If you're up to it, can you write insecure or guilty Miguel? Do I want guilty Miguel after his hesitation in your omegaverse story? Yes, yes I do. And are you keeping us, readers, fed? Yes, yes you are.
hello yes, i'm so happy to keep y'all fed >=3 this is rly helping me get out of my writing slump
anyways, i wasn't entirely sure which of the omegaverse ficlets you were talking about since there's two of them. i ended up picking the first one i wrote, about Miles wanting to be collared.
for anyone who wasn't read those ficlets, you can find them here and here. that second link is the collar one.
The guilt hits when Miguel is out shopping. Maybe it's how mundane the task is, standing there in a supermarket in Nueva York with it's harsh fluorescent lights and faint cheery but stale music. Maybe it's the plastic of the collar he's holding, plain white and smoothed into an unpleasant slickness, like it's got a thin layer of oil on it.
What the hell is he doing? Buying a collar for a fifteen year old Omega as some kind of show of ownership. It's not uncommon for Alphas to collar their mates; they're naturally possessive that way. But those collars are engraved or have tags to prove ownership. Only unbonded Omegas wear the kind of plain collar Miguel is looking at. Which just goes to prove that Miguel knows exactly how wrong what he's doing is.
Miles is too young, and Miguel too old. What's he trying to play at, pretending this relationship could ever work out? No matter how amazing Miles smells (bright and warm, like sunshine and spices), or how attractive his growing body is, the coltish legs, the broad shoulders he hasn't quite filled out yet, the stubble he'll need to start shaving soon. None of it is an excuse for what Miguel is doing.
And still he stands there, staring at the stupid collars.
Does Miles even want this? a voice in his head asks. An angry Alpha was bearing down on and manhandling him, of course he'd say something to placate you.
Miguel winces internally and shies away from the thoughts. They fit too well with the guilt he was already stewing in, making him feel like some kind of lecherous pervert. Exactly like the kind of Alpha he's always hated.
With a faint growl of annoyance he snatches a black leather collar off the shelf, lined with soft red velvet, and stalks towards the registers. Several Beta women scatter from his path, and the faint flashes of fear he sees on their faces makes that guilt twinge all over again. He's not a monster but fuck does he feel like one sometimes.
oOo
Miles is passed out on Miguel's couch in his HQ apartment when Miguel gets back. He looks soft in sleep, if not a little ridiculous. Splayed out with limbs slightly too long for him all askew. It would be a calming sight, Miles in his home and safe, if not for the livid bruise on his throat.
What had Miguel been thinking? That's just the thing though, he hadn't been. Seeing Miles being chased after by other Alphas just brings out the worst in Miguel, gets him growling like a dog with its hackles raised. No thoughts in sight besides mine and protect and mate.
"I can feel you staring at me, stop it," Miles murmurs suddenly. He doesn't move besides slitting one dark eye open. "You're so weird, old man."
Miguel doesn't wince. He's not a man who flinches from anything. But the words old man still ricochet inside his brain. Maybe now's a good time to try and talk to Miles about this, see if he can't chase the teen off before Miguel does more damage than he already has.
Sighing, Miguel drops the collar on his coffee table then shoves Miles' legs out of the way so he can sit on the couch. Miles squawks at the rough treatment but scrambles until he's sitting up all the same.
"What's gotten into you? You're grumpier than usual," Miles snarks. Then he pauses, looks closer at Miguel, and all that teenage rebellion melts away. Concern takes it's place, his brow knitting and mouth pulling down. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"
Miguel shakes his head. "No, I just...I think we should talk."
That only makes Miles' eyes go wide. "Uh, you know that's like, the most panic inducing thing you could ever possibly say to someone, right?"
"Cállate," Miguel snaps, unable to help the harshness of his tone. Realizing he's behaving exactly how he doesn't want to, he groans and drops his head into his hands, elbows planted firmly on his knees. "Fuck, Miles, I'm sorry." The words are sour on his tongue.
"Uh..." Miles says, then Miguel can feel the couch shift as the Omega moves closer. "You're kind of starting to freak me out here, big guy. What's going on?"
