#Gabriella Belli

[fashionbooksmilano]

Balla '12 Dorazio '60 Dove la luce

Collezione Giancarlo e Danna Olgiati

saggi di Gabriella Belli, Francesco Tedeschi, Gabriella Belli e Riccardo Passoni , intervista a Mario Botta

Mousse Publishing, Milano 2023, 184 pagine, Italiano/Inglese, rilegato, 21x30cm, ISBN 9788867495788

euro 40,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

Catalogo della mostra (Lugano, 24 settembre 2023-14 gennaio 2024). ediz. illustrata

Balla ’12 Dorazio ’60. Dove la luce is published on the occasion of the eponymous exhibition at Collezione Giancarlo e Danna Olgiati in Lugano. As suggested by the title, which is inspired by a poem by Giuseppe Ungaretti, the central theme is light. Curated by Gabriella Belli and designed by Mario Botta, the exhibition offers a visual exploration of affinities between two of the most significant figures in twentieth-century Italian art: Giacomo Balla (1871–1958) and Piero Dorazio (1927–2005). The former, an undisputed master of Futurism, created his fascinating Compenetrazioni iridescenti in 1912, while the latter is one of the most interesting artists of the postwar period, with his marvelous Reticoli created in 1960, which are said to have been inspired by Balla’s works. Balla’s play with geometric forms, color, and especially light kick-started the abstract art movement, with Piero Dorazio perfectly in tune with his practice fifty years later.

This richly illustrated publication, featuring essays by Gabriella Belli, Francesco Tedeschi, and Riccardo Passoni and an additional interview with Mario Botta, highlights connections between Balla’s and Dorazio’s themes, techniques, and languages. The catalogue is informed by extensive archival research, rich critical apparatuses, and a dedicated section on the exhibition’s design by architect Mario Botta.

24/05/24

[honestsycrets]

mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it. 

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free. 

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.” 

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--” 

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--” 

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.” 

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face. 

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets. 

“She likes it.” 

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.” 

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar. 

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.” 

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.” 

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,” 

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face. 

“As many as will make you happy.” 

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.” 

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?” 

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for. 

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father. 

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.” 

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."  

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable. 

 Low sperm count his ass. 

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it. 

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.” 

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.” 

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel. 

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them. 

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.” 

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly. 

“Sí, Miggy?” 

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so. 

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that. 

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place. 

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder. 

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.  

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck. 

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone. 

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day. 

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is. 

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready. 

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall. 

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.” 

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.” 

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.” 

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck. 

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.” 

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest. 

“Who would come in?” 

“Peter,” you answer. 

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see. 

“The balcony, then.” 

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?” 

“Maybe.” 

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter. 

“Bend over.” 

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now. 

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.” 

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”  

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth. 

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?” 

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again. 

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back. 

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability. 

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable. 

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach. 

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body. 

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs. 

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days.  “Like… not this.” 

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers. 

“I’m open to suggestions.” 

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.” 

“Don’t start.” 

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging. 

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--” 

“Let me guess. She told you.” 

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?” 

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”  

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe. 

“Are you sure? I know--” 

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.” 

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?” 

He leers. Peter scuttles away. 

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

[madschiavelique]

Hi Ily

Miguel who says he doesn’t want kids after gabriella but secretly tries to breed reader 🤭 breeding press, ass up head down, missionary but he holds knees up to readers chest afterwards for a minute? Anytime reader confronts this he denies it LOL lowkey gaslighting them

GN reader tyyy

aww ily too nony !! hope u like it hehehe

summary : miguel said he didn't want kids after gabriella... but sectrely tries to breed you content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, pnv sex, breeding kink, scent kink (miguel can smell reader's ovulating), gn!reader, no use of Y/N word count : 627 tag list : @fandom-ash

A moan washed through your hot breath against Miguel's cheek as he thrust into you once more, making you feel as if he were buried even deeper within you.

Your calves rested on his shoulders while your knees were on either side of your head, grazing your ears.

"Miguel-" you swallowed as your voice caught in your throat, "I'm too full."

But that was all he was looking for.

Miguel had raised your hips, pressed your legs against you to drive his cock even deeper into you. He had to touch you to the core, make sure his cum would fill you completely and guarantee that you would bear his children.

You were already full, but he had to go on and finish one more time, as much for his own pleasure as to make sure you'd end up pregnant.

He could already picture you, your rounded belly that he caressed and kissed as you carried the fruit of his success inside you.

His chest was pressed against the soft skin of your thighs, his fingers gripping one of them firmly as he moved down to kiss your neck before only pulling his head back to admire the view.

He had before him the most sublime vision of all, your gaze all hazy and dumb fucked, breasts pressed and cunt just taking him perfectly.

His pupils turned red, his rhythm quickening while he let out low grunts as he came to kiss you.

He couldn't think of anything else, his only thoughts all focused on breeding you. He had to make sure you were full enough so that, if he pressed down on your belly, hi cum would drip out of you excessively.

Your mouth whimpering his name, your nails tracing long lines down his back and leaving crescent moon marks in his arm, your smell...

You were ovulating, and that's what made it so uncontrollable. That plump, warm, irresistible smell - how could he control himself when you smelled like that? You were ready for him, your body itself caressing his deepest instincts.

Your walls were so warm, enveloping him to perfection.

"Take it all in," he growled as he felt himself coming, accelerating harder inside you.

He bit into your neck, licking the trail he'd left. His scent mingling with yours was just so exceptional, he couldn't get rid of it, and didn't want to : it felt like pure heaven.

He grunted with a final thrust as he sank deep inside you, feeling his cum filling you all warm once more as you moaned at the sensation.

He came to press his forehead to yours, breathing open-mouthed before coming to kiss you, not moving from the position. He was still buried deep in you, making sure you stayed full and nothing came out.

"Are you... trying to get me pregnant?" you murmured against him, still breathless as Miguel nuzzled his head into your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent.

He bit his lip and wrinkled his nose. He knew well that you suspected his convictions about not wanting any more children were dubious.

"Don't you like being so full of me, mami?" he'd asked, hoping to deflect the conversation.

"I do, but-" he came to kiss you, cutting you off.

"But what?" his voice was calm, honeyed.

"You said-" but he interrupted you again.

"What I said didn't matter." he sighed as he kissed your cheek, grinning against it as he came back to face you. "But what matters more to me now is that you admitted to liking it."

He raised your hips a little higher even than before, bringing his fingers against your clit which drew a moan from you.

"Then you won't mind if I continue."

Good things can always be overindulged.

[peaachypie]

life as a spiderdad

Warning : fluff + smut (cunni, needy!miguel, p in v, breeding kink, lactation kink a bit)

Dad!Miguel who can't sleep at night, he doesn't have any spider sense so he's always on alert. Waiting for any sigh of Gabriella crying or whining. Gabriel sleeping between him and you.

Dad!Miguel who always complain about his kids being too noisy but when the house is silent he start to panic and go find them quickly. Before complaining about how silent they are, leaving them a bit confused.

Dad!Miguel who take the sport his kids like very seriously.

Gabriella want to do soccer ? He will go to any match and play with her in the garden.

Gabriel want to do swimming ? He will buy a swimming pool.

Hockey ? Let's go train on a frozen lake !

He could spend hundred just to make sure his kids are happy.

Dad!Miguel who every chrismas says that we'll do a tiny chrismas this years but at the end, buy more gift than your own parents.

He gain enough money for the all family.

Dad!Miguel who stare at the baby sucking on your nipple for milk. Thinking how tiny they are, and how hot you look.

You're tired, almost sleeping standing but yeah he find you hot.

Asking if he can have a taste too.

Dad!Miguel who don't hesite to take your stress away by licking your cunt, holding your thighs. Sucking and licking your poor clit, and teasing your wet hole with the tip of his tongue.

Dad!Miguel who everytime has you underneath him have this urge to see his cum dripping out of your hole. This urge to make you pregnant again because you looked so pretty with a round belly.

" you want a baby again ? Please ... please ... tell me you want it again, that you want my seed ... you want me. Look so pretty for me cariño ... feel so good inside...fuck..."

He can get so needy, a whimpering mess.

Dad!Miguel who no matter how your body had change, will love you and his babies.

You're the most important thing in his life and he would never change that for a thing.

Maybe the constant cry but that something else.

[vampireimiko]

pregnant reader x miguel o’hara: gabis first parent teacher conference and they’ve gotta explain why she keeps saying her dads gonna whoop the kids ass whenever they piss her off

parent teacher conference

warnings, none at all !! just like 1 cuss word or something 💀

note, THANK YEW FOR REQUESTING VENUS 🫶🏾🫶🏾, this is the longest oneshot ive ever made😭 anyway i hope you all enjoy !!

It's Parent Teacher Conference night, and Miguel finds himself sitting near the back of the auditorium to keep an eye on the meeting. There seems to be a bit of arguing between teachers and parents about the workload being too much for some students, when he senses a presence next to him and looks up to see that you, his wife, sits to his left, who is visibly pregnant and with her own plate filled with food.

"Oh my god- Miguel! This food is so good, do you want some?" You said, mouth full of a bit of everything on your plate. Miguel chuckled at your antics and shook his head no.

