FAQ: requests are accepted | i post once a day | all support is appreciated :) | wanna req an omb series? msg me! | i write primarily fem!readers! | more to come soon!
Oscar “Spooky” Diaz.
Oscar’s first day out. ✮ Ways Oscar “Spooky” Diaz would show possession over you. ☆ Stepping in for Oscar “Spooky” Diaz. ✸ [PART 2] Stepping in for Oscar “Spooky” Diaz. ✸➛❀ Dating Oscar “Spooky” Diaz as a stoner be like.. ❀➛☆➛❀ Matching fits with Spooky. ❀ Jealous Spooky. ❀. Ruby finds out you’re dating Spooky! ❀. Oscar being the cutest dad ever! ❀➛☆. Mi oso. ❀. Monse gets the wrong idea. ❀. POV: Oscar posting you on his story. ☆ You were a little too drunk at the Santos party. ☆➛❀. Oscar hit the lotto. ❀. The silence breaks. ✸➛❀ Not so subtle secrets. ❀. Rolled up on. ❀. Paths unseen. 〤. Spooky realises you’re wearing nothing under that dress. ✮ In another life. ❀ Fighting for you. ✸➛❀. Spooky’s spoiled lil brat. ❀. Caught in a war. ✸. Oscar taking the kids in Halloween. ❀ You clean his wounds. ❀ You and Oscar can’t get any privacy. ❀ Oscar wants Cuete’s older sister. (You.) ❀ Getting caught as a Martinez. ❀➛✮➛❀ You and Oscar back up Cesar. ❀ Oscar finds out why you never visited. ✸/❀ Oscar neglected your body for far too long. ✮ Prove it or leave it. ✸➛❀ Lines crossed, Territories tested. ❀ Steel and Softness. ❀ Your tumblr fantasy. ✮ A Prophet and Santo’s love. ❀
Antonio “Sad Eyes” Guzman.
Dating Antonio “Sad Eyes” Guzman would be like.. ❀ Meeting Sad Eyes at a party. ❀ Spooky becomes your wingman for Sad Eye. ❀ Jealous Sad Eyes. ❀ Secret love. ✮➛❀ Healing a family he didn’t break. ✸/❀ Jamal doesn’t realise you’re a Santo. ❀. Sad Eye claims you. ❀. Sad Eye meets his match. ❀. [PART 2] Sad Eye meets his match. ❀ A disapproving father. ❀. He gives you & your daughter everything Oscar couldn’t. ✸/❀ Sad Eyes gives you a lesson. ✮. Love over claiming. ✮ Unrequited. ❀ Jealousy in the Boulevard. ❀ Lines drawn in smoke. ✸ A Claim worth fighting for. ❀
Cesar Diaz.
POV: Cesar posting you on his story. ❀ ➛☆ Cesar finds out you’re dating Oscar. 〤/✸. You and Cesar get pressed. ❀. Spilled Secret. ❀. Monse bumps into you and Cesar. ❀
Series.
WHAT WE LEAVE BEHIND [PART 1] ✸ [PART 2] ✸ [PART 3] ❀ [FINALE] ✸/❀
Hey girl I love ur fics sm! Could you do one where reader is the older sister of Latrell and she’s secretly with Oscar and one day while she’s at his house Cesar finds them in bed together
a/n: THANK U LOVELY!!! ofc i can!
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Being Latrell’s older sister meant carrying the weight of expectations, especially as a member of the Prophets. You had always been good at staying under the radar, but keeping your relationship with Oscar Diaz—a Santo, and their leader at that—was another level of secrecy entirely.
It wasn’t just that Latrell would flip if he found out. The entire situation was a betrayal of the gang alliances, a risk neither of you could afford to take. But Oscar was different. With him, you weren’t “Latrell’s sister” or a Prophet. You were just.. you. And for that, you’d risk everything.
Oscar’s house had become a sanctuary, a place where the weight of your world lifted, even if just for a while. The afternoon sun filtered through his bedroom blinds, casting soft shadows as you lay sprawled across his bed, your head resting on his chest. His arm was draped around you lazily, fingers tracing idle patterns on your back.
“I still can’t believe I’m doing this,” you murmured, your tone a blend of disbelief and amusement as you traced lazy patterns on Oscar’s chest.
Oscar tilted his head to look down at you, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What? Breaking the rules? Turning your back on the Prophets?”
You arched an eyebrow at him, the smallest smirk playing on your face. “Sleeping with the enemy, Diaz.”
He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling under your cheek like a comforting vibration. “Enemy? I don’t remember it feeling like that last night.”
Your grin widened, and you swatted his chest playfully. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“And you’re lucky I don’t scare easy,” he shot back, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple.
The warmth of the moment settled between you, as easy as breathing. With Oscar, the constant tension of gang loyalty and dangerous allegiances faded into the background, replaced by something rare: peace.
But peace doesn’t last long in your world.
The sharp slam of the front door echoed through the house, snapping the quiet intimacy like a rubber band. A familiar voice followed, loud and clear. “Oscar, you here?”
You froze, your body tensing as Oscar let out a low sigh, his calm demeanor unshaken.
“Of all the times…” he muttered, sitting up slowly.
Before you could even process your next move, the bedroom door burst open, revealing Cesar standing in the doorway. His eyes immediately landed on you, tangled in the sheets beside his brother.
“What the—” Cesar’s voice faltered as he took in the scene, his expression twisting with a mixture of disbelief and anger.
“Cesar,” you began, clutching the blanket tighter around yourself as you sat up, your pulse pounding in your ears.
“No. Nope. Don’t even try to explain,” he cut you off, jabbing a finger in your direction before turning his glare on Oscar. “What the hell, mano? She’s a Prophet. Latrell’s sister. You know how bad this is, right?”
Oscar didn’t flinch. He leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed, his calm gaze locked on Cesar. “Relax,” he said, his tone so steady it was almost maddening.
“Relax?” Cesar echoed, his voice rising in disbelief. “Do you even hear yourself? Do you have any idea what would happen if Latrell—or the Prophets—found out about this? You’re risking everything. For what?”
“For her,” Oscar said simply, his voice low but firm, a quiet declaration that left no room for argument.
Cesar blinked, momentarily stunned by the weight of Oscar’s words. “You’re serious,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with incredulity.
Oscar’s gaze didn’t waver. “Dead serious.”
Cesar dragged a hand down his face, pacing a few steps before stopping to glare at both of you again. “Do you know what kind of war you’re starting? You think Latrell’s just gonna let this slide? Fuck, forget Latrell—what about the rest of the Santos?”
Your voice finally broke through, steady despite the storm brewing in Cesar’s expression. “We’ll deal with it. Together.”
Cesar turned his attention back to you, his brow furrowed in frustration. “You’re insane. Both of you.”
“Maybe,” Oscar said with a shrug. “But I don’t scare easy. And I’m not walking away from her.”
Cesar shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh. “You’re both gonna regret this.”
“Maybe,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “But that’s for us to deal with.”
For a moment, Cesar just stared at you both, his jaw tight with unspoken words.
Cesar looked between the two of you, his frustration palpable. “You’re crazy, mano,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face.
“I know what I’m doing,” Oscar said firmly, standing and stepping toward his brother. “This isn’t some fling. It’s serious.”
Cesar stared at him for a long moment, then turned back to you. “You do realize Latrell would lose it, right? And not just at him—at you.”
You nodded, your throat tight. “I know. But I’m not scared of him.”
“Maybe you should be,” Cesar said darkly. “Because if this gets out, it won’t just be a family issue. It’ll be a war.”
Oscar stepped between you and Cesar, his stance protective. “We’ll deal with it if it comes to that. But this stays between us, understand?”
Cesar hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With one last look at you both, he turned and left, the sound of the door slamming again echoing through the house.
As silence settled over the room, you exhaled slowly, sinking back onto the bed. “That could’ve gone worse.”
Oscar turned back to you, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Could’ve gone better, too.”
Despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile as he sat down beside you, his hand finding yours. “You think he’ll keep quiet?”
“He will,” Oscar said confidently. “He might be pissed, but he won’t sell us out. Not to Latrell, not to anyone.”
You nodded, leaning against him as his arm wrapped around your shoulders. “I guess we’ll see.”
Oscar pressed a kiss to your hair, his voice low and steady. “No matter what happens, we’ll figure it out. You and me, alright?”
“Alright,” you murmured, letting yourself believe it—because with Oscar, it didn’t matter what the world thought. As long as you had each other, you’d find a way.
Can we get one where reader has a Tumblr account and she one day leaves her computer open on her bed while she goes out and get food for her and spooky then he sees her computer
And he finds out she's been reading some...........freaky things🤭 and whem she gets home he's acting suspicious then when she confronts him about it he opens her computer and says 'all this time of soft sex and going slow you wanna get fucked like a slut?' Then he fucks her like how he's been wanting to maybe a lil bdsm n spanking in there and it's perfect 👌
Ty sm for being so nice to me ever since my first ask ilysm 💓
-🪽
a/n: OFCCCCCC!! ❤️❤️❤️ sorry it took a while for me to get this one out, but i’m always a bit slower when it comes to writing smut! x + dealing with personal things!
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
You walk into your apartment, arms laden with bags of takeout, the aroma of spicy food filling the air. You hear the sound of your computer fan whirring louder than usual, a hint that Spooky might be using it. Setting the food down on the counter, your stomach fluttering with anticipation and a twinge of anxiety. A part of you desperately praying he didn't find anything too incriminating on your browser history.
As you round the corner into the bedroom, you find Spooky sitting on the edge of your bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his head bowed. He looks up as you enter, his eyes dark and intense, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Hey, mami," he says, his voice low and rough. "Think we gotta talk."
Your gaze darted anywhere but into his eyes, your heart pounding in your chest as you cleared your throat. "Okay," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "What's on your mind?"
Spooky stands up slowly, his tall frame unfolding like a predator ready to pounce. He takes a step towards you, then another, until he's standing right in front of you. You have to crane your neck back to look up at him.
"Shit, well, I was looking at your computer," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I saw the shit you've been reading." His hand comes up to cup your chin, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "The way you talk about it, all soft and sweet. Like you want to be fucked hard for once so damn bad."
You feel your cheeks flush, your core clenching at his words. "Spooky, I...I don't..." you stammer, but he cuts you off.
"Don't lie to me, baby girl," he growls, his other hand reaching around to grab your ass. He pulls you against him, pressing your soft curves into his hard body. "I know you want it. I know you've been dreaming about it. And I'm gonna give it to you. Just wish my princesa told me earlier that she doesn’t wanna get fucked like one every damn time." He admitted, a tinge of teasing and arousal lurking in his tone.
You gasp as he kisses you hard, his tongue plundering your mouth. Your hands come up to grip his shoulders as he walks you backwards until your legs hit the bed. You fall back onto it, and Spooky follows you down, his body covering yours.
He sits back on his knees, You squirm beneath him, your breath coming in short pants as Spooky's intense gaze bores into you. His hands grip your wrists, pinning them above your head as he leans down to growl in your ear.
"You wanna be a good girl for me, don't you mami?" Spooky rasps, his hot breath tickling your neck. "Wanna feel my cock splitting you open, claiming this tight little pussy?" He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust of his hips, grinding his hardening bulge against your clothed sex.
You whimper, arching your back as desire courses through you. "Mhm—yes, Spooky," you manage to gasp out, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, but your arousal beat your pride. "Please, I need it. I need you."
A wicked grin spreads across Spooky's face as he sits back up, keeping your wrists trapped in one large hand. His other hand trails down your body, his calloused fingers brushing over the swell of your breasts, your flat stomach, before dipping beneath the waistband of your leggings.
"Fuck, you're already so wet," Spooky groans, his fingers stroking through your slick folds. He brings his hand back up, showing you the glistening evidence of your desire. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be taken hard and fast, like the desperate little slut you are?"
You flush deeper, but nod eagerly. Spooky chuckles darkly, releasing your wrists only to make quick work of your leggings and panties, tossing them carelessly to the floor. He grabs your thighs, pushing them up and out, spreading you wide open for him.
"Play with your tits," Spooky commands, his voice rough with lust. "Show me how much you want my cock."
With trembling hands, you reach up to palm your breasts, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. You tug at your hardened nipples, pinching and rolling them between your fingers just how Spooky likes it.
"Fuck, yes." Spooky praises, his eyes darkening as he watches you touch yourself. "You're such a good girl, mami. Can't wait to see you take my cock like the perfect little cock sleeve you are."
He starts to undo his jeans, the sound of his zipper lowering making your heart race with anticipation. Spooky pulls out his thick, hard cock.
Spooky grabs his belt, the leather strap dangling from his jeans. With a wicked grin, he wraps it around your wrists, binding them tightly together. He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers.
"Gon’ tie you up. Make you helpless while I take what's mine." Spooky's voice drips with dark promise, sending shivers down your spine.
You whimper softly, a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through you as Spooky grabbed you and positioned you in a doggy style, facing the bedpost as he secured the belt around the bedpost, pulling your arms taut above your head. He admires his handiwork, trailing a finger down your arm, your side, your hip, until he reaches your ass. Your back arched to the lightest of touches.
Spreading your legs wider, Spooky kneels behind you, his hands gripping your ass cheeks hard. He leans in close, his cock brushing against your dripping slit as he growls.
"Gonna fuck you now, mami. Gonna fucking ruin this tight little pussy." Spooky punctuates his word with a hard spank to your ass, the sharp sting morphing into pleasure.
You cry out, arching your back as Spooky lines up his thick cock with your entrance. With one brutal thrust, he plunges into you, stretching you around his girth as he hilts inside you. Your pussy clenches and flutters around the sudden intrusion, trying to adjust to his size.
Spooky wastes no time, setting a punishing pace as he pounds into you from behind. The bed creaks and groans with each powerful thrust of his hips, the headboard slamming against the wall. His balls slap against your clit with each drive forward, the obscene sound of skin on skin filling the room.
"Yes, fuck yes! Just like that, Spooky!" you scream, lost in the throes of pleasure. Your pussy grips him like a vice, hot and tight and soaking wet. You feel every thick inch of him as he splits you open, claiming you, ruining you for anyone else.
Spooky leans over you, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he fucks into you harder, faster. "Shit, you feel so fucking good," he rasps, one hand coming around to maul your tits, pinching and twisting your nipples. "Gon’ cum inside you, fill this pussy till you cry, mami.”
Spooky's grip on your tits tightens, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks. He pulls and tugs at your nipples, twisting them roughly as he continues his brutal pace. The mix of pain and pleasure sends electric jolts straight to your core.
