Miguel O'Hara x Reader [one-shots]

DIFFERENT [F] (P.II)

MAKING MY WAY towards him, the line of security steps back. I chew the inside of my cheek, nervously fidgeting.

Why was the owner of the club calling me over?

"Hey," Miguel's handsome smile flashed as he patted the chair next to him, "Come sit."

"Okay..." I tried to hide the subtle shake my voice had as I sat down in the chair.

I felt him looking at me, heat rising to my cheeks.

I finally looked up at him, flashing a small smile. "Thanks for saving me back there."

"It's no problem," he shrugged, shaking his head, "Bur something tells me you're not the type who needs it."

Memories flash through my mind. Bad ones from my childhood.

I chuckle as I shake my head, letting them fade away. "Still. Thank you."

He nods. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Uh..." I shake my head, shrugging, "It's fine, you don't have to-"

"I'm the owner of this club, Y/N," he interrupted me, smiling subtly, "I'll get you anything your heart desires."

More heat rises to my cheeks.

"Do you want anything?" He asks again.

"Uhm," I chuckled and shrugged, "A Coke is fine."

He smiled and nodded, "Good girl."

He looked away from me for a second, telling one of his security guards to get me the drink. I didn't really know why he had so many, but I suppose it's just because of the ownership he has.

"So, you're from around here?" He asks me, his undivided attention on me now.

"Yeah," I nodded, beginning to feel more calm. I stood up straight, "I was born in Puerto Rico, but I moved here when I was like, seven."

"Ah, ¿Hablas Español?" he questioned, the handsome smile on his face still as we spoke over the music.

"Sí," I nodded, a small smile on mine, "Y tu, ¿de donde eres?"

"México."

We kept talking for a while, enjoying one another's company. He seemed like a really good person and easy to talk to. When girls would ask to hang out with Miguel, he wouldn't take his eyes off me as he sent them away with a wave of his arm.

As one of the security guards returned with my drink, he apologized for it being late.

Miguel eyed him, a subtle angry look on his face. My hand instinctively came to his, and I gave him a look, silently telling him that it was okay.

He seemed to be surprised at the gesture, but he listened and calmed down.

"Sorry," the security guard said, handing it to me, "Bartender kept ignoring me until last minute."

I shook my head. "You're fine. Thank you."

He nodded, flashing a soft smile before returning to his post.

I looked back to Miguel who was already staring at me. I took a few sips of the coke, sighing in relief once the cold beverage hit my tongue.

After a couple seconds, I place it on a coaster on the table closest to mine.

As I began to try and continue the conversation Miguel and I were having, my head started pounding and my stomach started feeling queasy.

I furrowed my eyebrows, my hand coming up to my head as I could feel it practically splitting.

"Are you okay?" I feel Miguel's hands on my shoulders, and he tries to keep my eyes on his, but my vision gets blurry.

I look to the Coke and so does Miguel.

What was in that?

He picks it up before cursing. He looks back at me, but I barely see him. Tears prickle my eyes from the pain and I could feel my hand shaking.

I feel everything begin to feel far away, even the touch of Miguel carrying me didn't feel real. He tried to keep telling me to stay with him, but all I could think about was how tired I am.

The last thing I heard was loud gunshots.