𝐸𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓃𝒶

Immense writers block | 17 | she/her | moots? ♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 🍒;

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IMITADORA: Chapters & Info

Disclaimer

Playlist

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

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Imitadora: VII

𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 "𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲" 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐳 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

The fluorescent lights of the skills lab hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the epoxy floors. Their soft buzz, alongside the faint scent of antiseptic and latex, filled the room. Every Tuesday [Y/N] spent hours in this laboratory. That meant getting up at six so she'd have three hours to get ready for practicing injections and wound care until noon.

Professor Garcia's voice cut through the quiet, sharp and precise. "Now, as you bandage the mannequin remember what we've been practicing," she instructed, pacing between the rows of students. "Too loose and it'll fall off, too tight and you're cutting off circulation."

[Y/N] exhaled slowly, her fingers slowly moving inside her pink latex gloves. She adjusted her goggles with her arm, glancing at her reflection in a nearby glass anti-septic bottle. She rolled her eyes. 'XTra XTreme Holding Gel,' she thought wryly, shaking her head. 'Fake ass advertising.'

Her brown eyes locked onto the mannequin in front of her, its wounded plastic waiting to be covered. Today, [Y/N] was practicing deep wound care, something she'd grown to have an interest in. Being effective while keeping the patient as comfortable as possible was something Professor Garcia stressed continuously. [Y/N] wanted to perfect that. The bandage in her hands felt fragile like porcelain, like if she pulled it too hard it'd crumble to pieces in front of her. She tested the tension cautiously until it felt perfect. She slowly began to wrap the bandage around her mannequin's thigh.

"For anyone around [Y/N], the pressure she's applying is perfect." Professor Garcia echoed through the room as she paused beside [Y/N], nodding in approval. The compliment warmed her chest, but it didn't ease the gnawing doubt in her gut.

The students nearby leaned in, their own bandages forgotten for a moment, watching as she wrapped. Their silent judgement weighed heavily on her.

If [Y/N] were to say nursing was easy, she'd be lying. However, the thought of being someone who could bring light into people's lives while they were drowning in darkness made it more than worth it to her.

It had been weeks since she'd last done any hard substances. There was vodka now and then when she—occasionally—went clubbing, but it was only enough to give her a buzz. College had become hectic these past couple of weeks as [Y/N] entered the final semester of her last year to earn her ADN. This meant a lot of studying, cramming, and mental preparation for her preceptorship. Finally, she'd get a taste of the real deal. To say she was nervous was an understatement. Staying on track to take her NCLEX exam meant everything to her, if she fell behind she wasn't sure if she'd be able to afford the financial strain of catching back up.

That paranoia was the exact reason she took a step back from the routine she had grown so used to over the past five years. Whenever she felt herself slipping, she called it a night. Walked away before things got ugly. Her tire popping had been a wake-up call. She'd rather drown out her problems with her academics in the safety of her home, where she wouldn't have to worry about anything rather than being drunk at the club, risking getting herself into major trouble.

Her friends had been very supportive, which helped her attempt to sober up a lot. While they still went clubbing—which [Y/N] had no problem with—they made sure to plan alternative hangouts that [Y/N] could participate in. Coffee dates, movie dates, whatever helped make sure [Y/N] was still included. She'd also noticed her mother had started taking more morning shifts, and fewer night shifts. It was clear what the driving factor behind that was, but [Y/N] brushed it off. Her mind focused instead on the nights she now got to have with her mother and brother. They were just like old times.

Dinner was always cooking, if not already done, when [Y/N] got home now. The house was regularly warm and bright—unlike how it was when her mother took night shifts. Her mother's favorite music would be playing in the kitchen, while Matteo would be in the living room either playing video games. It was like a scene from her earlier days in high school got repainted, except this time she was a young adult and her brother was in his early days of high school.

"Once you finish, get ready to start cleaning your stations." Professor Garcia said, glancing at the clock above her desk.

[Y/N] was one of the students who had finished first, so she began cleaning up her area. She celebrated silently with a soft smile on her face. She wiped down the mannequin's surface, her movements methodical, before gathering her supplies. Today was one of the days [Y/N] was able to leave a few minutes early, which wasn't often. Usually once class finished up, Professor Garcia would have some finishing notes to go over before she'd commence class, and that tended to take about fifteen minutes. Today, [Y/N] was more than ready to go home. She'd have a couple of hours to herself to study in bed before she'd have to pick up her group information and patient assignments for the next day.

She slid into her car, the engine purring to life as she tossed her bag into the passenger seat. She sighed softly, closing her eyes as she sank into her seat. Finally. She could relax for a moment before she hit the road.

Knock Knock.

Her eyes fluttered open, darting to her window. At her window, she saw her classmate, Simone. She was a woman with beautiful brown skin and the prettiest pixie cut [Y/N] had ever laid eyes on. It had tempted her to get one of her own. She rolled down the window, softly smiling. "Hey girl, what's up?"

The two were well acquainted as their schedules aligned almost perfectly. Due to this, they tended to work together in lecture halls and labs whenever the assignment permitted. They were able to connect quickly due to their shared opinions on the ways the healthcare system was lacking. While [Y/N] wasn't sure if Simone was from Freeridge, it sounded like the communities they were brought up in were very similar.

"Hi! I hope I'm not bothering you," Simone softly chuckled, waving. "I just wanted to catch you before you left. We're having another study group, do you wanna join?"

[Y/N] grinned, she knew exactly what Simone was referring to. For a few weeks now, she had been going to a couple of study groups with some of her classmates whenever she got invited. She liked connecting with them, the interactions always left a warm feeling in her heart. Plus, one day they'd be coworkers. Better to learn how to work together now rather than later. It wasn't often that she was able to do things with them outside school, so she more than happily accepted it whenever the opportunity presented itself during the school day.

"That sounds fun," she said. "Sure, why not? Which library is it today?"

"The Burbank Public Library, I'll see you there." Simone smiled, waving [Y/N] off.

"Okay, see ya!" [Y/N] replied, waving as Simone walked off. She rolled her window back up, the hot California air no longer hitting her face. Her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning at seven. [Y/N] glanced at her watch: 12:32. That made sense. She'd stop by a cafe and pick up something to eat before heading to the library.

***

The Burbank Library was unusually empty that afternoon, with predominantly elders or women with toddler-aged children strolling around. [Y/N] was located in the study area of the library, where there were glass, soundproof rooms that housed small groups of students. She sat with four other of her classmates, including Simone.

To her right was Simone, her notes spread out neatly in front of her.

To her left was Javi, a cinnamon-toned young man with a grown-out buzz cut and thick glasses. He was the one who set up these study groups. Like Simone, his schedule aligned with [Y/N]'s often. He was pretty technical, which got annoying at times, but he was very reliable when it came to needing quick answers and academic support.

Across from [Y/N] was Gia, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed young woman. Before the study groups, she didn't know much about her besides the fact that she seemed nice. Their schedules rarely aligned. However the more the two interacted, the more [Y/N] learned that Gia was soft-spoken yet fierce at times. She had a lot of patience, but didn't stand back when her buttons were being pressed.

Then there was Hassan, who [Y/N] really knew nothing about before the study groups. He tended to keep to himself. He was the type to only engage in professional conversations, never aiming to reach his classmates on a personal level. He was still like that, however, it seemed like he was slowly starting to open up. After all, he agreed to participate, so there had to be some part of him that wanted friendship.

"Non-steroidal Anti-Inflammatory Drug," Gia said, raising her hand. Her natural blonde hair glowed softly under the overhead light. The group was having a flash round, where one of them would call out the abbreviation name of a medicine or condition, then the rest would race to be the first to call out the first term.

"Correct!" [Y/N] replied, softly smiling.

Javi muttered to himself, adjusting his glasses as he repeated the phrase under his breath. "Non-steroidal Anti-Inflammatory Drug..."

"You like repetition a lot, don't you?" Hassan asked, observantly looking over at Javi.

"I do, I retain the information a lot better that way," Javi replied, his gaze flicking up to Hassan before down to his notes. "I'm taking it you're not a big fan of repetition?"

Hassan shook his head. "Nope," he began tapping his temple softly "What goes in once, stays in forever."

"That's cool," Gia said, pushing her notes forward slightly. "As you guys can see, I don't know what I'd do without my notes." She softly chuckled, watching as the group leaned in to scan her tiny, densely packed writing.

Simone nodded, studying Gia's notes. "You gotta do what you gotta do," she then leaned back. "Okay, next. My turn." She picked up a small piece of paper from the bowl in the middle of the table. "This one's easy," she muttered, frowning. "What's short for glucose?"

"Gluc!" [Y/N] called out, her hand springing up before the others. "That was really easy, who put that in?"

The group shrugged in unison.

"I think these are just from the flash game templates Dr. Gale offered us in lecture hall," Javi said, glancing over at the bowl. "I only used them twice, I kinda underestimated them."

"I didn't," Hassan said, a rare smile tugging at his lips. To [Y/N]'s surprise, he seemed to not only be enjoying himself—but even opening up a little. "This is kind of fun, though. We should include a prize."

"No prizes, we'd only focus on winning rather than learning," Javi snapped. There was that annoying side [Y/N] had come to know. Javi looked dead serious, his face straightening.

Hassan shrugged. "Just an idea."

Gia turned to Javi, her tone gentle but firm. "Soften up, you sound like a strict high school teacher." She adjusted herself in her seat, flipping her hair back. "Competition means working harder to earn the winning spot. Plus, we'd have to actually know what we're talking about to win."

Simone nodded in agreement. "I like where your head is at."

Javi hesitated, his brow furrowing. He wasn't against having some fun—he was just worried that feelings could get hurt with competition. He didn't want the study group to go awry after it had been doing so well. He had gotten them together because he wanted to start making some nursing friends, and so far that had been a success.

Hassan gestured towards Simone and Gia. "You heard them."

Javi looked over at [Y/N], his expression expectant. "What do you think, [Y/N]?"

[Y/N]'s eyes flicked up from her notes, she wasn't expecting the attention to turn to her. She looked around the table—all eyes were on her. "I mean majority rules right?" She questioned with a small smile.

Gia grinned and leaned in towards [Y/N]. "I knew I was gonna like you!"

Javi sighed, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "Alright, alright. We can add prizes," he looked around at the others. "What are we thinking?"

The group paused to think.

"Winner gets a bottle of wine," Simone suggested, her eyebrows raised. Her eyes darted around the group, waiting for their responses.

"That works for me," Javi shrugged "It's gotta be white, though, if I win."

The speed round ensued. Each term that was called out, created a scrambled frenzy from each group member as they tried to find the answer. As quiet as they tried to keep it, the room couldn't help but burst into an uproar now and then, causing people passing by to give them looks. It was moments like these that gave [Y/N] a sense of stability and a hope for her future.

When things got rough in high school, she didn't have a vision for her future. She didn't really want to think about her future as a matter of fact, however, that changed when her mother practically dragged her into volunteering at the hospital. [Y/N] had always been very familiar with her mother's compassion—she had always known she wanted to continue it. The question was just how. When [Y/N] helped tend the hospital grounds, she got to interact with patients who were on a morning stroll. The more some of them saw her, the more they stayed to chat for a bit while she picked up trash or weeded the garden. Slowly but surely, she began developing a connection with not only the patients, but the nurses wheeling them around.

The patients always seemed very comfortable with their nurse, which always made [Y/N]'s heart melt as she wasn't clueless to the horrors that went on in corrupt hospitals. It was good to know that her mother's hospital was far from that. It made [Y/N] want to fight against the corrupt hospitals and aid in growing the number of good ones. Then it clicked. She could become a nurse.

"Alright so," Gia said as she finished up tallying. "It looks like Simone was able to answer the quickest, so she's our winner!"

The table softly clapped, smiling at Simone. "So when am I getting my red wine?" She questioned, softly smiling back at them.

"The next time we meet up," Javi replied. "However I think Hassan should cover it since this was his idea after all."

"I'm way ahead of you Javier," Hassan interjected, his head down as he counted the dollar bills he had on him. "You'll have your wine before next week, Simone."

[Y/N] glanced at her watch: 2:45pm. "We should probably start wrapping up right now," She said as she looked back up at the group. "I know some of us have to get our patient assignments for tomorrow, myself included." Her gaze turned towards Simone, who nodded in agreement.

"Well today was fun," Gia smiled. "I don't have a clinical shift tomorrow, so I can stay a little bit longer if anyone else wants to"

"I'll stay," Javi said "I could use the extra studying." He then looked over to Hassan, who was packing up. "I'm taking it you're leaving too?"

"Yep," Hassan nodded. "I don't like overstaying my welcome."

"Well I'll see you guys next week then," [Y/N] said as she finished gathering her things. She softly waved off the group before exiting the room, heading towards the exit. Today felt like it was going to end in yet another success. Not only did [Y/N] get to further connect with her peers, but she could clearly see the rest of the day ahead of her. Once she'd get her patient assignments, she'd be able to study them until her mother got home, and then the night would end the same way it had been ending for the past couple of weeks. Dinner with her mother and Matteo then off to bed she'd go with a smile on her face.

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Imitadora: VI

𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 "𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲" 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐳 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

[Y/N] nuzzled into the bedsheets, the familiar scent feeling almost intoxicating. She smiled softly, pulling the blankets closer.

'Wait.' She thought. She paused, this bed didn't feel like hers.

She bolted upright, her eyes flying open. [Y/N]'s gaze shot around the room—she knew exactly where she was. 'Fuck.' She buried her face in her hands, groaning. She couldn't believe she landed herself here.

[Y/N] winced as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, a jagged pain splitting through her head. She braced herself against Oscar's nightstand, her fingers digging into the wood. The room spun for a moment before steadying.

She exhaled sharply, forcing her legs to stop trembling. As her eyes scanned the room, she noticed not much had changed since the last time she'd been here. Not the desk with notebooks on top, not the undecorated walls, not the way the morning light slanted through the blinds.

Then, something glinted in the crack of his closet, catching her attention. [Y/N] hesitated, then walked over, the cold floorboards against her feet making her cringe. She slid the doors open slowly, knowing she shouldn't be snooping. She paused, eyes widening at what she saw.

A box. Not just any box though—a box Oscar kept specifically for her to keep her things for whenever she spent the night. It was stuffed with the remnants of her old life. Clothes she'd outgrown, outdated statement jewelry, things she hadn't thought about until this moment. On top of it all was a small stack of Polaroid photos.