"As entertaining as this is" He says pointing towards the arguments in front of him, "I'm just ready to have our 1 on 1 with Gabriella's teacher."

You agreed with him, as you two had been sitting here for quite some time. But just like clockwork, Gabriella's teacher, Ms. Rose walked up to you and Miguel letting you know she was ready to have your conference.

Ms. Rose greeted you both with a warm smile, her eyes briefly glancing at your visibly pregnant belly before focusing on the matter at hand. "Thank you both for being here tonight! I appreciate your dedication to Gabriella's education."

You exchanged a nod and a smile, grateful for the teacher's acknowledgment. Miguel stepped forward, his voice filled with genuine interest. "We're looking forward to hearing about Gabriella's progress and any areas where we can support her better."

"Of course! Please if you could follow me to my classroom and we can get straight into discussing." With that being said, you and Miguel get up from the seats with him having to help you. It was getting hard for you stand up by yourself and you absolutely could not wait to have this baby out of you. Anyway enough of that, you and Miguel make your way too the classroom following behind Ms. Rose.

She opens the door and encourages you two to sit wherever. As you settled into the seats, she began sharing Gabriella's achievements and areas for improvement, providing a comprehensive overview of her academic journey.

The both of you listened to her intently, focusing on what Gabriella needed a bit more help on. You and Miguel took turns asking questions and clarification's on certain things. You could tell Ms. Rose genuinely cared about her students, taking the time to learn they're strengths and challenges.

"Now despite Gabriella being absolutely wonderful, there is one more thing I'd like to address." Ms Rose said switching her tone to a more serious one. You and Miguel looked at one another then back at her.

"Yes?"

"I've been overhearing Gabriella tell people that Mr. O'Hara here would come up to the school and in her words, 'whoop anybody who pisses me off'."

The both of your eyes widened. Miguel knew he said that, you know he said that, hell even the baby inside of you knew he said it! Not only did be say that, but he meant it aswell. Nobody is messing with his babygirl.

"Miguel!" You slapped his shoulder, putting on a serious front up in front of Ms. Rose, knowing damn well you wanted so badly to burst out laughing.

The room fell into an awkward silence as Ms. Rose observed the exchange between you, Miguel, and your shared reaction. Your attempt to maintain a serious demeanor in front of her was quickly crumbling as your suppressed laughter threatened to burst forth.

Miguel's face turned a shade of red, realizing the weight of his words and the potential consequences they might have had. He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, his eyes darting between you, Ms. Rose, and the floor.

"I-I apologize Ms. Rose. That was a misguided attempt at humor. I never intended for her to come to school and say something like that." He said rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Ms. Rose, her expression a mix of amusement and understanding, nodded. "I appreciate your honesty, Miguel. It's essential to address such statements to ensure a safe and inclusive environment for everyone."

You struggled to contain your laughter, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Taking a deep breath, you managed to compose yourself enough to speak without bursting into giggles. "Yes, Ms. Rose, we apologize for any confusion caused. We'll make sure to have a conversation with Gabriella about appropriate language and the importance of respectful interactions."

Ms. Rose's lips curved into a gentle smile. "I understand that children can sometimes pick up on our words and interpret them in unexpected ways. It's important for us as adults to model the behavior we want to see in them."

Fast foward to being done with the conference, you and Miguel were walking too the car. He stopped the both of you and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion as he leans down to your stomach.

"Just to let you know, that same statement in there goes for you too."

𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; 𝐖𝐎𝐎 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 !! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐢𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥) 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 !!

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[buryustogether]

lilac - chapter 8 + epilogue

miguel o’hara x f!reader

summary: the walls are crashing down, and even spiderman can’t hold up an entire universe.

wc: 6k

warnings/tags: smut, kidnapping, universe collapsing, torture, filming, blood, blade violence, explosions, choking, falling off a building, love confessions, major character death, start-overs

If you closed your eyes hard enough, if you flooded your senses with your deep, treasured memories and blocked out everything around you, you were able to transport yourself back into last week. Last week, when Gabriella had crashed on the couch, and you and Miguel were lying in bed with chests heaving and sweat cooling across your necks. The bedside lamp was dim; the bulb needed to be changed. Outside, the city continued to thrive, churning and burning and spitting. But inside your bedroom, your hand clasped in his, the world was still.

He had rolled you over so that you lay on top of his broad frame, but he was still inside of you, soft and flaccid now that he’d finally chased his release - after giving you yours four times. You blinked tiredly, staring at nothing as you felt one of his long, thick fingers skimming over your back.

“I’ve been thinking,” you murmured against the warm, tan skin of his shoulder.

Miguel hummed, acknowledging your words. His fingers continued to graze across your skin, up and down, up and down.

“Obviously we’re… planning on staying together. For a long time. Right?”

Though he kept his eyes closed, his thick, full lips quirked upward into a smirk, allowing the tips of his fangs to poke into view. “Believe me, sweetheart,” he rumbled from deep in his chest. “I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

His words stirred inside of you, like a new hope springing to life. “Well… we’re going to need to move. Someplace bigger, with more room. For all of us. And this city, Mig, it’s… it’s not safe.”

It was then that Miguel’s eyes opened, and that smile slowly disappeared from his lips. You felt your heart sink with them, like an anchor in your belly. “You’re talking about moving away?” he said. When you only lifted your head to look at him, chin resting on his sternum, he exhaled deep and moved his hand to begin carding through your hair. “I can’t leave, bebe,” he said softly. “You know why.”

Yes, you knew why. It was because he was Spiderman, and this was New York, the worst city in the country to live in. With criminals on every block and fires and shootouts and a sky so deeply and violently purple you’d never even known its true color.

Being a lover, a father, everything before and after and in between, was what made Miguel who he was. But that was only a part. That other half came from being a hero, from helping those who could not help themselves. Walking with a sense of pride in what he did, knowing that people had something to trust in.

And you knew he could never leave that.

So you swallowed thick and let the issue go. You sighed and wrapped your arms around his large, naked form, nestling your face into the soft, delicate spot where his throat met his chest. “Okay,” you said, and you felt him lean down to kiss the crown of your head. “I’d still like a bigger place, though. Your daughter can’t sleep on the couch forever.”

Miguel chuckled, wrapping a sinewy arm around your middle to keep you close while you both dozed off. “I think we can do that.”

You were suddenly brought back to the present when, behind the glass partition you were facing, the giant, hulking machinery moved a few inches before coming to a halt. The metal groaned and squealed, startling the little girl held tight against your chest. Gabriella was heavy, and your arms were beginning to grow tired, but you would hold her until the end of time, if you needed to.

The Alchemax viewing area was dim and dark in the corners of the room, illuminated only by the glow of the control panel to your right and the stark, white lights projected onto the molecular collider in the lab. It was a massive piece of machinery, built to withstand its own otherworldly power, armored and bolted to the ground should the walls and ceiling be blasted away into nothingness.

You turned slightly when the collider moved again, twisting and turning in on itself, and Gabriella released a small, pitiful cry against your shoulder. Twisting your expression into a sneer, you fixed the man at the control panel with the meanest look you could muster.

Doctor Octopus - Otto Octavius, a visionary genius turned terrorist after his mechanical arms took over his head - lifted his head slightly and let his shades slip down his crooked nose. In return to your harsh frown, he gave an apologetic expression that carried no genuinity whatsoever. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said as one of his arms reached out to flip a few switches. “Just a few test runs.”

Shifting Gabriella’s weight to your hip, you glanced down and smoothed the girl’s hair from her face. She was still wearing her jacket that she would have put on at recess - they must have been watching the school, waiting for her to emerge from those brick walls so that they could snatch her up. Suddenly you were cursing yourself, wishing you could face your reflection in a mirror and shatter the glass with a fist. You could have been there. Could have made sure she was safe, she was secure.

Her being here was your fault.

And her being here meant something that made your veins turn to ice when you thought about it; they knew who Spiderman really was.

When the collider began to shift again, shaking the building slightly in its very foundations despite being here in the basement of the building, you turned your head to face Octavius again. “What exactly are you all planning to do with this thing?” you said, watching as he shifted across the control panel to reach a few buttons and scanners. “I heard it wasn’t ready for tests yet.”

“From who, darling?” he said, meeting your eyes over the rims of his shades. “A spider on the wall?” When you said nothing, averting your eyes to the floor, he hummed and continued on, allowing his mechanical arms to carry him over to a large monitor. His gloved fingers typed faster than you thought possible for a person. “Alchemax is playing a dangerous game with a toy they don’t understand. Tests mean nothing when dealing with a piece of the future like this. That Spiderman of yours told you about the multiverse, didn’t he?”

Told you about it. Explained it. Came from it.

Octavius raised a finger and beckoned you toward him. You hesitated, holding your breath, before silently padding across the observation area to stand behind him at the monitor. Squinting your eyes against the light, you watched as he gestured to a warping, live image of string-like animations repeating in a loop on the screen. “These,” he said, finger grazing along the lines, “are realities close within one another. They’re different, sure, but only in little ways. Someone’s eyes are a different shade. A grain of sand is misplaced a foot from where it landed. Again - little ways.” He used the touchpad of the computer to scroll outward, giving you a view of so many lines warping together it looked like almost an entirely colored screen. “And these are the realities within our grasp with the collider. Meaning -” he looked down at you - “every reality in the multiverse.”

