IF I SEE THIS AGAIN I'LL DIE Pt 2

IF I SEE THIS AGAIN I'LL DIE pt 2

so writing is a learned skill, and it's good practice. but, I see a lot of the same mistakes that just hnnnngh make me wanna hit something (love you guys but hooo boy).

basic vocab. it's not hard to google a thesaurus or whatever to enhance the writing, cause when i've read 'chuckled, smirked, rolled his eyes' more than five times in a fic, we're doing something wrong. really dig in deep with it.

WHO DECIDED ON ORBS. WHICH ONE OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS THOUGHT 'ORBS' WAS AN APPROPRIATE SUBSITITUTE FOR EYES. i just wanna talk, man. but seriously. quick note on eye anatomy: Pupil - the black dot that gets bigger (dilates) or constricts (gets smaller). Iris - the colored bit. If you don't wanna say 'their blue eyes' again and again, try this: blue gaze, blue stare, blue irises, use different shades of blue....(or whatever color)

Appendage. why? why that word? Squelch. again. why? not sexy. 0/10. stop. just stop. member. like no. what are we, a trashy romance novel? gross.

LMAO this makes me laugh. every time. (a little bit nsfw but not really just an allusion to). "eats (x) out like a man starved." IT COMES UP EVERY TIME. EVERYYYYYY TIMEEEE AHAHAHAHAHA. stop, it's not even hot anymore i just get a tummy ache from laughing. idk why that's become the catchphrase for munching but maybe chill.

part 3 soon xox

Writing Tips: flowery words

yeah, vocab is important. but having big words isn't always better. The important thing to remember about writing is that it's a realistic description of a scenario. You need to use sentences and words that make sense for that character to use.

Like, "The sky was a divine shade of turquoise,' the man said exuberantly," and "Look how lovely the sky is, like robins' eggs!" she gushed," both mean the same thing. the first one uses more developed vocab, but it sounds fucking weird. Don't go overboard. It's okay to sound basic sometimes; not everything needs to be Shakespeare.

Balance is key!!! Synonyms don't always mean the exact same thing as the original word. they have their own affects, but overall their similar.

SIMILAR. NOT THE SAME. CLOSE.

It's realllllly important to understand that.

In my fluff advice post, I mentioned 'fluffy' words. Words have a feeling to them. "Chortle" and "chuckle" mean "laugh heartily", but you associate a different sound with each word, right?

Pick words that have the right feel. Read it out loud. If a word jumps out at you in a way that feels weird, try a different one. It may be the right definition, but it isn't the right tone. This takes practice. Pick up a book and read aloud for a bit. Get a feel for how the words flow with each other, try to mimic that.

xox love you, keep writing!

what's the favorite trope? comment any I missed!

if you have two favorites, comment ur 2nd one

Deal With It

Nathan Bateman x reader, fluff no smut, bickering, Nathan being an ass but cute about it, cuddles

genderless reader, no description

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

All day, you'd been pestering.

In the morning, after you'd dragged yourself out of bed a comfortable 2 hours after your alarm, you'd immediately gone to find him. Asking inane questions about the newest project, peeking over his shoulder at his newest website. He gruffly told you to fuck off, read the email I sent, but you preferred to listen to his voice.

After milking that opportunity dry, you lingered around his doorway or found excuses to enter his office. The first couple of times, he raised his eyebrows over the rims of his glasses, but now he merely sighed irritably.

You knew you were pissing him off, but you couldn't help it. Knowing that if you were lucky, he might give you a half-smile or a kiss on the cheek was enough for you to keep pushing for attention.

You caught the hint when he placed an extra desk in front of his door so you couldn't enter.

Instead, you wandered down the halls surrounding his office, laptop in hand. He caught glimpses of your quick pace out of the corner of his eye. He liked knowing where you were, always. Which wall you leaned against, how often you peeked through the glass to watch him work.

He understood your blind devotion. Few people get to witness a god at work, why wouldn't you take every opportunity?

Eventually you settled in the Pollock lounge. Bothering your favorite person had gotten tiring, and you'd become absorbed in your coding. It was soothing, poring over scads of green code and figuring out the puzzle, getting the little aha! rush of adrenaline when you cracked it. It was 'busy work', Nathan called it, easy for him, but too tedious to warrant his effort. So he shoved it all to you.