"Fuck, this pussy is mine," Spooky growls, punctuating his claim with a particularly hard thrust. "Gonna fucking ruin you for anyone else. No one else can make you feel this good, hm? Nobody else can fuck you as rough as I do."
His other hand slides down to your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles. Your hips buck back against him, seeking more of that delicious friction. Spooky chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating through you.
"That's it, baby. Fucking take it," Spooky commands, his voice rough and dominating. "Take my fucking cock like the desperate little slut you are."
Your pussy clenches around him, fluttering and squeezing his invading length. You can feel every ridge, every vein, every throbbing inch of him as he splits you open. Spooky sets a relentless rhythm, pounding into you with a force that rocks your entire body.
Suddenly, he flips you over onto your back, your wrists still bound above your head. Spooky hooks your legs over his elbows, nearly bending you in half as he looms over you. His eyes blaze with lust and dark promise as he stares down at you.
"Gon’ watch you fall apart on my cock," Spooky rasps, his voice low and commanding. "Gonna make you fucking scream."
He leans down, capturing your mouth in a brutal kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, claiming it, dominating it. Spooky swallows your cries and moans, drinking them down like a man starved.
Your pussy spasms around him, your orgasm building quickly. Spooky feels it too, his hips pistoning faster, driving into you with a fervor bordering on violent. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mingling with your wanton cries.
"Fuck, Spooky! I'm...I'm gonna..." you manage to gasp out between kisses.
"Do it," Spooky growls, his eyes wild. "Cum on my fucking cock. Now."
With a scream of Spooky's name, your body seizes, your pussy clamping down around his pistoning cock like a silken vice. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you as your orgasm rips through your core, leaving you trembling and incoherent with pleasure.
"Fuuuuck—ah—milk my fucking cock, princess,” Spooky roars, slamming into you with short, brutal thrusts as your velvet walls flutter and massage his throbbing length. He buries himself to the hilt, grinding against your cervix as his own release approaches.
Your nails dig into his shoulders, your back arching off the bed as you ride out the aftershocks of your intense climax. Spooky's grip on your tits tightens, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, as he chases his own end.
With a guttural groan, Spooky hilts inside you one last time, his thick cock pulsing and twitching as he finds his release. Hot, sticky ropes of cum paint your insides, marking you as his. Your womb is flooded with Spooky's potent seed, the sheer volume of it making your belly swell slightly.
Panting harshly, Spooky collapses on top of you, pressing your trembling body into the mattress. He keeps your legs hitched over his elbows, holding you in place as the last spurts of his release dribble out. You lay there, both of you slick with sweat and sex, as you catch your breath.
As the fog of lust lifts, Spooky looks down at you, a satisfied smirk playing across his kiss-swollen lips. He leans in close, his stubble scraping against your cheek as he whispers roughy in your ear.
"That's only one, mami. I'm not nearly done with you yet." His tone drips with dark promise, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. Your core clenches around his softening length at the thought of more.
He reaches up, untying the belt from around your wrists with deft fingers. He massages the reddened skin gently as the circulation returns, soothing the ache. Spooky rolls off you, pulling you with him to spoon against his sweat-slicked chest.
You lay there in the afterglow, Spooky's arms wrapped protectively around your curves as the sounds of your labored breathing fill the room.
“Thank you.” You uttered out between your heavy breaths.
“Mhm? For what?” Spooky asked, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he planted a small kiss against your sweaty temple.
“I was nervous to tell you what I wanted to add onto our—you know, sex life.” You sheepishly mumbled, digging yourself further against him as your cheeks warmed up in slight embarrassment. But to your avail, Spooky just nodded, “I’m happy I found out when I did.”
“I’m here to please you, princesa. Don’t be ashamed.”
Requested by @ellyzmesstuff: “Hey girl I’m back and I may have another request. First off this story was as so good I loved it and second I’m sorry for asking for so many requests 😟 buuut I have another one 1️⃣. Could u do one where yn is getting piercings and I’m gonna be annoying and be specific, so she’s gettting a rook, double helix and conch in her left ear and a conch and 2 forward helixes in her right ear and tounge (she already has four piercings in her ear lobe going up on both sides and one helix in her right ear) and basically Oscar just goes with her for support and gets more scared than her especially when it comes to her tongue and just fluff and how he reacts when she’s getting them all pierced. 😅 if any of this dosent make sense I can re explain some stuff just lemme know”
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Oscar’s hand hovered just above yours, unsure whether to take it or leave it. His tough demeanor was intact, but the subtle tension in his jaw gave him away. You glanced at him, amused by how on edge he looked.
“Relax, Spooky,” you teased, your voice laced with warmth. “You’re not the one getting pierced.”
He grunted in response, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall of the piercing studio. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t pass out or something.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. You’d been planning these piercings for months: a rook, double helix, and conch on your left ear; a conch and two forward helixes on your right; and, to top it all off, a tongue piercing. You already had your lobes and a single helix on your right ear, but this was the next step.
Oscar, on the other hand, looked like he was preparing for a battle he didn’t sign up for. His expression was a mix of quiet dread and misplaced determination, as though he had convinced himself this was some kind of endurance test for him.
When the piercer called your name, he shot up from his seat, his posture snapping straight like a soldier ready for inspection. You couldn’t hide your grin as you grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the room. “C’mon, tough guy. Don’t leave me hanging now.”
He followed reluctantly, his usual confidence muted by the sterile atmosphere.
The piercing room was small but inviting, with warm lighting and posters of intricate ear layouts decorating the walls. The tools gleamed on a metal tray, each one a shiny reminder of what you were about to endure. Carla, the piercer, greeted you with a cheerful smile that immediately put you at ease. “Alright, ready to tackle these?” she asked, her voice light as she sanitized her equipment. Her gaze flicked to Oscar, her smile deepening. “You bringing moral support?”
“Something like that,” you replied, settling into the chair with an easy confidence. “He’s more nervous than I am.”
“I’m not nervous,” Oscar muttered, his voice a touch defensive as he perched on a stool in the corner.
Carla arched an eyebrow, clearly amused, but didn’t press. She focused on prepping for the first piercing. “We’ll start with the rook. It’s quick, just a pinch.”
Oscar, however, looked anything but reassured. He leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees, his intense gaze flicking between you and Carla. “You sure you need to do all of this at once?” he asked, his tone low but laced with a hint of concern.
You shrugged, flashing him a grin. “Why not? Go big or go home, right?”
He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You’re something else.”
Carla chuckled, lining up the needle. “Alright, here we go.”
Oscar didn’t blink as the needle slid through your rook, the faint pop echoing in the quiet room. His jaw tightened, and his eyes darted to your face, watching for any signs of discomfort.
You barely flinched, letting out a small breath as Carla worked quickly. “That’s it?” you asked, your tone almost casual, as if you’d just gotten a splinter removed.
Oscar’s brows knit together, his expression somewhere between impressed and exasperated. “It’s not nothing,” he muttered, his voice gruff.
Carla smiled, gently wiping down the area before moving on to the next piercing. “You’re handling this like a champ,” she said, nodding to you. “Your bodyguard over there? Not so much.”
You turned to Oscar, biting back a laugh at the way his foot tapped against the floor, his eyes fixed warily on the tray of tools. “See?” you teased. “She gets it.”
He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms but staying laser-focused on every movement Carla made. “I’m just making sure she’s doing it right,” he muttered, his protective streak bleeding through his tough exterior.
You gave him a playful eye roll, but the warmth in your chest couldn’t be ignored. He wasn’t here just to watch; he was here to be your steady presence, even if the sight of a needle had him on edge.
When Carla finished your left ear, she nodded approvingly. “Looking good. Ready for the next side?”
You nodded, bracing yourself for round two. Oscar, however, sat up straighter, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “How many more?”
“Just a few,” you teased, flashing him a grin as Carla moved to your right ear.
“You’re crazy,” he muttered under his breath, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
The process continued with the double helix and conch on your left ear. Each time, you sat still, biting back a wince, while Oscar looked increasingly uncomfortable. By the time Carla moved to your right ear, he was sitting with his arms crossed tightly, his foot tapping against the floor.
Carla prepped the needle for your conch, her amused gaze flicking toward Oscar. “You’re really handling this better than he is,” she teased, her tone light and playful.
You smirked, leaning back in the chair as you shot him a look. “I noticed.”
“I’m fine,” Oscar replied, his voice gruff, though the slight crease in his forehead betrayed him. His dark eyes were locked on your ear as Carla worked, as if sheer force of will could protect you from discomfort.
Carla laughed softly, expertly sliding the needle through. “You’ve got a good poker face,” she said to you, wiping down the fresh piercing. “Can’t say the same about your boyfriend, though.”
You glanced over to see Oscar shifting on the stool, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm against his knee. “Yeah, I think he’s taking this harder than I am,” you quipped, earning a sharp look from him.
“I’m just… keeping an eye on things,” he muttered, leaning back slightly as if distancing himself from the gleaming tools would make it easier.
When the ear piercings were done, Carla stepped back to sanitize her equipment again. “Alright,” she said, her tone turning businesslike. “Last one. The tongue piercing.”
Oscar immediately stiffened, his broad shoulders tensing as he sat up straighter. His gaze darted to you, his dark eyes narrowing. “Tongue? That’s a whole different thing. Are you sure about this?”
You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Yes, Oscar. I’m sure. You’re the one acting like you’re about to get pierced.”
He didn’t respond, just pressed his lips together and fixed his attention on Carla as she began explaining the process. His posture was rigid, his jaw set, and you swore you saw the smallest twitch in his cheek when Carla asked you to stick out your tongue.
“Relax,” you teased, sticking your tongue out. “You don’t even have to watch.”
“I am relaxed,” he muttered, his tone clipped, but his hand clenching into a fist and the sweat running down the side of his face told you otherwise.
Carla lined up the clamp, her movements precise and steady. You focused on the ceiling, staying calm, while Oscar looked like he was holding his breath. When the needle slid through in one swift motion, you barely flinched, but the low groan that escaped Oscar was enough to make Carla pause and glance at him.
“You okay over there?” she asked, stifling a grin.
“I’m good,” he muttered, his voice strained as he looked away for a moment, his foot tapping against the floor.
You couldn’t resist. “Wow, babe. You winced harder than I did.”
His gaze snapped back to you, his expression a mix of indignation and exasperation. “It’s not every day I see someone stabbing you in the tongue, alright?”
Carla chuckled, finishing up as she handed you a mirror to inspect the new piercing. “Well, you’re a trooper,” she said to you. “And you—” she turned to Oscar, her smile widening— “are officially the most protective boyfriend I’ve had in here.”
You laughed, tilting your head to admire the piercing in the mirror. “He means well,” you said, glancing at him with affection. “Even if he acts like I’m walking into battle.”
Oscar huffed, shaking his head, but the slight upward twitch of his lips gave him away. “Somebody’s gotta look out for you,” he said, his tone softer now. “Even if you’re tougher than you let on.”
You reached out to take his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “And I appreciate it,” you said, your voice warm. “Even if you’re the one who almost fainted.”
His dark eyes narrowed playfully, but he didn’t let go of your hand. “Alright, let’s get out of here before you start planning your next round of piercings.”
“Noted,” Carla added with a laugh, watching the two of you with an amused smile as you walked out, his arm instinctively wrapping around your shoulder, protective as ever.
As you walked out of the studio together, Oscar slipped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Just don’t expect me to hold your hand next time,” he murmured, but the way his thumb brushed against your shoulder betrayed him.
“Sure, Spooky,” you replied, leaning into him as you laughed. “Whatever you say.”
Lines crossed, Loyalties tested. (Spooky x Fem!Reader)
Requested by @ellyzmesstuff: “Fem!Reader is out with her male cousins and posts it on instagram, making Spooky extremely jealous.”
Sad Eyes’ Version <-
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The low growl of the Impala’s engine reverberated through the quiet street as it pulled up to the curb, the metallic hum blending with the lively chatter inside. The car was a bubble of warmth and familiarity, filled with the kind of teasing and banter only family could pull off without crossing the line. Marcos, ever the laid-back one, was behind the wheel, one hand draped lazily out the window as if he had all the time in the world. In the passenger seat, Danny kept the energy alive, cracking jokes that had everyone laughing, while Elias, sprawled out in the backseat next to you, chimed in with sharp quips of his own.
The night had been nothing special—just a casual cruise through town—but that didn’t stop them from keeping you on your toes. Every now and then, they’d zero in on Oscar, their jokes layered with just enough mockery to make you groan.
“So, what’s it like dating Santo Spooky?” Marcos teased, his grin wide as he glanced at you in the rearview mirror. “Does he have you wearing Santos colors now?”
You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the seat. “Y’all act like I don’t have enough to deal with already.”
Elias let out a laugh, nudging you with his elbow. “C’mon, prima. You know we’re just looking out for you. Can’t have him thinking he’s the only one keeping you safe.”
With a smirk, you pulled out your phone, aiming the camera at them. “Yeah, yeah. Say it louder for the people in the back.”
They immediately hammed it up, tossing up their gang signs with exaggerated flair. The dim glow of the streetlights caught the flash of their colors, their posturing equal parts serious and ridiculous. The sound of their laughter filled the car as you quickly posted the video to your Instagram story, adding a caption that would guarantee a reaction: “Best protection in the city 😌.”
You tucked your phone away, smirking to yourself. The alliance between the Santos and your cousins’ gang, the Gatos crew, wasn’t perfect—tensions always simmered just beneath the surface—but it held steady enough to keep the peace. Even so, you knew Oscar wouldn’t be thrilled about the optics of this. He wasn’t the type to take things at face value, and you could already picture the way his jaw would tighten when he saw the post.
And honestly? You couldn’t wait to see his reaction.
Your phone buzzed.
Oscar🖤
Who’s in the car? Seen 1:03 AM
You smirked, tapping out a response.
You
Just friends. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Sent 1:04 AM
His reply came almost immediately.
Oscar🖤
Don’t play games with me. Who? Seen 1:04 AM
You rolled your eyes but decided to keep him guessing.
You
Relax, tough guy. I’ll tell you later. Seen 1:04 AM
Oscar sat on his porch, the faint hum of the night drowned out by the steady buzz of tension in his mind. His phone sat in his hand, the glow from the screen casting sharp shadows on his face as he replayed the video you’d posted. His frown deepened with every loop, his thumb hovering over the screen like he was debating what to do next.
Sad Eyes leaned against the railing a few feet away, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. He took a long drag, his sharp gaze flicking toward Oscar’s tense posture. “What’s got you lookin’ like that, Spooky?” he asked, his voice casual but laced with curiosity as he exhaled a plume of smoke.