Her breath hitched.

She picked up one of the pictures, her eyes slowly scanning it. She and Oscar were at a block party, and she was grinning ear to ear. His arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her close for a kiss while his free hand held a beer bottle. She was wearing a white crop top with small denim shorts. She had spent twenty minutes perfecting it, yet it was mostly covered by the polo she had on top to match Oscar. She had rolled up the sleeves to her elbows, believing it looked cuter that way.

"No way..." A soft smile formed on her face.

She traced the edge of the photo with her thumb, her chest tightening. Despite it being a small picture, it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

Beneath the pictures, her old clothes were folded neatly. Tribal prints, chevrons, skinny jeans in colors she'd forgotten could even be dyed on denim. She let out a humorless laugh. Those trends were long gone, buried under layers of nostalgia and regret.

'Why does Oscar still have all this stuff?' That thought weighed heavily on her mind.

That question clawed at her. This on top of the way he approached her the other night, the way he looked at her. This meant nothing good. She sighed, closing the closet with a soft click. Her fingers lingered on the wood for a second before she turned towards the door. She wanted to jump out the window and leave that way—then she wouldn't have to interact with Oscar or talk about what happened last night.

She exhaled sharply as she exited, the smell of French toast filling her nostrils. The kitchen was just ahead, and she could hear Oscar moving around—the clatter of pans, the sizzle of food.

She took a deep breath and walked in. "Good morning."

Oscar glanced back at the sound of her voice. "Good morning." He replied, his attention on the pan on the stove in front of him. "How'd you sleep?"

"I slept fine." [Y/N] replied as she took a seat at the dinner table. She fiddled with the hem of her dress. There was an awkward silence between them. "So.. Thank you for taking me in last night, I'm sorry if I did or said anything embarrassing."

Oscar chuckled, nodding "It's no problem," he set a plate of French toast down in front of her. "It wasn't too hard to get you back inside after you ran out."

"What?" [Y/N] paused, her brows furrowing deeply. She put her fork down.

"You ran out screaming about needing a blunt," Oscar said, sitting down in front of her. "Some people came out too." He smiled down at his plate, cutting a piece of French toast for himself.

[Y/N]'s jaw slightly dropped. She groaned as she buried her face in her hands. Embarrassment flooded her whole being. Not only did she have to deal with a hangover, but now she had to deal with that on her conscience. Then, the sound of Oscar's laugh caused her head to snap up.

"Aye, I'm just joking [Y/N]." He said, chuckling softly. "You didn't do all that."

"You asshole!" [Y/N] snapped, a smile of relief forming on her face. "You scared me!" She put a hand over her heart to emphasize.

"My bad," Oscar smiled, biting into his French toast. "I couldn't help myself."

The two began digging into the food on their plates, the room going silent. Now and then, [Y/N] glanced around, scanning the house. Like Oscar's room, not much had changed within the rest of the house. She smiled to herself, memories of her attempting to help Oscar decorate flooding her mind.

"What time is it?" [Y/N] suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

Oscar swallowed his food before replying. "Around eleven," he said, glancing at the clock. "Do you gotta be back home right now?"

"Not yet." She shook her head. "I don't have anything I gotta do today besides work tonight."

Oscar nodded, his gaze turning to his food. "That's nice." He moved his French toast around on his plate absentmindedly. "It was a nice surprise seeing you there last time."

"It was definitely a surprise to see you too, Spooky." [Y/N] replied, setting her fork down with a clink. She watched his face darken in irritation.

Oscar's fork paused mid-air, his body tensing. "Why do you keep calling me that?" He questioned, brow raised. The sound of his street name coming from her mouth didn't sound right to him.

[Y/N] pushed her plate away. "Is that not your name?" She asked, confused.

"On the streets it is," Oscar said. "But not here."

"I mean... We were when you approached me at work." [Y/N] awkwardly laughed, still not seeing the issue. They weren't close anymore—heck, they didn't even really know each other anymore. Addressing Oscar by his street name made it easier for [Y/N] to emotionally distance herself from him. She could avoid any old, lingering attachments. "Besides, it's like your nickname."

"Yeah, to everyone else." He sighed, putting his fork down. Hearing her call him by his street name made it feel like they were strangers—like he was just another gangster on the street to her.

"I'm sorry, I don't see the issue here," [Y/N] said, her head tilting.

"There's no issue, it's just weird," Oscar replied. "You never called me that before, so why are you calling me that now? It's not like you."

[Y/N] paused, 'It's not like me?" She thought. That sentence rubbed her the wrong way.

She chuckled bitterly, shaking her head. "It's not like me?" She repeated, her brows raised. "You don't even know me anymore," she snapped, "we're practically strangers right now Osc—"

She pressed her lips together, realizing her near slip-up. The expression on Oscar's face told her that he'd caught it too.

"This was a mistake." She sighed in defeat.

Oscar's brows furrowed, "What do you mean this was a mistake?"

"Coming here," [Y/N] replied. Regret washed over her. A couple of nights ago she told Oscar he'd never see her again. Yet here she was, having breakfast with him. She was at a constant mental battle—her seventeen-year-old self arguing with the woman she'd become. One side wanted to forget him, but the other had never let him go in the first place. The confidence she had that she was over Oscar was quickly fading, and that scared her.

"Coming here was a mistake." She then winced, a sharp pain piercing through her head. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"How was it a mistake?" Oscar questioned, his voice edged. "Your car is back home safe, and you're safe. You didn't have to worry about any bullshit happening."

[Y/N] sighed, still rubbing her nose. "And I'm grateful for that, truly," she said, lowering her hand so she could look at him. "There's just been a lot of shit going through my mind lately." She admitted softly, she then paused. "If not Spooky... What am I supposed to call you?"

"Oscar." He stated firmly.

[Y/N] nodded softly, sucking her teeth. She knew exactly what this was about, but she refused to acknowledge it. It was clear that Oscar still harbored feelings for her, but she couldn't let herself face that. If she did, that would mean she'd have to fully unbox years' worth of memories and emotions she had suppressed. She couldn't let herself give in.

"I gotta go," She said, standing up. "I appreciate you for taking me in, really. I don't know what I would've done last night without you."

"Of course," Oscar replied, standing up behind her. "I'll drive you home."

[Y/N] opened her mouth to protest but he made it to the door with his keys faster than she could speak. She swallowed hard. "Okay." She gathered her things.

The ride to [Y/N]'s house was silent. There wasn't any tension—which [Y/N] was thankful for—just a silence that neither of them wanted to break. The two were hyper-fixated on the millions of thoughts that raced through their heads. They wouldn't have been able to hold a proper conversation even if they tried.

[Y/N] smiled at the sight of her car in the driveway. Oscar fulfilled his promise. However, her relief was short-lived. Her heart dropped. Parked beside her car was another vehicle—her mother's. She was just getting home at that.

"Fuck." [Y/N] muttered, watching her mother climb out of her car. Her mother wouldn't be pleased with this sight—[Y/N]'s car in the driveway, Oscar dropping her off mid-morning, her disheveled appearance. It all screamed a hookup.

Her mother turned around at the sound of the engine, arms crossing when she spotted the car. She knew that car well.

"Thank you so much for your help," [Y/N] said as she scrambled to unbuckle her seatbelt and gather her things. "Goodbye." She closed the door before Oscar could respond, their eyes locking one last time before he drove off. Leaving her in the dust.

"[Y/N]." Her mother's voice was like thunder.

[Y/N] took a deep breath and turned around. "It's not what it looks like," She said cautiously. If she played her cards right, her mother might not chew her out.

"Then what is it?" Her mother asked with a raised brow. "Because it looks like you just got out of that Diaz boy's car." Her mother's eyes scanned [Y/N]'s body from head to toe as if she were giving her an X-Ray.

"I did," [Y/N] sighed. "My tire popped last night, Mama. Oscar was my only choice for help."

"What about the girls?" Her mother shot back, this wasn't going to be an easy one to get out of. To say her mother disliked Oscar was an understatement.

"They were clubbing," [Y/N] replied. "They don't answer their phones when they go out"

Her mother sighed, shaking her head. "I keep telling you girls that you need to stop all this hard partying." She said, her frustration clear as day. "It leads to nothing good—look where it left you!"  Her eyes began darting quickly darting across [Y/N]'s figure again. "You didn't do anything with him, did you?"

"No!" [Y/N] shook her head frantically, frowning. "Never! I didn't even mean to stay over!"

"You need to rethink your priorities [Y/N]." Her mother scolded, her disapproval evident. "I get it's fun to party and all, but when it's leading you to open doors that should remain closed?" The dark-haired woman paused for emphasis. "It's probably time to lay off. You have too much to lose."

"I'm not trying to open closed doors, Mom. It was an emergency." [Y/N] tried to explain. "How else would I have gotten home safely?"

"By not drinking in the first place," Her mother's frown deepened. "You're too good for this. You're young and beautiful—the world is in the palm of your hands." Her mother said, holding [Y/N]'s shoulders. "You're better than the substances you indulge in, and you're far better than that boy who just dropped you off!"

[Y/N]'s gaze drifted to the side as she remained silent, listening to what her mother had to say. There it was again, yet another reminder that she needed to quit her substance use. It felt like that had been constant in her life lately, like some force was trying to tell her to quit before it was too late.

"You're an adult now, I can't control how you cope with your feelings anymore but I am your mother," her mother firmly said. "And as your mother I refuse to stay silent when I see you behaving in ways you shouldn't. Do not allow your heart to overpower your head!"

"My heart?" [Y/N] questioned, confused. "What do you mean?"

Her mother sighed in irritation. "You know what I mean," she said. "Don't start getting ideas about that boy."

"Of course not!" [Y/N] gasped, eyes widening. "Trust me, I'm not planning on it!" She couldn't believe her mother was suspicious of her harboring feelings for Oscar.

"Things don't always go to plan." Her mother said, squeezing [Y/N]'s shoulders lightly. "I had planned for your father to be in the picture, yet he left as soon as Matteo was born. Don't make the same mistake I did, honey."

[Y/N] sighed, nodding softly. She knew her mother was right. She was aware of the on-and-off relationship her mother and father had—and the pain of his leaving. Her mother had given him chance after chance, and yet he'd failed every single one.

"I'm not going back to him, Mom," [Y/N] firmly assured, grabbing onto her mother's hands. "I just needed help. I'm never gonna speak to him again."

"It better remain that way." Her mother replied, looking deeply into her daughter's eyes. Her gaze was intense, almost scary. [Y/N] had never seen her look at her like this before.

"I promise it will." [Y/N] replied. She was confident she'd never see Oscar again, she wasn't planning on it.

[Y/N]'s mother nodded in approval, a soft smile appearing on her face. "C'mon, let's go inside. I'd like to lie down."

[Y/N] nodded, following her mother inside. While she believed she'd keep her promise, something deep inside of her twisted. It was almost as if she wanted to see more of Oscar now that he was back. She brushed the feeling off, blaming it on nerves.

[writersblockbrb]

Imitadora: V

𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 "𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲" 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐳 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐂𝐖: 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐞

A/N: Sorry for the wait!! It's been a very hectic work week. I didn't proofread as carefully as I usually do, I wanted to get this chapter out of my drafts asap. Some parts may be chunky or there may be grammatical errors, I apologize.

[Y/N]'s heart pounded out of her chest, the night around her feeling as if it'd eat her alive. She had gone ahead with seeing if Oscar could help her. Initially, her journey to Oscar's house was peaceful—the quiet of the night having a soothing feel to it.

Until it didn't.

The further [Y/N] walked away from her car, the more the quietness of the night felt wrong. It had become too quiet. The air began to feel thick, as if it were pressing against her—crushing her. The sound of her own blood pulsing rang through [Y/N]'s ears.

Then suddenly, a distant crack echoed from behind her. She froze, shoulders locking in place. She reluctantly turned her head only to see nothing behind her. Her hands began to tremble as she picked up her pace, the walk feeling longer than just ten minutes.

The feeling of being watched began to overwhelm [Y/N], her head turning back every so often to make sure she wasn't being followed. She wasn't, in fact, being watched. However, the mixture of cocaine and tequila in her system was blocking  her sense of logic.

Then, a streetlamp flickered.

[Y/N]'s breath hitched as the darkness behind it warped into something jagged—something that shouldn't exist. She whipped her head away, stumbling back into a gate. She squeezed her eyes shut before looking again.

The figure was gone. Now she was really freaked out.

She forced herself to walk away. Her feet felt heavy, as if she'd sink into the ground if she stepped too hard. The sidewalk beneath her felt unsteady, like it was wobbling, and the air felt thick in her throat—it was suffocating. Her instincts snapped. [Y/N] kicked off her heels, snatching them up as she broke into a run.

Her feet began to ache as they slapped hard into  the pavement, but she didn't care. Her lungs burned, vision blurring at the edges. The world around her wrapped—houses leaned in, streets began to stretch, shadows moved on their own. A cold sweat broke out on her neck even though the night wasn't that cold.

Then, a stray shard of glass cut into the sole of her foot. She gasped, nearly losing her balance. She swallowed hard. She couldn't stop running. Something had to be behind her. Every fiber in her being screamed it.

Tears pricked her eyes as she made it to the front lawn of Oscar's house. She scurried to the front door, banging on it as if her life depended on it.

Then, the door swung open—Oscar, with a dark look in his eyes that she had never seen before, appeared behind it. His body language was tense, as if he were about to pull something from behind his back. Then he realized it was [Y/N]

"[Y/N]?" His voice was sharp with shock. He looked over to the weapon in his hand and sighed deeply. "What the hell are you doing here banging on my door at this hour?" Oscar frowned, his initial shock turning into irritation. "You know damn well you can't be doing that shit with me. I almost mistook you for—"

[Y/N] cut him off with a sob, her arms wrapping around herself. She looked down, trying to hide her tears from Oscar. His initial aggression had been her final straw that night.

"I'm sorry," He quickly said, his tone softening immediately. "I thought you were someone else. I almost—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to scare you," He wanted to hug her, but he knew she wouldn't accept it. He didn't want to upset her more. "Just tell me what's going on inside."

[Y/N] limped as she went to step inside.

Oscar furrowed his brows in concern as he helped her sit on the couch.

"My tire popped," [Y/N] shakily said. "I was just trying to make it home, and then it—it just popped." Her voice cracked. She wiped her tears away. "I didn't mean to piss you off, your house was just the closest."

