can you write one where the reader and spooky are dating and they’re outside on a walk when a prophet rolls up on them with a gun and spooky protects the reader so at the end it’s kind of fluff
a/n: 🕺🕺
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
You and Spooky strolled through Freeridge, the sun dipping low and casting long shadows across the sidewalk. The familiar sounds of laughter and distant music filled the air, wrapping you in a sense of belonging. You often took walks with Spooky, catching yourselves in the comfort of reminiscing on stale memories back when you were young. You could tell Spooky grew to rely on these walks—a chance to escape the reality of being a gang leader, and enter a bubble of sweet nostalgia of life before it got heavy.
Growing up here, you learned the unspoken rules: know your block, stay alert, and avoid unnecessary drama. But being alongside Spooky all your life, some of those rules got a bit too difficult.
“Yo, remember that time we almost got caught stealing snacks from the old corner store back in middle school?” Oscar laughed, brushing his shoulder against yours, his casual confidence making you smile.
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you replied, shaking your head at the memory. “Maybe if that bag of chips didn’t fall outta your shirt, Mr. Cano wouldn’t have chased us down the street with his broom.” You teased with a faux frown, playfully nudging him with your shoulder.
Before Oscar could answer, a sleek green car rolled up beside you, the tinted windows reflecting the golden light. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach as the window slid down, revealing Latrelle, a notorious member of the Prophets. He leaned out, smirking with a cocky flair. “Well, well, look who we got here. Spooky and his girl. What a cute little scene.”
Your heart raced as you caught the dangerous glint in Latrelle’s eyes. Years of growing up in Freeridge had taught you the unspoken signals of trouble, and that smirk was a clear warning. Oscar’s playful demeanor shifted in an instant; the lightheartedness faded as he instinctively stepped in front of you, his posture tense and protective. “What do you want, Latrelle?” he asked, his voice steady but low, each word heavy with warning.
Latrelle chuckled, leaning out of the car, his tone dripping with mockery. “Just wanted to see if you’re still pretending to run these streets. This block ain’t safe for you, man. You know how it is.” He leaned back, surveying the two of you with an air of casual menace, his gaze lingering on your intertwined hands.
You squeezed Oscar’s hand tighter, feeling your heartbeat quicken. “We’re just out for a walk, nothing more,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm despite the tension tightening around you. Inside, however, adrenaline surged through your veins, preparing you for whatever might come next.
Latrelle’s grin widened, revealing a mix of amusement and menace, but the underlying threat was unmistakable. “Walks are nice, but I don’t like it when my territory gets disrespected. You know how it is, Spooky; the Prophets don’t play nice, especially with your kind strolling around here.” He leaned casually against the car, but his eyes were cold, scanning you both like prey.
The outline of a gun peeked from Latrelle’s waistband, its presence sending an icy chill down your spine. Oscar’s instincts kicked in; he stepped protectively in front of you, his body rigid and poised for action. “You Prophets think y’all the only ones strapped ‘round here?” he rasped, venom lacing his tone as he lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing a strap of his own, gleaming menacingly in the fading light.
The air crackled with tension as they exchanged heated glances, each man sizing the other up. You could feel every heartbeat thumping loudly in your ears, a primal instinct urging you to prepare for anything. “Guess it’s a show to see who reaches first,” Latrelle shot back, bravado dripping from his words, challenging Oscar to make a move.
Just then, the distant sound of a siren pierced the thick tension, causing Latrelle to hesitate, his bravado faltering for a split second. He glanced toward the noise, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “This ain’t over, Santos,” he muttered, retreating into his car with a final glare, his expression a mix of frustration and anger, before peeling away into the shadows of Freeridge.
You exhaled, relief flooding your veins as the immediate danger passed, the adrenaline slowly receding. Oscar turned to you, concern etched across his features, his dark eyes searching yours for any sign of fear. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and steady, though you could hear the undercurrent of worry.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… that was too close,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly, the weight of the moment still heavy in the air. You couldn’t help but feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, a chaotic mix of fear and exhilaration that made your heart race.
Oscar pulled you closer, his arm wrapping protectively around your shoulders, creating a barrier against the chaos of the streets. “I’m not letting anyone mess with you. You know that, right?” His grip was firm, reassuring, and a surge of safety washed over you.
You hesitated, your brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah, I know,” you said, but uncertainty lingered in your voice. The warmth of his body next to yours helped ground you, reminding you that you weren’t alone in this unpredictable world.
He gently grabbed your shoulders, locking his gaze onto yours. “Hey,” he said softly, squeezing your shoulders. “Nobody. You hear? Nobody.” The repeated reassurance hung in the air, wrapping around you like a protective blanket. You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words settle deep in your chest, knowing you could face whatever came your way as long as he was by your side.
Oscar’s laugh sliced through the tension like a knife, lightening the air around you. “Come on, let’s bounce before those fools decide to come back for round two. How about we hit up that taco spot we used to go to after school and pretend this whole mess was just a bad dream?”
His playful tone drew a genuine smile from you, the fear of moments ago melting away. “Tacos sound perfect,” you replied, imagining the warm tortillas and savory fillings that always made everything better.
As you strolled hand-in-hand, the vibrant pulse of Freeridge began to surround you once again. The rhythmic beat of reggaeton floated from a nearby block party, mingling with the laughter of kids playing in the streets. The familiar scents of street food—cilantro, lime, and sizzling carne asada—filled the air, bringing with them memories of carefree days spent in this lively neighborhood.
With Oscar beside you, his energy infectious, you felt the lingering weight of danger lift. It was as if the vibrancy of Freeridge had embraced you, reminding you that life could still be sweet amidst chaos. Together, you walked into the heart of your neighborhood, ready to savor not just tacos, but the warmth and safety that came with shared moments, knowing that with Oscar by your side, you could face anything the streets threw at you.