Oscar didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned the phone toward Sad Eyes, showing him the clip. Your laughter echoed faintly from the tiny speaker as the video played, the Gatos crew throwing up their signs with their colors on full display.
“You know anyone from the North Side rolling deep in red?” Oscar finally asked, his voice low but edged with something sharper.
Sad Eyes squinted at the screen, leaning in slightly for a better look. “Yeah, that’s the Gatos’ crew for sure. They’ve been solid with us since the truce.” He paused, raising an eyebrow at Oscar. “Why you asking?”
Oscar’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he locked the phone and slipped it into his pocket. “She’s with them tonight.”
Sad Eyes straightened, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Damn, Spooky. That girl’s got you twisted, huh? What, you think she’s out there repping the North Side now?”
Oscar shot him a cold glare that could’ve frozen fire. “It’s not funny.”
Sad Eyes held up his hands, feigning surrender, though the smirk stayed firmly in place. “Aight, aight. But if it’s the Gatos, they’re family now, right? Peace treaty and all that.”
Oscar’s silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Sad Eyes watched him carefully, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his foot tapped lightly against the porch floor.
“You trust her, don’t you?” Sad Eyes asked after a beat, his tone losing some of its teasing edge.
Yes, Spooky trusted you, but the idea of you cruising around with three guys who weren’t Santos—who weren’t him—itched under his skin.
“It’s not about that,” Oscar muttered, his voice clipped. He pushed himself off the porch railing, pacing a short distance before turning back. “It’s about optics. She’s out there with three guys throwing up signs that ain’t Santos, wearing colors that ain’t ours. Peace treaty or not, that raises questions.”
Sad Eyes took another drag, his expression unreadable. “So, what you gon’ do? Pull her off the block? Ban her from riding with fools that you ain’t tight with?”
Oscar shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he stared into the darkness. “I’m not about to tell her who she can and can’t be with. But I need to make sure they know where the lines are. Just ‘cause we got a truce doesn’t mean they can move however they want.”
Sad Eyes chuckled, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Man, you’re wound tight. She’ll be fine. If anything, she’s probably giving them hell for something right now. You’ve seen her.”
A silence fell down between the two. Sad Eyes lingered by the porch, his cigarette burning low as he watched Spooky’s thoughts silently unfold with the worst case scenarios that could happen with you. He smirked to himself, shaking his head.
“Aight, Spooky,” he said finally, flicking the cigarette onto the pavement and crushing it underfoot. “I’m out. But you need me to stick around?”
Oscar didn’t look his way, his eyes still locked on you, but his voice was firm. “Nah. I got it.”
Sad Eyes tilted his head, his grin widening just enough to show he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Yeah, I figured. Look, man, if I thought there was trouble, I’d be parked right here, no question. But I don’t think there is. Not unless your judgment’s slipping.”
Oscar’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond, which only seemed to amuse Sad Eyes more.
He clapped a hand on Spooky’s shoulder, his tone lighter now. “Call me if I’m wrong, though. You know I’m always good for backup.”
Oscar gave him a brief nod, and Sad Eyes chuckled softly, stepping off the porch. “Later, bro. Try not to scare her off before I see her again.”
With that, he strolled down the street, hands in his pockets, disappearing into the night as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Oscar didn’t respond, but the hint of pride that flickered in his dark eyes betrayed his stoic exterior. Still, the unease didn’t leave him. Whatever was coming, he’d deal with it. That much was certain.
Soon after, a car pulled into the driveway of Oscar’s house, the headlights cutting through the quiet street. You climbed out first, smoothing your shirt as you approached the porch.
Marcos leaned out the driver’s side window, his arm draped lazily over the edge. “This where we’re leaving you, primasita?”
You smirked, rolling your eyes at the nickname. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the ride.”
Oscar appeared in the doorway before you could reach the porch, his eyes sharp and assessing. His gaze flicked to the car, taking in the gang colors and the way your cousins were lounging, their casual demeanor almost too deliberate.
Elias leaned forward from the back seat, raising an eyebrow as he noticed Oscar’s scrutiny. “Yo, you’re Spooky, right? The Santo she’s always talking about?”
Oscar didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped forward, his presence imposing and his gaze steady as it locked onto Marcos. His voice, low and measured, carried a weight that cut through the evening air. “This is Santo territory. You know that, right?”
Marcos leaned back slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking into a small, amused grin. “Relax, bro,” he said lightly, though there was an edge to his tone, the kind that came from knowing exactly how far to push. “We’re not here for business. Just dropping off family.”
Oscar’s eyes flicked toward you, narrowing slightly in silent question. “Family?” he repeated, his tone clipped, seeking confirmation.
You stepped between them with an exasperated sigh, rolling your eyes at the tension. “Yes, Oscar. Family. Marcos, Elias, and Danny. My primos. You know, blood relatives?”
From the passenger seat, Danny smirked, leaning his arm out of the window. “Didn’t think it’d be a problem. But hey, maybe you’re worried we’ll steal her away.”
Elias, still lounging in the backseat, grinned wide as he joined in. “Yeah, Spooky. Should we start asking for your permission? Or maybe we need to fill out some kinda form next time?”
Marcos chuckled, tucking in his coloured rag away out of respect for Santo territory, the movement as relaxed as his tone. “Didn’t think it mattered if she’s dating a Santo.”
The playful jabs lingered in the air, the tension thickening as the cousins watched for a reaction. Oscar stood his ground, his face unreadable, though the slight flare of his nostrils and the simmer in his dark eyes betrayed his annoyance.
You turned toward your cousins with a sharp look, cutting through their teasing. “Enough,” you said firmly. “Get out of here before you make it worse.”
Marcos shrugged, as if to say your problem, not ours, before starting the car. “Aight, we’re out. But hey, primasita, call us if this guy gives you any trouble.”
Danny threw up a peace sign, his smirk still firmly in place, while Elias winked exaggeratedly. The Impala rumbled to life, their laughter trailing behind them as they pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the street.
Oscar stood silently for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on the taillights disappearing into the distance. His expression was unreadable, but the tight line of his jaw and the subtle clench of his fists gave away more than he probably intended. Finally, he turned to you, his voice low and steady but edged with frustration. “We need to talk.”
You sighed, crossing your arms as you faced him. “You really thought I was out with random guys?”
He didn’t respond right away, his gaze hard as it lingered on you, sharp enough to cut through the tension still hanging in the air.
“Oscar,” you said, softer this time, taking a step closer. “They’re my cousins. They ride for Gatos, yeah, but you think I’d bring anyone else into your territory?”
His shoulders eased just slightly, but the intensity in his tone didn’t waver. “Didn’t know who they were. All I saw was you in a car with three guys wearing red, throwing signs. That’s all anyone would’ve seen. Don’t play like that again.”
You tilted your head, a teasing smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “Wait… were you jealous?”
His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his presence looming, the weight of his gaze locking onto yours. “You wanna test me right now, or you wanna apologize?”
You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, your hand reaching out instinctively to brush his arm. “Fine, I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll send you a full family tree and a signed letter of intent before I go anywhere.” You giggled, hints of sarcasm in your tone.
Oscar’s expression didn’t change, but the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. He wasn’t really angry anymore; it was more about the principle of it, about the way his world demanded vigilance. “Good,” he said simply, his voice softer now but still commanding. “Now get inside.”
You rolled your eyes, but the tension of the night was already fading, replaced by a familiar sense of ease. Turning toward the house, you followed him inside, the door shutting softly behind you as the chaos of the evening was left on the curb.
Ok but the real question is have you ever thought of writing for Rio from Good Girls? Because if you do then I have such a good ask but I needed to ask you first
-🪽<333
HIII! To answer your question, I kinda stray away from writing characters from shows that I haven’t watched before—I totally would if I did watch it, but I get a bit scared that I’ll mischaracterise them because of my lack of knowledge. 😭 Which is why you’ll notice that I don’t write Freeridge stuff because I haven’t watched it before! But, if you really do want me to write for Rio, then I’ll try my best!
Request by @ellyzmesstuff: “Hey, I have a request, you don’t have to if you don’t wanna but could you do one where reader and Oscar have been dating for a while and reader wants to join the santos but Oscar isn’t too sure about the idea, then he eventually lets her get jumped in and sees a whole new badass side to her😩😁”
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the small living room. You leaned against the edge of the couch, arms crossed, your jaw tight as you stared Oscar down. He was sitting in the armchair, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together like he was trying to hold something back.
“You’re not serious,” he said finally, his tone more disbelieving than angry.
“I’m dead serious,” you shot back, your voice steady but firm. “I’ve thought about this, Oscar. I’m not just throwing this out there for fun.”
He shook his head, leaning back in the chair and running a hand down his face. “Do you even know what you’re asking for? This ain’t just some game, princesa. Once you’re in, you’re in. There’s no walking away, no taking it back.”
“I know that,” you said, stepping closer, the fire in your chest building. “I’ve seen it all up close—what you deal with, what the Santos are about. I can handle it.”
Oscar’s eyes flicked up to yours, sharp and assessing. “This ain’t about handling it. This is about you putting yourself in danger for no reason.”
“It’s not for no reason,” you argued, frustration bubbling over. “I want to be part of it—part of you. I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines while you and everyone else have my back. I want to have yours too.”
He exhaled sharply, standing up and pacing across the room. “You don’t need to prove anything to me, mami. I already know you’re down for me.”
“It’s not just about you,” you said, your voice rising. “It’s about me. I’m tired of being seen as just your girl. I want to stand on my own two feet in this. I want respect.”
Oscar stopped pacing, turning to face you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the weight of the conversation hanging heavy between you.
Finally, he sighed, his shoulders sagging. “You really wanna do this?”
“Yes,” you said without hesitation, meeting his gaze head-on.
His jaw ticked, the muscle jumping as he considered your words. “A’ight,” he said finally, his tone low. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ⋆ time passes ⋆ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦
The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge. You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, lifting your shirt to inspect the bruises on your stomach and ribs. The sight wasn’t pretty—purple and blue marks bloomed against your skin, a reminder of what you’d just been through.
The front door creaked open, and heavy footsteps echoed down the hall.
“Yo, mami, you home?” Oscar’s voice called out, his tone even but laced with something unspoken.
You didn’t answer, still staring at your reflection. It wasn’t long before you heard him approach. When he stopped in the doorway and caught sight of you, his expression hardened.
His dark eyes locked on the bruises you’d been examining, and for a moment, the air between you froze. His jaw clenched, and his hands flexed at his sides.
You pulled your shirt down slowly, turning to face him. “You gon’ say something?”
Oscar tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp and unreadable. “You did it, huh?” he said, his voice calm but flat, like he was holding something back.
You nodded, crossing your arms despite the ache in your ribs. “Yeah, I did.”
He didn’t move from the doorway, his eyes briefly flicking to your stomach again before settling back on your face. His silence stretched, but you could feel the tension radiating off him.
The question lingered in the air for a moment, heavy and unforgiving. “Where were you?” you asked finally, your voice slicing through the stillness like a blade.
Oscar didn’t flinch, but his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, his stoic mask slipping just enough to reveal the tension beneath. “Didn’t think I needed to be there,” he said after a beat, his tone clipped and even, but not as unaffected as he wanted it to sound.
You frowned, stepping closer despite the ache that rippled through your bruised ribs. “Oscar, where were you?”
His silence was louder than the question itself. He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossing over his chest in a stance that felt both defensive and immovable. His gaze shifted away, fixating on some invisible point in the room, as if the words he needed were hiding there.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low but steady, the weight of his admission hanging between you. “Didn’t wanna see it,” he said, the blunt honesty catching you off guard. “Didn’t wanna stand there and watch them put their hands on you and not do a damn thing about it.”
His words hit hard, sinking into your chest and making it harder to breathe. There was no softness in his tone, no attempt to sugarcoat it, and yet, something about the way he said it felt heavier than anger—something deeper, unspoken.
“You didn’t think I could handle it?” you asked, searching his face for any crack in the armor he wore so well.
His lips pulled into a small, humorless scoff, and his dark eyes flicked back to you with an intensity that pinned you in place. “Nah, I know you can handle it,” he said, his voice firm, almost matter-of-fact. “That’s the problem.”
The weight of his words settled in your chest, catching you off guard. You didn’t expect the honesty—didn’t expect it to feel like both a compliment and a curse.
For a moment, the tension between you was palpable, the silence filled with all the things neither of you were willing to say.
“You’re in now,” Oscar said finally, his tone final and unyielding. “Ain’t no going back.”
“And you’re okay with that?” you pressed, narrowing your eyes as you stepped closer.
His lips twitched, not into a smile but into something darker, something more resigned. “Doesn’t matter if I am or not, you know how I felt about you getting jumped in,” he said, his voice soft but edged with something sharp. “You wanted it. Now it’s done.”
The finality of his words settled between you, heavy and unmoving. You wanted him to say more, to give you something—anything—to let you know what he really felt. But Oscar wasn’t the kind of man who gave away his thoughts easily, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to pry any deeper.
His words should’ve made you angry, but instead, they just sat heavy in your chest. He wasn’t going to give you a lecture or some heartfelt speech. That wasn’t his way.
But in the way his gaze lingered on you, in the tight set of his jaw, you knew he cared—maybe more than he was willing to say.
You sighed, the ache in your ribs a constant reminder of the price you’d paid. “So, what now?”
Oscar shrugged, finally stepping into the room. “Now? You prove I didn’t make a mistake letting you do this.”
Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you in a few deliberate steps. You expected him to say more, to give you one of his usual stoic remarks, but instead, his hand lifted, his calloused fingers brushing against your bruised cheek with an unfamiliar gentleness.
His dark eyes met yours, and for a moment, all the tension, all the unspoken words, melted away. His jaw tightened, and you saw it—just for a second—the crack in his armor.
Then he kissed you.
It wasn’t the slow, careful kind of kiss you were used to from him. It was rough, almost desperate, like he was trying to say everything he couldn’t put into words. His lips pressed against yours with a force that left no room for doubt, his hand cupping the side of your face as if anchoring himself to you.
It wasn’t just a kiss—it was an apology. A declaration. A promise.
You felt the anger in it, the frustration he didn’t know how to express. You felt the regret, sharp and cutting, for not being there when you faced what you had to face. And most of all, you felt the way he hated himself for letting you go through it at all.
When he pulled back, his breathing was uneven, his forehead resting against yours as his eyes closed briefly. “I wasn’t there,” he said quietly, the words heavy with everything he’d been holding back. “But I’m here now.”