You stared at the screen, hugging Gabriella to yourself tightly. One of those lines was Miguel’s reality. Where he was supposed to be.

As Octavius scrolled back in, you caught a glimpse of a line flickering and glitching, unlike the others. You stopped him. “That one,” you said, and he halted. “What’s that one?”

“Earth - 9193,” he said, his voice low and grave. He met your eyes, his gaze darker than it was just a moment ago. “Our home universe.” He gave a rather rueful smile as he watched your expression melt into one of confusion. “In our reality,” he explained as his mechanical arms set him - finally - on the ground, “there is no Spiderman. This city - it’s not supposed to get better. So imagine the universe’s bafflement when Spiderman from a different reality swoops in to save the day. It tries to expel him. Tries to correct canon events gone wrong. But it couldn’t. And so - it’s collapsing.”

“Collapsing?”

“Correct.” He paused and you both looked up when, overhead, there came a distant boom; the city falling apart at the seams. The building shook again and dust fell from the ceiling. To your surprise, he lifted one of his arms and shielded your head as it bounced off your shoulders and clung to your hair. “Call us selfish,” he said and lowered his arm again. “But my associates and I aren’t particularly fond of sticking around when the end comes around.”

You blinked a few times at the screen, feeling your heart skip a beat or twelve as you let his words sink in. Your universe - it was collapsing. That was what the glitches in the city had been. That was why Miguel’s apartment building had folded in on itself - it was because of him. No matter where he went, the glitches followed.

Because he was a virus here in your reality, and when viruses could not be expelled, the system would ultimately kill itself.

You clutched the little girl in your arms a bit tighter. “You’re… running away,” you murmured as Octavius fiddled with the monitor and its data. “You’re leaving us all here to die.” The words were barely able to clear your throat, barely able to keep themselves afloat.

He hummed in that way you noticed he did. “Running away wouldn’t be the correct term,” he replied. “Moreso… self-preserving.”

At that moment, the doors leading into the observation area were thrown open on their hinges to reveal the figures you had come to fear striding into the bay. You took three steps back as the Prowler slid down a railing and came to a smooth landing at Octavius’ side. “How are we looking, Doc?” he said as his purple, eye-lit mask dematerialized to reveal his face. His gaze was a touch crazier than you remembered it, bold and wild in a way that screamed danger.

Octavius’ cold, stony facade slid back into place as he adjusted his shades and rose, his mechanical arms lifting him off the ground. “Swimmingly,” he replied. “A few more tests, and she should be ready for lift off.”

“Perfect!” shouted Ferris abruptly, causing you to jump slightly. He clapped his hands and approached you as, behind him, Kraven hefted a news broadcasting camera onto his shoulder and began to fiddle with the settings. “Sorry to keep you waiting, babe,” said your ex as he approached you, taking two steps forward when you took one back. He showed off a disturbing, unnatural smile. “Had some loose ends to tie up.”

You sneered at him and turned, placing yourself between him and Gabriella. “You’re fucking insane, Ferris,” you hissed, inches from his sickening grin. “Taking me is one thing, but a kid? You’ve lost it, for real this time.”

“Big words, coming from you,” he said, tilting his head as the collider twisted and churned again. “Shacking up with a vigilante who crossed realities to dick you down.” He snickered to himself. “Listen, babe. That day when Spiderman - sorry, O’Hara - cracked my spine and broke my jaw and left me to suffer in that fucking alley, I realized something; why stick around in a dump like this when I can make like your little fuck buddy and squeeze myself into another dimension? Hell, why do I need you when I can just find another one of you who won’t screw me over?

“So I managed to get myself up. Crossed paths with these guys, told them…” He brought his lips close to your ear, so close you felt his breath fan across your skin. “I knew the identity of Spiderman.” He grinned again, drew back slightly to touch his forehead against yours. You would have smacked him, shoved him away, were you not still shielding the little girl in your arms. “I would say it’s not personal, babe,” he whispered. “But it is.”

Then his lips were smashed against yours, so roughly and ruthlessly you were flashed back to when you still lived with him, let him touch you, let him fuck you. He would always kiss you like this, like he possessed you, like he owned you. It only lasted a moment or two before he pulled back, forcefully plucked Gabriella from your arms, and handed her off to the Vulture, who was standing beside Octavius.

“Alright, boys,” he said as his mask materialized back over his face. “Let’s make a movie!”

Taking a few steps closer and backing you up against the glass partition of the observation area, Kraven hoisted the camera up and pointed it directly at you and Ferris. You found yourself frozen in place, petrified and staring back at your own reflection in the lens. His clawed hand came up to grip the back of your neck, and the other clapped over your mouth.

“Stick to the script,” he murmured in your ear, “and I’ll let the kid live.”

“Broadcasting to every system in New York,” said the hunter, then clicked a button and the camera and a light near the top flashed red. “...Now.”

Unbeknownst to you, across every screen in the city - televisions, phones, Times Square, everything - the broadcast crackled through and began to stream. There was not a soul in New York that was not watching.

Not one.

Ferris tilted his head at the camera in a way that made your stomach churn. Even behind his mask, you knew he was smirking and squinting his eyes in that way he did when he was playing coy. “Hello, Spiderman,” he said in a low, even voice. It sent chills crawling up your spine, made you struggle in his hold until his claws dug against your skin. “You and I have unfinished business, and it would be rude to leave hanging in the air - you know, before we both jump ship. You know where I am.” Behind you, the collider moved, and this time, it did not stop. A blast of energy exploded from the edge, shaking the building again. You stumbled slightly, raising a hand to clasp at his wrist over your mouth. “And just in case you need some incentive…”

You let out a small shriek when Ferris ripped you forward, sending you spinning around to face the camera. Before you could get anything out, he came up behind you like a vengeful apparition and grabbed your jaw, his claws digging into the soft skin of your cheeks. “Go on,” he murmured in your ear, just loud enough for the camera to pick up. “Cry for help. Cry for him.”

Against every ounce of willpower you had, because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, you felt tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. Just a moment later, they spilled over, cascading down your cheeks and staining the fabric of his glove. Yet despite your tears, despite the silent sobs racking your body, you refused to speak.

Ferris dug his claws into your cheek further, drawing a few dots of blood and pinpricks of searing pain. “Come on,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. “Beg for him.”

Your eyes turned behind the camera, where the Vulture held Gabriella’s collar in a grip tight enough to pale his knuckles. She stood beside him like a confused puppy, tear tracks staining her face as she watched you. And you knew you couldn’t do this alone. Not with her here. Not with Ferris.

“Spiderman,” you breathed, then cried out when Ferris yanked your hair to expose your neck and poise a claw over your throat. It gleamed in the light that the collider was throwing about the lab, shaking and burning out energy.

“Ah-ah,” he tutted. “His real name.”

You didn’t have time to mull over the realization that you were going to expose his identity, didn’t have time to think about that, really, it wouldn’t matter, because your reality was tearing apart, anyway. Blood collected on your cheek where his claws dipped in, and pain seared through your face.

“Miguel!” you finally wailed, feeling your tears mix with the scarlet. “Mig, we need you - please! He has Gabriella. I need you, please, Mig, I need you!”

With a grunt, Ferris spun you to the ground, then stalked forward and grasped the camera by the lens. “Come and get your girls, O’Hara. Alchemax. You have until the universe collapses. Or, you know…” He trailed off as his mask tilted downward toward you. “I decide to let one of them go a little early.”

You found yourself sitting against the row of desks holding computers, cradling Gabriella to your side as you watched Ferris and the rest of the vigilantes watch the collider charge, murmuring amongst themselves. You heard the words ‘sensors’ and ‘turrets’ and ‘muzzle for those teeth’ and ‘dead before he hits the ground.’ They had planned for Miguel, were waiting for him.

Gabriella murmured your name - the first thing she’d uttered since you both had been brought here - and you at once looked down. She clutched onto your dress, her cheeks stained with tear tracks and her chest rising and caving with deep, panicked breaths. “Is Daddy going to come and save us?” she whispered.

Doing your best to shove down the dread, and sorrow, and grief hanging suspended in your throat, you put on your best wobbling, warped smile and brushed her hair back from her face. “Yeah, sweetheart,” you replied quietly, just barely audible over the sounds of the collider. You sniffled, holding her closer. “He’ll be here any minute.”

It couldn’t have been just a few minutes later when, from the corner of your eye, you saw one of the computer screens jump to life. You thought it to be chance, a touchpad disturbed by the constant shaking and rattling of the building, but then images began to flash across the screen. You turned your head and realized they weren’t images, but letters. Words - being typed out across the monitor.

Letter by letter, your name was spelled out. The cursor blinked for a moment before everything was deleted. Then -

H E R E.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you leaned forward. The word was typed again, this time in bold. Then in italics. The computer - no, someone behind it - was beckoning you forward. With a few words of reassuring nonsense in Gabriella’s ear, and a quick glance to make sure the men were still distracted, you crawled on your hands and knees along the row of computers. Sitting up on your heels, you faced the dim screen.

Hesitantly, you whispered, “Hello?”

The word disappeared, soon replaced by another. L Y L A.

Lyla - Miguel’s AI. A surge of hope flooded through you like a tidal wave, filling your veins, your heart, your soul.