"I'm not mad." Oscar said, hands in his pockets. "I thought you were someone breaking in," he said apologetically. "How far away is your car?"

"Ten minutes," [Y/N] replied, swallowing hard. She cringed as Oscar turned on a lamp—the sudden light hurting her eyes. She had gotten used to the dark.

Oscar paused, his eyes flicked to the red spots he noticed on the floor. Small prints of blood marred the floor. "Are you bleeding?" He frowned.

[Y/N]'s sobs picked back up at that question. The substances in her system were taking their toll. Usually she would've been home by now, and her night would end smoothly, not like this. It was clear that her 'temporary antidepressants' were starting to show their true nature.

"I'm sorry!" She choked out, her hands flying to the sides of her head. "I can't do this right now."

Oscar's stomach twisted. She'd walked ten minutes in this disheveled condition. Ten minutes in Freeridge during nighttime. The thought of someone taking advantage of her predicament infuriated him.

"Take a couple breaths for me," He said, sitting beside her. To his surprise, she leaned into him, gripping his shirt. He hovered his hands, unsure if he could hug her. Finally, he rested one on her upper back, rubbing slowly.

"Where's the car?" He took deep breaths into his chest. There were probably makeup stains on his shirt now, but he didn't care; [Y/N] mattered more at this moment.

"Where Olive and Lake cross," She mumbled against his chest. "By the RV Rental place."

Oscar nodded. "I'm gonna make a couple phone calls, okay?" He said, slowly pulling away from [Y/N], who initially didn't want to let go. "I won't be long, I'll be right back."

[Y/N] nodded, sinking into the couch as Oscar walked towards the bathroom.

"[Y/N]'s here?" Caesar's whisper was sharp, laced with confusion. He poked his head out of his room, eyes wide.

"Go back to bed." Oscar snapped, the bathroom door clicking shut behind him before Caesar could react.

Caesar frowned, caught off guard by Oscar's sudden harshness. He lingered in the doorway for a moment longer before retreating to his bed. He'd ask questions in the morning.

Oscar returned shortly after, a medkit in one hand and one of his long-sleeved polos draped over his arm. "I called up a couple guys, your car will be back at your place by tomorrow morning."

[Y/N] nodded as Oscar draped his polo around her; she pulled it tighter around herself.

He knelt down in front of her, gently lifting her injured foot. He wanted to ask why she was running barefoot, but the heels laying beside her and her current mental state made the answer obvious.

She winced as Oscar dabbed an antiseptic wipe to the sole of her foot, trying to pull away, but Oscar held her in place.

"I know it stings," He said, trying to be more gentle. "But I gotta do this. You already know this, right? Aren't you a nurse or somethin' now?"

[Y/N] let out a weak chuckle. "I'm a shitty excuse for one," She sighed, her gaze drifting over to the lamp across the room.

Oscar frowned. "Don't say that,"

"But it's true," She replied, resting her head on her hand. "What kind of nurse knows all about the harm of drugs, all while using drugs herself?" Her smile was self deprecating. She felt like a big hypocrite.

"One that's prolly got some heavy shit to deal with and needs a break," Oscar said, wrapping a bandage around her foot.

She watched him finish, then let out a small, tired laugh. "You could say that again."

Oscar put her foot down on his knee, his hand brushing against her ankle as he collected glitter. "What's with all the glitter?"

"I like to go clubbing," [Y/N] replied, her brows furrowing. "Was that not obvious?"

Oscar shrugged. He'd just been trying to make conversation. "I don't do clubs often." He said, "Too many rules and shit, block parties are where it's at."

"Yeah, they're where all the shootouts and fist fights happen," She shot back. "Remember

Leti's party? Her brother pulled out a knife in the backyard, and you dragged me out of there like your life depended on it."

Oscar sucked his teeth, shaking his head. "That was some baby shit. I knew they weren't gonna do anything."

"And yet you still rushed me out the moment you saw a knife pulled out," She said, her voice sharp. She could remember that party like it was yesterday—Oscar's shouts as he practically dragged her out of the party still ringing in her ears.

"I ain't want you to get stabbed," Oscar replied, throwing his hands up softly.

"See? That's exactly why I go to the clubs." She said firmly, sitting up slightly. "Security doesn't play about weapons, and girls get in for free on weekends."

Oscar let out a short laugh. "Of course you'd like that, you were always after the princess treatment."

"Because I deserved it," [Y/N] confidently replied. "And you happily gave it to me."

"I had no other choice, woman," Oscar smirked, plopping down beside her. "You would've been on my ass—I had to keep you happy."

[Y/N] giggled, a genuine smile breaking through. She felt her heart skip a beat. She paused. No. It wouldn't be wise to give in to that skip—to allow herself to consider rekindling things with Oscar. She averted her gaze away, a pit forming in her stomach.

She pressed her lips together hard as if she were trying to stop herself from vomiting up words.

Oscar's smile slightly faltered, his brows furrowing a bit. "Hey, you okay?" He asked as he leaned towards [Y/N].

She shifted her gaze back to him. Reluctant for a moment. "Why did you cheat on me?"

Oscar's face completely dropped. A pit formed in his stomach. There it was—guilt and disgust washing over him.

"Was I just not good enough for you?" She snapped.

"You were more than enough." He firmly said, frowning deeply. "I was an ignorant, selfish boy. I took you way for granted."

She swallowed hard, still looking at Oscar. "I wish you never did that."

Oscar pressed his lips together, nodding in agreement. He remained quiet, knowing his words wouldn't be enough to convince [Y/N] that he truly felt remorse.

[Y/N] pulled away from him slightly, a sharp pain piercing through her head. "My head is killing me right now," she sighed.

"I have pain medicine," Oscar offered. "I don't think you should be taking that right now, though."

"I shouldn't." [Y/N] confirmed. "At least that's one thing I listened to from my studies," she sank deeper into the couch, her blinks slowing as exhaustion crept in. "Do you have any ice packs?"

Oscar nodded, standing. "I'll get you one," he paused mid step. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah," she mumbled, eyes closed. "Do you have chips?"

"I'll get you some," He turned towards the kitchen, his mind racing. His thoughts were full of questions regarding when and how [Y/N]'s substance use began. While she wasn't a stranger to drugs when they were together, she didn't use them often. Now, she seemed a bit too familiar with them—as if she'd gotten comfortable.

His stomach twisted—perhaps he was a part of the reason [Y/N] was like this at this moment. He swallowed hard. That thought stung. His mind went back to the state she was in when she first arrived, disheveled and sobbing. If it weren't for the drugs, she wouldn't have been in a frenzy—and if it weren't for him, she probably wouldn't be so comfortable getting on highs.

He sighed deeply, a wave of self disgust washing over him as he turned back towards the living room. "Hey, I got your—"

[Y/N] had fallen fast asleep, her upper body slumped against the couch. She breathed softly through her mouth, her hair slightly covering her face.

'Crap.' Oscar thought.

Oscar hesitated. Now it'd be harder to get her home. He didn't want to wake her up; he knew she needed all the rest she could get right now. However, he wasn't sure if she had plans in the morning. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, weighing out the pros and cons of letting her stay the night.

Eventually, he made his decision. Oscar gently lifted [Y/N] into his arms and carried her towards his bedroom. His head spinning from the different what-if scenarios. He pushed them away, deciding to go with his gut.

He laid her down in his bed, tucking her in the way he remembered she liked, absentmindedly. For a moment, he stood frozen, staring at her face, memorizing it. After he'd drive her home in the morning, he probably wouldn't be this close to her again. His chest ached with regret. He exhaled sharply and stepped out, closing the door behind him as he made his way back to the couch. Another sleepless night.

He wasn't aware that this wouldn't be the last time he'd see [Y/N].

[writersblockbrb]

Imitadora: IV

𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 "𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲" 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐳 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

The next few days passed in a blur. [Y/N] didn't tell anyone about her interaction with Oscar, not having enough energy to deal with the topic.

It was finally Saturday, which meant today was a clubbing day, except that for the first time, [Y/N] wasn't sure if she wanted to party tonight. This week had left her feeling drained, the urge to sleep the weekend away washing over her like a tsunami. She'd be able to enter the upcoming week with the mindset that this last week was just a weird dream.

She sighed, pushing her textbook away as she turned away from her desk. Her mother was at work, and Matteo was hanging out with his friends, leaving her alone at the house today. [Y/N] grabbed her phone, navigating towards her group chat with the girls. She immediately began typing.

"Are we going clubbing tonight?" Send.

She waited for a moment for a response, her face lighting up when she saw Beatriz was typing.

"Yeah, unless you had something else in mind"

[Y/N] paused; this was her opportunity to say she wasn't feeling like going out tonight. She began to write out that she wasn't feeling like partying tonight and that the girls could go without her, but then she stopped. The memory of the euphoria she felt the last time she snorted a line of white powder came back to her mind. That felt like it would help her more than sleeping sober would. She could get plastered, then sleep the weekend away. That felt safer than just sitting with the weight of the week until she fell asleep. At least with the powder, she could numb herself to forget—even if it was for a little bit. Just like she normally did.

"No, I might leave early tho." Send.

She put her phone back down, her attention going back to her textbook. Davis's Drug Guide for Nurses. She chuckled; the jokes wrote themselves. Here she was, a nursing student—someone she felt should arguably be healthier than the average person—studying a textbook on drugs while she was addicted to drugs.

'One day,' She thought longingly, her brows slightly furrowing at the textbook as her lips pressed against each other. One day she'd be ready to get over her addiction, go clean, and never look back. Perhaps by that point she'd be a successful nurse, sharing her story of addiction to inspire young medical students battling addictions—give them hope that this doesn't have to be forever.

[Y/N] closed the textbook, no longer feeling the want to study. Her room was beginning to feel too small, the walls too close. She went over to her dresser, yanking open a drawer to pull out some athleisure to wear. With nothing else to do, and not wanting to waste gas on mindlessly driving around, [Y/N] decided to go for a run.

* * *

Like usual, the weather was hot—[Y/N] was beginning to sweat out the gel in her slick-back ponytail. She took a chug of the water she'd brought. She wanted to focus less on the heat and more on ending her run with a strong finish.

"Hey [Y/N]," A suave voice called out, causing [Y/N] to stop in her tracks as she turned her head towards the direction it came from.

Sad Eyes walked towards her; behind him were a couple of Santos members surrounding his car. It looked like they were in the middle of working on it.

"Sad Eyes, hi," [Y/N] spoke, looking up at the tall man as she wiped sweat off her forehead.

"I knew that was you running down the sidewalk," Sad Eyes began, slightly smiling. "The guys tried to say my eyes are going out." He chuckled; he then looked [Y/N] up and down. "So what's up? You run now?"

"I had nothing else to do," she shrugged. "Matteo's out with his friends, and I got tired of studying, so I figured why not run?"

"Studying?" Sad Eyes questioned, his brow raising in interest.

"I'm trying—well, not trying, I'm becoming a nurse," [Y/N] said, a soft smile forming on her face. She always lit up when the topic of her studies to become a nurse came up. "Specifically a registered nurse." She added.

"Oh cool," Sad Eyes said, nodding his head. "So you're who I'm gonna see the next time I land in the hospital."

"I guess so, yeah," [Y/N] chuckled, genuine smiles forming on both of their faces. It then went quiet between them. While [Y/N] never had any issues with Sad Eyes or the rest of her old acquaintances, for that matter, it was their association with Oscar that drove her away.

"It was good seeing you the other night, it was a good surprise," Sad Eyes said, breaking the silence. "I never reached out after you and Spooky broke things off because I respected your space—I wasn't tryna linger around where I probably wasn't welcome."

[Y/N] nodded, the tight curls in her ponytail bouncing. "I get that, thank you," she replied. "It was good seeing you guys too," She chuckled, her mind drifting back to her last interaction with Oscar.

"We couldn't stop clownin' Spooky after that shit went down," Sad Eyes said, smirking down at the ground. "I mean y'all were tight, wasn't nobody expecting that."

[Y/N]'s smile faltered for a split second. Oscar and her really were tight. She took a breath, forcing her lips to curl back up. "Imagine my surprise then," [Y/N] replied, strangely, she was able to find humor in the situation. "It's our anniversary, we haven't seen each other all day, so I decide to surprise him by coming to his block party after I told him I probably wouldn't make it,"

She continued, "So I pull up, and then I find him with some random ass girl on his lap!" [Y/N] let out a laugh. "That's the type of crap that you usually only see happening in the movies!"

Sad Eyes nodded, a soft smile on his face as he shook his head.

"Just my luck to find him cheating the day of our third anniversary." She said. She had never talked about what happened that night so bluntly. Every time she tried before, she just couldn't stomach it. However, with all the events that occurred recently—her past resurfacing—she had no choice but to face it.

"That really is some shit you'd only see in the movies," Sad Eyes agreed. "Four years in state prison really changed him, though." He said, lighting a cigarette he had stored in his pocket. "Want one?"

"Sure, I was probably gonna head home after this block anyway," she said as she took a cigarette from him. "What do you mean by that though? That prison really changed him?"

Sad Eyes shrugged. "Besides the fact he was stuck with the worst of the worst, I mean," He took a drag. "He seems more grounded now—like he's got his mind straighter."

[Y/N] nodded, taking in what Sad Eyes was saying. "That's good for him," she said. "You can't go all your life without thinking about the bigger picture, that's how you lose good things."

Sad Eyes chuckled. "Yeah, I think he knows that pretty well."

"Aye, Sad Eyes, we need you real quick!" One of the men working on his car spoke out.

"Alright, I'll be right there," He shouted back, waving them off. "Well, I guess that's my cue," Sad Eyes said, turning back to [Y/N]

"It was nice talking to you," She replied, opening her arms up slightly to gauge if he'd be open to hug.

Sad Eyes smiled softly and reciprocated.

"I missed our conversations, you were always so calming." [Y/N] said, her voice muffled by his chest.

"Right back at you," He said, rubbing [Y/N]'s back before pulling away. "Don't be afraid to come by sometime, I'll warn you if Spooky's around first."

[Y/N] smiled. "I might just take you up on that offer," she said, beginning to walk away as they both waved each other off. 

While she knew Sad Eyes' loyalty remained deeply with Oscar—which meant he'd be closer to him by default—she also knew the man had common sense. Sad Eyes wasn't the type to purposely cause drama; he liked to lay low. The only time he ever acted was when mess came to him, which [Y/N] had witnessed before on multiple occasions.