The ache in your ribs was nothing compared to the ache in your chest, and as his words sank in, you felt something shift between you. Something that had always been there but was now impossible to ignore.
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ⋆ time passes ⋆ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦
The late morning sun cast long shadows across the porch of Spooky’s house. The Santos were lounging, the usual banter and jokes filling the air. Cesar leaned back on the steps, Sad Eyes stood near the railing with his usual unreadable smirk, and Spooky leaned against the wall, arms crossed, surveying the scene. You sat on the edge of a weathered chair, your bruises still aching but hidden beneath your shirt, the soreness a reminder of what you’d earned.
The roar of an engine cut through the lazy atmosphere, drawing all eyes to the street. Joker’s car pulled up, and the man himself stepped out, swaggering toward the group with his usual cocky grin.
“Yo,” he called out, stopping short in the driveway. His gaze landed on you, and his grin widened. “Heard Spooky’s bitch got jumped in.”
The porch went silent.
Cesar let out a sharp scoff, shaking his head as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Man, you really gotta be that stupid?”
Sad Eyes chuckled low under his breath, but his eyes flicked toward Spooky, who hadn’t moved. Spooky’s face was stone cold, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like he might snap. He didn’t respond, didn’t even flinch, but his gaze cut to you, hard and expectant.
This was a test.
If he stepped in, you’d never get the respect you were looking for. They were all waiting to see what you’d do—whether you’d hold your ground or fold under the pressure.
You let the silence stretch, the tension thick in the air.
Finally, you stood, slow and deliberate, brushing nonexistent dust off your jeans before taking a step forward. All eyes were on you now, but your expression didn’t falter.
“Spooky’s bitch?” you echoed, your tone light but sharp, like the edge of a blade. You tilted your head, your eyes locking on Joker with an unsettling calmness. “That what you heard?”
Joker raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting you to back down. “That’s what I said,” he shot back, his smirk unwavering.
You took another step, now close enough that the space between you felt electric. “Funny,” you said, your voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down his spine. “Because I don’t remember you being there. Was it past your bedtime?”
The teasing lilt in your tone made Cesar snort, and Sad Eyes’ grin widened slightly, but they stayed quiet, watching.
Joker’s smirk faltered for a split second, but he recovered quickly. “Doesn’t matter. You still Spooky’s—”
Before he could finish, you stepped closer, forcing him to take a small, almost imperceptible step back. “Say it again. Go ahead.”
Joker’s pride wouldn’t let him back down. His smirk disappeared as he squared up, closing the remaining distance between you. “What? You think you’re somebody now? Think you can take me just ‘cause you got a couple bruises?”
His face was inches from yours now, his tone dripping with arrogance as his gaze bore into you. But you didn’t back down. You met his glare head-on, a deadly calm settling over you as your voice dropped to a low, mocking murmur.
“I think,” you said, your words deliberate, “you should learn how to keep your mouth shut.”
The porch was dead silent, the tension almost crackling in the air. Joker leaned in closer, his breath hot on your face, clearly trying to intimidate you. “Or what? You gonna teach me?”
Your answer was immediate.
You feinted left, your body moving fluidly as your fist shot out in a clean, sharp jab to his jaw. The punch connected with a sickening crack, snapping his head to the side before he could even react.
Before he could recover, your right hook followed, driving into his face with enough force to make him stagger.
The final blow—a brutal uppercut—landed squarely on his chin, sending him reeling backward. His legs gave out, and he hit the ground hard, the force of your punches leaving him sprawled on the driveway, groaning in pain.
The Santos erupted.
“Damn!” Cesar shouted, his laughter cutting through the stunned silence like a knife. He leaned forward, slapping his knee as he doubled over. “She really did it!”
Sad Eyes, still perched by the railing, let out a low whistle that seemed to echo in the charged air. He tilted his head, his usual smirk stretching wider as he shook his head in mock disbelief. “Told y’all not to sleep on her,” he drawled, flicking ash from the cigarette he’d just lit.
Spooky, standing like a shadow against the porch wall, remained eerily still. His expression didn’t shift, but the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. Arms still crossed over his chest, he looked you over with that quiet, unreadable intensity he was known for. But his eyes gave him away. There was a glint there—a flash of pride beneath the hard exterior.
You rolled your shoulders back, shaking out the tension as you stood over Joker’s crumpled form. He was struggling to sit up, one hand clutching his jaw while the other pressed against the ground for support. His face was already swelling, the bruises stark against his skin, and his ego lay shattered around him.
Taking a single step closer, you leaned forward slightly, enough for him to feel your presence loom over him. Tilting your head, your voice came out smooth, dripping with mock sweetness that made the sting of your words hit even harder. “Think you got it?”
Joker’s glare shot up at you, hot with humiliation but dimmed by the reality of the situation. The fire that had burned in his eyes earlier was little more than embers now. He wiped the blood from his split lip, muttering something low and unintelligible under his breath.
Satisfied, you straightened up, turning away without sparing him another glance. The sound of your boots against the driveway was deliberate, unhurried, each step heavy with the weight of your victory.
As you reached the porch, you didn’t just sit—you sank into the chair like a queen claiming her throne, draping one arm over the backrest with a casual air of nonchalance. Your gaze flicked briefly toward Spooky, gauging his reaction.
He met your eyes, his face as stoic as ever, but the faintest nod of approval passed between you. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t flashy, but it carried more weight than any words he could have spoken.
Breaking the tension, Spooky’s voice cut through, cold and calm as always. “Get outta here.”
Joker didn’t argue. He staggered to his feet, swaying slightly as he shot you a final glare. But it was hollow now, stripped of the bravado he’d arrived with. Limping toward his car, he climbed in without another word. The roar of the engine and the screech of tires peeling out punctuated his retreat, leaving the street silent once more.
The buzz of energy returned to the porch almost instantly.
Cesar turned toward you, his grin wide as he shook his head in amazement. “Bruh, remind me never to get on your bad side,” he said, his tone half-joking, half-dead serious.
Sad Eyes chuckled, exhaling a plume of smoke as he leaned back against the railing. “She’s got more balls than half the fools here,” he said with a smirk, the words carrying a tone of genuine respect.
You smirked slightly, letting their reactions wash over you without letting it show how much they meant. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Spooky watching you again. He hadn’t said anything else, but he didn’t need to.
The look in his eyes—a rare mix of approval and quiet pride—spoke louder than anything. And you knew he’d let you know behind closed doors.
heyyyyy I am new here, but i love all of your fanfics They are amazing and I've been looking for someone who's been writing for spooky from on my block and I love it so much. Can you do a fic where y/n is ovulating like heavily 😩 but Oscar everytime she trys to have sex he tells her no because he's been stressed out from all the gang stuff until one day she just starts yelling at him because she want him so bad but he won't let her touch him then he gets mad and is like 'fine Is this what you wanted' then he like picks he up and throws her on the bed and fucks her roughly and he talks her through it the whole time?
Ik this is a long ask but I feel like you would write this story the best ty sm bye<333
-🪽
a/n: guys, y’all don’t have to apologise about long requests!! i love when you guys are detailed about what you guys want because it helps me feed y’all HAHAHAHAH. BUT YESSS, LOVE THE SPICE AND THANK U POOKIE FOR THE SUPPORT!!!
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The tension in the air was thick, the kind that had been brewing for days now. You could feel it every time you looked at Oscar, every time his broad shoulders seemed weighed down with stress, every time he brushed past your advances with a tired, “Not now, mami.”
But “not now” had stretched into what felt like forever, and you were done being patient.
Oscar sat on the couch, his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. The weight of the world seemed to be on his broad shoulders, the stress of the Santos and Prophets and keeping his loved ones safe taking its toll. He could feel your eyes on him, watching him with a mix of concern and frustration.
You stood in the doorway of the bedroom, arms crossed, your cheeks flushed a deep pink. The ache between your legs was becoming unbearable, your body crying out for his touch, his love, his seed.
You'd been dropping hints for days, weeks even, but Oscar had brushed you off each time, too consumed by his own thoughts and worries.
It started subtly - a suggestive comment here, a lingering touch there. You'd lean in close when talking to him, letting him catch a whiff of your perfume. You'd wear his favorite outfit, the one you knew made your curves look irresistible. At night, you'd sleep in his t-shirts, the scent of him surrounding you, fueling your desire.
One evening, as you cooked dinner together, you "accidentally" dropped your apron, letting it pool around your feet. You bent over slowly to pick it up, making sure he got a perfect view of your lace panties. He'd cleared his throat, trying to hide his reaction, but you saw the way his pants tightened.
Other times, you'd be a bit more direct. Like when you straddled his lap on the couch, tracing his defined chest with teasing fingers. "I miss you," you'd whispered, rolling your hips against his. He'd gripped your waist, his breath hitching, but still held back.
Or the time in the shower, steam fogging up the glass. You'd let out a loud, needy moan, hoping he'd hear you through the running water. But he just sighed, shaking his head as he washed himself, ignoring your desperate plea.
But nothing worked. No matter how much you tried to seduce him, to make him see how much you needed him, he kept his distance. Until that fateful day when you couldn't take it anymore - the ache in your core, the throbbing between your legs, the constant, gnawing hunger for his touch.
"Oscar," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "We need to talk."
He looked up, his dark eyes meeting yours. He could see the desperation etched on your face, the way your body seemed to be practically vibrating with need. But he was just too drained, too exhausted to give in to your desires.
"Not now, amor," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not in the mood."
Your frustration boiled over, months of pent-up longing and lust threatening to consume you. You stomped over to him, jabbing a finger at his chest.
"No, that's not good enough anymore!" you shouted, your face inches from his. "I need you. I need this. And you can't just keep brushing me off because of the fucking Santos!"
He only sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Mami, I’m not pushing you away. I just… I can’t right now.” he grumbled, his head down as if he refused to face you.
“Can’t or won’t?”
That made him pause. He stared at you, his expression unreadable, but you didn’t give him a chance to respond.
“I’m losing my mind over here!” you burst out, your voice trembling with frustration. “I want you, Oscar. I need you, and you keep shutting me out like I’m some kind of distraction.”
His jaw ticked, but he stayed silent, which only made your frustration grow.
“Do you even want me anymore?” you demanded, your voice breaking just slightly. “Because if you don’t—”
“Stop.” His voice was low, commanding, and it sent a shiver down your spine. He stood slowly, his full height towering over you as he closed the distance between you. “Don’t ever say that.”
You held your ground, even though your heart was pounding. “Then stop treating me like I’m invisible, Oscar.”
Something in his expression shifted—something darker, more intense. His gaze swept over you, lingering on the way your chest rose and fell with each shaky breath. “You really wanna do this right now?”
“Yes,” you said firmly, not backing down.
He stared at you for a long moment, his jaw working as if he was trying to decide whether to argue or give in. Finally, he let out a low, humorless laugh.
“Fine,” he said, his voice dropping to a growl. “Is this what you wanted?”
Before you could respond, he reached out, sweeping you up into his strong arms. He carried you to the bed, throwing you down onto the bed with a thud. He crawled over you, pinning your wrists above your head, his hips settling between your thighs.
"I'll give you what you want," he growled, his erection already straining against his jeans. "I'll fuck this needy pussy so hard, you won't be able to walk straight for a week."
"Please..." you whimpered, arching up against him desperately.
"Shh, I got you," he murmured, his hand slid down your body, his calloused fingers skimming over your sensitive skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, yanking them down your legs in one swift motion. The cool air hit your overheated flesh, making you gasp.
“Look at this pretty little coño," he purred, his thumb brushing against your dripping slit. "So wet and ready for me already."
He circled your clit with the pad of his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your hips buck off the bed. His other hand slid under your shirt, squeezing the soft weight of your breast, kneading it in his large palm.
"Fuck, I've neglected this pretty pussy for too long, huh?" Oscar growled, tugging your bra down to free your aching nipples. He dipped his head, his hot mouth enveloping one straining peak, sucking hard. His tongue swirled and flicked, teasing the sensitive bud until it throbbed almost painfully.
"Oscar!—" you cried out, fisting your hands in his shirt, holding him close.
He nipped and sucked at your breasts, lavishing them with attention until they glowed red and your skin tingled. All the while, his fingers never stopped their tortuous teasing of your pussy, dipping inside to stroke your slick walls, curling to hit that perfect spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids.
"Gonna fuck you so hard," he breathed against your skin, his voice rough with desire. "Fill this pussy up so full of my semen, hm? Is that what you want, mami?"
"Yes, please.." you begged, wrapping your legs around his hips desperately. "I need it inside me. Please, Oscar."
He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through your chest. "You’ve been so patient, baby. Gon’ give my good girl everything she needs."
Oscar sat back on his knees, his fingers still pumping in and out of your dripping cunt. He used his other hand to undo his jeans, freeing his massive, throbbing erection. It slapped against his stomach, already leaking precum, the musky scent filling the air.
"Fuck, you've been such a good girl, waiting so long for me," Oscar praised, his voice a low, approving rumble. He looked down at your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and lust-glazed eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "Couldn't ignore you any longer, could I? Not with this greedy little pussy begging for my cock."
His hand gripped the base of his thick shaft, aiming it at your entrance. With a swift, powerful thrust of his hips, he buried himself inside you to the hilt. A guttural groan tore from his throat at the exquisite sensation of your silky walls gripping him like a vice.
"Dios mío," Oscar gasped, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he savored the feeling of being inside you again. "So fucking tight and wet. You’re sucking me in, baby."
He started to move, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside before slamming back in, bottoming out with a forceful thrust. He set a hard, fast pace, the bed frame creaking and slamming against the wall with each powerful pump of his hips.
"Yes—yes, yes—" you cried out, your nails digging into his back. "I've missed you so much."
Oscar leaned down to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure. His tongue dominated yours, stroking and twining with your own as he continued to pound into you relentlessly.
"That's it, baby. Take this cock," he growled against your lips. "Wanted this for so long—fuuuck, fuck—Needed to show my pretty girl how much I miss her.."
His hand slid under your ass, tilting your hips to meet his increasingly forceful thrusts. The new angle allowed him to drive even deeper, striking that perfect spot inside you that made you see stars.
"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing my cock," Oscar panted, his lips brushing against your ear. "This coño was made for my dick. Gonna fill this hungry little hole to the brim, baby."
"Please, please fill me!" you whimpered desperately, your body shaking with pleasure as he chased your orgasm. "I need it, Oscar. I need your cum—"
"Gon’ give it to you then," he promised darkly, his thrusts growing more erratic as he neared his own climax, “You’re doing so good, baby, keep going for me.”