H E I S C O M I N G.

You exhaled, blinking at the screen. Then -

D U C K.

Your body reacted before your mind even had a chance to catch up. The entire world seemed to move in slow motion as you scrambled to your feet, grabbed Gabriella and huddled behind the desk - just moments before the back wall blew outwards in a ground-shaking eruption. The glass partition shattered and the collider shrieked as debris rained upon the observation area like hail from a hellstorm. A chunk of rock sliced across your cheek, letting pain rip through your face and blood spill down your face.

Like a train unable, unwilling to stop, to keep from plowing into the first thing it saw, a flash of red and blue came tearing from the site of the explosion and collided with the purple figure of the Prowler as he struggled to his feet. They went sprawling across the rubble-covered deck, only separated when a mechanical arm grabbed the back of Spiderman’s leg and hurled him across the room.

He caught himself and landed in a striking pose - then his mask dematerialized, and Miguel’s scarlet eyes raised to the men before him. He opened his mouth, exposing those long, glinting teeth, and released an animalistic snarl that froze the blood in your veins. His hair was mussed and the lines beneath his eyes seemed deeper than before. His hands, his claws, practically trembled with the rage and fury radiating off of him in waves. In that moment he was truly more beast than man.

You shielded Gabriella’s eyes as he snapped, standing again to his full height.

“About time,” said Ferris behind his mask, then readied his own steel claws. “Let’s settle this once and for all - Spiderman.”

The next few moments were blurs of violence, of villains with metal limbs and wings and a thirst for blood all came down to assault Miguel where he stood. He was a whirlwind of action, taking blows and giving them back in a tempo you knew was not humanly possible. His teeth sank into skin. His claws tore through muscle. He roared and thrashed and fought for everything he had, because life outside may have been falling apart, but his entire life was right there inside that observation bay.

Bits of light poking through the still-settling dust from the explosion drew your eye away from the nauseating fight, pulling your attention to the place where the door used to be. Flickering from the corridor - the exit.

Gripping Gabriella’s hand so tight you knew it ached, but you didn’t care, you brought your face close to hers so that she could look into your eyes. Blood still seeped down your cheek, now staining your collar and your neck. “Listen to me,” you said to her, just audible over the sound of her father snapping one of the Vulture’s wings in half. “We’re going to run, okay? And we’re not going to look back. You hold my hand and don’t let go. Just like we practiced with the drills at school, alright?”

She nodded her head, and then you were off. You ducked your head as a piece of technology sailed past, tugging the little girl along over rubble and through the shattered doorway. From there you took the first stairwell you found, listening as the sounds of the battle grew more and more faint. Up and up you went, until you reached a heavy metal door that you shoved open with all your might. Gusts of wind rushed in to greet you, whipping your dress skirt about, whispering about your fate in your ears, and when you reached the roof, it seemed that, really, they were right.

New York was no longer recognizable. It had turned into a hellsite of glitches and chaos, entire streets folding in on themselves before completely vanishing. You nearly screamed upon realizing Harlem, Queens, Brooklyn… they were all gone. From this height you could see past where the river was supposed to be, but instead it was all… nothing. There lay a vast, wide nothingness, like a blank canvas. No ground. No buildings. No people. Everything, just… erased from existence.

Panic rose in your throat like bile, pulling you to your knees and fresh tears to your eyes. It was all true - your reality was collapsing in on itself. All those people, gone. And soon, you would be, too.

It was a long moment before you realized Gabriella was tugging on your hand, attempting to pull you further along the roof as she kept her terrified gaze trained on the door to the roof - until it was too late. You both shrieked as the Prowler emerged from the frame, his suit ragged and torn, stained with blood and his mask vanished. Scarlet ran down his face, same as yours, as he approached you on the roof.

“You want to know something funny, babe?” he said. The last word, that awful pet name, was rasped through clenched teeth as he stalked you, taking his time even as you scrambled to the edge of the building, because you both knew - you had nowhere to go. “I wasn’t really going to kill you in that alley. Just wanted to scare you, ‘ya know?” His face dropped. “Now I really wish I had.”

In a moment, Ferris had pounced, rolling you over and over yourself on the roof of Alchemax, his clawed hands tight around your throat and his knees on either side of your waist. No matter how much you struggled, how much you kicked and screamed and wailed and bucked, he refused to let go.

How ironic, came a quiet, barely-there voice. Even while it dies, the universe is attempting to fix itself.

As tears blurred your vision, you shifted your gaze to Gabriella, who watched the life being strangled from you with wide, petrified eyes. To Gabriella, who suddenly clutched at her stomach, her lips parting. To Gabriella, who, slowly, like a channel stuck on a loop slowly fading out, began to dissolve into a reality-splitting glitch.

To Gabriella, who was there one moment, and gone the next.

For a moment, you stopped your struggling. You stopped trying to grasp at Ferris’ own throat, stopped your kicking and howling. You just lay there, feeling the life drain from you slowly, staring at the spot that little girl had been just seconds ago.

You would have cried, could you have breathed. You would have screamed, could you have breathed.

You would have died inside - could you have breathed.

“Isn’t this romantic?” panted Ferris over you as his hands tightened their grip on your throat. “The two of us, going out together? Like we were always meant to?”

You knew he would have killed you then and there, had you both not heard the thundering, storming, ground-shaking thuds pounding up the stairs leading to the roof. Footsteps. A body being slammed into the walls as they ran. An ear-splitting, heart-skipping roar of your name.

Ferris let out a long, trembling, exasperated groan before he yanked you up by the neck, hauled you over to the edge of the building, and held you out like a lure over a lake. Your hands, your nails, scrabbled at his wrist as you looked down the best you could, watching as people stories and stories below scrambled for cover before glitching out of existence. Your legs dangled, your hair blew in the wind.

This was it. This was how you bit it. Not from strangulation or being winked out of your reality - but from a drop that would hit you before you knew what had happened.

Slamming out onto the porch in a frenzy of raw, untamed, wild fury, Miguel skidded to a stop and began to lunge at the Prowler - before he laid eyes upon your form at the end of his arm. His gaze searched wildly for his daughter, for his Gabriella, before it met yours. Before it took in the tears spilling down your face.

“Don’t you see what you’ve done to us, O���Hara?!” said Ferris, flexing his fingers around the column of your neck - the only thing keeping you from plummeting. “What you’ve done to our world?! Can’t you just leave us this last bit of ourselves before we all kick it? Can’t you just leave us alone?”

Miguel began to pace on the rooftop, edging closer and closer with each step. “I can offer you a bargain,” he said, but his voice came out more snarl than word. “Give her to me and I send you home. To a different home, one just like this. You’ll never know the difference.” His tone dropped. “You’ll think you’re in the real thing.”

Your legs were beginning to go numb, your fingers clawing at Ferris’ wrist losing feeling. One hand dropped to your side.

Ferris shook his head, sneering at him with all the hatred left in this collapsing, dying universe. “You already took my world,” he said. “So I’ll take away yours.”

And suddenly you were falling. Released from his grasp, because in the split moment after he let you go, his body glitched and jumped and disappeared. But you were still there, plummeting toward what remained of the earth below you.

You didn’t think it would be so fast.

Craning your neck against the wind screaming in your ears, against the sight of the Alchemax building beginning to crumble as it, too, succumbed to the fate of all else, you watched as that familiar suit of red and blue jumped off after you. Extended his arm. Released a web that, you thought, wouldn’t get there in time.

But it did. The webbing clung to your chest, pulled taut, buoyed you like a bungee cord as Miguel stuck himself to the side of the building that was still standing. He slowly lowered you to the ground, then began the descent himself.

You stood. Extended a hand to him as he raced toward you.

Then fell as you lost the feeling in your legs, lost what it was to be still.

Miguel caught you before you hit the ground, skidding to his knees and gracefully pulling you into a cradle in his lap. “Hey, baby, hey,” he said in a strained, strangled voice. Red stained his temple, the crooked bridge of his nose. “Hey, I’m here. I’m right here.”

You realized then that you were crying again, letting sobs and wails rack your body, because you knew what was happening. You knew it because everything else of this world, of this reality, had vanished. Ceased to exist. It was just him, and you, and the sky overhead. Nothing else. And soon, you would be gone, too.

“Miguel,” you gasped, reaching up a shaky hand to paw at the side of his face. “Gabriella - I tried. I really, really tried, I’m sorry -”

“Shh, baby, I know. I know you did.” Through the wetness in your eyes, through the sensation of your lower portion becoming static and fuzz, you watched as tears pricked at his own eyes. They trickled from the corners, mixing with the grime and blood on his face, and he did not wipe them away. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

You cried and clung to him, desperate to hold onto the feeling of him. Of his hand cradling the back of your neck. Of his lips against yours. Of his body on your own. Of his laughter against your skin, and his fingers trailing across your back, and the warmth that spread through your chest when he smiled at you.

God, that smile. What you wouldn’t do to see it again.

“I don’t want to die, Mig,” you said, your voice wavering. You’d forgotten the feeling of your waist, of your belly. They were foreign to you. Glitched out. Going. Gone.

You did not jump when Miguel opened his mouth and released a stifled sob, his warm, salty tears dripping onto your face. “I know,” he shushed you through his own cries. “It’s going to be okay, alright? I’m right here, baby. I’m right here. You’re going to be okay.”