Sad Eyes was a good friend, and this interaction [Y/N] had with him left her feeling a strong sense of nostalgia and a longing for the past.

* * *

"Wait, I don't know how to do that one!" Inés squealed as Dahlia tried to lift her on the dance floor. It was huapango night at the club, which meant a lot more dancing—and a lot less drinking—than usual.

"Inés, we've been practicing that!" Dahlia said as they lost rhythm momentarily. Despite that, they were quick to pick it back up.

"Blah blah blah, lifts are lame!" Inés jokingly snapped back, swirling around in the heart of the dance floor, surrounded by other dancing duos.

Beatriz, Lucia, and [Y/N] sat in the back at their favorite booth, all of them trying to catch their breath from the last song. Unlike Inés and Dahlia, who'd just joined the dance floor, they had been dancing continuously without breaks.

"I'm back with drinks," Damian said, setting down each drink the women had requested before he left for the bar. He sat down next to Beatriz, putting one arm around her while the other held his beer.

"So," Lucia trailed off, the glitter on her dark skin shimmering as she leaned towards Beatriz. "What's your plan with him?" She teased.

Beatriz giggled, with Damian smiling beside her. "Well, as long as he behaves, I think he's a keeper, isn't that right, Damian?" Beatriz smiled as she softly touched Damian's chin.

"Trust me, I won't be acting out of line anytime soon," he laughed, putting his hands up in a joking manner.

The group sipped on their drinks, watching the club flow vibrantly.

"I need to go to the bathroom, does anyone wanna come with?" [Y/N] questioned as she stood up, her eyes scanning the other women's faces.

Beatriz and Lucia nodded, getting up with [Y/N].

In the bathroom, [Y/N] put a white line of powder on her credit card. The reason she did it here and not at the table was that she didn't want to make Beatriz look bad to Damian.

The other two women fixed their hair and makeup in the mirrors, giving [Y/N] time to finish up her session.

[Y/N] exhaled deeply once she finished inhaling the substance—a chill of euphoria running down her spine. "Alright, we can go back out. Thanks for coming with me."

The other two women nodded, finishing up their business before emerging from the restroom with [Y/N].

The music felt louder—much louder, and [Y/N] could've sworn the walls of the club had a heartbeat. The rush felt glorious as it began to set in, the night feeling younger than ever. She returned to the dance floor, partying harder than she'd done before she left.

There weren't any thoughts going through [Y/N]'s head as she danced, the dark curly-haired woman acting based on the flow of those around her, losing count of the number of men she'd danced with. She was almost in a trance-like state. There weren't many men who caught her attention. Not many men were special to her.

Then, a man wearing a button-up polo and a cross necklace pulled her in to dance. If it weren't for his head full of loose curls, she would've almost thought he was Oscar based on the outfit. She looked up at him, her dark eyes locking with his.

He smiled at her, twirling her around in rhythm to the music. The two synced almost instantly, their bodies moving as one.

"You're beautiful," He boldly spoke, his tone feeling oddly familiar.

"Thank you," [Y/N] replied. "Do you come here often?"

"Every now and then," He said, dipping her before lifting her back up. "I only come on dance nights."

"So you like dancing?" [Y/N] asked with a smirk.

"I love dancing." He firmly said, Oscar loved dancing too.

[Y/N] blinked hard, frowning as Oscar's image flashed in her mind. She quickly pushed it away. He wasn't supposed to be in her head right now.

"We might be here for a while then," [Y/N] giggled. The music then transitioned into something slower—norteñas. It must've been getting late; the club only played slow songs on dance nights when the drunk crowed outnumbered the dancers. It reduced the risk of injuries from couples attempting to do wild dance moves.

"What's your name?" He asked, eyes scanning her face.

"[Y/N]," she replied. "Yours?"

Perhaps this would be a rare night where she'd entertain the idea of flirting for a bit. He wasn't bad-looking. He had brown eyes, tan skin, and a goatee that framed his smile in a way that reminded her of someone she'd been trying to forget. She blinked hard again.

"Alejandro, but just call me Alex." He said.

"Alex? That's cute." [Y/N] chuckled, feeling his hands slide to her waist. Their bodies swayed in a way that felt natural. Time melting as they exchanged flirts. The tension built quickly.

By the third song, [Y/N] pulled away—she wasn't feeling like going to anyone's house tonight. "I'm a bit tired, I think I'm gonna call it a night." She said, glancing around the club to try and find her girls. It looked like they'd all retired to their booth.

"Can I get your number?" Alex asked.

There it was. The million-dollar question that [Y/N] always knew she had coming if she entertained a guy for longer than ten minutes.

"Can I get your number?" [Y/N] asked back, a smirk forming on her face.

"You don't like giving your number out, do you?" Alex asked, pulling out his phone with a chuckle. "It's okay, I get it. A pretty lady like yourself has gotta keep herself safe," He said, holding out his phone with his number on the screen for her to save.

[Y/N] pulled her phone out of her bra, quickly typing in his contact. "If you made a good impression, I'll call you up," she said flirtatiously, looking him up and down.

"I hope I made a good impression then," Alex chuckled. "Nice meeting you," He said, biting his lip softly as he took in [Y/N]'s appearance one last time that night.

"You too," [Y/N] softly replied, waving him off as she returned to her girls.

"Okay, so who was that?" Dahlia teasingly asked with a smirk. "Does the infamous 'I don't do relationships' [Y/N] have a guy in her life?"

[Y/N] chuckled, shaking her head. "Nah, you guys know I don't do that stuff anymore," she replied. "I've got more important things to focus on."

"And we love an ambitious woman," Lucia nodded, clapping softly for [Y/N]. "Money over men always."

"I can get behind that," Inés chuckled, clinking drinks with Lucia. "Although if your calling in life is for love, then that's good too."

"I think I'm gonna call it a night though, girls," [Y/N] yawned, reaching over Dahlia to grab her purse. "I'm kinda tired."

"Really? We were just about to go hit up another club," Lucia said, not wanting [Y/N] to end up with FOMO the next morning.

"Yeah, I got a bunch of studying to do in the morning," [Y/N] replied. The other women nodded in understanding.

"Well, we hope you get a good night's sleep." Beatriz spoke up, waving to [Y/N]. "Text us when you get home,"

"Yeah, text us!" Dahlia perked up.

"I will, don't worry." [Y/N] chuckled. "Bye girls, see ya later!"

[Y/N] was more than ready to go home; she didn't get plastered, but she did get high—now she could sleep the weekend away like she planned.

The drive home was arguably peaceful; while [Y/N] drifted a bit, there weren't many people out so it wasn't particularly dangerous. She was well aware that it wasn't safe for her to be driving at the moment, but she trusted that she'd be lucky enough to make it home without being pulled over or getting into an accident.

However, [Y/N] was about five minutes away from her house when she heard a loud pop followed by the sound of metal rolling against the concrete road. Her heart dropped—her tire popped.

"No fucking way," [Y/N] breathed, immediately stopping her car. She rushed out to inspect her car; just like she suspected, her back right tire had blown. There was no way she could change it right now—it was late, she was buzzed, and wearing stilettos. The option to roll her car back home was out of the question; there was no way she was gonna be able to roll this multiple-ton vehicle uphill alone.

She groaned in frustration; she wasn't comfortable walking home and leaving her car unattended overnight. Knowing Freeridge, some parts would definitely get stolen. However, she also didn't want to sleep in her car—again, Freeridge was not very reliable at night.

She looked at the blown tire, then to the street; she was at the turn she usually took to avoid Oscar's house and get to hers. If she continued straight, it'd be about a ten-minute walk—maybe five if she ran—to get to his place. Maybe, just maybe he could help her out.

[Y/N] swallowed hard, her heart beginning to race. [Y/N] knew many people in the neighborhood, but Oscar was closest to her location at this moment. She was unsure if Oscar would be willing to help—yeah, he approached her the other night, but she didn't believe he was being genuine. Besides him, there was Sad Eyes, who was a twenty-minute walk away. He felt more reliable. However, that would mean walking ten extra minutes in the chilly California night in a skimpy party dress. She wasn't in the mood to be fighting off any creeps that were lurking around.

[Y/N] took a deep breath, looking at her car, then looking towards the street in front of her. As much as she didn't want to, seeing if Oscar could help might've been worth a shot.

[fuckthisshit-ugh]

please read this even if you're not indian. especially if you're not indian.

you've seen the jokes. india is "dirty", indians are "everywhere", why don't they fix their own country. ok. let me tell you why, and what's happening right now while nobody's watching.

first, the history you skipped: britain ruled india for two centuries and drained it. economist utsa patnaik's research estimates around $45 trillion in today's money was taken. the india that got independence in 1947 was one of the poorest countries on earth. every "why is india like this" question starts there. you don't get to profit off a robbery and then mock the crime scene.

now, what's happening RIGHT NOW:

in may the question paper for NEET leaked. that's the national medical entrance exam. over 2.2 million students took it. cancelled. years of studying, families' savings poured into coaching, gone overnight because someone sold the paper. students died by suicide after. these were kids who wanted to be doctors.

and out of that came a protest movement. a gen z group called the cockroach janta party, started by a 30 year old named abhijeet dipke, got 22 million instagram followers within DAYS. they've been doing a sit-in at jantar mantar in delhi demanding education minister dharmendra pradhan resign.

and then there's sonam wangchuk. if you've watched 3 idiots, he's the real engineer the character was based on. built solar schools in ladakh. invented ice stupas so himalayan villages have water. spent his whole life on education. he's 59 and he's been on hunger strike for 17+ days now. reporters went to see him this week and he was too weak to talk. and the troll armies are calling him "anti national" and "foreign funded". a man starving himself for other people's children. that's the thing here, anyone who asks a question is suddenly a traitor.

it's not one incident, it's everywhere you look:

• infrastructure worth thousands of crores failing within months of the ribbon cutting. tunnels collapsing in regions where heavy rain is a guarantee, not a surprise.

• youth unemployment near 10% for ages 15 to 29, 13.6% in cities. in a country of 1.42 billion where more than half the population is young.

• only about the top 3% of indians earn above 10 lakh a year. meanwhile billionaire wealth keeps ballooning and the headlines celebrate it.

• manipur burned for over two years. an ethnic conflict, tens of thousands displaced, and the prime minister barely said the word manipur while it happened.

• journalists raided. critics' houses bulldozed. activists sitting in jail for years without trial under laws like UAPA. our press freedom ranking has cratered.

• even the petrol is a fight now, ethanol blending pushed through while drivers complain about their engines and get no straight answers.

and through all of it, the PM, who came to power on religious polarisation (americans, sound familiar?), travels abroad for photo ops and has not held one single open press conference in over a decade. not one.

what i'm asking:

if you're not indian: share this. our media mostly won't cover any of it because the big outlets are owned by the same billionaires the government serves. the only reason wangchuk's fast is getting any coverage is people refusing to look away.

if you ARE indian: speak up even if you're comfortable. especially if you're comfortable. join the protests. add to this, correct me, translate it. staying quiet is a choice when nothing in this post touches your life.

india is not "dirty". india was robbed, and it's being robbed again, from the inside this time. but it's also the country where a 59 year old will starve for strangers' kids and 22 million young people will rally behind a party literally named after cockroaches, because cockroaches survive everything.

we can still save her. but only loudly.

reblog. share. don't scroll past.

[vetckkie]

girl get off that c.ai and embrace the 'x reader'

[writersblockbrb]

Imitadora: III

𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 "𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲" 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐳 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

"Oscar is back in town." [Y/N] firmly said, the group call she was on went silent.

"What do you mean, Spooky is back in town?" Lucia questioned, the worry in her voice clear as day.

[Y/N] paused. "Oscar is back. I guess he just got released from jail," She then hesitated. "Did you guys know he's been incarcerated for four years?"

"Yeah, we knew," Inés said, earning immediate scolds from the others. "What!? I'm not gonna lie and say we didn't."

[Y/N] let out a defeated sigh, resting her forehead on the steering wheel. "Why didn't you guys tell me?" She groaned.

"Because you would've freaked out, [Y/N], and that's the last thing we wanted," Beatriz said, sighing.

"Freaked out?" [Y/N] frowned. "What do you mean by freaked out?" While she hated Oscar, she couldn't possibly picture herself going wild over his arrest. If anything, she would've probably thrown a party.

"[Y/N]," Dahlia sighed. "You would've probably made the spontaneous decision to visit him, and that would've regressed your process of healing and moving on."

"That's my decision to make, though!" [Y/N] snapped, catching her friends off guard. Her sudden outburst even surprised her. She paused, the call going silent with her. [Y/N] was the type to get defensive over what she cared about—so getting defensive over seeing Oscar? [Y/N] didn't like what she just did; the implications of it scared her. She was supposed to be over Oscar. "That came out wrong, I'm sorry." She sighed. "I know you guys were trying to protect me, and I appreciate it—I really do. I just wish I could've known, it would've saved me years of anxiety."

"We get it, you have every right to be upset right now," Inés said. While she felt like they did the best they could given the circumstances, she wasn't going to act like there probably wasn't a better way for them to have gone about things. "Us telling you would've definitely saved you years of anxiety, our biggest thing was just not wanting to trigger you."

"It's better to let things calm down before you start pressing on them again," Beatriz said. "Telling you about Spooky's arrest right when it happened wouldn't have been good for you, but we're sorry that we put off telling you for so long."

[Y/N] sighed, nodding; she understood where the girls were coming from. "It'll be okay, at least I know now, right?" [Y/N] said, running her finger along her stereo system, collecting the dust that accumulated. She needed to clean her interior sometime soon.

"Yeah," Lucia softly agreed. "And at least we can be confident we won't have to put you into a straitjacket to prevent you from doing anything crazy."

[Y/N] chuckled; it was always Lucia who could help brighten up a moment.

"Lucia, stop! This is serious!" Dahlia hissed, worried [Y/N] would take Lucia's joke the wrong way.

"No, no! It's okay, honestly I needed that image in my head," [Y/N] interjected, wanting the girls to know that she was okay. "Trust me, don't be afraid to do that, I'll be grateful afterwards when I've calmed down." [Y/N] replied, her smile could be heard through the phone.

The girls chuckled softly, relieved [Y/N] wasn't mad at them.

"Although, I gotta go. Can we plan something fun soon?" [Y/N] asked. She wanted to head to a corner store to grab some liquor.