Oscar's hips slammed into yours with brutal force, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. “Eyes on me while I fuck you, amor,” His thick cock pistoned in and out of your sopping wet cunt, stretching you deliciously around his throbbing shaft. Each powerful thrust drove you closer to the edge, your body trembling with impending release.
"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight," Oscar grunted, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Gonna ruin this perfect little pussy. Fucking destroy it."
He captured your mouth in a filthy kiss, his tongue plundering and claiming every inch of you. Biting at your bottom lip, he sucked on it hard, pulling it between his teeth with a low groan. His other hand slid up to wrap around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you lightheaded with lust.
"Doing so good, baby," he snarled against your lips, his hips jackhammering into yours. "You want me to cum in you? Pump this greedy cunt so full of my thick seed, till it be leaking out of you for days? Want everyone to know that this hole belongs to me?"
"Yes, yes, please!" you babbled mindlessly, your eyes rolling back in your head as he fucked you stupid. "Want your cum so bad. Want you to fill me up. Breed me—"
Your pussy clenched and spasmed around his pistoning cock, the slick walls rippling along his shaft. The pleasure built to a fever pitch, your clit throbbing almost painfully with every brush of his pelvis against it. Oscar could feel your body tensing, your breathing growing shallow and fast. He knew you were on the verge of a massive orgasm.
"That's it, cum on this dick," he commanded harshly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass as he pulled you harder against him. "Squeeze the fuck out of my cock, baby. Milk me dry."
With a keening cry, your body seized, your back arching as your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave. Oscar fucked you through it, grunting with the effort of his thrusts as he chased his own release. He could feel your pussy gushing around him, drenching his cock and balls with your slick arousal.
"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck.." he roared, his eyes squeezing shut as his cock throbbed and jerked violently, erupting like a volcano deep inside your spasming cunt. "Take it, baby," he grunted, his voice echoing off the walls as he pumped wave after wave of molten hot, thick spunk directly into your fertile womb. "I’m gonna fucking ruin you."
You could only moan in ecstasy, your body shaking and trembling as you felt Oscar's potent cum painting your walls white. Jet after thick jet of jizz pumped into your hungry snatch, the sheer volume of it forcing your belly out slightly. It was pure, unadulterated bliss, being bred like a bitch in heat by your lover.
Your eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out as you moaned in rapture, feeling Oscar's potent cum flooding your insides, claiming your unprotected depths. It was so much, so intense, your flat belly bulging slightly with the sheer volume of his virile release. You could feel the obscene heat of it searing your most intimate places.
"Mnfh—Oscar!—" you mumbled, a moaning mess to the point where you couldn’t even fathom the idea of words other than his name, gripping his strong biceps for all you were worth, pulling him impossibly deeper into your hungry snatch as it milked him for every last drop.
"Gon’ paint your fucking womb white, baby. Knock you up like the cock-crazy slut you are."
Oscar grunted and shuddered above you, sweat dripping down his heaving chest as he rode out the aftershocks. He captured your mouth in a filthy, sloppy kiss, biting at your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. "Dios, what a good little cum slut you are," he growled into your mouth. "Milking my cock for everything it's got. This greedy pussy was made to be bred, no?"
You could only whimper and mewl in dazed elation, your mind completely fucked stupid on his seed-soaked cock. Your legs wrapped around his waist, locking your hips together as if afraid he might pull away.
After the storm of emotions had passed, the room was quiet, save for the sound of both your heavy breathing. Oscar didn’t move immediately, his body still pressed against yours as if he needed a moment to regain himself. You both lay there, tangled in the sheets, the heat of the moment still lingering between you, but now, the sharp edges of tension had softened.
Slowly, Oscar shifted, pulling away just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was intense but different now, filled with something tender you hadn’t expected. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.
“Shit, mami,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I didn’t mean to push you like that. I… I just had to clear my head, but you’re right. I shouldn’t have been shutting you out.”
You exhaled a shaky breath, the emotions from before still a little raw. “It’s okay,” you said, your voice quiet but steady, “just… don’t do that again.”
Oscar nodded, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your jaw. “I won’t,” he promised, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “I’m sorry for not being there for you when you needed me.”
You didn’t say anything right away, letting the silence stretch between you as you let the weight of everything settle. You could still feel the thrum of the connection you’d shared, but now it was quieter, more intimate.
He shifted again, pulling you closer this time, his arms wrapping around you in a protective, almost possessive way. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, grounding yourself in the rhythm of it.
“You good?” he asked, his voice soft as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
“Yeah,” you mumbled, closing your eyes. “I’m good.”
Oscar let out a breath, the tension that had been in his body easing as he held you. His hand traced lazy circles on your back, his touch soothing as he waited for your breathing to slow. After a moment, he pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for just a beat longer than usual.
“Next time, we’ll talk about it before I do something stupid,” he said quietly.
You smiled faintly, still feeling the warmth of his arms around you. “Next time,” you agreed.
Hi sweetie, don‘t know if you‘re still writing for omb but would like to request something
Kissing your ex‘s homie
Oscar and you broke up and you are at a party and see him kiss someone else and you get really upset and storm out, only for Sad Eyes to follow and comfort you. You both kiss and Oscar sees it and get really pissed 🫢
a/n: MERRY LATE CHRISTMAS GUYS!!!
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The music at the Santos party was loud enough to rattle the walls, the bass thrumming in your chest as you leaned against the kitchen counter with a drink in your hand. You’d been trying to stay cool all night, but it was impossible to ignore the way Oscar—your ex—was across the room with some girl clinging to him like he was the only man in the world.
You clenched your jaw, staring into your drink. You told yourself you didn’t care. Told yourself you were done with him, that he could do whatever he wanted. But the knot in your stomach wasn’t listening.
It got worse when you glanced up and caught him kissing her.
Something in you snapped.
You slammed your drink down harder than you meant to, the glass rattling against the countertop. Without a second thought, you turned on your heel and pushed your way through the crowd, ignoring the curious looks and murmurs as you stormed out the front door.
The night air hit you like a slap, cool and sharp compared to the heat inside. You stood on the front steps, taking a deep breath and trying to shake off the ache in your chest.
“Yo, where you goin’ like that?”
The voice cut through the quiet of the night, low and unmistakable. You turned, already knowing who it was before your eyes landed on him.
Sad Eyes leaned against the doorway, one shoulder propped casually against the frame, but his usual smirk was nowhere to be found. Instead, his dark eyes locked on you, studying you in a way that made your chest tighten.
“Don’t start,” you muttered, dragging your gaze away and staring out at the street.
You heard the soft scuff of his shoes as he stepped closer, his movements unhurried but deliberate, like he wasn’t about to let you off that easy. “I’m not starting anything,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost careful. “Just making sure you’re good.”
“I’m fine,” you snapped, though the words came out too sharp, too defensive. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, your fingers digging into your skin as you kept your eyes fixed on the asphalt.
Sad Eyes didn’t say anything for a beat, but you could feel his gaze boring into you, steady and unrelenting. “That why you left like someone lit a match under you?”
His tone wasn’t mocking, but the bluntness of it made your stomach twist. You turned to glare at him, but the look on his face threw you off. There was no judgment, no smirk, no teasing glint in his eye. Just calm, steady concern, the kind that made you feel exposed in a way you didn’t like.
You rolled your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from snapping. But when you turned to face him, the words spilled out anyway. “Why do you care, huh? Shouldn’t you be inside, pretending like you don’t notice him making out with some random girl?”
Sad Eyes tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “I noticed,” he said simply. “And so did you.”
You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, well, it’s none of my business anymore.”
He stepped closer, his voice low but firm. “Then why you out here lookin’ like it is?”
You didn’t have an answer for that. The lump in your throat made it hard to speak, and the sting behind your eyes only made it worse. You looked away, blinking rapidly, but Sad Eyes was already in front of you, his hand lightly touching your arm.
“You don’t gotta play tough with me,” he said, his voice softer now. “I know it hurts.”
The gentleness in his tone was your undoing. You looked up at him, the ache in your chest spilling over into your eyes. “I hate him,” you whispered, though the words felt hollow.
“Nah, you don’t,” Sad Eyes said quietly, a small, almost sad smile tugging at his lips.
Before you could stop yourself, you let out a shaky breath, and he pulled you into his arms without hesitation. His embrace was warm, steady, and for the first time all night, you felt like you could breathe again.
But when you pulled back slightly, your gaze caught his, and something in the air between you shifted.
His eyes, dark and unyielding, softened just enough to make your heart stutter. There was a vulnerability there you weren’t used to seeing, something unspoken but undeniably real.
You didn’t think. You didn’t hesitate. Your body moved on instinct, leaning closer until your lips brushed his.
It was tentative at first, the barest whisper of contact that sent a jolt through you. Sad Eyes froze for a split second, his breath hitching, but then his hands—strong, warm, and familiar—slid down to your waist.
His grip was firm but not demanding, and he kissed you back, slow and deliberate, like he was making sure you weren’t going to pull away. There was something careful about the way his lips moved against yours, like he was holding himself back, testing the boundaries.
The world around you faded, the muffled sounds of the party disappearing as the heat of his touch anchored you to the moment. For once, everything else—every doubt, every ache, every piece of anger—slipped away.
But then, sharp and cutting, a voice shattered the bubble.
“Yo, what the fuck is this?”
You broke apart instantly, your heart leaping into your throat as you spun around.
Oscar stood on the porch, his broad frame silhouetted against the light spilling from inside. His jaw was clenched so tight you could see the muscle twitch, and his eyes blazed with an intensity that sent a chill down your spine.
Sad Eyes shifted, stepping slightly in front of you, his movement subtle but protective. His stance was calm, his hands loose at his sides, but there was tension in the set of his shoulders.
“Ain’t what it looks like, homie,” he said evenly, though the edge in his voice gave him away.
Oscar’s eyes narrowed, his gaze cutting between you and Sad Eyes like a blade. “The hell it ain’t.”
The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, sharp and accusing. His posture was rigid, his chest rising and falling with barely contained fury, and for a moment, it felt like the entire street had gone silent.
Your heart pounded painfully against your ribcage, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making it hard to think, let alone speak.
Sad Eyes didn’t flinch, his stance as steady as ever, but you noticed the slight clench of his jaw. His usual calm, effortless confidence had an edge now, like he was ready for whatever was coming but still hoping it wouldn’t go there.
The two of them locked eyes, the tension so thick it was suffocating. It wasn’t just anger—it was years of shared history, loyalty turned sour, and words that neither had dared to say out loud until now.
And you were in the middle of it.
You opened your mouth to speak, to say something that might diffuse the situation, but nothing came out. You didn’t know what to say—didn’t know if there was anything you could say.
And for once, a small, defiant part of you didn’t know if you even wanted to.
Let him stew, you thought bitterly, your gaze darting back to Oscar’s clenched fists. Let him feel the sting of what it’s like to be on the outside looking in.
Your silence only seemed to fuel the fire, the crackling tension growing thicker with every passing second.
Sad Eyes shifted slightly, just enough to draw your attention. His voice was calm, but his tone carried an undercurrent of finality. “Ain’t your business no more, Spooky.”
Oscar’s eyes snapped to him, his expression hardening even further. “Like hell it ain’t.”
And there it was—a crack in the calm facade that both of them were barely holding together. And you, standing between the storm, didn’t know whether to run—or stay and see how it all played out.
Oscar’s glare darkened, his voice sharp as he took a step closer, fists still clenched. “You got some nerve, fool. After everything, you gon’ do this?”
Sad Eyes stood his ground, his expression unreadable but undeniably steady. “Ain’t like I owe you an explanation,” he said, his tone flat but with a razor-sharp edge. He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes cutting into Oscar with an unspoken warning. “You made your choices. Now you deal with ’em.”
Oscar’s laugh was low and bitter, his disbelief clear. “You think this is about me? About my choices? Nah, this is about you sneaking around like a snake.” His words lashed out, venom dripping from every syllable. “You couldn’t keep your hands off what’s mine.”
At that, your temper flared. You stepped forward, anger burning in your chest as you cut in. “What’s yours?” you repeated, your voice biting. “You don’t get to pull that card, Oscar. Not after I watched you with her all night.”
Oscar turned his glare on you, his jaw tightening as he struggled to come up with a response. His silence only fueled your frustration.
“You don’t own me,” you continued, your voice firm, your words cutting through the night. “We’re done. You don’t get to act like you still have your claim on me, especially when you were busy showing off for everyone inside.”
Sad Eyes crossed his arms, leaning casually against the porch railing, though his stance stayed slightly in front of you. The faintest smirk tugged at his lips, but his voice remained calm as he added, “She said it herself, homie. Done.”
Oscar took another step forward, his frustration boiling over. “You think this is funny?” His glare shot back to Sad Eyes, his fists tightening. “You’ve got no respect, huh? No loyalty?”
Sad Eyes shrugged, his calm demeanor as unshakable as ever. “I got loyalty where it counts,” he said evenly. “You? You let her go. That’s on you.” His tone dropped just slightly, becoming more pointed. “You don’t like what she does now? That’s not my problem.”
The nonchalance in Sad Eyes’ voice was like pouring gasoline on a fire. Oscar’s face twisted in anger, his breathing heavy. “You’re really gonna act like you’re not crossing a line right now?”
Sad Eyes met Oscar’s glare head-on, his voice dropping lower but losing none of its calm. “The only line that got crossed is the one where you thought you still mattered.”
The tension reached a boiling point, the air crackling with the weight of unspoken history and barely restrained tempers.
Oscar’s voice came sharp, slicing through the night air. “You really gon’ pull this shit with her? You’re tripping.”
Sad Eyes leaned back slightly, one hand resting in his pocket as he shook his head with an exhale that was almost amused. “Nah, you got it twisted, homes. You’re the one tripping.”
Oscar stepped forward, his posture stiff, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Fuck are you tryna say?”
Sad Eyes straightened, his smirk fading into something harder, something final. His voice dropped, calm but laced with a challenge. “I’m saying I’m claiming her.”
Oscar froze, his breath hitching audibly as his face shifted from fury to disbelief. “You what?”
Sad Eyes shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world, his stance loose and relaxed, but the fire in his eyes said otherwise. “You heard me,” he said, his words deliberate and unshaken. “She rides with me now.”
Oscar let out a harsh laugh, his hands flexing at his sides like he was ready to throw down. “You think this is some kind of game?”
Sad Eyes tilted his head, his lips quirking up in a lopsided grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Ain’t no game, Spooky. You had your shot, and you blew it. Now, she’s with me. End of story.”
Oscar’s jaw tightened, his chest heaving with barely restrained anger. “You think she’s just gonna go along with this shit? As if I ain’t lift my claim off of her 2 weeks ago?”