You didn't mind. Probably because your usefulness was the only thing stopping him from abandoning you in the woods.

Realizing you hadn't scampered past his windows in a while, Nathan's jaw ticked. He didn't like you poking and prodding him while he was in the zone, but he liked knowing you were there. You couldn't disappear that way.

He grunted and flicked through his camera feed, trying to find you in his maze of hallways and secret rooms. Rembrandt? nope. Bedrooms empty, kitchen empty...gym locked. Pollock...also no.

Had you gone outside?

Huffing, Nathan pushed away his tinkering and stalked out, shoving aside the desk he'd put up to block your efforts. He hated when you played these games. Why couldn't you pick an office and stay there, so he could watch you when he got bored? Pesky, pesky, pesky.

You were enjoying this. Of course you hadn't gone outside, it was raining like a bitch and you were dressed in a t-shirt. You'd curled behind the grey couch in the Pollock lounge, one of the few dead spots where the camera couldn't see. It was cozy; you'd pulled a decorative afghan around your shoulders and your music was playing gently. Still, it was fun to watch your genius get outmaneuvered by a camera placement.

Nathan was jogging in circles. This is stupid, just go back to work. He had hours of backlog to work through, a result of the last time you got under his skin. Can't say he didn't enjoy that, though.

But the game was starting to lose its fun. His eyebrows were pulled low and bushy over his glasses, his pace determined and strong. Where the fuck did you wander off to? You couldn't have left him cold turkey, he had way too much fun with you.

"Hey," he barked to the cold, fluorescent silence, "come on out now, it's not fucking funny."

Nothing.

Seething, Nathan scrubbed his hand over his scalp. Were you mad at him? Nah. Couldn't be. You weren't a snowflake, him rejecting your attention wouldn't drive you to isolation. He was too enigmatic, too intriguing for you to ignore.

Right?

Fuck, this was making him insecure.

"Fucking bullshit," he muttered, stomping back to his office. He wouldn't give you the satisfaction of giving in. He wasn't a lovesick pussy, he could go an afternoon without seeing you.

So he went back to his glass emporium and sat. And sat. His brain whirred, but your absence was heavy in his mind. Focus. But he'd had found a new thought to toy with; all the reasons you'd be ignoring him.

He was too mean. Did he yell at you? Maybe he'd forgotten to make you a snack in the fridge.

Hunching lower in his seat, Nathan glared at his reflection in the front window. Insecurity was for losers, idiots without the brainpower to thing about anything better. He was above this.

you were probably so mad at him.

He growled in annoyance and flung his coffee cup across the floor. It shattered, and he pursed his lips. That was one of the mugs you'd bought him.

Fuck.

☆☆☆☆

Still in your cozy cave, you'd begun to nod off. The repetitive clicking of your keys, soothing classical and the softest blanket ever was a lethal combination. a distant crash! made you stir, but you giggled quietly, imagining whatever tech Nathan got pissed at on the floor in a heap.

You closed your laptop and curled into your blanket. You'd crunched a good day's worth of code in an hour, you deserved a nap.

Apparently God Nathan had other plans.

Your slumber was rudely interrupted at a sharp tug, your drowsy mind spinning as you were hoisted into the air.

"Found you," a gravelly voice growled in your ear. You blinked, irritated that your nap had been stolen.

"Go 'way, I'm sleepin," you grumbled, pushing away his bushy face.

He held you tighter, forearms braced like a cage around you. You squirmed, feet tucked too tight under his biceps.

"Yeah? Does my attention bother you?" His sneer was audible. "Funny, you didn't have the same courtesy when I was actually trying to work-"

"I was working-"

"Shut up." He strode out of the lounge, your cheek bouncing gently on his shoulder. The way you were grasped to his chest was crushing your hands, and you fought to get away. He didn't budge.

"You want down? Is that it? Wanna break? Too fucking bad, you wanted attention, now deal with it." His grip did loosen a little, allowing you to comfortably nestle against him.

He meandered around the kitchen, grabbing another coffee mug and humming Beethoven while the espresso poured. Shifting you to his hip, he mindlessly rocked you as he waited. You nudged your nose into his sternum and he begrudgingly allowed you a sip, but not too much, because he needed to be in top performing condition.