"Yeah, of course! That's never gonna be a no," Lucia excitedly said. "You know how much we love a hang out!"

"I'll look up some things to do and suggest them in the group chat," Beatriz said, already navigating towards Google.

"Thanks, Bea, I'll try to call you girls again sometime later," [Y/N] said, beginning to pull the phone away from her ear. "Bye, love you guys!

The girls reciprocated the affection in unison; however, one still had something to say.

"[Y/N] wait—don't hang up yet!" Dahlia desperately called out, hoping [Y/N] was still on the line.

[Y/N], who was a split second away from hanging up, immediately stopped.

"Try not to let this Spooky stuff get into your head, okay?" Dahlia softly requested. "He truly is not that big of a person. Yeah, he may be running around with the Santos and controlling the streets," Dahlia continued, trailing off about Oscar's gang activity. "But he doesn't control you. He only controls as much of you as you let him. So do not let him."

[Y/N] nodded, hearing hums of approval from the others.

"I won't, thank you, Dolly," [Y/N] said, really letting what Dahlia said sink into her.

"You got this, [Y/N], I won't hold you for any longer," Dahlia said. She just wanted to make sure she got her message to [Y/N] while they were still on the call—hearing someone's voice was a lot better than reading it on a text. Tone couldn't get lost on a call.

"Alright, I'll see you guys later, bye." [Y/N] said, pulling the phone away from her ear and hitting the hang up button.

After hanging up, [Y/N] let the silence linger for a moment, her fingers tapping restlessly against the steering wheel. The weight of Oscar's return pressed heavily on her chest; she didn't know whether or not she wanted to see him. Confusion clouded her thoughts—why did her heart ache to see his face after all these years? See the man he'd grown into?

She caught her mind trailing into dangerous territory—traitorous territory against herself. She pushed those thoughts and the entire topic of Oscar out of her mind. She'd lost count of the number of times she'd done that today, and she wouldn't be surprised if she had to do it more.

[Y/N] glanced at the time on her phone; it was going on one o'clock. If she were quick, she'd make it to the corner store then back to the high school in time to pick up the fam. If not, a little vitamin D never hurt.

* * *

[Y/N] applied a pink-shaded lip gloss, looking at her reflection in her vanity so she could be precise. Once she finished this, it'd be time for her to head out to her shift at Don Paco's. She had already made dinner for Matteo, so she didn't have to worry about him accidentally burning the house down.

She closed her lip gloss, tossing it into her purse as she grabbed her keys off the vanity top. "I'm heading out, Matteo. I love you!" She called out to her brother as she walked down the hallway.

"I love you too, be safe!" Matteo yelled back from his room.

It didn't take long for [Y/N] to reach Don Paco's, as it was only a ten-minute drive away. Once she entered the employee door—as she expected—tables were already stacked on her. She always arrived twenty minutes early before the dinner shift started—which was 3:00—yet despite that, she would be immediately sent on her feet to start serving tables. Beauties of working in the food industry.

For [Y/N], the earlier half of her shift was the harder one. Those were the hours that her body had to slowly but surely get into the rhythm of the restaurant. While it wasn't as difficult to do as when she first started waitressing at Don Paco's, some days still felt a little harder than others. Today was one of the easier days. The later half of her shift felt easier because by that point, [Y/N] was deep into her zone.

She would serve tables almost without having to think too deeply: take orders, inform cooks of orders, serve food, repeat. The only thing [Y/N] really ever had to think about was just to make sure she served the right orders to the right tables.

"[Y/N], you have a group of four that just entered your section." The host currently on shift, Eric, alerted [Y/N].

"Thanks, Eric, I'm heading over there now." She replied. This was perfect timing; she had just finished sending an order over to the kitchen. It was the latter half of [Y/N]'s shift—a bit after 8:30 to be exact—so she had been entered her zone. 

She ran her hands over her slicked-back ponytail, trying to lay down any possible flyaways. Like water, she flowed through the busy restaurant, swaying through near collisions without thinking. This had been her environment five days a week for the past three years, so she had come to be able to easily read the moves of her coworkers and the dining room in general.

"Good evening, my name is [Y/N], and I'll be your server tonight," [Y/N] said, looking down at her waist apron to grab her order pad. "What drinks may I start you off with?"

"La Crazy?"

[Y/N]'s smile immediately dropped as she whipped her head up. Nobody, not a soul, had genuinely called her by that name in years. The only people who would ever call her that would be the crowd she used to hang out with. Her eyes landed on Smiley—she hadn't seen that face in years.

Her eyes then darted to the others seated at the table—Yelena, Sad Eyes, and then him.

He had already been looking at her, her eyes locking with his the moment she looked towards him. [Y/N]'s heart dropped to her stomach; this couldn't be real. Oscar Diaz was at her place of work.

"Oh [Y/N]!" Yelena squealed, "Smiley, move, I wanna hug [Y/N]!" She said with a smile as she lightly pushed at the man beside her.

Smiley got up, allowing Yelena to slide out of her seat and give [Y/N] a tight hug.

"It's been so long! Did you change your number?" Yelena asked as she pulled away from [Y/N], going back to sit down.

[Y/N] swallowed hard. "Something like that, my old phone broke so I had to change a bunch of things," she lied. While she had gotten a new phone, she stopped answering the texts from Yelena and anyone else from that period of time. "May I take your drinks?" She repeated, pushing the conversation back to strictly business.

Before any of the men could speak, Yelena chirped up. "I'd like a Piña Colada, please," Yelena said, leaning over the table.

"I'm fine with tequila," Sad Eyes said. "It's nice to see you, by the way, [Y/N]."

"Give me some tequila too," Smiley said, stretching his arms out as he leaned back a bit.

[Y/N] nodded, writing down their orders. The only one who hadn't said what he wanted was Oscar. "And you?" [Y/N] stoically asked as she turned her head back up to look at Oscar.

Oscar looked at [Y/N] for a moment; his face was unreadable, and that infuriated [Y/N]. Not only did he just have to choose Don Paco's out of every restaurant in South Central L.A, but now here he was trying to sit and act all mysterious at her job.

"Water's good." He said, not an ounce of emotion in his voice.

[Y/N]'s heart skipped a beat; it had been so long since she'd heard that voice, and it had matured a lot since the last time they'd spoken. She couldn't stand here any longer. Memories she had suppressed—good and bad—were beginning to flood back into her mind, and it felt suffocating. [Y/N] could feel her throat tightening and tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

"Alright, I'll be back with those drinks." [Y/N] said, her voice slightly shaking. She didn't even write down what Oscar wanted; her hands were shaking too much. She sharply turned her heel and walked off, tears beginning to fall down her face.

"I need two minutes, please," [Y/N] shakily told Eric, who gave her a shocked expression. This was abnormal of [Y/N]; she had never looked so shaken up at work.

"I—okay," Eric stammered. "I'll tell Janice to cover your tables."

[Y/N] nodded, already on her way to the staff restroom. She slammed the door shut behind her, sliding down to her knees as she began to sob. Shame over coming her as she cried to herself. She was confident that if she ever saw Oscar again, she'd go into a fit of rage—absolutely rip him to shreds. However, in this moment, she couldn't feel any rage, only sorrow for what could've been.

Oscar was her first love, her first everything as she was for him. They had stargazed countless nights on the beach, making up scenarios about their future where they were married and had two children together. There were so many things they did together—from writing love letters to being vulnerable with each other. Those were memories that you could suppress, but never erase. They were engraved too deeply in [Y/N]'s heart.

[Y/N] splashed water on her face, hoping the coldness of it would shock her out of her current state. The confidence she had that she had been over Oscar was crumbling right before her eyes.

She took a deep breath before emerging from the restroom, the busyness of the restaurant hitting her like a wave. She scanned the room for Janice, looking for the other woman's bleached blonde hair. Finally, she saw her coming back from serving a table their orders.

[Y/N] rushed over to her, "Thank you so much for covering me, what'd I miss?"

"It's no problem, you didn't miss much," Janice said. "I served them their drinks, now they're probably just waiting to order."

[Y/N] nodded, returning to her section. She gave attention to her other customers first, refilling drinks and checking up on them before returning to Oscar's table.

"Hi, I apologize for the temporary switch-up. Are we ready to order?" [Y/N] asked, forcing a smile onto her face. If Oscar was gonna be unreadable tonight, so was she.

The rest of the night went by in a blur, with [Y/N] hyperfocusing on not thinking too hard—to act robotically with a smile on her face. It was easier said than done, but she prevailed and made it through the night. Now—as she grabbed her belongings—she was ecstatic to go home.

[Y/N] exited through the employee door, entering the breezy California nighttime. She scurried to her car, ready to light a cigarette for her ride home. She unlocked it, opening her driver's side door.

"I see you're not driving the Chevy anymore," A masculine voice cut through the air, causing [Y/N] to freeze in her tracks.

She turned around; she wasn't sure how she didn't notice it—but behind her was Oscar's red Chevrolet Impala, with him smoking inside of it.

"I'm not." [Y/N] said matter-of-factly, slowly closing her door so she could lean on her vehicle. She crossed her arms, her body tense.

"How've you been?" Oscar asked, leaning towards her with a slightly raised brow.

[Y/N] sighed, her hand going to rub the bridge of her nose. "Look, Spooky, it's late, and I'm tired—"

"Spooky?" Oscar questioned, his brows furrowing as his mouth twisted into a confused smile. "So it's like that then, huh?"

[Y/N] chuckled bitterly, shaking her head as she looked at the ground. "Yeah, it's like that, Spooky." She said sharply as she flicked her head back up. "You don't get to do what you did—cause what you did—and then try to come back into my life as if nothing happened!" She snapped, frowning.

"I'm not saying nothing happened," Oscar said, his face straightening. "I was a dumbass kid, and I know that. I want to fix it."

[Y/N]'s face dropped. "What do you mean, fix it?" She questioned, watching as Oscar got out of his car and walked towards her.

"You know what I mean," Oscar softly said, standing only inches away from [Y/N]. "I'm sorry, [Y/N], truly. I fucked up bad." He sighed. "I didn't deserve you at all back then, and I probably still don't, but I wanna try and prove myself to you."

[Y/N]'s heart raced as she looked up at Oscar; she couldn't believe what was happening. This was the last thing she expected. "No, no, it's too late for all of this." [Y/N] shakily said, averting her gaze away from Oscar. "It's been five years, we're strangers now."

"We don't have to be," Oscar said, his eyes taking in all of [Y/N]'s features. To say he was tempting was an understatement. "I'm not asking you to take me back immediately. I don't care how long it'll take, I can wait."

She took a deep breath. As much as she wanted to forgive Oscar and pretend like the past five years never happened—she just couldn't. It wouldn't be fair for her to allow him to just waltz back into her life. She couldn't get over the pain he put her through that easily. Anger rushed through [Y/N]'s veins; that urge to get revenge she thought she'd have was finally emerging. She roughly pushed Oscar away from her, her gaze burning with rage.

"What did I tell you the last time I saw your ass?" [Y/N] hissed, her pointer finger raised at him. "You will never see me again. I meant it then, and I mean it now."

"I hated you then, and I hate you now," [Y/N] snapped. She didn't care how cruel she had to be; she wanted to protect herself. "Stay the fuck out of my life, you mean nothing to me."

[Y/N] glared at Oscar for a moment before opening her car door, slamming it shut once she got in. She started the ignition and sped off without looking back, leaving Oscar in the parking lot of Don Paco's.

He sighed deeply as he watched her speed off. He never wanted to leave her high and dry, but his arrest happened not too soon after they broke up—so he was never able to formally apologize. The same way five years changed [Y/N], five years changed Oscar.

He wasn't the careless teenager he once was anymore; four years in state prison reinforced his ability to have gratitude for the little things in life. Gratitude for those who truly cared about him—[Y/N] was one of those people; however, he incredibly took her for granted. He was more than well aware of it.

Oscar looked up at the stars; they were the same stars that he and [Y/N] had lain under all those years ago, whispering sweet nothings. He really hoped it wasn't too late.

[writersblockbrb]

Imitadora: II

𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 "𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲" 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐳 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

"[Y/N] hurry! They're probably already waiting!" Matteo's called out impatiently. He stood at the front door, pacing back and forth.

"It's not even eleven thirty yet!" [Y/N] shouted from her room, trying to figure out what she wanted to change into. Normally she'd be pleased that Matteo listened to her insistence on being ahead of schedule, but today his eagerness was grating at her nerves. The two had twenty minutes before they had to leave, so [Y/N] wasn't in any rush. Clearly, unlike Matteo.

[Y/N] closed her door before grabbing some black leggings and a fitted hot pink tank top. She wasn't trying to impress anyone today. Once she'd finished chauffeuring Matteo and his friends around, she'd probably take a nap and then clock into her shift tonight at Don Paco's. She grabbed her hair gel, slicking down the strands that had frizzed out of her slick-back ponytail. She then put on some small hoops, grabbed her purse, and exited her room.

She smiled to herself before looking over at Matteo, who was over by the TV looking at his reflection.

"Matteo, what are you wearing?" [Y/N] sighed, eyeing her brother from head to toe. The boy had on a backwards baseball cap, a button-up polo that was tucked into his khaki shorts, and flip-flops. She frowned—not in disgust but in genuine concern.

"Um, my orientation outfit, duh," Matteo smirked as he crossed his arms in confidence. "I need to look neat for the ladies. Show that I'm a man with substance."

"Matteo, please just go change," [Y/N] sighed as she rested her forehead on her hand. "I don't even want to look at you, you look like a frat boy from Brentwood."

"Isn't that a good thing? It means I look rich!" Matteo argued, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"No, Matteo, it means you look like the perfect target for pickpocketing! Change!" [Y/N] exclaimed, gesturing towards his room.

The curly-haired boy sighed, trudging back to his room with an exaggerated eye roll.

"And be quick, we have five minutes before go time," [Y/N] called out as she walked to the front door, sliding on her wedge flip-flops. "I'll be in my car!"

[Y/N] squinted her eyes as she entered the outside world, her eyes adjusting to the blinding sunlight. It was scorching out, she could see why Matteo wanted her to drive him to orientation so badly. She walked over to her car; it wasn't the teal one she once drove but a black 2010 Mercedes C300. She had bought this car two years ago off of Facebook Marketplace after saving up for months.

