blurb that spiraled but it’s still a blurb argue with ur mother. 5.6k………. Right right….. mdni. PART 2
okay okay look listen to me. virgin!reader who’s getting tired of being her grown age and not getting any action!!!!! and ofc, that makes her naive and it’s easy for pope to swoop on in there for his families latest heist
you didn’t get much attention from boys growing up. your friends were the pretty ones. with the latest fashion pieces and current trends. you were the odd one out. reading fanfiction for hours on end, even dabbling in writing your own. you spent more time on your phone, talking to online friends from halfway across the world, than doing things with your class.
you told yourself you didn’t need it. and you still don’t! or that’s what you tell yourself. in middle school, it was excusable, you were young! you didn’t need to focus on dating! and high school was the same. You were focused on your studies and ramping up your transcripts with sports and clubs and all sorts of extracurriculars that would make you stand out to the colleges you were applying to.
but now, you’re in your 20s. and you haven’t so much as held hands with a guy. your sisters tease. your friends tease. and they’re not bullying you but it makes you insecure. it’s not like you’re not interested!!! you have sex toys who keep you company but only vibrators, tiny ones that you can hide anywhere. it’s not the same.
your family owns a chain of grocery stores. well, your step-father does. you’re not close to him. he married your mother pretty late in your life so he didn’t feel the need to parent you, your mother had already done all the grunt work. you don’t have to work because of him though, he’s paying for all your schooling. the only thing he asks of you is to cover his shifts if he’s ever in a dire situation.
you’re shy. you don’t stand up for yourself often. an old white man is berating you at the register, a long line of customers behind him. tears are welling up in your eyes at his accusations, the others watching as if it were entertainment.
it wasn’t pope you were supposed to fall for. the plan was for craig to seduce you. he’s tall and buff and what most people would deem more conventionally attractive. he had to piss, leaving pope behind in line. he’s too far back to notice what’s going on quick enough. he listens for a beat, listens to the old man yelling about his coupons and that you’re stealing from him.
one second, you’re letting tears fall from the sheer embarrassment of this situation, a hand suddenly grips to your arm, yanking you harshly, and the next, the white guy is on the floor, punch after punch falling to his face. it takes three other men to pull them off of each other. your assistant manager deals with the cops. all your coworkers attest that the white guy assaulted you first. the knight was only helping you.
so you help him. he insists he doesn’t need a hospital. so you offer your services. you’re both in the employee bathroom now. Your hands are shaking as you wipe his bloody fists clean. he’s staring at you. he won’t look away. and god, you’re nervous.
“you’re scared.” he comments.
you eyes widen, head snapping up to look at him. “what?”
“you’re scared of what i did back there.”
“n-no! not at all! i really appreciate it! i-it-it, im just… you… you make me nervous. not scared…”
“nervous?” his stare is still so damn intense.
you’re not sure what comes over you. you’re not bold. not in any single way. not with your hair. your clothes. your way of speaking. none of it. and yet— “you’re just… you’re really… hand…” you clear your throat. “you’re handsome…”
the intense look switches to what you can only conclude is confusion. “handsome?” he repeats, needing confirmation.
you’re embarrassed by what you’ve said when a heavy silence falls between you two. you’re about to apologize profusely but he cuts you off.
“can i have your number?”
And god, you’re so nervous for your first date. too nervous. you almost ghost him, block him and vow to never show up for another shift at the store. you’ll just have to pay for your tuition all on your own!!!!!! but your friends give you a loving pep talk. and your tuition is far too much to manage on your own.
it’s how you end up in his truck, nervously fidgeting with your fingers, hands placed on your lap. he’s not much of a talker. and you’re too nervous to talk. it’s awkward. you’ve been texting a lot. youre not complete strangers anymore but still… you wish you could jump out of the damn truck and never see him again. but it turns out… nice. understatement.
you loved it. he took you to the beach. you two ate at a cute little cabana restaurant. the awkwardness dissipated as soon as you two were sat. and you walked side by side down beach with ice cream cones at hand.
