First Daughter-NBA Youngboy

6🌻

Kentrell|Youngboy

"So, whea' my shit at?" I asked Mon as I typed on my phone with one hand, gun in the other.

"I told you, ion got it yet!" He was shaking. Mon was a big ass nigga, I had two people holding him even though he wasn't moving a lot.

"I gave you enough time to get my money." I said simply, putting my phone in my back pocket.

"Man, we family—how you gon' do this?" He asked as I pushed the magazine in calmly.

"Yeen neva like me or the niggas I ride wit." I pulled it back.

"I got kids to take care of..." I sucked my teeth.

"Nigga, you a deadbeat—you must think Ian know that? I hate deadbeat ass niggas." I shook my head and pointed the gun at him, pulling the trigger. His body jerked when the bullet hit him, I put my gun back up. I knew I didn't have to say anything as I left, pulling off my shirt. I got in my car and sped off, shaking my head.  I sighed the blood that spattered on it.

"Wasn't gon' wear it again no way." I said, grabbing my hoodie. The whole gang was in Ant's apartment, probably getting on his nerves. That includes Jania, even though I didn't wanna bring her back. I pulled up and pulled my hoodie over my head. I headed up to his apartment, making a face at the fact that it was super quiet. I opened the door to see the apartment was empty.

"Nigga, you gone learn to knock." I looked dead at Aliyah as I shut the door.
*

Aliyah|Queen

I crossed my arms, tapping my foot on the kitchen tile. I only had on a oversized t shirt and panties because I didn't think anybody was coming for a while.

"My bad. Whea everbody at?" He asked, walking towards me.

"They went to the store." I shrugged. He exhaled and began to walk past me. I was okay until he pressed up against me as he slid the other way, hands on my hips.

"Excuse me." He mumbled, reaching for the dish soap. Now, I know the kitchen is super small, but I know he coulda got past me without all of that.

"You good." I choked out, a blush creeping over my cheeks.

"Why you look like that?" He asked as I looked at the pink, soapy water running from his hands.

"Nothin'." I grumble at his innocent facial expression. He turned the water off and reached for the roll of white paper towels.

"Whatchu got on yo mind?" He asked me, leaning on the counter. 

A lot of shit. A lot of freaky shit.

"Oh, fareal?" He smirked.

"My big mouth—" I whispered to myself. "Nah, Imma cap."

"Hm." He simply huffed, looking me up and down. "Why you watchin me?" He chuckled.

"Why you watching me?" I asked back. He waved me off.

"Man—I'm just tryna eat some'." He complained as I heard the fridge click open behind me. I scrolled on Instagram as I heard stuff getting moved around.

"Hey, you think that dude that shot Terry getting out soon?"

"Hell nah." He said. His voice sounded like he was way shorter than me now.

"Son, why are you on the floor?" I mugged him when I twisted to look at him. He sat on the floor, his back brushing the backs of my legs.

"I'm hungry." He said.