Arms dropped. Your chest stilled.

“Hey,” you said, nudging your nose against his when he leaned down to press his lips against your temple. He met your eyes, his forehead pressed against yours. “Look.” Your gaze tilted upward, upward, to the sky. He followed it. “No smoke.”

You were right. Without the buildings to churn out smog, without the people to feed the machines, without the universe to choke itself out… the sky had cleared. And it was not violet, or plum.

It was lilac.

Miguel dipped his head again, his lips quivering as you stared up at him. “I love you,” he said.

You would have said it back - were you not already gone.

He stared at his now-empty arms, eyes trained on the spot beneath him you had just been. There was no trace left. Nothing left behind, nothing to tell him you had even been there.

For a long, long moment, Miguel sat still, his chest heaving and his eyes wide and his lips parted. Then he dropped to all fours, shoulders shaking and knuckling the ground, and opened his mouth to scream. It was a wail heard in every corner of the empty universe, a cry that shattered everything of the nothing left. Filled with agony, and grief, and horror, and guilt. Again and again he screamed, fangs glinting and tears gleaming and throat hoarse.

When he at last could not take any more, he collapsed onto his side. Hands twitching. Chest shaking.

Nothing.

For a long while in that empty universe, it was still. Silent. Lilac.

Then, from behind Miguel, there came a voice. “Hey, boss,” said Lyla gently. “Ready to go home?”

—

Earth - 2943

New York

Roses, peonies, lilacs, irises… the bundles of flowers crowded your workstation at the back of your store like a wildflower field had grown right in the middle of the little shop on seventy-first. Greens and pinks and yellows and oranges filled your windows. Petals littered the floor like a chapel. Living walls carefully and lovingly-kept occupied the sides, a rainbow display of every flower and blossom one could name.

Your little flower shop was doing well - and you couldn’t have been more proud. You lived alone in your apartment just upstairs, your rent was on time, you didn’t have to work a second job at all to keep yourself fed.

Everything was perfect. As it should have been.

Your attention was drawn to the front of the store when the little bell above it chimed, signaling someone had just entered your shop. “One second!” you called around the corner, hurrying to clip off the remaining thorns from the blossoms. “I’ll be right there!”

When you were finished, you wiped your hands off on your apron, gathered the bunch of flowers up in your arms, and swept around to the front room. There, a man and a little girl - his daughter, no doubt, they looked almost identical - stood admiring the displays you’d set out just last night.

“Good morning!” you greeted them, carefully setting the bundle down. “Can I help you find anything?”

Brushing a bit of hair from your face, you were able to see the man more clearly. Your breath hitched in your throat; you were staring at the one of the best looking men you’d ever seen. Tan skin and cheekbones placed high on his face, full brows and lips, a sinewy body and a tapered waist… he was beautiful.

The man smiled at you - with his lips closed, but nevertheless it was gorgeous - and jutted out his hip to place his hand on. Oh, fuck, that was hot. “Just browsing,” he said kindly.

You found yourself unable to pull your gaze away from him. You could not say precisely what it was, but there was something that drew you to him. Like a magnet between walls, almost, yearning and needing to be closer.

When he realized you were staring, he smiled wider.

“Heh - sorry,” you said, shaking your head. You leaned over your counter as he meandered closer, letting his daughter marvel at your flowers. Up close, you were able to see the tired, exhausted lines beneath his eyes. “It’s just… have we met before? There’s just something about you…”

Unbeknownst to you, because he could never let you know, could never let you go… you had met before. In a different universe. In seven, to be precise. He had met you as a teacher, a stripper, a doctor, a thief, a hero, a villain… He’d seen you in every form your soul had to offer. And he would continue to do so. Because he wasn’t going to let you go.

Not then. Not now. Not ever.

He chuckled, his free hand reaching up to touch the delicate skin of his throat. “No, I don’t think so. First time in here.” He tilted his head, smiled at you. “But… I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better.” Then, like every other time before, and every other time that would come after, he stuck out his hand and said, “I’m Miguel. You are?”

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick @natthernandez @bakgoktski @soupsexsunsalutationsss @roxannarichie @lovagirlxxx @soggyeyeballsss @yoyoyoyoyo55555 @sophipet @quaintii @lavnderluv @cookiezxx @euphorica @its-a-polyglot @nicalysm @maxi-ride @exzidss @crappwr0m @femme-is-dead @bitch-onthemoon @hier—soir @takayomi @kirke-is-my-name @d1lf-loverrr @might-be-a-rat @brooks-lin @maki-z @bookfreakk @act1839 @dollscircus @sleepingaway @anxietybutterfly @bioticboot @mxkn @freeingrebels @digitalcreature404 @aimee777 @hunnaye @blahbahed @cyanide-mustard @impettywhenyouare @mental-illness-is-my-friend @bobfood @jenniferdixon05207 @moonchild-cupcake @venomous-ko @marvelouslovely-barnes @syarblu @fruitcupsworld @soooooyesbutactually-no @hopefulcandywitch @elwyn7 @oh-theseus @thepanwiccan @takayomi @dreamingofbucky @yuuuumii @p1nkliquor @scammer-get-scammed @mlishe

[tarjapearce]

I wonder what mama would be like when she was pregnant with benji? Was she more active?? Anyways, have a good day/night!

💗💗💗

Benjamin's Pregnancy

Suggestive, fluff and little angst. No proofread ~ c:

After the little stunt in the lookout spot and the police officers calling out your hornytis, you returned home.

But that only had you climbing Miguel like a tree as soon as he closed the door behind you. Not that he complained in the slightest.

"W-Wait" He was mumbling through kisses as you struggled to get his damned shirt out. Hormones running in a brazen flurry all over your body. A single purpose engraved in your grey matter. Make a baby.

"Te juro que si no me haces un bebé-" (I swear that if you don't make me a baby right now)

Miguel only carried your hormone crazed body over his shoulder and gave a low whistle.

"Espérate tantito, mi reina."(Wait a minute).

He tittered as his ears turned pink, like his cheeks, "Let me get the water first."

Cause in truth, you wouldn't give him a rest. Not until your body knew that it was enough. It both amazed yet low key terrified him. He'd awake sore and stiff, spent and completely drained while the overall glow oozed from every pore of your body. Both sex's drive were high, but when ovulating, he had to acknowledge your stamina undoubtedly outmatched him. But the goofy and spent smile you'd awake with later was the perfect reward.

With a roll of his shoulders and a water pitcher on hand and some glasses, he closed the master bedroom's door and begun his work.

----

Your grip only tightened on his waist as tears flowed down your cheeks. He showered your face in soft kisses and loving praises upon watching the positive outcome in the pregnancy test.

"We're having a baby!"

God, he loved the excitement in your voice, the way your tears were out of joy, and the fact you were gonna make him a father, again. It was impossible to not feel the same amount of excitement you were experiencing.

His big hands wiped your eyes and cupped your cheeks while kissing your forehead.

"Can't wait to tell Gabi. She'll be over the moon!"

Now that the first step on his husband duty was completed, the second was just starting. Spoiling you until you were ready to pop his child.

To your surprise MJ gave her own news on the girl's chat group. It was a good distraction for a freshly broken hearted Jessica. A celebration ensued.

Peter was asking Miguel for guidance as you gushed with MJ the future changes her body would take.

Miguel's lips turned into a fond smile upon watching you. Your married ring fit perfectly in your hand, and shone brighter, like your smile whenever you rubbed your belly.

Never once the doubt of you being a bad mother crossed his mind, despite your inexperience and both being young, you had done a pretty good job with Gabriella. And this new stage in your lives would only polish some skills that needed a bit more refining.

----

His heart nearly stopped when the doctor said it was a boy. So far, as long as his kid was healthy, the rest was just a bonus. But now that he'd have a boy it both worried and excited him.

It worried him cause he had no paternal figure to grow with, but like you had told him once.

"You're not your father. You're way much better than him. Look at the wonderful child you've raised, without his help. Be proud of yourself, Mi amor."

He adored your reassurance, and now he'd teach his baby boy everything he had to learn on his own. He'd be a good father.

----

The tidal craving waves made you scourge the fridge at random times thorough the night.

The first crave was simple, jalapeños smeared in peanut butter. You didn't know how, but the flavor was way too good for you to just eat one.

Miguel would find you guzzling his own can of jalapeños while scooping up a spoonful of peanut butter.

"You'll get sick if you eat that much spiciness"

"No, Miguel, wait!"

"Uh-uh. You'll get cramps and-"

Oh shit.

Your eyes turned glossy as he placed the can above the fridge. A spot you certainly didn't reach.

Shit.

"You're so mean."

A hiccup echoed between you two, followed by a sniff.

"Mi reina" His tinge amazed and full of disbelief, "I don't want you to get an upset belly, that's all."

"But I am hungry! They're not even that spicy!"

You sobbed and half yelled. Miguel could only sigh and take the can back

"Here."

"I don't want it anymore."

You took another spoonful of the butter and walked back to your room.

Great.

He rubbed his face in defeat. Now he felt like an idiot for not giving you the canned spicy goods. And definitely that night you didn't cuddle him.