Your voice cut through the tension, sharp and bitter. “I do get a say,” you snapped, stepping forward so both of them had to look at you. “And I’m done with you, Oscar. Whatever this is, whatever you think you’re owed—it’s over. You don’t get to act like you care now just because you’re mad someone else does.”
Oscar’s eyes flicked to yours, the fury in them flickering with something else—hurt, maybe. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold, bitter edge. “You’re making a mistake,” he said, his voice low and almost pleading.
You held your ground, meeting his gaze with a steady glare. “The only mistake I made was staying with you for as long as I did.”
The words landed like a slap, and for a moment, Oscar looked like he might say something else, might try to fight for some kind of control over the situation. But then he just shook his head, muttering under his breath as he turned on his heel and stormed back inside.
The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you and Sad Eyes alone in the quiet of the night.
Sad Eyes let out a low whistle, running a hand over his jaw as he turned to you. “Damn, mami,” he said, his tone light but edged with something serious. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”
You shot him a look, the adrenaline still buzzing in your veins. “Don’t push your luck, Sad Eyes.”
He grinned, his usual smirk back in full force as he stepped closer, his hands finding their way to your hips. “Nah, I ain’t pushing anything,” he said, his voice soft but teasing. “Just saying—it’s good to see you standing up for yourself. Makes me wanna stand with you.”
You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in his gaze made your chest ache in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, but you didn’t pull away when his grip on you tightened, anchoring you to the moment.
“Yeah,” he said with a quiet laugh, leaning in just enough for his breath to brush your skin. “But you like me anyway.”
i would like to personally apologise for not adding a cut to my LONG ASS fics, BECAUSE I JUST REALISED WHAT IT WAS FOR AND I THOUGHT TUMBLR AUTOMATICALLY ADDED IT TO THE FIC ITSELF😭😭😭 IM STILL ADJUSTING TO THIS TUMBLR THINGN AND IM SORRY AND ILL BE ADDING IT TO ALL MY FICS I PROMISE!! IM SO SORRY YALL HAD TO SCROLL THROUGH THE WHOLE THING JUST TO GET TO ANOTHER POST😭😭😭 AGAIN IM SO SORRY
Sad Eyes and yn are best friends and hooking up once in a while (both are in love with each other but dont want to „destroy“ their friendship by becoming a couple, they talked about it) then Sad Eyes comes to the weekly Santos Party with some girl …
Happy or sad ending is up to you 😘
a/n: YES YESYESYESYES!! (p.s, currently have 4 more reqs in the inbox + 2 comment requests! will be getting to them soon! MERRY CHRISTMAS SZN!!!)
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The Santos party was in full swing, music vibrating the walls of the old house, the air thick with cigarette smoke, cheap cologne, and the smell of carne asada. You leaned against the counter in the kitchen, solo cup in hand, your posture easy, casual—but your eyes were anything but. They tracked the door every few seconds, waiting for a familiar frame to stroll in like he owned the place.
And then he did.
Sad Eyes walked into the house like a king entering his court. His hat was pulled low, his signature swagger intact. But it wasn’t just him. Some girl, all curves and confidence, was hooked to his arm, giggling at something he said like he was the funniest man alive.
You froze for a moment, the casual facade cracking.
He’d never brought a girl to one of these. Not in all the years you’d known him.
The worst part about it was that you recognised the look in the girl’s eyes—she liked him, maybe even loved him. It was all too familiar with you, and you hated to admit it, but you could read how she felt about Sad Eyes like an open book, because that’s how much you yearned for him behind closed doors.
“Yo, you good?” asked Joker, snapping you out of your spiralling thoughts as he raised an eyebrow at your expression.
You forced a smile, lifting your cup in a mock toast. “Always.”
But inside, it was like the floor had been pulled out from under you.
It didn’t take long for him to spot you. His dark eyes met yours from across the room, and for a second, the girl on his arm didn’t exist. He gave you a nod, the kind he always did—an unspoken check-in, a silent way of asking we good?
But tonight, you were anything but good.
You tilted your head, forcing a tight-lipped smile, and raised your cup in a lazy toast before turning away, pretending to be deeply engrossed in your conversation with a homegirl.
But as time dragged, you tried to enjoy the party, tried to ignore the weight of his presence as he moved through the room with her. But every laugh she gave, every time she leaned into him, felt like a knife in your chest.
Eventually, you slipped out onto the porch, the cool night air hitting your face like a slap. You leaned against the railing, trying to steady your breathing.
“You hiding out here?”
His voice was low, familiar, and it sent a mix of anger and longing rushing through you. You turned to find Sad Eyes standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, the girl nowhere to be seen.
You scoffed, shaking your head. “Nah, just needed some air. The place got a little too crowded, don’t you think?”
He took a step closer, his expression unreadable. “What’s up with you tonight?”
“Nothing,” you said sharply, turning away.
He sighed, stepping up beside you. “Don’t lie to me.”
You rounded on him, your voice low but sharp. “Why don’t you go ask your lil’ hyna what’s up? I’m sure she’d be happy to fill you in.”
His brow furrowed, and for once, you saw him falter. “She’s just a friend.”
You laughed, bitter and short. “Funny, I thought that’s what we were too.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” You crossed your arms, your tone defensive. “You walk in here with her, all smiles and hands all over each other, and you want me to act like it’s nothing?”
“You’re acting like I owe you something,” he said, his voice hardening. “We talked about this. We said—”
“We said we wouldn’t mess up the friendship,” you interrupted, your voice rising. “But you know what, Sad Eyes? Fuck the friendship. We ain’t just homies anymore. Not when you’ve got me out here feeling like this while you parade around with her.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, his jaw working as he tried to find the words.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said finally, his voice quieter.
“Yeah, well, you did,” you shot back, your tone losing some of its edge. “And the worst part is, I can’t even blame you. I agreed to this, right? Just friends. No strings. Just—whatever this is.”
For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the sounds of the party muffled behind the door. The bass thumped in a dull rhythm, voices and laughter blending into the background as if the world had pulled away, leaving just the two of you in the cool night air.
Sad Eyes shoved his hands into his pockets, his jaw tightening as he avoided your gaze. You could see the way his chest rose and fell, like he was trying to keep his breathing steady, to keep his composure.
“She’s not you,” he said suddenly, his voice rough and strained, as though the words were being dragged out of him against his will.
Your breath caught, your heart lurching at the weight of his admission. But you forced yourself to keep your composure, even as the words echoed in your chest like a taunt. “Then why bring her here?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.
He hesitated, his gaze finally meeting yours. There was something raw in his eyes, something that almost made you take a step back. “Because I thought…” He paused, his hands curling into fists at his sides before unclenching, his fingers twitching with tension. “I thought maybe if I tried to move on, I could stop wanting you—Thought I could stop thinking ‘bout the nights we spent together.”
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. They hung between you, heavy and unrelenting, filling the space with an ache you couldn’t ignore.
You shook your head, your voice breaking just slightly despite your best efforts to sound strong. “You don’t get to say that, Sad Eye. Not after this.”
He reached out, his fingers brushing your arm—tentative, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he had the right anymore. It was the kind of touch you’d once leaned into, but now it felt like a sharp reminder of everything he was trying to take without giving anything back.
“Don’t,” you said, your voice firm as you stepped back, putting space between the two of you. “You don’t get to have it both ways. Figure out what you want, and until then, don’t come looking for me.”
His hand fell to his side, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He opened his mouth, like he was going to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he just stood there, the silence between you stretching unbearably.
You turned away before he could see the tears burning at the corners of your eyes, refusing to let him see how much this moment was breaking you. As you reached for the door, you hesitated, just for a split second, hoping—praying—that he’d stop you, that he’d say something to fix this.
But he didn’t.
The door shut behind you, the pumping music now muffled, cutting you off from the night and the man you weren’t sure you could keep waiting for anymore.
For the rest of the night, you avoided him, but you could feel his eyes on you, heavy with everything left unsaid.
And in the moments when no one else was looking, and the seemingly never ending party being shut out in your mind, you let yourself wonder if maybe, just maybe, this friendship was already destroyed.
Reader is out with her male cousins driving around town and posting it on Instagram and Sad Eyes gets reaaaaaaally jealous.
a/n: wait anon i love this idea, I HAD SM FUN WRITING THIS I LOVE UUU
Spooky Version <-
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The streets of South Central were alive, buzzing with the low rumble of car engines and the hum of late-night activity. You were in the backseat of your cousin Angelo’s ride, laughing as one of your other cousins, Lucio, cranked up the volume on the stereo. The bass thumped through the air, vibrating in your chest as you leaned out of the open window, phone in hand, snapping pictures and recording clips for your Instagram story.
“Damn, this one’s clean,” you teased, flipping the camera to show Angelo grinning behind the wheel. “Y’all wish you could keep up.”
Lucio leaned into the frame from the passenger seat, throwing up a quick hand sign with a cocky grin. “We run these streets, prima. Let ‘em know.”
Your youngest cousin, Luca, peeked out from the other window. “Ain’t nobody touching this ride, and they know it.”
The car peeled down the boulevard, the neon lights of taquerías and liquor stores painting streaks of color across the windshield. You posted another clip, this one with the caption: Rolling with my primos tonight. Where y’all at?
It didn’t take long for your phone to start buzzing. But the text that popped up made your stomach twist in a way you wouldn’t admit.
Sad Eyes 🖤
“Who are these fools?” Seen 12:03AM
You smirked, reading the message as you leaned back in your seat, letting the night air whip through your hair.
You
“Just my primos. Chill.” Sent 12:09AM
It took him all of thirty seconds to reply.
Sad Eyes 🖤
“Don’t play with me. You know what it looks like.” Seen 12:09
You bit your lip to hide your grin. He didn’t even have to say it outright—you knew exactly what was eating him up. Sad Eyes wasn’t the type to blow up your phone or make a scene, but when something got under his skin, it showed. Subtle, but it showed.
You tilted your phone to record another clip, zooming in on Lucio, Angelo, and Luca hyping each other up as the car slowed at a red light. “Squad goals,” you said teasingly, making sure the camera caught you in the backseat, looking just a little too comfortable.
By the time you pulled up to your cousins’ spot, Sad Eyes was already waiting outside.
He leaned casually against his car, arms crossed over his chest, his fitted black tee showing off the tattoos crawling up his arms. His hat was pulled low, but you didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched as he watched you hop out of the car.
Angelo gave him a nod. “Yo, what’s good?”
Sad Eyes didn’t even flinch, his sharp gaze fixed on you, cutting through the warm night air like a blade. “Sup,” he said flatly, barely sparing them a glance. His focus stayed locked on you, a quiet challenge simmering in his eyes.
You walked over, your smile teasing as you tilted your head. “You stalking me now, Sad Eye?”
He raised an eyebrow, his expression cool but his tone sharp enough to cut. “Nah, just making sure you ain’t getting into trouble with these clowns.”
Lucio scoffed, stepping forward slightly, his chest puffed out just a bit. “Clowns? Man, who you calling a clown?”
Sad Eyes didn’t bother looking at him, his tone as casual as it was cutting. “The ones who don’t know how to keep my girl outta their stories.”
Your cousins bristled, but you rolled your eyes, even as your heart skipped a beat at the possessiveness in his voice. “Relax, vato. They’re my cousins,” you said firmly, stepping between them like a buffer.
Lucio crossed his arms, glaring at Sad Eyes. “Yeah, what’s it to you anyway?”
Sad Eyes finally glanced at him, his stare calm but lethal. “It’s everything to me,” he said blatantly. The weight in his voice left no room for doubt, and while you knew he didn’t believe you at first, the truth stood firm.
The tension thickened like smoke. Angelo shifted, stepping forward as if to press the issue, but you quickly waved him off. “Stop. This ain’t even that serious.”
“It is to him,” Lucio muttered under his breath, smirking like the instigator he was.
Sad Eyes’ eyes flicked to him for a brief second, sharp and unforgiving, but his focus settled back on you. “You done playing games, or you need me to stick around longer?”
“Games?” You tilted your head, crossing your arms as your voice took on a playful edge. “Since when does cruising with my family count as games?”
His jaw ticked, the tension in his shoulders apparent even in his usual nonchalant stance. After a beat, he exhaled sharply, clearly realizing he had jumped the gun. “A’ight,” he muttered, his voice quieter but still rough. “If they’re your primos, they’re your primos.”
“Damn straight,” Angelo said, grinning smugly and crossing his arms in a mirror of Lucio’s defiance.
Sad Eyes’ lip twitched as he finally turned to him, his voice steely. “Stay out of it, homes.” He didn’t even need to look directly at Angelo to make his point crystal clear.
He didn’t outright admit he was wrong—he never did—but the way his shoulders eased and his stance relaxed told you everything.
You stepped closer to him, your teasing bravado softening just a little. “You good now?”
He glanced down at you, his hand brushing against yours in that casual, deliberate way of his. “I’m straight. Let’s bounce.”
Luca, the youngest and most mischievous of your cousins, scoffed and leaned against the car door. “Man, she’s not going anywhere.” His tone held a hint of amusement, knowing full well how much Sad Eyes hated being challenged.
“She is,” Sad Eyes replied, his voice steady, his gaze cutting toward Luca with enough weight to silence him. “’Cause I said so.” He tilted his head toward his car, his stance daring anyone to argue.
You smirked, shaking your head as you turned to grab your bag. “Let me get my stuff first.”
“Make it quick,” he said, his tone clipped as he turned back toward his car, as if the little standoff hadn’t even fazed him.
Angelo whistled low, breaking the silence. “Yo, he’s something else.”
“Tell me about it,” you muttered, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “But that’s my man.”
Angelo snorted, dapping you up goodbye along with the rest of your cousins. “Good luck with that.”
By the time you climbed into Sad Eyes’ car, the tension had fizzled into something quieter, more intimate. He didn’t say much as he drove, his hand finding its way to your thigh, his grip firm and grounding.
“You really thought they weren’t my cousins?” you asked, breaking the silence with a teasing lilt.
He shrugged, his free hand resting on the steering wheel, his nonchalance back in full force. “Didn’t know. Didn’t like it. That’s all.”
You laughed, leaning back against the seat and letting the night air cool your face. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” he said, smirking slightly as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “But you still fuck with me.”
“Maybe,” you teased, resting your head against the window. “But only because you’re driving me home.”
His quiet chuckle rumbled low in his chest, and the way his hand tightened on your thigh said everything he didn’t need to.