While the teal Chevrolet [Y/N] owned still worked in perfect condition, when she turned twenty she decided she was ready to let go of it. So she planned to put it up for sale. However, because her schedule had gotten busy, she hadn't found the time—or energy—to properly post it. So ever since then, it had been sitting in the garage collecting dust.

"Is this better, [Y/N]?" Matteo called out to his sister from the front door.

[Y/N] looked him up and down—he had changed into a white T-Shirt, dark denim jorts, and blue vans. She nodded in approval, opening the driver's side door for herself.

Matteo locked the door and rushed over, entering the vehicle on the passenger side.

"Alright, so who are we picking up first?" [Y/N] questioned, putting on her sunglasses. "I'm assuming Caesar will be at Ruby's, so are we starting there?"

"Well, actually, I'm not friends with Caesar anymore." Matteo shifted awkwardly in his seat, gaze darting out the window.

[Y/N] frowned, Matteo and Caesar were best friends. This was news to her. "What? Why not?"

"Well, Caesar said some fucked up shit about Monse, so Ruby, Jamal, and I aren't cool with him anymore," Matteo shrugged, his gaze shifting from [Y/N] to out the window. "Let me just call Ruby to see if he's ready."

[Y/N] nodded, feeling a bit saddened herself. While Matteo's group was very tight-knit, it was always obvious that Matteo and Caesar were a bit closer than the others. Maybe turning into an asshole just ran in the family.

"What? What do you mean you're at Caesar's place?" Matteo hissed, irritated with what he was hearing on the other side of the phone. "You know my sister doesn't like going over there!"

[Y/N] looked over to Matteo, her brows furrowing.

"Because! You know exactly why!" Matteo gritted his teeth, his hand flying to his head in frustration.

Then it clicked for [Y/N]. For whatever odd reason, the group was at Caesar's place. Unless they walked over to her house, she'd probably have to pick them up there.

As her brother argued into the phone, [Y/N] sighed deeply, weighing the pros and cons of pulling up to Oscar's house. She was beginning to crave a cigarette, but she knew better than to smoke in front of her brother. She couldn't even be mad at Ruby for his stubbornness. While he had an idea of how bad the breakup between her and Oscar was, he didn't understand the full weight of it. Not many people did.

She gripped the sides of the steering wheel hard, her pulse hammering. She thought deeply about whether or not she was ready to do this. To do what she was thinking: willingly pull up to Oscar's house like some sort of masochist. Part of her felt stupid for still holding onto what had happened all those years ago, but some wounds don't fully heal. Some wounds leave scars. While she was okay for the most part, some deeper cuts to her spirit were still in the process of healing.

'Didn't Oscar get arrested recently?' She thought. She hadn't kept up with whatever was going on with him—she actively avoided the topic. However, she was pretty sure he got arrested recently for something revolving around the Prophets. If that were true, that would mean the chances of her running into Oscar were impossible. She swallowed hard.

"Tell Ruby we're on the way," She said as she started the ignition. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. "We're heading to Caesar's house, don't make them walk."

Matteo's posture softened in relief before tensing up again. "Are you sure? I don't want to overwhelm you," Matteo said as he pulled the phone away from his ear.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm over all the crap that happened," [Y/N] lied, putting the car into reverse. "This is all a part of it anyway, right? Facing your fears so you can move on."

Matteo paused before nodding, bringing the phone back to his ear. "Alright man, we're on the way, see you soon." He then hung up and set his phone down on his lap. "Don't push yourself too hard, [Y/N]. I don't want to see you in the state you were a couple of years ago again." Matteo firmly said, looking over to his sister who had her eyes glued to the road. "I can make them walk over."

"Trust me, that'll never happen again," [Y/N] softly chuckled. "I am way beyond Oscar Diaz." She said, a chill running down her spine, she hadn't spoken that name in years. Whenever she did have to refer to him—which truly wasn't often—she would call him Spooky, partially because that's what everyone else called him and partially because it was easier on the tongue for her.

While part of [Y/N] felt like seeing Oscar's house last night was all she needed, the other part told her to continue driving. She had been wanting to not avoid anymore, not act like what happened didn't happen. She had kept putting it off, but today was the end of that; today was the day where she'd pull up to Oscar's house without a care in the world.

She was way beyond Oscar Diaz.

"That's good," Matteo softly smiled. "Hey, is it okay if I turn on the radio?"

"Yeah, go ahead." [Y/N] said, not really caring. The neighbor wasn't busy today, which was nice; it looked like [Y/N] could probably stop in front of Oscar's house and pick up the fam without running into any old acquaintances.

As her car rolled down the blocks, the numbers descending from seven to five, then three, [Y/N]'s began to sweat, and she could feel her heart rate pick up again in a way that felt dangerously close to excitement. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to remain calm. Oscar was in jail, he wouldn't be there.

Finally, the two made it to Oscar's house, seeing

Ruby, Jamal, and Monse standing on the sidewalk bickering about something.

[Y/N] pulled over, honking her horn once at them and rolling the window down. "Hey, get in!" She called out, gaining all of their attention.

The group's faces lit up, running towards her car.

"Boy, are we glad you're here!" Jamal said as he buckled himself in.

"Yeah, we're super glad," Ruby said, catching his breath as he shifted in his seat, his gaze flicked to Monse. "This is the only normal thing that's happened this entire afternoon."

Monse shot him a glare before smiling at [Y/N]. "Thanks for the ride, [Y/N], I do really appreciate this," she smiled. "It feels nice to have somebody else who actually has a brain around for once."

[Y/N] chuckled. "You're welcome, but why were you guys at Caesar's place when you're not even cool with him?" she asked.

"Yeah, why the hell were y'all at Caesar's!?" Matteo hissed, unbuckling his belt to turn around and face his friends.

"Put the seatbelt back on, flaco," [Y/N] casually said as she put the car back into drive. "I'm about to start driving again."

The trio looked at each other, if it weren't for [Y/N] being around, the situation would've been easy to explain. 'Oscar got out of jail, a bunch of crazy stuff happened in between, and now Caesar is in the Santos, and they're trying to get him out.' Is what they would say, but they were aware of [Y/N]'s bad blood with Oscar.

Jamal clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Jamal, don't you dare!" Monse hissed, leaning towards him and pointing a finger.

"Yeah, c'mon Jamal, seriously not this time!" Ruby sighed, smacking his hands against his knees as he looked over to his right.

"Guys, stop, whatever Jamal has to say can't be that bad!" Matteo said in annoyance. "While Jamal's big mouth can be annoying, it's working in my favor here! I wanna know."

"Oscar got out of jail—like super recently—so Caesar ran his mouth and said some fucked shit about Monse," Jamal's blurted out, his fists clenching. "Dude got forced into the Santos and thought that'd impress Oscar or some dumb shit."

He then took a sharp breath. "Ruby and I were done with him after that. Done!" Jamal's hands flew up, his voice rising. "But Monse?" Jamal aggressively shook his head. "Monse just had to keep defending him and badgering, like she ain't got no sense—which, newsflash, she does not!"

Jamal exhaled hard, rubbing his temples. "So now I guess we're friends with him again and we're trying to get him out of the gang!"

The car jolted to a stop; the silence filling the air was louder than the rambling Jamal had just done.

"Maybe it would've been better to have stayed curious," Matteo sighed, slowly turning back around and sinking into his seat. He looked over to his sister, who was frozen like a statue.

"I'm sorry! I cannot do secrets, this has been a known thing!" Jamal said desperately, his voice cracking. "I am so sorry [Y/N]." He apologized, hiding his face in his hands.

Ruby and Monse leaned over towards [Y/N], nervously trying to read her body language.

[Y/N] took a deep breath before looking over at Matteo. "Hand me my purse," she sighed.

Matteo nodded cautiously, fumbling the bag as he handed it over to her.

[Y/N] rummaged through her purse, grabbing a lighter and a cigarette. "Don't tell mom," she said as she lit the cigarette, tossing her lighter back into her purse and bringing the white and yellow object into her mouth. She then put the car back into drive, speeding off towards the high school.

The car ride was silent for a few minutes afterwards, with none of the teenagers wanting to interact with each other. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Finally, [Y/N] broke the silence, her voice stoic. "When did he get out?"

Ruby, Monse, and Matteo all looked over at Jamal, who leaned further away from them.

"I've done enough talking." Jamal firmly said, whipping his head around to glare out the window.

Monse sighed. "He got out a couple weeks ago, Caesar just told us."

[Y/N] frowned. That didn't align with the timeline of events that she knew. "So when did he go to jail?"

"Um, like a couple years ago..." Ruby said with a confused tone. "You didn't know?"

[Y/N] shook her head. "No... I didn't,"  she frowned, she was just as confused as Ruby. "Okay, so wait, do any of you know exactly when and how this happened?"

"Didn't he get arrested for an incident with the Prophets?" Matteo questioned.

[Y/N] shot Matteo a sharp look.

"You don't like talking about him, so I didn't say anything. Sorry!" Matteo threw his hands up defensively.

"Well, first of all, if you want an exact date, Spooky got arrested four years ago," Monse said. "And yes, Caesar told me it did have something to do with the Prophets, but he wouldn't go into depth about it."

"Looks like Caesar tells you a lot of things, doesn't he?" Jamal muttered as he side-eyed Monse.

"Shut up, Jamal! Nobody was even talking to you," Monse snapped, giving him a look of irritation. She felt like the guys has been pressing too deep about her situation with Caesar.

"Fine! See, this is why I said I was gonna keep my mouth shut," Jamal grumbled, crossing his arms.

"Okay but it's true Monse," Ruby interjected, leaning forward "You and Caesar are weirdly close, and you won't explain anything," he said as he looked over at Monse.

Monse glared at him before snapping her head forward. "Look, Caesar and I just understand each other in a way you guys don't understand."

Matteo sat up straighter, offended. "Excuse me? Caesar was—or maybe is—my best friend!" Matteo snapped. He wasn't aware of the current tension between Caesar and Monse, so to him, what she was saying came out of nowhere.

"Well, you still don't get him like I do!" Monse hissed, frowning at Matteo. "Look, can we just drop this? I don't want to continue talking about this."

"Yknow what yeah, less Monse, more Spooky," Matteo said. "That's who we're supposed to be talking about right now anyways."

"I mean, Spooky apparently got out three months ago," Ruby shrugged. "That's pretty much all we know right now..." He wished he had more details, just so he could have them in his back pocket. However, at this moment, any further knowledge about Oscar felt out of reach.

"Well, we're here." [Y/N] said as she pulled up to Freeridge High. "Text me when you guys are done, okay?" She softly said to Matteo.

"Will do, see ya later sis," Matteo replied, opening the door and stretching as he got out. He softly closed the door behind him.

"Thank you for the ride [Y/N]," Jamal said with a small smile, waving her off as he exited the car.

"Thank you," Ruby and Monse said in unison, climbing out of the other side of the car. The two rushed to join Jamal and Matteo on the sidewalk. The group waved one last time at [Y/N] as she drove off, all hoping the conversation prior didn't weigh too heavily on her.

[Y/N] drove back towards her neighborhood, right hand on the steering wheel, left hand holding her cigarette. She took a puff, rolling down her windows so the smoke wouldn't accumulate too much in her car. She really needed a nap about now. She pulled over once she reached the neighborhood, in front of a house that seemed to have some commotion going on but she didn't care. She needed to smoke.

She reclined her seat slightly, sighing before taking another drag. She rubbed her free hand against her forehead. She didn't know how to feel about the information she'd just learned, and that scared her. For years she thought she'd be angry if she ever heard anything new about Oscar, that she'd be ready for revenge the moment she got it. However, right now she felt a strange mix of bittersweetness—especially since it sounded like he had been blocked from ever reaching out to her.

She quickly pushed that idea out of her mind, she didn't want any old feelings she had for Oscar to reemerge. She pushed the thought of Oscar out of her head completely, now was not the time. Now was the time to smoke.

[writersblockbrb]

Imitadora: I

𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 "𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲" 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐳 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐂𝐖: 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

A/N: Hi guys!! If you've found this story & are interested in staying updated, check out the pinned masterlist and be sure to read the prologue first! Happy reading :))

"You're crazy [Y/N]!" Dahlia squealed, her voice barely audible over the thumping bass of the club's sound system. The reggaeton track vibrated through the floor, rattling the glasses on the sleek table between them.

[Y/N] snorted up yet another line, the powder biting at her sinuses as the world sharpened into focus. For a second, there was only the burn, rush, and echo of her own heartbeat. Then the music flooded back in, making [Y/N] shiver euphorically. The sharp scent of cocaine cut through the smell of cigarettes and perfume that clung to the air around her.

The club pulsed with exuberance. Walls throbbing with neon blues and fiery reds, the sea of sweat-drenched bodies grinding against each other under the flashing lights.

Deep in the back, near the edge of the VIP section, [Y/N] and her clique claimed a corner booth. There, they got the best of both worlds: they were away from the chaos of the dance floor, and the real outside world didn't exist. They existed in the middle ground.

Dahlia, the most grounded of the group, tossed her hair back with a laugh, her dark curls bouncing. Her laughter was warm and infectious, the kind that made you want to stay and get closer. She always made sure to keep the other girls down to Earth.

"Aye, telling La Crazy that she's crazy is pretty redundant," Lucia chuckled, her eyes flicking up as [Y/N]'s head snapped back, her pupils dilating from the hit.

Lucia was the wildest of the group; if the girls weren't careful, they'd end up stranded on an island because of her erratic nature. Surprisingly, she always managed to be two steps ahead of everyone else when it came to managing whatever life threw at them.

Beatriz, the most laid-back of the group, glanced over at Lucia and grinned, her dimples deepening.  She preferred to watch and let the other girls do their thing, always listening but never judging. At least, not out loud.

"Fuck" [Y/N] shakily breathed, her mouth spreading into a grin that reached her ears.

"Move over, lemme get some," Inés said, nudging  [Y/N] aside with a playful shove, her long braid swinging as she leaned in.

Inés' voice was a bit raspier than the others, her throat dry from cocktails. She was the most blunt of the group, believing that hard truths are better than soft lies. While she meant well, her brutally honest nature could be a bit overwhelming at times.

A lot had changed for [Y/N] over the past five years. She was twenty-two now, still getting used to the ups and downs of adult life. She still felt like it was yesterday when her heart raced as she walked across the stage, her graduation gown flowing behind her. As she took her diploma with sweaty hands, the moment felt triumphant. The object felt weighted with happiness and success. It was proof that she was able to make it through a year that began rough and finish walking the stage, smiling despite everything.

