Miguel O'Hara x Reader [one-shots]

STILL MAD? [S]

I SCOFF AS I enter Miguel and I's home, throwing my keys onto a small table as I take off my shoes. I roll my eyes and begin to walk to the bedroom, taking my uncomfortable blouse off.

Miguel followed behind me, taking his shirt off as well. "Come on, mi amor, don't be mad."

I ignore him as I place the blouse on the edge of the bed, practically feeling fumes blow out from my ears.

I turn around and grab a hair tie, putting my hair in a ponytail as I look in the mirror. I make eye contact with Miguel for a split second before looking back at myself.

He comes forward, wrapping his arms around my bare torso, his head coming down on mine.

"Please," he said, his fingers coming down to my pants as he slowly unbuttons them, helping me remove the uncomfortable clothes.

I huffed, my nose still scrunched in annoyance. "You couldn't just leave it alone, could you?"

He unzips the pants slowly and shakes his head. "You knew I wouldn't."

I groaned, my hands coming up to my face as I slightly buried my face into them. "I was doing fine. I had everything handled. But you had to mettle; you couldn't restrain yourself."

He slowly comes down to his knees and he pulled the pants down my legs. He lifted each one before putting them by the blouse.

"I'm not gonna sit there and watch your colleagues talk crap about you right in front of your face," he stood back up.

I sucked my teeth in annoyance, looking up at him through the mirror. "I had it handled."

He scoffed. "Did you? Because you never spoke up. You just sat there playing with your food, your face red, and your mood obviously ruined because those assholes couldn't care less about you."

"They're my friends."

He scoffed louder, moving away from me now. He threw his hands up before raking them through his hair, "Give me a fucking break, Y/N."

I turn around, my eyebrows knitted in anger. "They're my friends, Miguel! You should've just stayed quiet! It's the best way."

"No, Y/N," he shook his head, "The 'best way' is to stop being their friends! You do so much for them, and obviously they're not doing the same if you let them talk shit about you in front of your face!"

"They were not talking shit," I crossed my arms.

He took a step back towards me, his eyebrow raised.

"Yeah? So they didn't tell stories about you and make fun of you for the choices you made a few years ago? They didn't say, in their words,"— Miguel took another step forward—"'I wouldn't be surprised if she's the same whore she's always been'?"

I rolled my eyes, ignoring how he was right. "You're being ridiculous."

"No," he took a step closer, his body was right in front of mine, "I'm being the caring guy who stands up for his wife."

I rolled my eyes once again and scoffed. I begin to turn around, wanting to get away from him before he pulled me back and collided his lips on mine.

I inhaled deeply, his arms coming around my waist as I moved my lips with his. It only took me a few seconds before I pulled back, lightly nudging him as I realized what just happened.

"What the hell are you doing?" I scoffed, my lips slightly swollen, "I'm still mad—"

He pulled me back towards him.