“so, college?” it almost makes you laugh how stiff the guy is. but it doesn’t seem to deter him. he lets you talk and talk. he gives his two cents but he seems to be content just watching you and listening to you.
you nod, “yeah. college.” you confirm, “did you go?”
he shakes his head, “no. i, uhm, i dropped out of high school.”
you hum, “ah, that’s okay. it’s never too late to go back though. get a ged. there are a lot of amazing programs that can help you get a better career than… what do you do?”
his hands are in his pockets, having finished his ice cream first. “work for my mother. help manage her properties. my brother baz… he’s the actual manager of her properties. i do the… physical things. mow lawns, fix broken sinks, squeaky doors, break noses when tenants don’t want to pay rent.”
you laugh at this, not believing him. sure, he beat a man up for you but you figured it was just a one time thing. how wrong you are. “right, right… either way… you got a good gig. i can respect that. but if you ever want something else, you have options.”
you stop in your step, glaring softly at him, nothing serious. “education is never past anyone.” there’s a ghost of a smile on his face, you can see it. “im serious, pope. you can be anything you want to be.”
you laugh softly, “sure is.” but you don’t let him keep walking. you lightly take his hand in yours. “i mean it. anything.”
he’s awkward. he doesn’t mean to be awkward. he’s just quiet. and that makes people awkward. you’ve seen the way he interacts with people. and by interact you mean the way he stares and doesn’t talk. most people think he’s awkward. he thinks he’s being normal. you like it. it always makes you giggle.
you watch him as he orders your coffee for you. and it’s a simple order, it really is but he makes even that seem stiff. it takes everything in you not to giggle as the barista fumbles around.
but the ping of your class chat pulls you away and you’re back to typing away at your laptop. he plops down across from you, your order at hand, placing it by your side, and staring at you. you’re used to it at this point, his eyes always on you in some way. it’s not inherently sexual but sometimes, it makes your stomach flutter. but you have to reign it in at the coffee shop.
“yes, king?” you ask teasingly without looking up.
he hesitates and this makes you stop typing, finally looking up at him. he begins soon enough, “are we dating?”
your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “what?”
the snort you let out is completely unattractive. “shouldn’t i be asking you that?”
he shrugs, “i read up on feminism like you told me to. i can do that, right? ask?”
your grin is bright, “you read up on feminism?”
“can’t. you know i live in world of sunshine and rainbows.”
“are we dating?” he asks again with a sigh.
“don’t sound too excited.” you scoff, going back to typing. “you haven’t asked me.”
“no, you’re asking if we’re dating. im saying you haven’t asked me to be your girlfriend yet.”
he leans on the table, eyeing you. “i read women can ask now too.”
you laugh, “i guess i hold some conservative values. a guy must ask me. i will never do the asking.”
you hum, looking up at him with your easy smile, “hmm… no.”
“do i?” he kicks you softly under the table. you close your laptop, “it has to be romantic.”
“i wont ask.” he scoffs, leaning back on his seat. “you have to ask me.”
“then i guess we’re never going to be official.” you sigh wistfully, opening your laptop back up again.
it’s quiet for a few more moments, not awkward, despite his stare. “you’ve never told me about your dad.”
you pause, unsure of what to say. “what do you want to know?”
he shrugs, “what does he do?”
it’s your turn to shrug. “don’t know.”
his eyebrows furrow, “you don’t… know?”
you nod. “last i heard, he was a janitor at some school.”
“wait… i thought he was a manager of some sort.”
your eyebrows furrow and then it hits you. “oh, my step-dad? he owns like a bunch of grocery stores. told you, the one we met at is his.” you hum. “he favors that one most. it was the first one he ever opened up. says it was his most precious piece of work.”
he hums, interested. “how much is a bunch?”
you shrug, still typing, multi-tasking your homework and your conversation. “uhm i know he has about a dozen in Oceanside. about… 30 in San Diego, maybe more? Another dozen in Carlsbad. I don’t know how many more but he has businesses in Escondido, Encinitas, Del Mar, Chula Vista— god, there’s a lot. he’s opened a few up in the Los Angeles area too, i think?”
you see him nodding from the corner of his eyes. “if you ask me out first, we can date, get married, and you can knock me up and you can be rich like me.” it’s a complete joke.
“ha.” you don’t notice how dry his laugh is. “yeah.”
you find yourself hanging out with him everyday. he picks you up, you two head to a quiet place, sometimes his home. mostly his home.
the first time he takes you there, you’re nervous. your friends told you that you’ve been on too many dates to not give it to him. it being your “cookie”, as they like to call it. so you shaved. every single part of you. there wasn’t a single hair on your body.
he ordered a heavy meal. that should have been your first sign. when you sit on the couch to watch a movie, he sits a little too far from you. and your damn panties are uncomfortable and riding up your butt. you’re not having a good time. you’re fully pouting by the time you get a few minutes into the second movie.
his voice snaps you out of your thoughts. you open your mouth, ready to deny anything and everything. but you’ve decided you have to get past it. you really, really like him. and communication is key… right…?