Can you make one with you being in love with Spooky but he only has eyes for fineass Leti? and s.o. comforts you ?
a/n: i’m in love with this man
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The music was bumping loud and heavy from the backyard, the bass rattling the cracked driveway where you leaned against the hood of your car. It wasn’t just any car—this was your baby, the one you built from the ground up with grease-stained hands and sleepless nights, every detail tuned to perfection. You’d poured your soul into it, hoping it’d catch his attention. Hoping maybe, just maybe, Spooky would notice you the way you noticed him.
But tonight, like every other night, his eyes weren’t on you.
Through the open gate, you saw him posted up in the backyard, his signature stance all confidence and authority as he surveyed the Santos party. He didn’t miss a beat—his sharp gaze caught everything, but it always landed on Leti. She was draped over the patio railing, her smile bright as she leaned into him, her perfectly manicured hand brushing his arm.
Your stomach twisted, but you fought back the sting of tears, replacing it with a scowl. You weren’t the type to cry, especially not over a man. Still, it didn’t stop the ache in your chest every time he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world.
“Damn, girl,” a familiar voice drawled behind you. “You’re lookin’ like you wanna break something. Or someone.”
You turned to see Sad Eyes sauntering over, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his hat tilted low. His dark eyes scanned you, then flicked toward the party.
“Let me guess,” he said, leaning casually against your car. “Spooky and Leti?”
“Mind your business, Sad Eyes,” you muttered, crossing your arms and staring off into the distance.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “This is my business. You think I’m just gonna stand by and watch you torture yourself over him?” He gestured toward the backyard. “He’s blind. Straight up. That fool don’t see what’s in front of him.”
You clenched your jaw, refusing to let his words get to you. “I don’t care, alright? It’s whatever.”
Sad Eyes snorted. “Yeah, sure. That’s why you’re out here all mad-doggin’ the party like someone stole your ride.” He stepped closer, his tone softening. “Look, I know it hurts, but Spooky? That fool’s got his head so far up Leti’s ass, he couldn’t see you if you were in neon lights.”
You glared at him, your tough exterior cracking just slightly. “Why are you even out here, Sad Eyes? Don’t you have better things to do than lecture me?”
“Nah,” he said, slipping his arm around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m exactly where I need to be.”
His hand came up to the back of your head, his fingers running through your hair in a way that felt both strong and comforting. It was the kind of touch that reminded you of who you were—tough, capable, but still human.
“You built this car,” he said, his voice low. “With your own hands. You hold your own around here, ride or die for the Santos, and still manage to stay real. You think Spooky deserves that? Nah, he don’t. And honestly, I don’t know if he ever did.”
You swallowed hard, his words cutting through your defenses.
Sad Eyes tilted his head, studying you with a mix of sympathy and admiration. “Don’t waste your time on a vato who don’t see your worth. You’re too good for that.”
You looked away, blinking against the sudden burn in your eyes. “It’s not that easy,” you muttered.
“It never is,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before stepping back, something that was normal between the guys you looked up to—but tonight, perhaps it meant something different. “But you deserve better. And one day, you’ll believe that too.”
Sad Eyes glanced at you, a small amused smile pulling at his lips, “Trust me, I know all about this shit.” he said, his words holding a riddle that you hardly had to decipher if you weren’t focusing on the wrong thing—or rather, person.
The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the distant thrum of music filling the space between you.
Sad Eyes finally straightened up, his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Come on,” he said, jerking his head toward the street. “Let’s bounce. This party’s wack anyway.”
You hesitated, glancing back toward the backyard where Spooky and Leti were still wrapped up in their little world.
“Yeah,” you said finally, your voice steady. “Let’s go.”
As you walked away from the party, Sad Eyes’ arm draped protectively over your shoulders, you couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of hope. Maybe Spooky wasn’t the one. But maybe, just maybe, you deserved someone who saw you for who you really were.
could u pls write about oscar coming back from being locked up and angry at the reader for not coming to visit him. but when he sees her he sees she’s pregnant with his kid?
a/n: oh my gosh, i’ll never get over oscar being a dad! 😭
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Oscar’s fists clenched as he stepped up to the porch of the house you used to share. Every step carried the weight of his frustration, his confusion, and, most of all, his anger. You hadn’t come to see him once while he was locked up—not a letter, not a visit, nothing. For months, he sat in that cell wondering why the one person he thought would stand by him had disappeared.
When you opened the door, his jaw tightened at the sight of you. You looked startled, as if you hadn’t expected to see him standing there, eyes blazing and posture tense. He wasted no time.
“You couldn’t even visit me?” His voice was sharp, laced with resentment. “Not once? You just let me sit in there like I meant nothing to you?”
Your breath caught in your throat as his words hit you. “Oscar, I—”
“Don’t, chiquita. Don’t try to explain it away. I waited. Weeks. Months. And nothing. What was I supposed to think, huh?” He stepped closer, his voice rising. “That you didn’t care anymore? That you were out here, moving on while I was locked up?”
You flinched at his tone, one hand instinctively moving to your stomach. His eyes narrowed at the gesture, the anger in his gaze giving way to confusion as he stepped back.
“What are you—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes darting downward. It was then that he saw it. The unmistakable curve of your belly, round and prominent beneath your hand.
For a moment, the air between you stilled. His lips parted, but no words came out. His brows furrowed, and his breathing grew uneven as realization dawned on him.
“You’re… pregnant?” His voice was quieter now, but still tinged with disbelief.
You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “Yes.”
“With my kid?”
“Yes, Oscar.”
His gaze flicked between your face and your stomach, the storm of emotions playing out across his features. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come to see me?”
“I wanted to,” you said, your voice trembling. “But I couldn’t. I was sick, Oscar. The first few months were awful—morning sickness, fatigue—I could barely get out of bed some days.”
“That’s not a reason,” he snapped, though his voice lacked its earlier venom. “You still could’ve—”
“I was scared!” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “I didn’t know how you’d react. And then every time I tried to come, I’d get sick on the way there. The smell of the bus, the anxiety—it was too much. I didn’t want you to see me like that.”
Oscar’s shoulders sagged slightly as he took in your words. His gaze softened, though his jaw remained tight.
“You should’ve told me,” he said, his tone quieter now. “You think I wouldn’t want to know that you were carrying my kid? You think I wouldn’t want to be there for you?”
Tears spilled down your cheeks as you shook your head. “I didn’t know what to do, Oscar. I was trying to hold it together—for me, for the baby, for Cesar. I didn’t know how to do it all without you.”
Oscar ran a hand over his face, exhaling deeply. His anger, though still simmering, began to dissipate under the weight of your explanation. He stepped closer, his eyes locked on yours.
“Let me see,” he said softly, motioning toward your stomach.
You hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, letting him place a hand gently over the swell of your belly. His touch was tentative, almost reverent, as he let out a shaky breath.
“Damn,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been mad at you this whole time, and I didn’t even know…”
You placed your hand over his, squeezing it lightly. “I’m sorry, Oscar. For everything.”
His fingers curled slightly against your stomach as he shook his head. “You don’t gotta be sorry, mami. I just… I wish I’d been there. For you. For the baby.”
“We’re here now,” you said, your voice soft. “That’s what matters.”
Oscar nodded, his eyes glistening as he looked up at you. “Yeah. I’m here now.”
pov: You were Oscar’s ride or die, raising Cesar and holding everything together while he faced the chaos of Freeridge. But when he leaves the Santos—and you—behind, the life you built together unravels, forcing you to find a new path while the past refuses to let go.
(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4)
a/n: a/n: this beautiful request comes from my good friend @cheesesandwichsanto ! thank u very much for stinking with me till the end of the series! :) ALL PARTS OUT NOW! i will be getting back to requests!
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The atmosphere at Oscar’s house was thick, a strange blend of forced pleasantries and unspoken tension. You adjusted yourself in your seat, a hand resting on your swollen belly, while the other gripped the edge of the table. Across from you sat Isabel, her radiant smile not quite reaching her eyes, her own bump noticeable beneath her flowy dress.
Cesar sat to your right, his jaw clenched as he picked at his food. He hadn’t said much since arriving, his discomfort palpable. Oscar sat at the head of the table, every glance he shot your way tinged with something unreadable.
“So,” Isabel said, trying to break the silence, her tone light. “How far along are you?”
You offered her a polite smile. “Eight months,” you replied, your voice calm but distant.
Oscar’s expression faltered, his fork freezing mid-air. The weight of your words was deliberate, a reminder of the life you’d carried for years before he’d walked away.
Although, Isabel’s smile remained warm, though there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. “You’re strong, congratulations.”
You gave her a small nod, and for the first time, you noticed the sincerity in her tone. Despite your initial resentment, there was no malice in her. She was trying, and for that, you softened—just a little.
The dinner had fallen quiet—too quiet. The kind of quiet that suffocated rather than soothed, thick with tension and unspoken words. You kept your gaze down, your hand absently tracing circles on your belly as Isabel attempted to break the silence with polite conversation.
“So, um,” Isabel began, her voice light but slightly shaky, “what’s been keeping you busy, Cesar?”
Cesar didn’t answer immediately, his fork scraping his plate as he pushed the food around. His eyes never left Oscar, the two locked in a silent standoff that felt as though it had been years in the making.
Finally, Cesar spoke, his tone clipped. “Same stuff. Running the Santos. Cleaning up the mess Oscar left behind.”
The words hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving. Oscar’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his gaze steady and unyielding.
Isabel blinked, her smile faltering. “That must be… challenging,” she offered hesitantly, glancing toward you for support.
You nodded slightly, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes. “Cesar’s done a good job,” you murmured, your voice soft and neutral.
The silence returned, heavier than before. Isabel shifted uncomfortably, clearly picking up on the tension but unsure how to diffuse it. “And, um, how about you?” she asked, turning to you with a tentative smile. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
You forced a small smile, grateful for the neutral topic. “A boy,” you said, your hand resting on your belly. “He’s… healthy.”
“That’s wonderful,” Isabel said, her smile genuine. “Have you thought about names?”
You hesitated, glancing at Cesar briefly before answering. Taking a deep breath, you said, “Andres Gúzman.”
The room went still. Oscar’s fork clattered loudly against his plate as he stared at you, his eyes narrowing.
“Gúzman?” he repeated, his voice low and sharp.
“Yes, Gúzman,” you said, matching his tone with unwavering calm.
Oscar, however, was staring intently at you. His eyes, dark and piercing, traveled to your hand resting on the table. For a moment, he stilled. The faint glint of a gold band caught the dim light of the room, and realization dawned in his expression. His brows furrowed, and his jaw tightened as he pieced it together.
His voice broke the silence, rough and low. “Sad Eyes?” he asked, his tone tinged with disbelief and something else—something raw, almost pained.
You flinched slightly at the sound of his voice, your lips pressing together as you slowly looked up at him. “Antonio,” you corrected quietly, your tone calm but firm.
But Oscar wasn’t letting it go. He let out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. “Sad Eyes,” he repeated, the nickname laced with an edge. His gaze dropped back to the ring on your finger. “That why the name’s Guzmán now?”
You exhaled slowly, refusing to rise to the bait. “Yes,” you said simply, holding his gaze. “I’m married. To someone who was here for us.”
The words hit their mark, and you saw it in the flicker of emotion that crossed his face—sorrow, irritation, and something deeper, harder to place. His lips parted as though he wanted to respond, but nothing came out. Instead, he looked away, his hands tightening into fists on the table.
Oscar’s expression darkened, the words cutting deeper than he let on. He shook his head slightly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. “So, that’s what this is now? You and him?”
“Yes,” you said simply.
The weight of his stare pressed down on you, and for a moment, the table felt like it might break under the tension. Cesar, who had been quiet the entire time, finally leaned forward, his jaw set.
“Don’t even start,” Cesar warned, his tone low and commanding.
Oscar’s head snapped toward him, his frustration shifting for a moment. “Really, Cesar? You’re okay with this?”
“I’m not the one who left,” Cesar shot back, his voice cold. “She didn’t owe you anything, and neither does Sad Eyes.”
Oscar let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. “Sad Eyes? He was my right hand, my best man.” His gaze flicked back to you, lingering on your ring and then your belly. “And now he’s—”
“Careful,” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “Antonio stepped up when you walked out. He didn’t ask for this, but he’s been here for me, for Cesar, for this family. And if you have a problem with that, you can take it up with yourself.”
Oscar’s mouth tightened, but the words he wanted to say never came out. Instead, he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and pressing his hands together as if trying to hold himself back.
Oscar leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply. “You’re really trying to make a point, huh?”
You let out a humorless laugh, your emotions bubbling over. “A point? No, Oscar. I’m trying to raise a family—something you decided to walk away from.”
Oscar’s hands balled into fists on the table. “So that’s it, huh?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Sad Eyes. Guess he finally got what he wanted.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you asked, your voice firm but steady, though you could feel anger bubbling beneath the surface.
“Oh, come on,” Oscar shot back, his voice rising. “You think I didn’t notice? He’s been watching you for years. Quiet, loyal Antonio, always waiting in the wings. Guess he saw his chance and finally made his move.”
Your chest tightened, but you refused to let his words rattle you. “You’re unbelievable,” you spat, your voice trembling with anger.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Cesar cut in, his voice low but full of barely restrained anger. “You walk away, start a new life, and think it’s all good. Meanwhile, we’re the ones picking up the pieces, and when we do, it ain’t good enough for you.”
“Cesar,” you said, a hint of warning in your tone, but he ignored you, leaning forward slightly in his chair.
Oscar finally broke his silence, his voice calm but firm. “You think this was easy for me?”
Cesar scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a disbelieving smirk. “Easy? You don’t even know what hard looks like, man. You left us. Left her. You don’t get to sit here and act like you did us a favor.”
Oscar glared at Cesar with furrowed brows, a ‘tsk’ leaving his lips, “This is what I was talking about,” he gestured towards him, “the Santos are messing with your mind.” Oscar growled, struggling to keep his composure.
Cesar, however, was far less composed. Slamming his utensils onto the table, he stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.
“This is a joke,” he snapped, glaring at Oscar. “You invite us here, act like everything’s fine, and expect us to just sit here and play house? Even dissing my hood? When they were the ones backing us when you left. I can’t do this.”
The tension in the room was unbearable. You shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward Isabel, who looked more lost than ever.
“Cesar,” you said again, your tone pleading this time, but he wasn’t hearing it.
“I’m fucking done,” Cesar said abruptly, pushing his chair back with a screech. He stood, glaring down at Oscar. “Enjoy your perfect little life, Oscar. Just remember who had to clean up after you.”
He stormed out without another word, the sound of the door slamming echoing through the quiet house.
You let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for your water glass. Isabel opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it, glancing uncertainly between you and Oscar.