"What's going on is that I'm not good for you, Miles," Miguel says without lifting his head.
There's silence for a moment. Miguel isn't really sure what he's expecting; Miles is as tenacious as a pit bull once he's sunk his teeth into something. He's not going to just walk away from this quietly.
But Miguel is the adult here and he's got to stick to his guns.
A hand on his shoulder makes the muscles in Miguel's arm jump before he can settle himself. But instead of the harsh words or tantrum he's expecting, he gets, "Miguel, tell me what you're thinking. Please?"
Miguel lifts his head in surprise, turning to stare at the teenager beside him. Miles looks concerned and sympathetic, leaning into Miguel's space with zero hesitation. Like he has no fear of Miguel at all.
Breathing out harshly through his nose, Miguel sits up straight and rolls his shoulder to knock Miles' hand off. "I'm thinking that I'm a brute of an Alpha and you're an Omega who's way too young to know what he's getting into."
Once again, he's expecting some kind of tantrum. He's seen before how much Miles hates being talked down to or treated like a child. So much of his personality is just him trying desperately to grow into the man he's going to be, but it's too soon and he can't seem to see that.
But once again Miles surprises him. He doesn't blow up, though he does roll his eyes. But seconds later he's sliding into Miguel's lap, straddling the Alpha with ease and balancing himself with hands on Miguel's shoulders.
"I'm not sure where this sudden bout of insecurity is coming from, but it ain't a good look, babe," Miles says, voice teasing and light. "Let me tell you what I see from where I'm sitting. You're a good man, a good hero, and a good Alpha. The best I could ask for, honestly. And yeah you're a bit of a brute sometimes, and overly possessive, and a massive pain in my ass, but those are part of your charm, too. I'm sure I piss you off all the time." Miles pauses, eyebrow raised and clearly inviting a response.
Miguel scowls, unwilling to play this game. "That's not-"
"Don't you dare say any of that's not true! It is and you damn well know it." When Miguel doesn't interject again, Miles continues. "I like that you're older than me, too. It makes me feel safer and better cared for. And I'm not too young to know what I want in a mate. I want you and I'm not gonna settle for anyone less. I fought this whole damn organization once and I'll do it again, your ass included, just to be your mate. ¿Comprende?"
The words tumble over themselves in Miguel's mind, his guilt warring with his absolute adoration for the boy sitting in his lap. Miles is so terribly tempting and he doesn't even seem to realize it most of the time. Most. He definitely knows it right now, the way he's peering up at Miguel through his lashes.
When Miguel doesn't respond after a moment, Miles rolls his eyes again, then leans back so he can grab the collar Miguel bought off the table. He makes an appreciative noise while he turns it over in his hands.
"This is tight, good choice," he says, pulling the tag off. Then he holds it out to Miguel. "Now collar me, Alpha."
The words send a jolt through Miguel, so strong his body jerks with it. He's not sure when his hands found Miles' hips but they're there now, squeezing hard enough he knows it has to hurt, but Miles is just smiling at him.
Fuck, there's no winning is there? Miguel can guilt trip himself all day long, can tell Miles that he's the adult here and needs to make the correct decision for both of them, and it won't matter.
Because he's so fucking gone on Miles that it isn't funny.
"Brat," Miguel growls, and snatches the collar away. "Eres un dolor en el trasero, you know that? Tambien un incordio."
Miles just laughs, because he really is a brat, and tilts his chin up obligingly as Miguel holds the collar up. "I don't recognize that last word. Incordio? What does that mean?"
"It means nuisance," Miguel grunts, tightening the black leather until it's snug but not uncomfortably tight. "Because you're the biggest nuisance I've ever met."
"Eh, I've been called worse. Try better."
"One of these days I'm going to take you over my knee," Miguel says somberly. "Maybe then you'll learn some manners."
"Kinky," Miles laughs, tilting his head back down and reaching up to touch the collar. "I really like this, by the way. Thank you, Alpha."
Miguel isn't a monster, and for some reason Miles actually makes him feel like that's true for once. The brat.