“do you not want to have sex with me?” and for the first time since you’ve met him, he looks stunned.
“… do you want to have sex with me?” He asks carefully.
“you’re… you told me you’ve never kissed anyone. figured you’ve never… had it…”
you nod, skin feeling hot. “yeah… I haven’t.”
“and you want to give yourself to me?”
another nod from you. “yes. I like you, pope.”
he looks to be deep in thought, those dark and intense eyes scouring your face, looking for even a flicker of doubt. you’re sure he doesn’t find any because he releases a shaky breath and speaks, “let’s take it slow.” he scoots closer to you. “still haven’t had your first kiss?”
you snort out a laugh, “you mean since I met you? no. im only seeing you.” you pause, eyebrows furrowed. “wait… are you seeing other people?”
the kiss is gentle. sweet. a little awkward only because you get into your head a lot. he pulls his lips from yours, a small snicker leaving him. “relax, baby,” a shaky breath against yours, “don’t stress it.” his hands are holding your face, caressing it.
you pout softly, “can’t not stress it.”
“jus’ me.” he’s ghosting his lips over yours, desperate to press his lips against yours again, breath labored.
softly, “that’s why i can’t… wanna be good for you.”
he chuckles softly, “don’t gotta.” he’s pressing wet kisses down your jaw now, “I’ll be good for you.”
you get the hang of it after a few tries. and you only get more desperate. you’re heavily making out now, his hands all over your body, groping every part he loves on you.
and that’s what you do most of the time. you go out, talk, go on walks, go to his place and make out. just make out. you make moves to tell him you want more. but it always ends up in just dry humping.
you’re straddling his lap, his big hands on your hips, guiding you. He’s unbelievably hard beneath his sweats. he’s relaxed around you, you learned that a few days ago when you realized he doesn’t wear only stiff button ups around you. and you love it. god, you love him. the first guy who’s ever paid any attention to you. the first guy who’s listened to you. the first guy who has made you feel wanted. a month and a half of this and you love him so much. too much.
your breathing is hard as the friction against your covered clit rubs against him. “pope… I want—“
he cuts you off with a sharp kiss, “know what you want,” he mumbles against your lips. “can’t give that to you.”
you groan, hips stopping. well, you stop putting effort. he’s still desperately dragging you against him. “pope… are you a virgin?”
he huffs out a laugh, “no, god, no. just… don’t think you want me to be the one.”
you glare softly at him, “why would you think that? i think you don’t want me.”
it’s his turn to glare at you, “that’s stupid.”
you put your hands over his, halting him. “it’s not stupid. you reject my advances. are you… asexual?” his eyebrows furrow, looking at you as if he has no idea what the hell you’re saying. you continue, “are you uninterested in sex?”
he looks at you like you’re stupid. “do you not feel how hard i am?”
“there are spectrums to it… maybe you’re not into vaginal sex. or vagina at all. you like vaginas… right?”
he laughs. actually laughs. a fully body laugh. it makes your heart race and grin in triumph. you’ve never heard him laugh like that, “im serious, pope. i don’t need you to eat me out or anything. i know men don’t like that and—“
“i like that.” he clears his throat. “i like doing that.”
you freezes for a moment, nodding. “okay…”
“okay…” sudden shyness on both ends. it’s silent for a moment, “do you want that…? right now?”
you clear your throat now, “do you… want that… right now?”
and that falls into the rotation of the very limited things you two do. he doesn’t let you touch his cock. at all. he lets you dry hump him, sure. but if your hand ever tries to slip into his jeans, he moves your hand to any other place on his body.
you try not to judge him for it but… you do think sexual intimacy is important in a relationship. but you don’t push. You try but once he shuts it down, that’s that. but surprisingly, you don’t need his mouth on you as much as you thought you would. it’s good, of course it is, but sometimes a lazy day at his place is better.