For a moment, no one spoke. The silence was deafening, broken only by the faint sound of Cesar’s car roaring to life outside.
Finally, Isabel cleared her throat, her voice soft but tentative. “I… I’ll just clean up,” she said, her chair scraped against the floor as she stood abruptly, her expression strained as she collected the plates. “Excuse me,” she muttered, retreating to the kitchen.
Oscar remained seated, his eyes fixed on the spot where Cesar had been. You stayed where you were, your gaze distant as you struggled to keep your emotions in check.
For a moment, you debated staying quiet, letting the awkward silence stretch on until Isabel returned. But something in his demeanor—the simmering anger, the bitterness in his tone—pushed you to speak.
“I don’t recognize you anymore,” you said finally, your voice quiet but firm.
Oscar’s head snapped up, his brows furrowing as he looked at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You gestured toward him, your hand trembling slightly. “It’s not just the tattoos being gone or the curls,” you said, your voice tinged with sorrow. “It’s… everything. The way you carry yourself, the way you talk. You’re not the same Oscar I knew, and I don’t know if it’s in a good way or not.”
Oscar’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. But then his shoulders slumped, and he leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face. “Maybe I’m not the same,” he admitted, his voice low. “But you’re acting like I’m the only one who’s changed.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “You think I wanted to change? You think I had a choice?”
After a moment of a pained silence, “Why did you come back, Oscar?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. A question that you seemed to have asked one too many times than you should have.
He didn’t answer immediately, his head dipping slightly as he exhaled deeply. “I wanted to make things right,” he said finally, though the conviction in his voice wavered.
You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “A little late for that, don’t you think?” But there was a hint of empathy stirring in your tone for him.
The silence stretched on, thick with unresolved tension. Isabel had taken solace in being retreated to the kitchen to give the two of you space, sensing the undercurrent of emotions neither of you dared to voice. You sat at the table, idly tracing your fingers over the rim of your water glass, doing everything you could to avoid Oscar’s gaze.
“You know,” he said after a long pause, his voice quieter now, “I didn’t expect you to wait around forever.”
“Good,” you shot back, your voice unwavering. “Because I didn’t.”
The room fell silent again, the weight of the unspoken filling the space between you. He didn’t look at you this time, his eyes fixed on a distant point on the wall as he struggled to contain the emotions threatening to spill over.
Isabel’s voice from the kitchen was the only sound that followed, her gentle humming a stark contrast to the storm brewing between you and Oscar. You weren’t sure how the evening would end, but one thing was certain: nothing would ever be the same again.
You sighed heavily, feeling the weight of his anger and the awkward silence left in his wake. Pulling out your phone, you texted Antonio.
Come get me. Cesar left. 9:27 PM Sent ✔️
It took some time before Antonio arrived, and in the interim, you found yourself standing on the porch with Isabel while Oscar lingered nearby, his eyes watching you closely.
Outside, the air was cool and crisp, the faint sound of traffic in the distance.
Isabel, sensing the tension, offered you a small, encouraging smile. “I know this is… complicated,” she began gently. “But for what it’s worth, I think you’re incredible. The way Cesar talks about you—it’s clear how much you mean to him.”
Her words caught you off guard. For so long, you’d resented her presence, the idea of her. But now, sitting here, you realized she wasn’t the enemy. She was just another piece of a story that had fractured long before she’d entered the picture.
“Thank you,” you said softly, meeting her gaze. “You seem… good for Oscar.”
Isabel only smiled, stepping inside the house and shutting the door behind her to give you and Oscar some time to say one last goodbye alone.
The rumble of Sad Eyes’ car pulling up outside broke the quiet tension that had settled over the front porch. Oscar glanced toward the sound, his expression unreadable but his jaw tightening ever so slightly. He already knew who it was before Sad Eyes stepped out of the car.
Sad Eyes’ shoes crunched against the gravel as he approached, his steps slow and deliberate. He stopped a few feet away, his dark eyes locking onto Oscar’s. For a long moment, neither man spoke. The air between them was thick with history—shared memories, fractured loyalty, and a bond that had once been unshakable but was now irreparably broken.
They stood toe to toe, not in anger but in the weighty silence of what was left unsaid. Sad Eyes’ stare was steady, unflinching, as if to remind Oscar of what had been lost, of what Oscar had chosen to leave behind. Oscar’s gaze didn’t falter, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of regret, or maybe just acknowledgment of the gulf that now separated them.
“Antonio,” you said softly, stepping between them. Your voice was calm but firm, a reminder that this wasn’t the place or time. “Wait by the car.”
Sad Eyes’ gaze shifted to you, and then to his unborn child that rested in your belly, his expression softening just enough for you to notice. He gave a small nod, his jaw still tight as he turned and walked back toward the vehicle. You watched him go, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly as he leaned against the car, his stance protective but restrained.
When you turned back to Oscar, his eyes were still on Sad Eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t say a word, but the look on his face told you everything—you didn’t need to choose sides. You already had.
“You still hate me?” Oscar asked quietly, his voice rough but sincere.
You turned to face him, searching his eyes for a moment before shaking your head. “No, Oscar. I could never hate you,” you said honestly. “I’ll always love you… but we weren’t meant to be.”
He nodded, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips. “You look happy with Sad Eye,” he said after a pause.
“I am,” you replied, your voice steady.
Your gaze drifted to the driveway, where his Impala once stood proudly, a relic of your shared past. “Where’s the Impala?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with nostalgia.
Oscar glanced away, a faint chuckle escaping him. “Sold it. Thought it was time to let it go.”
You nodded, the memories tied to that car flashing through your mind. “We had a lot of memories there,” you said, your voice laced with bittersweet warmth.
He looked at you then, his expression softening. “Yeah. We did.”
Sad Eyes cleared his throat from the car, and you turned toward him, ready to leave this chapter of your life behind.
“Take care of yourself, Oscar,” you said quietly before walking toward Sad Eyes.
As you slid into the passenger seat, you glanced back one last time, catching Oscar’s silhouette against the dim porch light. He raised a hand in a small wave, and for the first time in years, you felt a sense of closure.
The past had shaped you, but it no longer defined you. You were moving forward—this time, with Sad Eyes by your side and a future full of possibility ahead.
pov: You were Oscar’s ride or die, raising Cesar and holding everything together while he faced the chaos of Freeridge. But when he leaves the Santos—and you—behind, the life you built together unravels, forcing you to find a new path while the past refuses to let go.
(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4)
a/n: this beautiful request comes from my good friend @cheesesandwichsanto ! thank u very much :) (FINALE) pt 4 coming soon!
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The months following Oscar’s abrupt departure were some of the hardest of your life. Your home felt emptier, your heart heavier, and though you tried to keep things moving for Cesar’s sake, the cracks were hard to hide.
But Antonio—Sad Eyes—was there, just as he always had been.
At first, it was small things. Checking in to see if you needed groceries, fixing the leaky faucet Oscar always promised to get to, and walking you to your car after late shifts at work. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t push, just stayed in your corner like the steady presence you didn’t realize you needed.
One evening, as you sat together on the couch, the television droning in the background, Antonio leaned back with a sigh. “You eat today?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp, always watching you.
“Yeah, Cesar made me eat,” you admitted with a small smile, leaning your head against the cushion.
“Good,” he replied, but the furrow in his brow didn’t fade. “You gotta take care of yourself, amor. Can’t have you running yourself into the ground.”
His words, paired with the warmth in his voice, chipped away at the walls you’d been holding up. You found yourself laughing lightly, a sound you hadn’t heard from yourself in weeks.
“What would I do without you, Antonio?” you teased, though there was an honesty in your tone that made him glance over at you, his lips curling into a small smirk.
“You’d figure it out,” he said with a shrug. “But lucky for you, you don’t have to.”
Antonio sat across from you in the dim light of your living room, his gaze steady as he swirled the drink in his hand. The quiet hum of the neighborhood buzzed outside, but inside, the air felt heavy with the weight of his words.
“You know,” he began, his voice low and thoughtful, “back in the day, I was Oscar’s ride-or-die. His best man, in every sense. We did everything together. I had his back no matter what, even when it meant getting my hands dirty. I thought I knew him better than anyone else.”
You listened quietly, your hands resting on the warm mug of tea in your lap.
“But then,” Antonio continued, leaning forward with a sigh, “he left. Not just Cesar, not just the Santos—but you. And I’ll be real with you, amor… I don’t get it. I never understood how he could walk away from someone like you. You’ve always had his back, always held things down, even when he didn’t deserve it. Hell, you practically raised Cesar when the world wasn’t kind to either of you. How do you leave that?”
His words hit a tender spot in your chest, but there was no bitterness in his tone—only disbelief and quiet admiration.
Antonio rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes flicking to yours. “I know I can’t be Oscar. I don’t wanna be. But I’m here now, and I’m gonna do everything I can to be what you deserve. To support Cesar, to stand with the Santos, to stand with you. Whatever you need, I’m here.”
He leaned back, a small, wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I guess what I’m saying is… I’ll be your best man now, if you’ll let me.”
A soft laugh bubbled up from you, even as your eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Antonio, you’ve already been that for a long time.”
His grin widened at your words, a warmth spreading through the space between you. “Good,” he said, lifting his glass slightly in a quiet toast. “Because you’re stuck with me, amor.”
Over time, the heaviness in your chest began to lift. Antonio became your confidant, your partner in navigating life without Oscar. He treated you with a gentleness that contrasted his tough exterior, always finding a way to make you laugh or feel seen.
One night, after another long day, Antonio stopped by with takeout. As you ate together, he finally broke the unspoken question that had been lingering for weeks.
“You ever think about starting over?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes serious as they met yours.
You paused, your fork hovering mid-air. “Starting over how?”
“With me,” he said simply, his lips twitching into a nervous smile. “A date. Something real. No pressure, just… us.”
You blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. But as the words sank in, a warmth spread through your chest. Antonio wasn’t just offering you a relationship; he was offering you hope, a chance to move forward.
“Okay,” you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips. “Let’s see where this goes.”
From that first date, your relationship with Antonio flourished. He made you feel loved in ways you didn’t know you needed—whether it was the way he’d leave little notes for you to find, or how he’d insist on dancing with you in the kitchen, even when there was no music playing.
Cesar, though protective at first, quickly warmed up to the idea. He saw how happy Antonio made you and how the two of you had each other’s backs, just as you’d always had his.
Antonio became more than just your boyfriend; he became your partner in every sense of the word. The trust and love between you two were unshakable, and he made it clear that he was in this for the long haul.
A year after that first date, Antonio surprised you with a weekend trip to Las Vegas. You thought it was just for fun—a getaway to escape the usual hustle of Freeridge. But on the second night, as you walked together along the Strip, he stopped abruptly, pulling you aside.
“Can I ask you something?” he said, his voice unusually serious.
You tilted your head, a playful smile on your lips. “You’re already asking me something.”
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Then, before you could say another word, he dropped to one knee, pulling a small box from his jacket pocket.
Your breath caught in your throat as he opened it, revealing a simple but beautiful ring.
“Marry me,” he said, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “I know it hasn’t been easy, and I know I can’t fix everything you’ve been through, but I promise you this—I’ll love you, protect you, and stand by you for the rest of my life.”
Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, your hand covering your mouth. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “Of course, yes.”
The two of you wasted no time. The very next day, you exchanged vows in a small, intimate chapel. It wasn’t elaborate or flashy, but it was perfect—just the two of you, promising forever.
As you walked hand in hand out of the chapel, a new sense of hope and happiness settled over you. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.
Antonio squeezed your hand, a grin spreading across his face. “So, Mrs. Guzman, what’s next?”
You laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Anything we want, Antonio. Anything we want.”
Soon enough, you, Antonio and Cesar being a family became the new normal—and sure enough, it was the only thing that felt right after months of sorrow.
But you’ll never forget that quiet Tuesday evening, the hum of the television barely audible as you reclined on the couch, rubbing soothing circles over your growing belly. Antonio stood at the kitchen counter, slicing vegetables with the ease of someone who’d learned to make himself at home in your life. His quiet whistle filled the space, the kind of calm you’d come to treasure: simple, peaceful, normal.
The front door creaked open, and Cesar walked in, his phone in hand, his expression tight. The tension in his shoulders was unmistakable, and the flicker of something unreadable in his eyes put you instantly on edge.
“You’re coming with me,” Cesar announced, waving his phone in your direction.
Antonio paused, his knife stilling mid-slice as his brow furrowed. You straightened up slightly, the weight of Cesar’s words cutting through the easy atmosphere of the evening.
“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice steady but cautious, one hand resting protectively over your belly.
Cesar exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair as he avoided your gaze. “Oscar invited me to dinner at his place.”
Your stomach sank at the mention of his name. It had been over a year since you’d last seen Oscar—since he left you standing in the ruins of what used to be your life. The thought of stepping back into his world now, especially after everything, felt like ripping open a wound that had barely begun to heal.
You exchanged a glance with Antonio, whose jaw tightened ever so slightly. “And?” you asked carefully, though you weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer.
“And I told him I wouldn’t go unless you came with me,” Cesar said, his tone leaving no room for debate. His words hung heavy in the room, an unspoken plea evident in his posture.
“Why me?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s the point of dragging me into this?”
“Because you’ve always been there for me,” Cesar replied, his voice softening slightly. “You didn’t just raise me—you stood by me while I took over the Santos. You fought for me, even when I didn’t deserve it.” He sighed, his voice steady but laced with frustration. “And because if anyone deserves to see how he’s been living, it’s you.”
You swallowed hard, glancing at Antonio again. He moved closer, resting a hand on your shoulder with gentle reassurance.
“Are you sure about this, mano?” Antonio asked, his voice calm but edged with concern.
Cesar nodded, his expression unwavering. “I have to go. But I can’t do it without her.”
You sighed, rubbing your temple as the weight of the situation settled in your chest. It wasn’t just the idea of facing Oscar—it was the reality of walking into his new life while you stood firm in yours.
“Fine,” you said finally, your voice resigned. “But don’t expect me to stay long.”
As Cesar turned toward the door, his shoulders squared with the kind of resolve you’d seen him carry since he took over the Santos, he glanced back. “Be ready in an hour.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence in the room was deafening. Antonio kissed your temple softly, whispering, “I’ll be here when you get back.”
You gave him a small nod, the unease in your chest twisting tighter. Watching Cesar navigate the pressure of running the Santos had been hard enough—walking into that dinner as part of his support system, while Oscar sat across the table, would be harder still. But one thing was certain: Cesar needed you.
You just hoped you were ready for what waited at that dinner table.