Which, apparently included carrying you back to his office and sitting down for the next three hours, clutching you tight. You weren't complaining, you dozed right off.

☆☆☆☆☆

"Nathan."

"Hush."

You poked his cheek, wriggling away from where you'd been napping against his shoulder. He pulled you right back, smushing your cheek onto his rough beard.

"I need to piss, Nathan, lemme up."

He was quiet for a minute, and you were preparing to jab him in the groin, but he finally stood, still carrying you like a baby. The working out was paying off, evidently, because he showed now sign of weariness. You weren't the smallest person ever.

You rolled your eyes. "Nathan, I can walk myself to the bathroom, chrissakes-"

"Shut. It."

Dropping you in the restroom, he shut the door and waited outside, foot tapping impatiently. His chest was cold without you bundled up tight, and he told himself he didn't miss it. As soon as you peeked out of the stall, he swept you back into his arms and made his way back to his office.

"Nate-"

"Deal with it, baby."

Mi Luz - Miguel x reader fluff fic

Content warnings - diabetes-inducing fluff, no smut, kissing, emotional constipation

Summary: Miguel has been struggling with stress, and a soft little somebody can't seem to leave his head. Pining, crush, cute cute cute big man

slow burn for two seconds cause I have no self control

Reader is afab, no y/n, described with having large eyes but that's it

love you sweet thing, enjoy ☆

It was hard to be the king of everything.

That's somewhat what he thought of himself, sitting at the top of his tall but lonely throne, scrutinizing his subjects. Miguel didn't choose this life, it chose him. The bitterness that came with the weight of the world sat thick in his mouth, twisting his lips into a snarl and his brow into a scowl. No surprise that the Spiders around him didn't meet his eye unless to cower in fear.

It didn't bother him. He liked being alone, enjoyed the quiet of his lair - except when his pesky assistant ruined his brooding with her obnoxiously loud voice-

"aw Migs, I thought we were besties..." her pixelated pout hung in front of his eyes.

never shoulda taken you out of the drafts, he muttered, but there was no venom behind the words.

Miguel wasn't a recluse, he was just...busy. Too busy to chat, to 'hang out,' as his younger employees begged. He had shit to do, people to save. Friendship didn't fit in his schedule.

So he stalked through the halls as little as possible, shouldering past cliques and couples holding hands. He didn't need that shit.

Okay, so maybe it bothered him a little bit. Not a lot. Just a smidge. An itsy bitsy amount, if you'll pardon the pun. Hardly worthwhile. Nothing to write home about. Just something that churned in the back of his mind every waking moment of his day came up once in a while.

The irony didn't escape him, how aura sensitivity seemed to be bestowed on the least sensitive man out there. The radiating emotion and color bouncing off of everyone that passed gave him a headache. Miguel had no spidey sense to speak of, no superhuman reflexes, but the minute someone's mood changed, his ears were pricking. Not that he cared.

He didn't care that his chest ached when the sour green of fear laced the aura of his visitors. It was like a switch; he'd walk into the room, and the once shining gold and pastel hues would darken to a nervous blue, thrumming with panic. Some could pass it off, putting on a brave smile for him, but he could see. Miguel could see every shift in hue that betrayed just how little HQ liked him.

But it didn't bother him. He was king of the world.

Miguel's fangs dug into his lower gums as he ground his teeth through the debrief. It had been a shitshow; a group of rookies too unfamiliar with the terrain to do anything other than Fuck It Up. Four of them, Spider-girl 2045, Huntsman, and the twins, Recluse and Widow. All young and stupid.

Currently, all four were talking over each other, auras flashing like disco balls as they bickered over who had the right story.

"I friggin told you, Wid, that's not the right street, it was definitely 45th-"

"Oh, suck my webshooter, that wasn't even the right universe-"

"Would somebody please figure it the fuck out before I send you all back to the void!"

A meek silence followed his outburst.

Miguel was heaving, red eyes glaring down at the comedy of errors beneath him. The kids stared at him with wide, fearful eyes. Shame and embarrassment swirled around them in a sludgy grey haze.