“what’s a seven word letter for a man’s bag?” he makes fun of you for liking crossword puzzles. because you’re not good at them, always pulling out your phone to google it. he always answers. he’s not this time. “pope…” you hum. “answer me, fucker.” more silence. You look over at him. he’s already watching you. your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “you good?”
the sigh he releases is shaky, “y’know i’d never hurt you, right?”
with absolutely no hesitation, “I know.” he reaches over and presses a soft kiss to your temple, inhaling deeply, you grin, “you sniffing me?”
he chuckles, nodding. “yeah,” another kiss. “smell good.”
“babe, do I really have to do this?” you’re groaning. groaning because you’re sweating and your body feels heated from the strain of working out. you were done for the day, having done an hour of a high incline on the treadmill and a too fast pace on the stairmaster for another hour.
pope nods, holding the punching bag. “just punch as hard as you’re able to. with the correct form. im serious, baby, you’re gonna break a finger if you don’t.”
you groan again, “im tired, pope.” you just wanted to take a long shower, wash off all the muck from the gym, and snuggle up into bed with him.
“just a few times.” a pause. “you know i love taking care of you.”
you raise a single eyebrow, “but?”
you snort out a laugh, “that so?”
“very much.” the smile is soft but it’s there and it makes your body tingle. or maybe it’s the strain from the stairmaster. “you’ve got to know how to throw a punch, at least.”
you groan. again. it’s your default at the gym. “pope. im always with you.”
“babe, you take me to and pick me up from school. im always at your place.” you hum. “i have a drawer. that’s how much time i spend with you. even when you’re at work, im at your place. you’ll always be there to punch someone for me.”
“im not learning how to punch someone.”
it’s his turn to groan, “fine.”
he pouts. you hate it when he pouts. you mentioned it to him once and he got upset. claims he doesn’t pout. so you never brought it up again. but it works on you. with a huff, you roll your eyes, “fine. come on.”
he seems content that he’s won, behind the punching bag and holding onto it tight, taking his own stance. “alright, you remember the stance?”
“yes.” you answer, “if you keep teaching me how to fight i’ll end up beating you up one day.”
“what a dream.” he scoffs. “show me the correct way.”
you do as he taught you once. “that good enough for you?”
“more than good enough. come on, hit me, baby.”
you snicker, “hit you or the bag? i can totally hit you.”
“haha. what a funny girl i have. swing.” so you do. and he makes you repeat it. and repeat it.
you’re getting bored after a while, “pope, im bored. let’s do something else. outside of the gym.”
“just a little more.” he tries to convince you.
you huff, annoyed now. “pope. what is up with you?”
he glances at you once before sighing and removing his thin gloves. “nothing.”
“why are you being persistent about this?” you continue.
“i just think it’s important for you to protect yourself, baby. look at how we met. a man put his hands on you.”
you sigh, recognizing the fear in his voice. “nothings going to happen to me.”
“i do. because you’re… youre strong enough for the both us.” A pause. “i don’t know about you but… you're it for me, Pope. that means… i’ll always be around you. and you’ll always protect me.” you motion to the punching bag again. “a few more times. and we’re done, okay?”
he seems lighter now. not as persistent with it. he ends up showing off some kicking move while you sit the side and drink some water. you thought it was kinda dorky but he looks happy so you cheer him on. before you know it, you’re up on your feet and with a laugh, you try to mimic him.
you cackle as you fall to the floor, unable to contain yourself. he had rushed to you, concerned. “im fine, pope.” he takes your hands in his, helping you up. immediately, he’s wiping at your mucked up knees, knowing they’re your favorite leggings. you grin, pressing a quick kiss to his lips when he’s back up, “see? always got you.”
he grins, pressing more kisses to your lips, “you do got me, don’t you?”
you don’t work at the grocery store often, which there are a lot. you don’t get business, that’s not your major and you tune out your step-father often. but you’re in a good mood today. and it’s victors birthday, you have to bring him the brownies he loves so much!!! you spent so much time on them, writing a lovely birthday note with his favorite flavor of frosting.