Hormones were surely making a mess out of your emotions, and it took him a bit to adapt at the quickening pace they often changed. Exercise and long walks helped you to keep relaxed and active.

The next day you were crying while apologizing, only for him to hold you and offer you a couple of jalapeños in return. He even tried the odd mix with you to try and understand why you loved that specific combo. Neither good, neither bad, like something he tried before. But glad you were no longer at odds with him.

But soon they stopped being your obsession, instead strawberries and tuna came up. And just like Gabi, you'd wake him up in the middle of the night at the devil's hours to get him to fetch you strawberries cause you had ran out of them. Or called him when he was a few blocks away from your home to let him know and God forbid if he returned with empty hands.

The dangerous months had been long gone, and seeing your baby bump growing with each passing day, made his phone to be filled with a daily picture of you, holding it. Gabi occasionally appearing it them with a goofy grin.

One particular rough day at work, had his energies and emotional reserves drained. But changed immediately when he saw you laughing as Gabi painted over your belly.

"Papa! The baby is kicking!!"

Gabriella gasped and pulled him to place his hand over the clean parts devoid of paint in your belly to feel his baby boy kick.

"Look at that." Miguel huffed in child like wonder as he felt every powerful little kick. He then kissed your belly and your forehead with new energies.

You and Gabi were the reason he'd wake up and work. You'd help him with paperwork at home whenever he needed it.

----

Hormones kicked in harder in the last trimester, everything was a trigger for tears to fall down.

You couldn't reach your toes? You'd cry. The cream cheese was too perfect for digging a spoon in it? You'd cry. Gabriella existing around you and being a happy kid? You'd definitely cry. And if Miguel couldn't find his sock in the washing machine, you'd cry harder.

It was low key funny for him, even had some compilations of you crying over the littlest things in his phone. He'd watch them over and over whenever stress was rampant on his office.

But also, would stare both in awe and hungry when he saw your body bouncing ontop of an exercise ball.

"It brings back memories." He muttered while your cheeks flushed. It was the exact way you rode him while making your baby boy.

When hormones hit between your legs, you wouldn't let him go until he came out of the room, drenched in sweat and breathless. That's where he discovered his lactation kink.

But all horny and sexual thoughts were sapped out his body when he saw you curled in bed, crying and wiping your eyes with tissues. A couple of them used and gathered before you.

"'Tas bien?" (You alright?)

Another muffled sob.

This wasn't the usual hormone craze that made you cry over dappy things, but true and unadulterated sadness. His brows creased as he sat before you.

"Wanna share what's wrong?"

"I feel so useless, Miguel."

"Useless?"

You nodded while sobbing a couple of fresh tears and covered your face with your hands, ashamed.

"I can't even put my shoes on my own. And-" A sniffle, "I feel like I'm leaving all the load to you. It's not fair."

Even in your condition, you still worried about him and his stress. It humbled him.

"Mi reina." With a gentle, yet firm voice he sat next to you and wiped your eyes with utmost care, "You're growing my child. Do you know how important that is?"

You hiccuped and shook your head.

"I wanna do more. Help you around. Not just being a housewife that leeches off-"

"No, no. Stop. Stop." the last word said with a warning tone.

How could you think of yourself such way?

"Pinguinita, mi amor, look." His shoulders slumped with a deep sigh, "For how long have we been together? Ten, twelve years now?"

You refused to look his way, but his hands gently pulled your chin towards him. Makin your gaze meet his.

"In all those years, I've worked for us cause I wanted to. And I don't want you to work because you already do more than enough here."

His lips were warm, conveying all his love in another kiss.

"You're growing my child, Mi reina. Pregnancies are hard. And look at you, doing your best. Cause that's all I could ask from you."

He cradled your shoulders and kissed the side of your head with a gentle smile.

"You've taught me how to be a good parent, even now, you are teaching me things I didn't believe myself capable of doing. I'm a better man thanks to you."

His hands rubbed your lower back in soothing yet shapeless patterns.

"And now, I'll be an even better father. All thanks to you."

His words were like a soothing balm from your doubtful and insecure heart.

"You'd still love me if I was another ten pounds heavier, right?"

"The question is offensive in itself. But yes, I would. Come here."

You basked in his affection, all you could do was let him love and pamper you.

The footrubs and backrubs were a staple on your pregnancy, like the hammock in the porch. The cotton nightgown he gave you while pregnant with Gabi had been such a wonderful gift that came in handy when the last trimester's hot flashes appeared.

You'd sit in the tub with him, Miguel rubbed and caressed your shoulders, eased the tenderness in your breasts and helped with the sore points in your. lower back.

"What about Miguel Junior?"

He snorted while lathering your back in the lavender scented shower gel.

"No. I don't want a traditional name for my boy."

"Me neither, I mean, Max doesn't sound bad-"

"That's a dog's name, mi amor"

Your laugh was like music to his ears. He rinsed off your back with the tepid temperature water.

"Short for Maximilian."

"Junior doesn't sound that bad now that I think-"

"Wait! I know! I know. Benjamin."

"Benjamin" He tried as the name rolled off his tongue, "I like it."

He kissed your neck. Fresh lavender scent etched to your skin.

"Benjamin it is."

-----

Little Benjamin "Benji" O'Hara was born at 3 pm. Nearly putting you under a c section. Miguel had been there, cheering you on as soon as complications arrived. But thanks to yours and the doctor's efforts, his baby boy wailed healthily as soon as he came out of your womb and the touch of the nurses alarmed him. They weren't you. Benjamin needed his mama.

Miguel showered you in kisses and praises while the nurses cleansed him and dressed him up with the clothes you had provided them.

And finally, you could hold your baby boy in your arms, immediately feeding him and silencing his acute cries.

"Míralo nomas. Mi campeón. No parece que casi lo hicimos en el auto." (Look at him, my champ. He doesn't look like we almost made him in the car)

Miguel fixed the tiny hat ontop of his head, some lovely and dark chocolates curls twisted ontop and around his forehead as you tittered, exhausted.

" Stop, oh my god."

"He's definitely have your curls."

Gabi was allowed to enter a bit later and her lips pursed

"I wanted a sister."

"I know, Solecito. But we did our best"

"Still... I was prettier, right?"

Jesus. Like Father, like daughter.

"Of course you were, Gabibi."

Miguel was ready to start his lessons as a father. With a baby boy on hands, he'd be the dad he never had.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Wanna hear some heartbreaking shit?? I GOTCHU

1. Gabriella (most likely) knew Peter.

We see from Miguel's simulation that Peter was there when she died. We can see him helping civilians.

And after Gabbie dies, he's behind Miguel as well.

So not only was he there to see her die, but Gabbie and Peter most likely knew each other through Miguel. If we can believe that, it makes me wonder if she'd met Jess too.

Imagine Miguel being so delighted to introduce his daughter to his friends 😭😭

We have no frame of reference when Gabbie died, or how recently. It's not a stretch to believe that Gabbie could have still been alive after Mayday's birth - Gabbie might have even held Mayday herself.

Jess is very far along in her pregnancy too. If Gabbie died less than 9 months ago, maybe she even rubbed Jess' belly 😥

2. Gabbie knew she was dying.

Before her death we're shown shots of people already depixelating even around Miguel.

We don't really know how long it takes a universe to collapse and it seems to happen fairly quickly.

Despite that, Gabbie isn't one is the first to go. Already seeing the destruction around her, Gabbie probably knew she was dying.

3. Gabbie died knowing her dad was Spider-Man.

In his last moments with her, Miguel is wearing is suit already. Whether or not he hid his identity from her was a mystery, but in her final moments she knew her dad was a hero who wanted to save people.

But in that moment he couldn't save her.

4. The ATSV team hired a voice actor for Gabbie

- even though her only lines are her calling out for Miguel

I ain't even got nothing to add about this one why the hell would they do that 😭😭

Because Gabbie'e universe is gone, and her death was so sudden -

5. Miguel likely has nothing at all to remember her by.

I just wanted to add that last one in cause I think about it ALL the time. All Miguel has of her is videos and clips - many of which aren't even of him, but his double.

Her soccer trophies, stuffed animals, clothes, etc - anything tangible that Miguel could've kept is gone. Like she was erased from history. The only proof she ever lived are the videos.

Ain't that fucked up. That's super fucked up.

Anyway BYE HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐃𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Do you want a baby? part one || Suddenly, we have a baby part two || part three

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ Miguel and you finally have a baby. Your little family attends Pavitr’s party. Things are not okay though . During Pavitr’s party, Miguel and you finally explode and everything is a chaos that night in Mumbattan.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ this is long, Miguel has men postpartum depression, grumpy! x sunshine!, age gap (legal), implied short reader, mentions of pregnancy and breastfeeding. NO PROOFREAD!

𝐀/𝐍_ <3 Indian culture and religions, inspired by M.I.A’s/ KSHMR songs, listen to Legendary Lovers from my playlist :)

♪ ♫ my miguel playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

One night, a young marriage lies on the wife's bed after a warm shower and a light dinner. Her round belly is getting more uncomfortable, but they happily wait for their little bundle of joy to arrive.

“Miguel?” you ask softly. He hums and looks down at you.

“Did you ever imagine you would be a father again?” it took him by surprise and pulled him out of reality. The image of Gabriella instantly appears.

