Miguel O'Hara x Reader [one-shots]

WHO DID THIS? [F] (P.II)

AS MIGUEL CAREFULLY placed me down on the ground, I tried to hide my shaky heads and my fear-filled demeanor.

It doesn't seem to bode well as Miguel leans down, kissing my forehead as he runs his hand through over my hair then over my skin.

I close my eyes for the split second before opening them back up. I take the spare key I hid under the mat and opened the door, immediately engulfed by the crude stench of alcohol. I barely reacted though; I was quite used to that horrid smell.

Miguel doesn't react at all though, he simply walks in after me, his gun cooly in his hand as he stands in the small entryway in his all-black suit.

I catch sight of my boyfriend, his confused eyes laying on mine.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he questions rudely before taking another swig of his beer.

"James—"

My mouth shuts as I hear Miguel step to me, his towering persona right behind me. I shudder at the closeness of his body.

James stands up, slamming his beer down at the coffee table. He narrows his eyes, trying to figure out who Miguel was.

Everyone knew who he was, and it would, of course, take time to realize it as mafia leaders aren't exactly known to be in the public eye.

"Who the hell are you?" He looks to Miguel for a second before looking back at me, his fists clenching, "Who the hell is this guy?"

He takes a step forward, and I try to take one back, but Miguel keeps me in my place.

James waved his finger in the air as he points to my bruised face. "Didn't I tell you to cover that shit up?"

Miguel stepped to the side, walking to him. James looks up at him, confusion etched on his face as he doesn't move where he stands.

Miguel grabs his finger and bends it back, James crying out in pain. I watch as Miguel then uses that to pull him roughly into the kitchen. He grabs a knife and forces James' hand down, cleaning slicing the finger off.

I flinch a bit, but I don't move. Even with James' screaming, I feel nothing but hatred for that man.

"You like hitting women?" Miguel questions James, his voice smooth like butter as he holds the bloodied knife over another finger, "Answer me."

"Fuck, man!" James cries, tears strolling down his cheeks as he pants, "You're that powerful boss-guy!"

Miguel tuts, shaking his head.

He rolls his eyes and shrugs, "Wrong answer."

Another finger comes off.

This time I don't flinch.

James screams in pain, "No! No! I don't!"

I scoff.

Miguel shakes his head, grabbing James by the throat as he points the knife at his eye.

"Oh, so we're liars now?" he questions, running the knife down James' face, drawing blood.

James groans. "Fine. Yes! Get off me, man!"

My jaw clenched as I look at James. Miguel looks to me and placed the knife down, but still keeping his tight grip on James' throat.

He takes his gun and slides it across the counter. He gives me a look. A look that tells me I'm safe.

I hesitantly take a few steps forward, grabbing the gun. I cock it, placing my finger on the trigger.

I already knew how to handle one, it came as a requirement for this job to at least know how to shoot one.