Sweetheart. Darling. Pookie. Sweet apple crumble pop with strawberries—")

If you own a vehicle like a car or a motorcycle, he's your go-to mechanic. He'll take your money and maybe a little bit extra later. ("Aww, don't give me that look, darlin'. I just wanted a kiss 's all. Hahaha!") Shows off a little bit of that muscle if you hang around while he's working. His sweetheart's there, gotta impress them right? (And if you're the type to get embarassed easily, it's more fun for him.)

Speaking of vehicles, I'm not sure if Ronin owns one, but if you do, why not take your little Devil for a late night drive? I think he'll enjoy them. Just you and him, enjoying the night air, letting the scenery pass by.

We've already seen it in the games; he's perceptive and if there's something troubling you, he'll know. He's all ears if you wanna talk about it. Or if you don't, he might think of a way to get you to open up. It's not healthy to bottle everything up after all. He's had to deal with his own issues and being stuck in your own head can be... a lot.

Sometimes, you may have impromptu late night talks with Ronin. Trading secrets and all that. Sorting out some feelings and traumas of the past. Those talks can get heavy but things always feel a bit lighter at the end. That's good, isn't it?

He's supportive. He lets you do your own thing, lets you enjoy yourself and indulge in what you love. As long as you take care of yourself too. He might even join you. ("Aren't you a cutie with that smile on your face. Come onnnnnn, show me more, baby.")

I think he'd like those silly couple shirts. The ones with lines like one shirt has "If lost, return to the bastard" and the other is "The bastard" Or just matching things in general. Maybe you want matching plushies, or jewelry, etc. He's down for it.

Learning first aid is recommended if you haven't already. At least, you'd know what to do when Ronin comes to you injured. Victims don't just lay down and wait for their fate. Of course they want to live and some will literally fight for their lives. Ronin keeps himself in shape, but some injuries are just unavoidable. He doesn't like seeing your worried face, so he's quick to ease your worries with his usual bravado.

Horror movie nights are a given. And if you're the type to scare easily (ironic since you're with a serial killer), prepare for some light teasing. Here's a not-so-secret though: Ronin loves it when you cling to him. He likes being able to feel you. Whether it's small instances like your hands brushing against his to you outright hanging onto him like a koala bear. Make him feel your warmth, that you're there. That you'll always be there. (Not. Not like— well, technically they're still— but not there. Not here. Not anymore. Just a memory now that will always haunt him. They left his heart bleeding. And then, an  "Angel" patched it up. He still bleeds a little. But it's bearable. And now. Now, you—)

Tick... tick... tick...

The sheets rustle. The clock continues to tick. Ronin hears your sleepy little murmurs as you frolicked in dreamland.

He chuckles, one of his hands moving to play with a lock of your hair. The sight of you curled up on his bed, in his damn shirt, "Darlin', if this is your way of killin' me slowly, it's working. Juuust a little."

In response, you unconsciously snuggle into his chest. Really now.

Sleeping so peacefully with a serial killer? Maybe he got rid of your sense of self preservation; maybe got some screws loose in that pretty little head of yours.

Ronin pulls you closer.

This was nice. Makes him remember those times when it was easier. As easy as it can get back in Angelwood anyway.

He left that place behind, danced in hell's flames like the Devil he is, letting rot and decay follow him. He didn't mind. Let 'em haunt him till the day he croaks.

When he closes his own eyes, he sees Ther; a reminder of what he had. Of what he lost. Feels like they'll always haunt him too. There, but not there. A spirit? An illusion? No. Maybe just that lingering love he's always going to feel for his childhood best friend.

Ther's gone.

After Ther, came Maria. Maria. Sweet, sweet Saint Maria helped him heal and move on.

And now he's got another angel in his arms. Ronin thinks that's hysterical. The Devil attracts angels it seems like. Wings and all. Letting them decay till those feathers fall and the wings are nothing but bone. It's like giving the middle finger to the good ol' god those old fashioned folks at Angelwood worshipped.

How's that for blasphemy?

[jesuistrestriste]

thinking about alien!art who literally is heads over heels in love with you from the moment he lands on earth.

he tries to court you with alien rituals and gifts from his home planet with his broken english

he always begs you to pull out your telescope so he can point out his planet to you </3

this is soo cuteeee ahhhh

his pretty eyes looking all over you for the first time while he gets in your personal space — and he doesn’t know the concept of that or why his closeness would make u uncomfortable so he’s confused when u step back from him:( but then he’s gifting you bags of sparkling gems and vials of uniquely flavored sweet liquids that he brought with him from his planet to hopefully win your affection

he lays his head on your shoulder when you two stargaze every night, and he cries for the first time in your arms when he finds out what homesickness is. he’s clinging to you and rubbing his face in your neck, softly sobbing about his community so far away..

but he loves it on earth with you, and he doesn’t want to leave. he feels so deeply intertwined with your soul, finding it hard to imagine anything that could change how much he adores you.

while he doesn’t necessarily look too different from humans on earth, one might be able to tell when they see him looking utterly bewildered at the sight of couples in public pressing their lips together. he’s like ? what? is that ? why are they doing that :( ? are they trying to eat one another ? is that what beings on earth do ?

so you’ve gotta be the one to explain kissing to him. sigh.