However, his hand on your bump brings him back. He smiles, taking your growing belly with both hands, rubbing it up and down.

“Before you, not really. But the moment I married you, I kinda suspected it,” you giggle. Miguel smiles again before kissing your head, but you leave him thinking about the issue.

Somehow he wants to fill that void of his lost daughter. And while he knew he already had everything, trauma unconsciously haunted him.

“Do you want more kids?” He asks, and he hopes you say yes.

“I don’t know. As long we are okay, and the babies come healthy, I could have ten… Or just this little one,” you admit pressing your hand on his.

The man liked your answer, but the feeling of nervousness and a mix of panic and insecurity slowly started to grow bigger.

…

Miguel O’Hara was looking at his wife feeding his baby daughter; Magda O’Hara was about to turn five months old, and although she ate like a champion, she was still a tiny human.

You were sitting in the cafeteria, a lilac blanket covering your chest and the baby. Your eyes looked tired, your suit had a visible baby burp on the right shoulder, and your hair was very curly. However, there was a big smile on your face. A soft blush that made you sparkle and send the most motherly smile to your daughter.

Miguel smiles too, but he’s still watching, hiding behind a wall.

“Are you avoiding your wife and baby?” Lyla pops out of nowhere. Her heart-shaped sunglasses judge Miguel. He sighs, frowning at the AI.

“No.”

“I think you are,” she pushes.

“I think I’m not.”

“You are…” Miguel huffs in annoyance.

“NO. I being NOT,” Lyla shrugs, leaning to glimpse you and Magda. You are still feeding the baby.

“You know? One out of ten men get PPND after their baby is born” he had an idea of what the annoying AI was trying to imply; he wanted to ignore her for some seconds, but soon the worry assaulted him.

“What?”

“Paternal Postnatal Depression,” Miguel sighed. But then remembered how much he loved Magdalena, her round cheeks and dark hair like his, her tiny hands wrapped around his thumb every night. Then you, the kisses you spread over his face every time you greet him, his intense desire for you even when you claimed your body was slowly returning to what it was.

He wasn’t depressed; he was fine.

“Nonsense, Lyla. I’m fine” his tone was firm, confident, and intimidating. So the AI would not push it further.

“As you say, boss,” and with that, she disappeared.

When Miguel returned to see you and Magda, the cafeteria was full of spiders with lunch breaks, but you and the baby were gone.

…

Your boots with heels sound across the reports room of the HQ. Jess turns at the sound and smiles after seeing you. With a little wave, you pace toward her.

“Look at you, girly pop. If I didn’t know, I would say you have never been pregnant,” she explains with a big smile.

“Almost five months, Jess. I can’t believe it…” you admit, thinking about sweet baby Magda and her adorable yawns daily.

“I know, girl. My baby boy is almost a year now. Time flies…” Both of you nod. You start helping her with the reports.

Now you had been taking more missions and were happy to be back at work.

As you slide the pile of papers, Miguel stomps inside the room.

“What are you doing here?” He asks after spotting you beside Jess.

“Filling reports?” you don’t look at him, your eyes focused on the papers.

“You should be with Magda” His tone annoys you, finally pulling your eyes away from the papers and focusing on your husband.

“I spent the whole morning with her. She’s on daycare with Mayday and Peter” He rolled his eyes. And without another word, he sprint out of the room, leaving you very confused.

Jess kept staring at the door, where Miguel left but then turned to look at you.

“How has Miguel been dealing with parenthood?” you sigh.

“He’s amazing. He makes sure everything is fine with Magda and me. He also makes time to spend together, and…well, now I notice he’s stressed” Jess nodded, placing a new pile of paper on some shelves and opening a virtual screen to check the anomalies that had been reported.

“Maybe he’s…depressed?” her implication makes you break the focus on the report.

Having a baby was something big; you were okay, you felt amazing, just tired, but you felt healthy. However, even when you thought you had psyched Miguel that he was going to be a father again (with numerous methods. Like brief late-night talking, books, blowjobs, and fantastic sex). Maybe it wasn’t enough.

“You think he has it, right?”

“Maybe. Even if I tried to warn him, maybe…Yes.”

“I’ve known him since college, y/n. He’s a good man who loves you and that gorgeous baby girl so much. But he’s Miguel, and his damaged side will never leave.” It would never stop to amaze you how much Miguel changed after the events of Gabriella and her universe collapsing. You had to meet him just after that happened, so you would never know the man he was before that.

“However, you are his new chapter and a new chance to be better again. Just try to talk to him…” Her hand on your shoulder makes you feel supported. You smile, nodding at her.

“Thanks, Jess. I highly appreciate it.”

“Of course, girl. Now let’s finish these damn papers to have a break” a little less worried about Miguel, both Jess, and you had a good moment laughing and finishing the reports.

…

“Dear empress?” You roll your eyes, turning to your right to spot Lyla.

“Why do you call me like that?” You ask, laughing, chewing at your burger. Once again, a meal with your husband’s mask imprinted on the bun was a good idea.

“You are my boss’s wife, and Magda is the legitimate heir to the HQ” Again, you laugh. Lyla was funny and sweet; you really liked her and the dynamic she had with Miguel.

“To be an AI on earth-928, you are using medieval terms, Lyla,” she giggles.

“No, but Peter called. Magda woke up and demanded your company” You can’t even find yourself mad or annoyed. Your baby needed you after three hours separated.

Thankfully, you had taken a shower after the mission you had. Magda couldn’t be held with toxic particles and lizard’s spit.

“I’m on my way,” Lyla pretends to high-five you before opening the door of the balcony area where you were eating.

…

Soft cries flood the big daycare room. Lyla and you exchange looks before she speaks.

“Yikes, that’s my cue, bye bye” With that, she disappears.

When you open the door, you see Peter Pavitr, Gwen, and Miles showing baby Magda some toys to stop her from crying. Mayday is beside her, sitting, looking confused.

The closer you look, the better you can see Magda in a short sleeves onesie and her matted hair hidden under a little flower diadem.

“Oh, look, Magda. Mama is here,” Peter tells your kid. She’s very tiny, yet active to be four months old. Your eyes light up after taking her in your arms.

“Hi Bebé, I missed you so much,” Magda coos and plays with her little fists.

“Thank you so much for entertaining her, guys,” you tell your friends. They say it’s nothing. But you feel loved and welcomed, how well they treated your baby, and how much effort they made to include her even at her young age.

“It’s nothing. But… now you owe me in particular,” Pavitr says with a smile. You wonder what he wants. But then, he pulls out a pink envelope with orange and golden details and hands it to you.

“Happy Diwali season…” Immediately, you remember the party he mentioned months ago when you were still pregnant.

“Pavitr! This is so sweet, thank you” he offered a hug, which you accepted.

Few people dared to spread love like anything, and Pav was one of them.

“I want to see your little family there. And all of your too,” the guy threats smiley. Instant happiness succumbs you because you can’t wait to be at that party.

It was rare when you had the opportunity to hang out with every one of your HQ friends. Jess, Peter, and Mayday are the most recurrent since Miguel was very close to them as they were to you.

“I’ll bring my best clothes, man,” Peter calls before Pavitr leaves through a portal.

“I’m so excited!” You squeal along, Gwen.

Peter rolls his eyes, taking care of Mayday.

“We need some traditional dresses,” you comment.

“Oh, and we have to get Mayday and Magda matching dresses” The thought makes you die out of cuteness. Even Peter seems happy, claiming he will take many pictures if MJ can’t make it.

It has been a long time since you had a big party to attend.

The parties with your family were small gatherings where Miguel would likely get drunk with your father. Your mother and grandma would help you with Magda, and you had to be active.

So yeah, you were excited to celebrate Diwali with your friends and family.

…

That night, you are cooking some tray of peaches with cream muffins and jericallas, Miguel’s favorite desserts. Magda is sleeping in the pink carrier you bought for her and you (cause Miguel refused to wear every single day that carrier he got a grey one).

Dinner was quiet, which was weird in the past, but slowly grew normal.

You had wanted to ask Miguel about his possible PPND, but he always brushed it off before you could start.

Learning to look at the oven, there are five minutes left. You go to Magda’s room to put her in the crib.

You take some minutes to see her. She’s a carbon copy of Miguel. The sun-kissed skin, the dark hair, and you suspected she would have his spider abilities rather than yours. Oh, and her round puffy cheeks that you constantly filled with kisses.

You loved being a mother.

You preferred your own house on your earth; it was smaller, cozier, and homey.

And Miguel’s place was… an expansive apartment with minimalist colors and designs. It was still home… but not the same.

Still, you loved your family. No matter where you were.

So you clean the kitchen as the muffins cool off.

Miguel spent the whole evening locked in his lab. Claiming that he was finishing a new device for the HQ. Which you believed at the beginning, but soon you felt like he didn’t want to spend time with you, Magda, leaving the baby and yourself to play and read alone.

So you remembered what Jess said. Maybe Miguel was depressed or having a mix of emotions after Magda arrived.

Slowly, you open the door of the lab. He’s sitting, back facing you. He looks massive, being slightly hunched to work.

“Corazón…” you call him; he doesn’t flinch.

Miguel sees through the corner of his eye your silhouette, holding something.

A little plate, a jericalla, and a muffin slide in front of his face.