Shit. He did it again, he was trying to be better but they were so fucking annoying and it was loud and his head hurt-

"Go home," he seethed quietly, "figure it out, and come back when your heads are out of your asses."

Not waiting for another scathing word, the Spiders scattered.

With a bone rattling sigh, Miguel collapsed onto his desk frustratedly. Why was he like this? His temper was so strong, no matter how hard he tried to reign it in. Peter had a toddler for chrissakes and hardly ever raised his voice.

LYLA hovered over his shoulder, a knowing look on her face. He nudged his face further into the desk, shutting out her abrasive glow.

"Go 'way," he muttered, teeth scraping the plasticene surface. As always, she ignored him.

"You need help, Miguel. I mean it, hey don't-" her voice went stern as he reached to disable her.

"I don't wanna hear this again," he growled, fumbling for the controls.

"Well, I'm sure these kids don't wanna be screamed at again either, and your feelings are not more important than theirs."

His carmine eyes simmered with rage as he halted. She was right, of course she was right but god why did it hurt-

Shame licked his ribs and he ducked his chin.

LYLA took the opportunity.

"With the new universes we just discovered, there'll be a whole batch of new recruits. Is this really how you wanna run this? Christ, Migs, it's almost better to be independent than deal with you."

At his huff, she crossed her arms. Prancing to the front of his chair, she tapped his nose.

"You can fix it, if you really want to. But who cares if they're saving the world when the world they live in has people like you?"

She blinked out of existence, as a shameful blush reddened his cheeks.

Fuck.

☆ ☆ ☆

Twenty new spiders would be arriving today at noon on the dot. Miguel could already feel the migraine coming on as he discussed logistics with Jess and Peter. Training, tours, watches, all the work was piling in his mind.

"Miguel?"

Jess' sharp tone brought him out of his reverie. She looked expectant, a stack of files outstretched. "Did you hear what I just said?"

His blank stare triggered an eye roll. "These Spiders need Multiverse tracking, so you'll take them to the Center at 2:30, yeah?"

Miguel acquiesced gruffly and snatched the files, Meeting adjourned, he waited for his office to be clear again.

Peter hung back, aura churning with conflict.

Oh boy, here we go.

"Hey big guy....up for a chat?" Peter's eyes were bright but wary, and Miguel shot him a weary look.

"I don't have time to chat, Parker, we've been over this," he bit out.

"It's important."

"I don't care, write me an email-"

"Huntsman is AWOL."

Miguel blinked, fiery words fizzling on his tongue. Impossible. He'd just seen him an hour ago, how could that be? Sighing impatiently, he began searching for the small boy on his wall of screens.

"Miguel."

"What."

"You scared him pretty bad, dude. I know you don't like to here this, and I'll try to keep the hippy-dippy to a minimum, but dude," Peter breathed, eyes worried. Miguel struggled to make eye contact, hating the rare sincerity of his tone.

"I mean..." Peter faltered, gesturing to the door. "Voidspace is no joke. Especially some of those kids, where they've come from...you gotta fix your stuff. That's not cool. Jess and I have been-"

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

"Don't look at me like that," Peter scolded. "You know I'm right."

Miguel seethed out his nose, hands clenching and unclenching around his tablet. god, if only other people saw feelings the way he did, maybe they'd leave him alone.

"I," he spat, "am aware that my temper is...volatile. But-"

"No buts," Jess said from behind him. He whirled. The tension was strangling the air from the room. He needed a break. There was so much to do...

"How you talked to the recruits today was unacceptable. Don't act like you're above consequence," She said in response to his growl. "That behavior is appalling. We can find someone else to do this, you know."

His anger dissipated. She wouldn't.

"You wouldn't."

"If it meant helping the success of the next generation, I would."

Miguel, for once in a long time, felt the sting of tears in his throat. Sensing the shift, Peter gave him an awkward shoulder pat and retreated.

"We care about you, man," he said gently, "but you gotta work this out."

With that, the door slammed shut, and Miguel was alone.

Again.

☆ ☆ ☆

He thumbed the corner of his sweatshirt, damp from his workout. Peter's conversation rattled around his brain. He didn't think he'd been that harsh. He never meant-

He never meant to hurt anyone.