“my favorite underling.” you joke, putting the platter of brownies down. he gasps and coos, takes thousands of pictures too. but of course, there are no utensils in the break room. so, you’re off to grab some from the kitchen, which is closed down this late at night.
you’re humming the tune of the birthday song you and the others just sang to victor. you open a few drawers in the kitchen, huffing in frustration when nothing is found. you grab your phone, shooting your step-dad a text. ‘forks in ur office??’. You get a reply quick, ‘yes. lock b4 leave.’
you can’t believe how lucky you are as you walk to his office. he’s started to trust you, he never lets anyone in there. despite not wanting his businesses at all, you know he’s speaking to your mother about his inheritance and who could take over. you’d say no, but being thought of still feels good. you have amazing friends who are helping you with every awkward question you have when it comes to the relationship you have with a hot, older man.
and pope. you love him. you really, really do. he’s yet to say it and so have you but you know it’s there on his end. there’s no way he can be faking all of those late night talks, that intimacy you two have without having sex. and he had told you he has something big planned. you have a feeling your words got to him and he will be asking you to be his girlfriend in a romantic way.
you try to remember this week's code to his office lock as you round the corner. he had told you the start of the week but he doesn’t let you write it down. crap, you really wish you had written it down right now. with a sigh, you press the first button but a small noise leaves you when the door pushes open instead by the barely there touch. eyebrows furrowed, you softly push the door open some more, “uhm… I thought you were at ho—“ your breath catches to see two masked men.
immediately, you take a step back, but it’s too late. they saw you. there’s a big hand grasping your arm and dragging you into the office. a pained gasp leaving your lips as you’re shoved to the ground. you can’t take a full breath. the men are arguing back and forth.
“he said she wouldn’t be here!”
“she’s going to fucking kill us.”
“she?? he’s going to fucking kill us.”
one of them scoffs, the tallest one, “he told us he didn’t even like her.”
you’re not even really sure what’s happening. you’re trying to think. think. think. think. but you can’t. not with the sight of their weapons strapped to them. weapons. guns. you’ve only seen a gun once. in pope’s truck. you were opening the center console and refused to even look at him afterwards. he promised since then that he took it out of his truck. you chose to believe him.
there’s a safe in the office. one your step-dad refuses to talk about. your siblings and you would make jokes about it. there’s either gold, a porn stash, a body, or a fuckload of money in it. now, your best bet is money— these men clearly want it. but your step-dad can’t be that stupid, right? why wouldn’t you have your money at a bank? he’s smart. right…?
another body comes in. you’re too scared to look up, eyes on the floor and shaking. you thought you had gained confidence the past few months. you didn’t, apparently. there are tears streaming down your face, you can’t stop.
your mind gets hazy as they keep arguing, placing the safe on to the roller. the third person isn’t talking, you notice. and it makes you miss pope. anytime you see or meet the quiet one from a group, it makes you miss pope. and then, before you know it, the two huge bodies are out, pushing the safe out with them.
you think you’re safe. no more guns. no more arguing men.
a pair of hands meet yours. you flinch, immediately yanking your hands from the third persons. they pause for a moment, as if deliberating. but they reach out again. you don’t pull away this time, you let their hands grabs yours, helping you up off the floor. your eyes are shut tight, trembling in fear. but your body completely stills when they bend over slightly, lightly wiping the dirt off of the jeans at your knees. you just let it happen.
what’s worse is you let the man take a single step closer, his body almost pressed up directly to yours. he doesn’t do anything. he doesn’t say anything. he just stands there. as if he’s taking you in. a shaky inhale and your body shudders. he’s smelling you. inhaling the scent of you. and then, he’s pulled away. and leaving. leaving you behind in the turned over office, the giant safe missing.
it took you a few minutes to get yourself together. when you’re brought back to the real world, it’s victor that’s shaking you out of your trance. there are cops. detectives. your mother and step-father are there immediately.
you explain what happened so many times. at some point, it feels like a hallucination. like when you repeat a word too many times and after a while, it stops making sense.
you don’t call pope. you’re too stuck. it should’ve been a red flag when he showed up. but you’re too wrapped up in fear to question him. when you spot him, tears well up in your eyes again and you’re rushing to him. he immediately wraps his arms around you, cooing in your ear as you cry. “it was s-so, so scary, pope.” you cry in his arms, letting his arms soothingly rub at your back.
“i know, baby, i know.” his voice is so soft and sweet as he holds you. “you’re okay, everything’s okay.”
it’s how you end up in his home again. wrapped up in his arms in bed. you’re still a sniffling mess. you’re recounting the story again. every single part. but you skip the last part. how the thief was… taking you in.
“that’s all?” he asks softly, gently swiping the tears from your cheeks.
you hesitate. “‘s all…” you lie.
you’re like this for days. distraught. paranoid. he’s helping you a lot. holding you. talking to you. you swear this is the most he’s ever spoken.
