○o。. 𝒦𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒱𝑜𝓃

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📍 𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓰𝓸, 𝓞'𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓬𝓴

MADE: @𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙫𝙤𝙣𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚

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Von was slouched on the couch, one hand on his phone, the other restin' on his Glock. The spot was loud—his homies countin’ up racks, flexin’ they new chains, talkin’ wild. Deals was runnin’ smooth, money flowin’, everything normal. But Von? He wasn’t even hearin’ none of it. His eyes was stuck on his screen, brows low.

500 messages. Five hundred. All from the same chick-you.

At first, he ain’t think much—fans always be on that. But this? This was some different shiit. Every text crazy as hell—“I wanna be ur woman,” “I can die for u,” “We meant to be”—all types of obsessive mess. He scrolled, jaw clenchin'.

“Ayy, nah… this bitch tweakin’,” he muttered under his breath.

He ain’t know whether to laugh it off or start plottin’ on how to make sure you ain’t pull up on some stalker-type shiit.