But it was inevitable, wasn't it? No matter how hard he tried, someone always got hurt. His tongue was too sharp, his claws too fast.

Her form, small, clutched in his arms, deteriorating into pixels as she sobbed-

No.

He wasn't doing this again. Miguel stared at himself until he was sure the mirror would crack. They deserved better. He deserved better. It was cowardly, the way he hid from emotion.

Was that what it was?

Was he afraid? Afraid to reach out for it to snap back in his face? It seemed so childish, like there should be something more than the fear of other people keeping him at bay. Gabi was gone. There was no changing that. He knew that in his head, but his heart?

The roiling stew of his emotions made his chest tight. He couldn't do this, not right now.

Maybe tomorrow.

It was late. Or early, depending on how you looked at it. Miguel was steadily working, a slight burn in his red-rimmed eyes the only indication that he was tired. Adrenaline buzzed through his veins, keeping his back rigid and muscles taut.

Another anomaly, another fight, another file. click-click-click went his keyboard, rhythmic in the the empty office.

Almost empty, that is.

Out of the corner of his eye, a soft shine radiated from the doorway. Biting back a sigh, he leveled his tired glare with the figure, mentally preparing himself for one of Peter's scoldings. But as the figure drew closer, he realized he didn't recognize the shimmery white aura or the person attached to it.

"Miguel O'Hara?"

A soft, lilting voice carried from the base of his tower. Miguel blinked, not recognizing the voice either.

"Yes?" He responded gruffly, wracking his brain for who the fuck could be visiting him at this time of night -

"Um...Can...Can you roll down? O-or something? I'm sorry, I just can't really see..." the sweet voice faltered and he rolled his eyes.

Maybe, if they'd waited till a reasonable hour to visit him, his chair would be in a more reasonable position. But nooo.....

Regardless, he began the slow descent from his perch. As he grew closer to the ground, the pearlescent light grew more in focus. Miguel came to the conclusion that he definitely did not know you.

Your expression was patient and soft, standing with your hands folded and dressed in a comfortable sweater. You must be new; most seasoned Spiders wore suits out of convenience. A file was grasped loosely in front of you.

"I'm supposed to be working in the office next door, and it seems I wasn't given a keycard?" Your owlish gaze turned hopeful, and he was taken aback by your gentle gaze.

Miguel had never seen someone with such large eyes. Round and long-lashed, they exuded warmth and an innocence that reminded him of her

No.

Stop it.

"Uh, yeah, hang on a second," He fumbled for his watch and pushed past you, not waiting for you to follow.

His mind was reeling, trying to recall if he was supposed to know who you were. Jess had mentioned an assistant, but he figured it would be someone less....soft. More experienced, that is. Besides, he didn't trust you. No way was he just shoving the fate of the universe in your hands, even though your eyes were nice and you didn't cower when he spoke-

Stop. It.

He exhaled loudly, trying to expel the thoughts with it. You stood next to him, ever patient. Your halo, he found, was still that shimmering white. It was a soft light, not glaring and oppressive like the colors of his teammates. It soothed his headache rather than aggravated it.

Realizing he was staring dumbly at the locked door, he sighed again and slid the keycard across the pad.

Error.

Miguel blinked. He had the master card, it applied to every door, what the hell? Trying again, he felt impatience coiling in his chest. What....

Peter. Peter had borrowed his card to let Mayday out of a lab she'd snuck into. He promised he'd return it by today, but knowing him....

"I can't fucking believe this," Miguel muttered venomously, "he takes the most valuable piece of tech I have and fucking forgets to return it, that irresponsible piece of...shouldn't even be a father, gotta be kidding-"

"Miguel?"

He froze, having forgotten you were there. Humiliation tinged his cheeks. He'd done it again, fuck, he wasn't even trying-

"If it's too much trouble, I can just get my card tomorrow." Your voice was patient and placating.

He shuffled his feet, unsure of how to handle your response.

You were still glowing with a soft white light, tinged only by a slight pink hue. Sympathy. No fear, no ugly red anger or terror at his temper. your eyes. you looked him in the eye. you smiled at him. you wanted to help-

His throat, too choked up with confusion and pity and ugh that he merely grunted and ducked back into his office, leaving your soft gaze behind.

