Miguel O'Hara x Reader [one-shots]

QUICK [W/F] (P.III)

I KNOW I shouldn't resort to alcohol. But, it's the only thing that calms my nerves, and soothes the pain of not being loved. What's even worse than drinking is showing up to a meeting drunk. In my defense, I forgot we had one, therefore I didn't know not to drink.

Stumbling in the hallways, I ignore the weird looks I receive. I stand up straight, walking with purpose.

I'm ninety-two percent sure I looked stupid.

I then stumbled into the room, also ignoring the weird looks I got, especially from Miguel.

Make that ninety-three.

"Hey," Jess furrowed her eyebrows as she held me up straight, "You okay?"

"Mm... peachy," I'm sure I slur my words, but I'm too dizzy to make sure. I move my hair out of my face and pat her on the shoulders.

I walk to my chair, plopping down onto it. I almost miss it, but I catch myself, giggling to myself as I scoot in.

"Are you drunk?" Miguel whispers, his perfect eyebrows furrowed as he spoke out of the perfect lips. He looks the same, maybe a little more empty than usual, but his olive skin and brown-red eyes still have the same effect on me.

"Of... course not," I shake my head, taking a deep breath. I keep my eyes on his and sit up straight, "Can you please stop talking to me now, I'm getting vertigo just looking at you."

Miguel rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. His muscles bulge and I can see his veins, and I wish it didn't garner feelings out of me, "You reek of Alcohol, Y/N."

He's so fucking hot.

I shake my head, continuing to peer into his eyes, "Okay, so maybe I had a drink, but it was just one." I stick out my fingers to show him the number.

His expression is unimpressed by the way he sighs. "Those are two fingers."

My gaze moves to my fingers, and he's right. I groan, throwing my head back. I close my eyes, but they quickly open back up when Miguel speaks.

"Okay, Lila's going to direct the meeting today," Miguel announces right before I feel his fingers on my skin. He picks me up, his arm under my knees and his other one under my back.

I hold onto him in quiet fear and slight nausea. No one says anything, although I can feel their confused stares. It's a known fact that Miguel and I don't like each other. I hated him, he hated me. That's the way it was.

But love & hate are similar. And all that hatred created tension between us. And no matter how many times Miguel would try and hook up with other people to try and release it or how many times I'd try to release it using myself, it didn't work. Not until we would get our hands on one another.

And after we slept together for the first time, it's been that way for a while. We hated each other, but we'd hook up on the low. And our barrier started to slip. Miguel always complimented me when we had sex, but it wasn't as often as he would recently. He'd always sneak touches when no one was looking, and honestly, I would too. I'd get him hot and bothered on multiple occasions, just like he would me.

Then the pet names started happening. It was baby first, then princesa, then amor. And I'd fall for him even more every time.

I continue to hold onto him, inhaling his scent. He smelt like fresh rain and a hint of peppermint. I feel my arousal grow, but silently curse at myself for being drunk. Miguel never takes advantage. Even an ounce of alcohol, and he won't go for it. He likes me being sober. He wants me to remember everything.

His touch, his kisses, his tongue, his...

I close my eyes.

He's torturous like that.