Almost a year ago from that moment, [Y/N] was at the roughest she'd ever been. It was right after she discovered Oscar had cheated on her, the bright girl everyone knew had disappeared in a flash. It was as if she were a candle, and he blew out her flame without a second thought. She didn't want to talk to anyone or see anyone. Instead, she slept for the rest of the summer, her body heavy with exhaustion and her mind empty of everything but the ache of betrayal. Once the beginning of her senior year rolled around, she roamed the halls on autopilot, keeping to herself and only engaging in small talk with her friends.

That was when her addiction began; the restless nights were the ones where the pain felt heavier, so she'd sneak into her mother's champagne until she found something stronger.

It got to the point where the people around [Y/N] decided to hold an intervention for her, trying to bring back the light in her that had been blown out. At first, she didn't want to participate in them, finding them silly and annoying. However, as time passed and [Y/N] realized she was wasting her life away because of a guy who still hadn't bothered to contact her, she became more receptive. Slowly but surely, her flame came back, and she realized she deserved so much better than what she was going through.

After graduating, her routine revolved around three things: attending community college for her associate's degree in nursing, waitressing at Don Paco's to save enough money to move out, and then her favorite hobby—partying.

The club was her true escape from reality, even before graduating she attended. It was the first place she visited the moment she turned eighteen. There, she discovered the white lines that she had gotten so familiar with. To her, they were a way to further dull the pain and help further her healing process. Her love for starting her day after dusk was clearly the only thing that hadn't changed.

"Calm down there girl, you got school in the morning," Beatriz said, helping [Y/N] lean back on the plush booth.

"Hey, I wanna go dance, who's coming with me?" Lucia asked, standing up and scanning the others' faces. Dahlia and Beatriz nodded as they stood up.

"I'm feeling like staying," [Y/N] spoke before taking a sip of her water.

"Yeah, me too," Inés agreed, flipping her braid off her shoulder. "I'm not in the mood to be hit on right now."

The trio nodded in understanding before walking off, leaving the other two members of their group in the booth.

"I'm gonna drink some of Luita's martini," Inés giggled, leaning over the table to grab the red beverage.

"Give me one of the olives, I'm kinda hungry," [Y/N] said, pulling an olive off the toothpick that rested in the martini. "How many lines did you take again?"

"Only one," Inés chuckled as she put the beverage back down on the table. "You know I don't have as good of a tolerance for that stuff as you do," She smiled softly as she ran her finger down the glass. She then paused, looking as if she had something to say. "You've cut back on your usage, right?"

[Y/N] sighed, her gaze shifting from Inés to the crowd of partygoers on the dance floor. While her breakup with Oscar had hit hard, it wasn't the end of their relationship that stung the most. It was the fact that he never bothered to formally apologize or even try to rekindle things. It was as if their time together meant nothing to him, and that was the thought that sent [Y/N] spiraling into drug abuse. The idea of being nothing to someone she'd cared so deeply about.

Each time [Y/N] snorted down lines, it was an escape from the crushing weight of reality. The euphoric rush felt like a medicine, a temporary antidepressant that didn't cost thousands of dollars she didn't have. Her heart wouldn't drop at the sight of fully buttoned-up flannels with a goatee and cross necklace, no longer mistaking the wearer for Oscar.

Instead, she could confidently go up for a talk. Maybe they'd exchange a couple kisses, and if the guy she was into got really lucky, they'd spend the night together.

"I'm trying," [Y/N] chuckled to herself. "I don't know, I'm ready to quit, but at the same time, it just feels so good."

"I get what you mean," Inés nodded, rubbing her hand on [Y/N]'s arm. Inés was no stranger to substance abuse, having gone through high school addicted to weed. "Do you think more girls' nights could help you quit faster?"

"Honestly, maybe yeah," [Y/N] said. "I don't know why I never thought about that."

"Well, aren't you glad you have me to give you such great ideas?" Inés giggled.

"Guys, Bea just found a guy!" Dahlia called out to the two women as she rushed back towards them with Lucia.

"We had to leave so she'd stop talking to us and start talking to him," Lucia smiled, pointing over towards their dark-haired friend.

"She really does like scrawny guys, doesn't she?" Inés questioned as she squinted her eyes in an attempt to see the scene better.

"Stop that!" [Y/N] laughed as she playfully slapped Inés on her shoulder.

"Right! What's wrong with a woman wanting a man she knows she can throw around a little?" Lucia questioned as she and Dahlia reclaimed their seats. "I mean, hello! That's the dream!"

"I don't know, I think I kinda like it when a guy tells me what to do," Inés said, biting the tip of her acrylic nail.

"Honestly, I think a good mix of both is the best," [Y/N] said with a shrug. "Although a good mix to me is like 60% the first option, 40% the second."

"Hey guys, this is Damian!" Beatriz called out, walking over to the group with her arms wrapped around the arm of a tall, dark-skinned man with glasses.

"Hello ladies," Damian greeted, acknowledging each woman sitting at the booth with a nod. They exchanged excited looks, grinning at Beatriz.

"We're gonna head out together tonight, so I'll text you guys once we get back to his place!" Beatriz smiled, leaning into Damian.

"Oooh okay Bea," Dahlia teased, though her tone carried a hint of sincerity. "Just be sure to not have too much fun tonight, okay?"

"Yeah, don't try anything funny Damian," Lucia said as she sat up, pointing at him. "We've got your face memorized."

"Trust me, you'll see her tomorrow," Damian chuckled, trying to reassure the group of protective friends.

"Okay, okay, enough chit-chat," Beatriz said, pulling Damian towards the door. "I'll see you guys tomorrow, I love you!"

The group returned the 'I love you' in unison, falling silent afterwards.

"I'm kinda tired," Dahlia said, stretching in her seat. "Could we call it a night?"

"Yeah, that's fine," [Y/N] replied, resting her elbow on the marble table. "Which one of us is the most sober to drive?"

The girls all looked over to Dahlia, who sighed knowingly. Something told her to be the designated driver tonight.

"Alright ladies, let's go," Dahlia spoke as she stood up, motioning for her friends to follow her.

The car ride home was quiet, the hum of the engine and the occasional snore from Lucia being the only sounds breaking the silence. Lucia had fallen asleep long ago, and Inés wasn't too far behind her.  [Y/N], however, was still wide awake.  She quietly stared at the streets passing by, her finger subconsciously twirling one of her tight curls. Her mind reminisced about the night, looking forward to the next time she'd hang out with her girls.

When it was her turn to be dropped off, one of the houses they drove by caught her eye. Oscar's house.

Even though [Y/N] only lived seven blocks and a turn away from him, she hadn't seen that house in five years. At first, it was because she avoided it like the plague, her stomach twisting whenever she got a little too close for comfort. It infuriated her, which triggered her to stay away even more. Then, over time, it became a subconscious habit, something she did without even thinking.

She shifted slightly in her seat, the leather creaking underneath her. There was no reason to avoid that house anymore. She was over her high school. Yet, Oscar still held so much control over certain aspects of her life: the parts of town she avoided, the nights she spent snorting lines to forget his face, the way she dismissed any guy that wanted a serious relationship with her. A small part of her wondered if she haunted his mind the way he did hers.

"[Y/N] my love, you're home," Dahlia whispered, trying to not wake up Lucia or disturb Inés, who was actively dozing off.

"Thanks Dolly," [Y/N] replied as she opened the car door. "Text me when you get home, okay?"

"Of course. Love you, goodnight," Dahlia said, rolling her window to speak more clearly.

"I love you too, goodnight," [Y/N] smiled, blowing a kiss to the raven-haired girl. She made her way to the front door, waving Dahlia off as she stepped inside.

[Y/N] sighed softly to herself as she locked the door behind her and kicked off her heels. "Time to go to bed."

"Uh-uh, not so fast." A voice spoke from the dark as a lamp flickered on.

[Y/N] groaned as she saw the face of her little brother, Matteo. His face was serious as he sat in their mother's favorite chair with his arms crossed.

His face was the last thing she expected to see when she stumbled through the front door at this hour. His dark eyes flashed with that same irritating, hard-headed determination that had gotten him into trouble a million times before. It was the look that landed him in the ER six years ago after he ignored every warning their mother had given him to not ride his broken bike. He didn't even make it down the street before he fell off and scraped his knee badly. It required three stitches and a scolding so intense, you could still hear it if you pressed your ear against the wall hard enough.

He was hard-headed then, and he's still hard-headed now.

"What's it now?" She frowned. "Why are you even awake? It's 3am, you have school tomorrow, and you might wake mama." That was the last thing [Y/N] wanted, especially knowing how hard their mother worked.

Their mother was a nurse, which was part of why [Y/N] wanted to go into nursing—she wanted to continue her mother's legacy of kindness and compassion to those in need. While their mom loved her job, what she didn't love was being woken up in the middle of the night after a long shift—which was exactly what could happen if they weren't quiet enough.

"You're gonna wake her up with all that yapping you're doing," Matteo whispered, eyeing [Y/N] up and down. "Were you clubbing tonight? You look like a barracuda with makeup on"

[Y/N] opened her mouth to respond, but her brother snickered and cut her off before she could start.

"Actually no. Forget I said that, " Matteo said, straightening his face. "I'm sorry my dear, lovely, beautiful sister."

[Y/N] squinted her eyes in suspicion, she could tell her brother wanted something.

"I need you to drive me and my friends to orientation tomorrow!" Matteo blurted, giving [Y/N] a pleading look.

"What's in it for me?" [Y/N] asked, raising her brow so high it could've touched her hairline. She was planning to sleep all afternoon the next day—tomorrow was one of her lecture days, and lecture was early in the morning. "You do realize I need my beauty sleep after a long morning, right?"

"And I need to make a good first impression on my future peers!" He hissed, holding his hands out in desperation. "Plus, I already promised them you'd take us [Y/N]!" Matteo pouted, trying to sway [Y/N]. This might've worked when he was five, but at fourteen it was plain cringey.

[Y/N] sighed, her fingers pressing into the bridge of her nose hard enough to leave faint marks. She could already feel a headache beginning to settle—the kind that came from too much noise, too much light, and inevitably too much Matteo. She really wanted to rest the next afternoon. Then again, she could use this as leverage against Matteo: he would have to owe her a good seafood boil.

"Alright fine," [Y/N] said as she lifted her head back up.

"Yes! Thank you so much, mi hermana adorada!" Matteo smiled as he jumped up to give [Y/N] a hug.

"However," [Y/N] firmly began. "You owe me a seafood boil."

"What!? The ones you like are like sixty dollars!" Matteo hissed, his brows furrowing as he backed away from his sister. "I don't have a job!"

"I guess you'll have to get one then hermanito." [Y/N] smirked as she ruffled Matteo's hair. "Goodnight, be ready to leave at eleven thirty sharp."

[writersblockbrb]

Imitadora - PROLOGUE

𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 "𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲" 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐳 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐂𝐖: 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

Check here for rest of chapters

The room exuded the scent of red peonies, vanilla, and copal incense. Amid the accumulated smoke,  [Y/N] sat at her vanity, plucking her eyebrows to perfection. They were the first step in her makeup routine. Today wasn't a normal day—the first brushstroke of makeup felt like it could change the course of everything. Today was [Y/N] and Oscar's third anniversary. Three years of stolen kisses under the stars, whispered nothings, and unbroken promises. True, devoted love.

The sun was just beginning to set, and while some peoples days were ending, [Y/N]'s was just beginning. This was how her life was and she loved it.

Oscar Diaz, the young man she had been with since they were fourteen—they were each other's first everything. To say [Y/N] was devoted to Oscar was an understatement. Her behavior over the years had earned her the nickname "La Crazy." While it irritated her at first, after a while she claimed the name and wore it proudly. [Y/N] would turn Freeridge inside out if it meant making Oscar Diaz smile. To see that smile where his eyes would get all squinty and his adorable dimples would appear, the one that had been hers since they were fourteen.

Oscar would always chuckle whenever he heard someone shout "Spooky, La Crazy is here for you," because not long after, he'd see [Y/N] storming over to him in a rage because she'd seen another girl get too close to him. "Eres mi loquita" Oscar would whisper when they cuddled late at night, in response, [Y/N] would press soft all over his face.

"You're just now getting ready?" A voice jolted [Y/N] out of her trance like state.

She looked over to see her caramel skinned younger brother in the doorway—richly tanned from his time spent under the sun.

"No, I'm not getting ready I'm going to bed." [Y/N] remarked sarcastically, to which Matteo rolled his eyes.

"Y'know mom is gonna be pissed when she finds out you're out after she's gotten home from work, right?" Matteo learned on the doorframe, arms crossed.

"If she finds out that is. Plus if she does, I'll just say I was over at Daliah's and lost track of time." [Y/N] shrugged, Matteo gave a pessimistic look as he scanned her appearance.

"Are you and Spooky goin' out or something?" Matteo asked, his brows furrowing. [Y/N] was extra glittery tonight.

"It's our anniversary." [Y/N] replied matter-of-factly. She then turned back to her mirror, resuming her makeup with a brush of blush.

A quick glance at the clock told her that she had another hour before it was time to leave and make her appearance at Oscar's block party. The thought of finally seeing him made her heart flutter—he had been busy all day with the Santos, handling whatever jobs he had been assigned. Due to this, they weren't able to celebrate their anniversary properly. It had led to a heated argument the night prior after Oscar had cancelled all of their plans for the day due to "Santos Business" that she couldn't know about.

The two apologized, like usual, earlier and exchanged their usual daily affections. However, [Y/N] didn't tell Oscar she'd show up at his party tonight. He was under the impression they'd celebrate their anniversary properly tomorrow—which was true—but she still wanted to see him on the actual day.

"That's corny as hell," Matteo chuckled.

"Did you know you don't need love to be happy in life, look me!"

"That's because no girl wants a guy who spends his days smelling like sweat, only eating cheese puffs, and playing Fortnite." [Y/N] snapped, to which Matteo scoffed.

"No, that's because I have a job as a Fortnite positivity speaker—which is a full time job—which means I don't have time for women, even though they all want me." Matteo remarked with a stern expression.

There was a pause following Matteo's response, which made him smirk in empowerment.

"Oh you're serious!" [Y/N] said before bursting out into laughter.

"Y'know what? Screw you," Matteo frowned, clutching his chest dramatically.

"This conversation is wasting my time! I have people waiting on me to help carry the team!" He spat, pushing himself off the doorframe and walking back to his room.