☆ ☆ ☆

God, it drove him crazy. Your patience. Your light. He could feel you from yards away, your glow that was always warm, always kind. Your card arrived safely, and there wasn't another mishap between you two.

Every day, you'd pitter-patter into his office on soft feet and explain the schedule to him, then go through the mission briefs with a gentle tone that didn't falter, even if he grouched about the conferences overriding his lunch break.

He didn't think he'd need an assistant. He could do it himself, had been forever. But you...helped. Your organization was impeccable, finding reason and structure where his brain only saw chaos. Miguel was terrible with time management, but you'd give him a gentle reminder that it was time for a break, or that the work was done and his brooding could be saved for tomorrow.

Go home, Miguel, you whispered kindly, tucking a bag of dessert into his large palms. I'll see you tomorrow.

Well, he'd see you sooner. He liked to think about you. It didn't feel like daydreaming, because you worked together and therefore thinking about you was thinking about work, technically. It puzzled him, how your patience never wavered. You'd heard the stories, comforted victims of his wrath. But your light only burned brighter with him, never dampened in contempt.

He noticed it first at a work party. Miguel hated these functions, found them boring and tedious. Chatting about mundane things while nursing cheap wine and a migraine? He'd pass.

Then, you arrived. Dressed in a soft purple sweater and a long skirt god he loved your sweaters, how warm and docile your eyes hidden shyly beneath your hair. He itched to walk over, but nerves rooted him to the spot. You were tucked against a wall, clearly uncomfortable, and as your gaze scanned the busy room...

you landed on him. And,

you glowed. radiantly, your nervous blue haze shimmered with a soft golden happiness, and you waved with a smile. Miguel swallowed thickly.

You were happy to see him. He, who never gave you more than two word sentences, who snapped and bickered and bit like a hissing cat, made your halo glow so bright it warmed his cheeks.

Nobody had ever felt that way about him. And it was so fucking stupid, the giddiness that made him dizzy. Decency was all it was. You were just being nice. And here he was, a blushing melting mess because you were happy to see him.

He looked forward to you even more after that. Slowly, he tried his best to bite his tongue, to keep the irritation from spewing. Instead, he tried fanning the flames with small talk, stumbling through conversation like a lovesick teenager.

He could tell you were surprised, but you welcomed the change. You would sit at the edge of his desk and talk about random occurrences, silly mundane things that still made his cheeks ache from smiling. How the slowly brightening halo of light around you made him adore you more, even if you had to sheepishly apologize when it got too bright.

don't be sorry, mi luz, he wanted to whisper, I love to see you shine.

Then, inevitably, you would pad back to your office and your light would be gone. Miguel would pout at the loss, missing the gentle glow that made his chest ache.

So he decided to do something about it.

You were revising a plan against the latest anomaly in sector AB-7. His tablet was clutched to you as you curled against his chair. The warmth emanating from your aura made him melt with adoration, eyes growing heavy-

"Migs?"

He hummed, still gazing. You'd picked up the nickname from his AI, and he wanted to curl up in your lap every time you said it.

"You look tired, I'll let you rest." You placed the tablet back on his desk and patted his shoulder god do it again please before turning-

"No."

He murmured it, not quite pleading. You stopped, tilting your head in confusion. "You...can stay. There's room down there, if you still wanna work," he added gruffly.

You didn't say anything, and he felt the words rush out. "It just- it just seems strange that you'd be working in a different office when you spend so much time here anyway, but don't worry about it, it's fine-"

"Migs," you said, so gentle it made his toes curl. "I'd love that."

And hence began the worst mistake of his productive career. Because now you'd made a home in the corner of his space, and your softness was always there, so inviting for him to marvel at. He'd lost hours of working just staring.

He learned everything he could about you. How you weren't cleared to fight, which is why you could afford do dress so comfortable. Fine by him, he'd blow a fuse if something happened to you. As long as he could keep you tucked in his little haven, safe for him to admire, he didn't give a fuck.

Jess would raise her eyebrows at your constant presence, but his heart rate was lower and he smiled. She'd never been more shocked.

He was doing better.

Miguel soon found himself focusing all of his spare attention on you. Buying you sweaters, letting you watch your favorites movies on his widescreen, doing anything to make your light glow a little brighter.