“let’s do something.” you two are lying on your sides, facing each other.
you shake your head softly, “no… i don’t feel very good.”
he sighs softly, not from annoyance, but clear concern. “you can’t just… you can’t let this stop you.”
you huff out a small laugh, “yeah? isn’t this your dream date? doing nothing with me all day?”
he nods, “yes but i want your dream date. do everything with me all day.”
it warms your heart that he’s trying. really trying. not a single part of you picks it up as guilt. so, you groan dramatically, sitting up. “fine. but that means record store, beach, steak, and ice cream.”
he grins, sliding off the bed with you. “deal, baby,” he smacks your ass as you walk past him. you laugh happily, “get ready quick.”
and you do just that. anything you want, you get it. not that you didn’t before. he likes taking care of you. you can see it makes him feel useful. like his days have a purpose. but it’s different today and you can’t put your finger on it.
it should have been really obvious to you when suddenly, he has no qualms about being with you. about sex. despite being stuffed by your meal that afternoon, you two are heavily making out. and then, his face is between your legs. and then, it’s happening. he’s being so gentle, his touch full of love. he doesn’t need to say it. you know he’s feeling it.
soft praises fill your ears. the bed beneath you feels softer. your skin feels hot.
your breath catches as he pushes only a tiny bit of his cock. nothing crazy, just notches the tip of him in you. a small whimper leaves you, “fuck…”
he’s worrying immediately, “whats wrong, baby? too much? i can sto—“
“don’t you dare stop, pope, i will kill you if you pull your cock out.”
you both fall into a fit of laughter at your words. his forehead is leaning against yours, hand caressing your cheek. “i love you,” the sound of your name coming from his mouth makes your eyes fill up.
despite the fear you felt that day, you’re happy. You were so lonely before. and now, you’re losing your virginity to the man you love, “I love you, too, pope.” and he pushes in, hollowing out completely.
you think you’re a sex addict from there. you can’t get enough of him. more time passes and your anxiety is easing. you don’t flinch or pull away from random men you come across. you’re still slightly paranoid but pope helps you calm down, come back to earth.
“y/n…” he groans as you press kisses up his chest.
“what?” you’re smirking as you do so, skipping a ton of skin and pressing your lips to his. “you know that thing that men spew when they take a girls virginity? that they get clingy and obsessive? think im feeling that.”
his hands slides down to the curve of your ass, lightly smacking it. “yeah? you were already obsessive and clingy before.”
you feign a hurt gasp. “how dare you? i was rightfully clingy either way. you’re sexy. and you’re so weird. that’s all girls want lately. sexy and weird. god, im so horny. let’s have sex.”
he laughs heartily, “later, baby.” one final pat to your butt and he’s sitting up. he reaches over and grabs his wallet, handing a bill over to you. “delivery guy should be here soon. tip. gonna go shower.” he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek and moving out from under you.
he doesn’t notice how you still, staring down at the bill. the familiar bill. how your finger traces the familiar drawing. it’s small. barley even there. you’d have to really inspect the bill to notice it.
when your mother first met your step-dad, you didn’t like him. you didn’t get why she needed someone else’s love when she had yours. it was silly but the first day you met him, you asked for collateral. a deposit. you asked for two hundred dollars, which you would not return if he ever hurt or left your mother. her boyfriends never lasted long so you were just in it for the money. easy 200 bucks. he only had 20s. you were bored in homeroom and you drew a heart on one using a purple glitter gel pen. in the middle you wrote your step-dads initials alongside your mothers.
when they didn’t break up and you were the maid of honor at their wedding, you gave him the 20 back with their initials. “you two should really be thanking me. because of this 20 dollar bill, you two got married.” it made the room erupt in laughter and your mother cry as she pressed soft kisses all around your face.
“it was you.” your voice wasn’t soft. it was cut-throat. unlike your soft-spoken nature. your hear shuffling. you don’t look up, eyes still on the purple glitter heart and initials. “it was you. you were… you and your brothers… you hit the store.” you finally look up. he’s watching you. the same intense fucking look he always has on.
“don’t fucking lie to me, pope.” you hold the bill out to him. “this… i gave this to my step-dad. he must have been keeping it in the safe. the safe that you and your brothers stole. right?”
he doesn’t answer for a moment. his breathing is labored. and then, he’s fine. as if this weren’t a big deal. “yes.”
romaincrisis
annaxmalina
pixelskylines
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