[Y/N] chuckled to herself as she finally started styling her tight curls. She'd leave them down tonight—just the way Oscar liked. By time she was finished, everything on her was done exactly  the way Oscar liked.

[Y/N] glanced at the clock. It was time to go. She didn't take long to grab her purse and keys before heading out. Out of her room and down the hallway she walked, the scent of [Y/N]'s copal incense and Matteo's shouts of profanities at his small, hand-me-down television fading away as she exited the front door.

[Y/N]'s car was a two door, 1952 Chevrolet Styleline Deluxe with white wall tires, and a teal sparkly finish that she had painted herself. The vehicle was one of her most prized possessions—not only was it her first car, but also because Oscar had helped her obtain and fix the vehicle up. It was yet another reminder of why she devoted herself so much to him.

When the dark haired young woman finally arrived to the party, her presence had heads turning.

"Aye! It's La Crazy!" A male voice shouted as she stepped out of her vehicle. She confidently grinned, recognizing the voice.

"Smiley!" [Y/N] warmly called back as she walked over to the group Smiley was with. She scanned their faces: Yelena, Beto, Chaparro, and Sad Eyes.

"[Y/N]! Girl I thought you weren't coming, why are you so late?" Yelena said, immediately pulling [Y/N] in for a deep embrace. Yelena smelled of cinnamon, hair that was fried straight, and the sweet-candy scented candles from Bath and Body Works.

"I was getting ready! You know I had to take my time,"  [Y/N] began with an excited grin "It's June thirteenth!" she continued, watching as the guys exchanged confused looked while Yelena's face lit up.

"Stop talking to us and go see him now! I'm pretty sure he's inside!" Yelena giddily spoke as she bounced in place, pushing [Y/N] away.

"Okay okay!" [Y/N] giggled as she rushed off, her smile uncontrollable.

"What's June thirteenth?" Chaparro questioned, the young men all looked at Yelena with curiosity.

"[Y/N] and Spooky's third anniversary!" Yelena grinned. "Isn't that so romantic?" she sighed longingly.

"Yeah, three years of being able to hit all night, every night sounds pretty romantic to me" Beto snickered, making a thrusting motion that earned a look of disgust from Yelena and Sad Eyes while Chaparro and Smiley chuckled it off.

"That's why you don't got a mujer Beto," Sad Eyes said. "You joke around too much. Chicks don't like that shit."

Yelena nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, [Y/N] pushed through the crowd that overfilled the inside of Oscar's house. If it felt crowded outside, it felt suffocated inside. The bass of the music vibrated through her chest, and all she could focus on was how her stomach flipped with warmth. After a long day, she'd finally get to see her Oscar.

With no sign of him around, she forced her way toward the backyard, the only place she knew he'd be. The thought of seeing his smile and his eyes light up when he'd see her sent a shiver of joy down her spine. Three years. Three years of him choosing her, of everything about him intoxicating her like a drug she never wanted to quit.

As she neared the back door, the sound of the voices from outside became more apparent. As she shoved the door open, laughter drifted towards her. Oscar's laughter. It caused her heart to skip a beat.

[Y/N] shoved through yet another crowd, her eyes locking onto Oscar's shaven head. There he was, just like she figured—cigarette between his fingers, lounging in a white lawn chair. When she finally pushed through the last person needed to clearly see him, like [Y/N] expected, there Oscar was with a cigarette in his mouth sitting on a white lawn chair.

What she did not expect was a straight haired brunette to be perched up on his lap, her lips pressing kisses on him exactly where [Y/N] always did. Oscar's hands were on this girls waist, exactly like how they would be on [Y/N]'s. His laughter was still ringing in the air, oblivious that she was here.

[Y/N] gasped, her hand going over her mouth as she stepped back. Her vision blurred, tears pricking her eyes as she continued to watch the two flirt. Blood rushed to her head, her ears ringing. Her legs felt weak, as if she'd fall over if she didn't have a wall behind her to lean on. Her fists clenched so tight that it felt like her sharp acrylics could draw blood, her chest beginning to heave as if she had been sucker-punched. The music, the laughter, the smoke—it all faded as if she were in a dream. This had to be a sick dream.

She couldn't breath, couldn't think, only move.

Within the blink of an eye, [Y/N] charged forward to the scene. Her heels stabbing into the grass.

In one violent motion, [Y/N] drove her fist straight into the side of the brunette's head. The sound of the impact echoed in the now stunned silence. The girl's head whipped to the side, her body falling off Oscar's lap as she crumbled to the ground, hand flying to the side of her bruised face.

"Aye [Y/N], chill out!" Oscar called out as he raised his hands with furrowed brows. His protests were useless.

"Happy anniversary, pendejo," [Y/N] sharply spat shoving Oscar's chest with both hands, the white lawn chair tipping over with a hollow thud as he hit the ground.

She loomed over him, chest heaving, her voice trembling with fury as the crowd around them  froze in place, watching.

"Three years," she hissed. "And this is how you celebrate?"

Then—a sharp splitting pain erupted in the back of [Y/N]'s head. Her vision blurred as she stumbled forward, her knees nearly hitting the ground. She whirled around, hand flying to the throbbing spot, her fingers coming away with blood.

The brunette stood there, a jagged piece of firewood clutched in her hand, her face twisted in rage.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, bitch!?" the brunette snapped, her voice dripping with venom. "You don't ever put your hands on me, you crazy put–"

[Y/N] didn't let her finish. She lunged before the girl could react.

Prior to that night, La Crazy was just a nickname the neighborhood had given [Y/N], it was a reflection of the devotion everyone saw in her for Oscar Diaz. To some it was a mockery, a dig at how far she'd go for him. To others, it was a term of endearment, a nod to the way she loved him without hesitation.

However as [Y/N] took out her rage on the brunette who was most likely just as innocent as she was, the name La Crazy became bigger than Oscar ever was. As [Y/N] ruthlessly beat the brunette in front of her to a pulp, it was clear something in her had snapped. The hatred coursing through her veins at that moment felt stronger than the love she'd ever had for Oscar.

[Y/N] heaved once she finished her attack, her chest rising and falling as if she had just run a marathon. Her hands were red, knuckles split but she didn't care. She trembled with fury, her entire being radiating it.

[Y/N] was silent as she scanned her surroundings. The crowd had grown—there were faces she recognized, faces she didn't. "Are you happy now!?" She screamed, her voice cracking as she whipped her head towards Oscar.

He stood there, with a reluctant expression on his face. "[Y/N]," He softly spoke. "Just calm down." He said, slowly stepping forward.

"I hate you," [Y/N] growled from the depths of her being. She locked eyes with him, her gaze burning with animosity—those were same eyes she once looked into with love, with trust, with everything. "You're never gonna see me again" she said, voice shaking but firm. She stared at him for a couple seconds more before turning her heel and storming out.

It wasn't until she reached her car where reality finally hit. The cold metal handle and lingering scent of paint grounding her to reality. This wasn't a nightmare, this wasn't a bad dream she could just wake up from.

This was real.

[Y/N] broke into a sob, her body almost falling over as the weight of it all came crashing down on her. The tears came hot and fast as she fumbled with the car door. She sank into the drivers seat, her hands gripping the wheel like it was the only thing stopping her from falling apart.

The young man she saw moments ago wasn't her Oscar, that was a completely different man. But then again, who's to say her Oscar was even the real Oscar? Only one thing was clear here, Oscar Diaz was an impersonator. Questions of what was or wasn't true during these past three years flooded [Y/N]'s mind as she shakily started the ignition.

As she slowly began to drive off, not only did she leave the block party that night but she also left the life she thought she knew with Oscar behind her. Planning to never revisit this era of her life.

[writersblockbrb]

IMITADORA PLAYLIST

volυмe : ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▉

┏━━━ ━━━┓

- Baby Love : Supremes

- Beware : Big Sean, Lil Wayne, Jhené Aiko

- Imitadora : Romeo Santos

- El Perdedor : Romeo Santos

- Paloma Ajena : La Banda Tecno De Beto Y Juan

- Letter Home : Childish Gambino

- Lola : Jedis, Gote, Nolep

- Walk on By : Dionne Warwick

- You'll Lose A Good Thing : Barbara Lynn

- Tell It Like It Is : Aaron Neville

- Oh Qué Será? : Willie Colón

- Rollin' Deep - Al Kapone

- Neighborhood Music : Lil Rob

- Coastin' : T-Dre, Delux, Cali Life Style

- Oh Honey : Delegation

- Mujer Mia : Joe Bataan

- Linda Mujer : Lil Rob

┗━━━ ━━━┛

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

[writersblockbrb]

IMITADORA DISCLOSURE ‼️⚠️

Hi everyone! This is a disclaimer post for my upcoming On My Block fan fiction on here starring Oscar (Spooky) Diaz and you, as the reader!

This everything else important regarding the story will all be in a pinned post together, that way you can easily access everything!

Here's some important things to know when coming into this story:

Y/N's actions in the prologue are in fact very over the top, and that's done on purpose to set up her character growth in the story. So dw!! She doesn't remain that way :)

This story will include violence and substance abuse, so the chapters involving those things will ofc have warnings but if you're really not comfortable with that, don't keep reading!!!

I don't write smut, sorry not sorry. I might write some steamy scenes but that's as far as I'll go

This is in fact a slow burn, so don't expect [Y/N] and Spooky to rekindle things immediately. In the beginning their relationship may come off as one sided, so don't be surprised if [Y/N] says some hurtful things. I of course won't cross that line too much because they do need to fall in love in the end!!

I will also be posting this story on Wattpad, so if you come across it on there, thats me y'all!! No plagiarism is happening here

I'm writing Y/N as a black/hispanic coded character, however if you're neither thats okay!! Don't feel like you can't continue to read anymore

As the story progresses, this post may lengthen or change. This is because I don't have the story fully fleshed out at the moment—that's just my writing style 🤷🏽‍♀️

So yeah!! That's pretty much all I got rn, stay tuned! 😚

[writersblockbrb]

ੈ✩‧₊˚┊♡┊˚₊‧✩*ੈ Welcome to my blog !

Hi there, i'm Ericana!! I've been on Tumblr for quite a while, six years to be exact! My work on here has been on and off. I've written (and archived) works for JJBA, Harry Potter, and Yandere Sim. So maybe you'll remember me if you've already been following me

My current main fandom that you can expect writing for is On My Block, but I might sprinkle in some content for JJBA just for nostalgia sake and to stay true to my roots. 🥲 I do hope to expand my fandoms and write for other shows, but my schedule will be packed come September so we'll see how that goes!!!

╰┈➤. FUN FACTS ABOUT ME IF YOU CARE TO KNOW

Proud afro-latina 🇲🇽🇩🇴

I'm a car girlie 💖 I love any and everything about cars and the automotive industry

My favorite fish are Koi Fish

My favorite color is purple

I love anything y2k & black nouveau

I follow back!! Pls don't be afraid to interact, I'd love to form a small community of moots on here!!

I do plan on releasing some works on here, so if you're interested in fanfics for On My Block do stay tuned. This is pretty much all I have to say for rn, so if you've made it to the end tysm!! 💖💖💖

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ✧˖°.

[writersblockbrb]

Dreaming Of You

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: The spark Togo felt for Ryoba the day she helped him beat up a local gang never disappeared. After over 30 years she still holds a special place in his heart, and perhaps someone feels the same way.

Togo leaned on his bedside windowsill whilst smoking a cigarette. He gazed up at the night sky, thinking of her. He felt stupid for not being able to let go of the decades old memory of the married woman. He had his chance yet he couldn’t even build up the courage to confess his love to her.

Ryoba Aishi was the most beautiful name he had ever heard. Ryoba Aishi – the girl who was crazy enough – to help him fight off a local gang back in the 80s. Back then, Togo admired Ryoba’s courage yet at the same time was alarmed by it. How could a girl from a seemingly normal family be so bold? Ryoba was one of a kind, a once-in-a-lifetime woman for sure.

Togo took a hit, wondering if Ryoba ever reminisces on her moments with him as he does to her. Togo disregarded that thought: Ryoba was happily married. He deeply inhaled as he let his thoughts wander to senior prom of 1989.

“You want to go to prom with me?” Asked Ryoba with a dumbstruck expression, there weren’t many things that caught her off guard.

“Togo.. I'm sorry but my heart belongs to someone else.” The raven-haired girl spoke with remorse there weren’t many things that made her feel bad. Ryoba killed people weekly and felt nothing, yet her heart sank when she rejected one boy she didn’t even love. What was going on?

Togos’ smile slightly faltered, his grip on the bouquet he was holding tightened. He gritted his teeth at the sharp pain he felt in his heart. The delinquent slowly started laughing in a mocking tone to cover up any hint that Ryoba’s rejection hurt him.

"You actually thought I was asking you out to that stupid dance, huh? The guys dared me to do that shit for a good chunk of cash. Don't get me wrong though Ryoba, you're cool.” Togo swiftly threw the flowers to the ground and turned his heel. He felt his body tremble as he took deep breaths, trying to ignore his heart.

Ryoba watched him walk away with a bittersweet feeling. Something wasn’t right. Ryoba had won Jokichi’s heart and was now dating him, so why did she care about Togo’s feelings? Why did she care about the falter in his smile? Why was she standing feeling as if she were put on trail for her emotions?

Ryoba loved Jokichi, and only Jokichi right?

Then something in Ryoba’s head clicked and she no longer cared for how Togo felt. All that mattered was her boyfriend. She had done the impossible for him, Togo didn’t matter, nobody did. All that mattered was Ryoba’s love for Jokichi.

She went to walk in the opposite direction something forced her to pause. She turned her head and stared at the bouquet. What was it now? Why was she stopping? It was just a basic bouquet. She slowly looked around to see if anyone was watching her. Hastily, she scooped the bouquet up and hurried home.

Now, thirty years later, Ryoba sat by her kitchen windowsill. Her husband and daughter were sound asleep, the two of them symbolizing the life Ryoba had made for herself. She held a cup of tea in her hand, taking a sip every so often as she stared out at the night sky. In her other hand, she held a photo book filled with memories of her youth.

She took a sip of her hot tea before looking back down at the page she had settled at. A bittersweet feeling settling in her as she felt herself slightly smile. Despite them being pressed, those flowers still looked as beautiful as they did that spring evening back in 1989.

[writersblockbrb]

idek which one to work on 😭💀💀