This was....different. he hadn't had this, not for a long while. It made him nervous, a little undercurrent of shyness beneath his desire to make you smile. You were never as forward with him, kind as ever but at a distance. He would take what he could get, though. As long as your light kept shining, he'd bask in its warmth.

☆ ☆ ☆

God, what a meeting. He'd zoned out halfway through, so astronomically exhausted that he could barely keep his eyes open. His thoughts were consumed with the idea of taking a nap on the old sofa you'd shoved into his office. you'd be right next to him, reading and playing with his hair, oh god if only the clock would move faster- Miguel almost lept out of his chair when the meeting concluded.

His feet quickened back towards his office, feeling your light trickle under the door.

Oh. uh oh. uh oh uh oh.

He stood frozen, staring at his desk. You had made yourself comfortable in his chair, napping with your chin tucked and hair mussed and he felt his chest grow tight god what is happening to him good christ-

Miguel swallowed roughly and peered down at your closed eyes. Your aura was a soft pink, content and sweet. He wanted to hold you so badly. God, that's what he'd been needing. To tuck you up in one of your devilishly soft sweaters and keep his little light all to himself.

It wasn't lust, his desire for touch. Lust felt too carnal, too vile for you. He would never defile you like that, wanting only to watch you shimmer and preen with happiness. Little light, mi luz, so soft...

His eyes were shining with adoration as he looked at you. He didn't know how long it had been, and he didn't care. But after a moment, he realized sleeping on his straight-backed chair would hurt your back. He needed to move you. Hold you on his lap, he was softer and warmer and god help him-

Taking a breath, Miguel slid his forearms under your curled form and lifted slowly, careful not to jostle you. Whatever love demon was inside keened with joy, and he wanted to weep. As he gently maneuvered you towards your comfortable armchair, he caught a shift in your body. Freezing again, he waited for you to finish squirming, finally settling with your head tucked in his neck.

And oh, mi luz

You were glowing warmer now, the faint blush shimmering gold against your hair. Miguel's lips quivered and he began to rock gently. His hands shook with care. He could feel the tranquility rolling off of you in heavy waves, making his eyes heavy and his heart full. You felt safe with him. Soft snuffling breaths against his collar and hands clutched loosely at his nape sent shivers down his back.

He was going to die. His chest burned with the need to shout, to scream with excitement. Finally finally, little soft light, all his to hold-

Miguel might have been squeezing too tight in his joy, because your brow pinched and you mewled in discomfort. He immediately hushed you, coaxing you back into golden sleep. Crooking his elbow so you laid comfortably over his shoulder.

"Sleep, mi luz, I have you. I have you," he cooed, nudging his nose into your jaw. You sighed contentedly and murmured a good night as he gently laid with you in the armchair. He buried his face in your hair, shivering with the warmth that enveloped him.

☆ ☆ ☆

Wherever this was, he never wanted to leave. Miguel felt syrupy and languid, wrapped in a cocoon of something that felt divinely warm and safe and

"Migs?"

A rustle, and the lovely bundle in his arms blinked blearily at him. His lovestruck eyes shone down at his little love, and he smiled gently.

"Hi, dovey," he murmured, rubbing your back, "sleep well?"

You nodded and scooted up, seated fully against his chest. Your aura pulsed sluggishly, dripping like honey. Miguel was too busy sweetly nosing your cheek to notice the hues dancing around your head. still half-asleep, you purred happily, dozing gently against his warm neck. Miguel kept up, suckling gently behind your ear and across your lips and everywhere he could reach without waking you. He could do this for hours.

The warmth was beginning to singe his hair though, and he hissed gently.

"Mi luz," he whispered, trying as gently as possible to rouse you. You whined at the wake-up, doe eyes drowsy and unfocused.

"Your halo, mi sol," he whispered, pecking your cheek, "getting a little warm is all."

you blushed, quickly dampening the shining haze of love you had blanketed over the both of you. Miguel grunted and laid his head back again. You followed suit, curling against him as close as possible.

'love you,' your lips murmured into his skin.

'mi luz,' he said reverently, and his soft mouth soothed you back to sleep.

that's all folks! might do some lil drabbles off of this but idk yet. hope you enjoyed, requests are open, ilysm xox

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