𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐀, doja cat imagines

her

doja is 18 in this!

i walked down the streets of la with a frown on my face. i didn't get out very much so this was a first. i was beyond cold but for some reason didn't bring a jacket.

i plugged in my headphones and shuffled through my playlist continuously walking.

i was going to a club, though i wasn't 21 yet who gives a shit. i'd find my way in. "elevate lounge where the hell is that at?" i asked myself.

i looked around the dark grayish setting, taking in the wet concrete the rain damped up. i was soaked at this point but wanted a drink.

as i turned around my eyes met with the familiar building, the building i was was looking for.

i smiled and walked in being stopped by security. "ID please?" the buff man asked, holding out his hand.

i sighed and opened my purse, pulling out my fake ID.

i wasn't born in 1998, i was only 17 years old. but i wanted to have a little fun. the guard studied my face with an unexplainable look.

"you look very young miss, are you sure this-"

"what are you trying to say?" i furrowed my brows. "are you trying to say that this is a fake ID? you didn't do this to any of the other people but for some reason you're accusing me." i put on an act.

"n-no i was just saying that-" i cut him off once again, "how would your manager react if he heard something like this coming from you.." i read his name tag, "...christopher."

"matter of fact. manager! where's the manager? someone get the manager!" i yelled waving my hands in the air.

a tall, slim and attractive man jogged his way over to me. he gave me a smile that made my heart flutter. "yes ma'am?"

"your security worker cristopher over here is giving me some trouble." i crossed my arms.

he looked over at the guard with a frown, "is this true cristopher?"

he looked dumbfounded, "n-no i was just trying to tell her that-"

"someone get this young lady a drink!" the manager yelled. he looked down at me and smiled, "it's on the house, sorry for the trouble ma'am."

i politely thanked him and sat down at the bar taking a sip of my drink. "and that's how you do it folks." i said to myself.

"who you talking to?" a girl asked me. "myself, isn't it obvious?" i looked at her.

"what's your name?" she asked. "y/n, you?" she gave me a small smile. "amala."

"you look really young" she stated.

"pardon?"

"the fake ID?" she scoffed. "you're a teenager."

"well for your information i'm 17 and you don't seem like an adult yourself miss amala." i teased making her laugh.

she gave me a look, "i'm 18 but my dad owns this place so it doesn't matter." i took a sip of my drink, "sick."

"so watcha doing here all alone?" she asked. "i don't know honestly, i like being alone." i spoke. she stared at me as i talked. she had a small smile on her face as i spoke.

"you're really pretty y/n." she said making me blush. "you aren't too bad yourself amala," i smiled.

"thank you." she smiled. "mmm." i sipped my drink. "is that alcohol?" amala asked. "yeah why?"

she snatched the drink from my hand and pushed it away from us. "you're 17, you don't need this."

i scoffed and rolled my eyes playfully, "pfft okay mom." she looked at me dead in the eyes. "i saw what you did there, with christopher. you're clever." she said.

"thanks, i get that a lot." i winked. "your ego is huge." amala said. "you'll get used to it."

"now tell me about yourself, you're interesting." she smirked. "the talking stage? really? you're just gonna have to find out." i winked and walked out of the club.