dis·so·ci·a·tion
/dəˌsōSHēˈāSH(ə)n,dəˌsōsēˈāSH(ə)n/
noun
the disconnection or separation of something from something else or the state of being disconnected.
Read this if you're looking for poetic, short, or long stories that can ease your mind.
Jus...
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SAVE ME
Armando Aretas as Himself You as Y/N
Inspired by y2kbratzzz warning: guns, blood, violence
Y/N held onto her thigh as blood gushed from her gunshot wound. Bullets flew past her head shattering the club windows and anything in its path. Her head stayed down as she emptied her clip.
"Fuck. I'm out." She whispered to herself.
She could hear her Uncle Marcus shouting from the other side of the room, "Hang tight! I'm coming."
Pain seared through her body once again. She carefully looked past the cop car she had been hiding behind, "I'm hit!"
"I can't get to her!" Mike, her Uncle Marcus' partner and best friend, said as he tried to navigate the reckless shootout.
Y/N wiped the sweat from her forehead. She was starting to regret getting into Police work like her family. Her Aunt Syd had told her to be careful of those violent Miami streets. Her lead into the Miami cartel had led her to confront them...without backup.
A body stood next to her towering over her. She gasped pulling the clip of her gun only to remember it was out of ammo. The man leaned down beside her. He was quiet yet alluring. Y/N had never seen him before.
Y/N closed her eyes noticing the gun in his hands pointing directly at her.
"Mi amor, no debiste haber venido sola." (My love, you shouldn't have come alone)
Y/N shook her head only understanding a fraction of what he said, "Please don't kill me."
A flicker of emotion flashed across his eyes and disappeared within seconds, "You've got a lot to learn."
Y/N flinched when he lifted his arm aiming the pistol at her again. Her eyes opened when she didn't hear the gun go off. The man had disappeared.
The gunfire had stopped and Mike and her Uncle had appeared in front of her.
"Damn. I told you not to come alone." Uncle Marcus scolded her pressing down on her wound.
"We need a bus at Club Oxygen, officer down." Mike spoke into the police walkie taking off his jacket and pressing it against her thigh.
She hissed leaning her head back against club bar, "That guy...who was he?"