The smell of peaches and cream cheese invaded him. The small was enough to set him in a better mood.

“I made your favorites…” he knows he’s not the best husband material. But he was constantly irritated, and the last he wanted was to take it out on you or Magda. He would kill himself if something like that happened.

“Oh, muñeca. You didn’t have to “

“Yes, I had to… Miguel?… Are you okay?” You ask shyly, honestly scared of his reaction.

“What do you mean?”

“Lately… you’ve been weird. Is the work too much? I can take more; the master's program is basically finished. I have time, and with Magda-“ you want to find an answer before he even answers.

“Magda should be your priority.”

“She is. But I’m concerned about you too.”

“I’m fine.” You sigh. It wouldn’t be easy, you knew that.

“Just… you must know you can tell me anything, amor. I’m your wife…” his tense shoulders relax when you hug him from behind.

“I know that, mami.” A little smile peaks on your face, so you lean down to kiss your husband’s cheek.

He giggles before capturing your hands to give you a proper kiss.

“We love you so much, Miguel,” you add one last time.

“I love you and Magda too” Another little peck, and you're out of his lab.

Only that you tried to ignore the pain in your throat as tears threatened to spill as you lay in bed, waiting for him to come.

…

The sound of a phone taking pictures hits Miguel. When he enters the main bedroom of your house, he sees you in a traditional Indian gown in hot pink and orange colors, along with gold details.

He can’t help but think that his wife is perfect and that you gave him the best present ever; a daughter.

“Look at you, Magda!. You look gorgeous, my love,” she coos, stretching in the bed while chewing her feet. It makes you laugh, and Miguel feels relaxed.

You are taking pictures of Magda, and when Miguel gets closer, he sees his daughter in a colorful linen dress.

You turn to face your husband. Surprised to see him smiling.

“Look, Miguel. She’s totally ready for this party,” he finds himself sighing.

“Do we really need to go?” If you had to be honest, things with Miguel weren’t their best.

He continued to act desperate, less soft, and constantly irritated.

Last night, it didn’t work out.

He was fucking you on your back, but he was being rough. And not the type of wild you liked. It was rough where. You felt like a rag doll like it wasn’t lovemaking.

“Mig-Miguel. Can… Can we stop?” He had been so close, seconds away from painting your walls with cum. But you asked him to stop. That never happened.

“…Why?” He asked, confused and slightly angered.

“You’re hurting me…” it tears him. But the irritating demon creeped out for worse.

“Right, sorry. It won’t happen again,” without another word, he slipped out of you, locking you inside the bathroom and leaving you heavily confused.

Before last night, things had been like a rollercoaster, with ups and downs. They only didn’t make sense to you because you couldn’t understand your husband. He was taking care of pushing you away, and you were starting to feel hurt.

“It’ll be fun; it could help us to have a little escapade” he knows you want things to be better. But it seemed like the more you tried, the more he got frustrated. He was starting to believe Lyla about having PPND. And it scares him so much, already afraid of hurting you and Magda. So he had been a little secluded to avoid that.

In his mind, it was a good idea. But sure, it was not the best option.

“Fine. Do you want me to wear something specific?” His question made you pout.

“Just this…” you hand him a linen shirt in a cream tone. He sighed but surprised you by taking Magda in his arms and leaning to snuggle with you. Her tiny lips latched onto your neck, searching for milk, and Miguel peppered your cheeks with kisses. You started laughing at the tickles.

“Miguel! Stop!” You cry, laughing.

“Tell Mama she looks beautiful, Magda,” feeling her matted hair, your warms lips.

Of course, there were still some good moments. Like having a moment together, the three of you. Where there was only love in the air.

Miguel knew he had to change. He couldn’t lose his family.

Not again…

…

Whenever there was an anomaly on Pavitr’s earth, you would gladly stay longer than necessary. The colorful and loud city was always a sight.

But seeing the party he had spent months discussing was still a surprise.

There was a big rooftop with stone railings and details. Many plants partially covered the floor and every surface available.

And the colorful decorations in fuchsia and purple tones were breathtaking.

The Festival of Lights was the most exciting part for you. It reminded you of the movie of Tangled and how much you loved that movie.

The whole meaning of Diwali was beautiful, and having the opportunity to celebrate it with the locals, with your family, was even more special.

“This is beautiful…” you mumble, a big smile growing as you carry Magda. She seems attracted to the music and people talking around.

“Miguel! y/n!” Both of you turn around to see Peter and Mayday.

“AWW!” You let out once your daughter is reunited with Mayday. Both have the same linen dress, only that Mayday has her hair in a messy bun, and Magda… well, she was losing hair.

“They look adorable, Peter” Miguel says nothing, but he wants to smile so badly.

“I know; MJ took a whole album of her.”

“I can bet…” you add smiley. Peter looks at Miguel, and the tall and broad man looks annoyed, which makes him sigh.

“You look good, man,” Peter tries to soothe the strange air.

“Thanks.” It’s flat and cold. You are starting to feel anxious about Miguel and his consent mood swings.

“Man, you have to be happy. You are here with your gorgeous baby and wife. Smile…” You are surprised and thankful for your friend, not expecting him to speak.

To your dismay, Pavitr appears to say hi, but it’s not the best moment.

“Not now, Peter. You don’t know anything; stay away from this. It’s my family,” you frown, not liking Miguel’s tone. You and Pavitr exchanged looks before you turned to face your angry husband.

“Miguel, What’s wrong with you? Peter says it for good” he looks down at you, shocked to hear that you are not on his side.

“You’re letting him discuss our problems now?” To make the moment more stressful, Jess comes too; she looks confused at the scene but soon understands what is happening.

“What he said is obvious to everyone, Miguel. You’ve been off; we want you to be yourself again.”

“I am okay!” some people stare when your husband raises his voice.

“Miguel…” Jess warns him, hoping to avoid a bigger problem.

You came to a limit. All the weeks of dealing with an unstable husband, taking care of Magda on your own, working your part as a head of the spider society.

Indeed, you didn’t care that your friends were hearing.

“No, you’re not. You have been avoiding us!. We are your family, Miguel. If you weren’t sure of having a wife and kid again, you should have said it sooner.”

Ohh… everyone grows quiet. Peter holds your shoulder with his free hand, and Pavitr can’t believe what is happening.

“Don’t…” it’s all he says, but you cut him off.

“Maybe you’ve found someone else. Cause you’re rejecting Magda and clearly me. You don’t come home early; it certainly looks as if you were fucking someone else” Your baby is getting fussy, and your fears grow the more you talk. Now only waiting for his response.

“Yeah? Do you really think that low of me? Maybe I should go and make it real!” his words tear you a little. Making it impossible to not start tearing up.

Miguel realized what he had said when he heard Magda crying.

And he looked at you again; you were also crying.

He’s so embarrassed.

“Please take her for some minutes…” you say, handing Magda to Jess. The woman nods with a sad face.

And everyone looks at how you leave the party.

“I’ll go find her; please let me…” Pavitr tells Miguel, but he only stands there looking like an asshole.

“You’re right…” Miguel tells Peter, with his back facing him.

“I just want you and her to be happy.…” your husband nods, and Peter takes it as an apology and understanding of him.

“Can we talk?” Jess asks. Miguel knows he’s in trouble.

Both adults walk through the people to the most secluded area. Which seems to be a little garden.

“Do you want this baby?” Jess asks him, referring to the sleepy Magda in her arms.

“Or was it just for the lust of getting y/n pregnant?” It’s straight to the point, and it terrifies Miguel.

“Jess, you know I’ve always wanted a family,” he answers calmly.

“Then why the drama?. Everything seemed fine the whole pregnancy.”

“Lyla was right. I think I have PPND…” Jess sighed in relief because at least Miguel had an idea of his problem.

“That’s what I thought.” She replied.

“And now with this…I don’t wanna lose my girls” To hear Miguel in a vulnerable state was unusual. His eyes went straight to Magda. He walked closer to stroke her cheek.

He felt like a monster for what he did.

“You won’t lose them, Miguel. Everyone knows this baby, and y/n are beyond in love with you” Magdalena was his gift. And Miguel would always thank you for that.

The least he could do was be a supportive father and good husband.

“Go and talk with y/n. Then we can enjoy this peaceful party. It is almost time for the Festival of Lights” Miguel remembers how excited you were to see the lights. He worries that he won’t find you in time. Jess places a hand on his shoulder.

“Go. I’ll take care of Magda with Peter” The exit is crowded, so he hurries.

The streets are packed, people are celebrating, and some fireworks start.

Miguel ventures into the busy streets in hopes of finding you.

…

When Pavitr finds you, you are sitting on the long stairs that were the entrance of a temple. Your knees are pressed to your chest, your face hiding, and he can hear you sobbing.

“Oh… y/n,” he says, sitting beside you and hugging you. You are startled, but soon you are calmed to see your friend.

“I’m sorry for ruining the vibe of your party, Pav” He shakes his head, smiling.

“Nah, first of all, it’s my parent’s party. Second of all, nobody noticed what happened.”

“This was supposed to be a beautiful night. Not the start of the end of my marriage.”

“It’s not the end of your marriage, y/n. I can read people very well. Miguel and you hold an excellent dharma” You lift your head, looking at your friend. He offers you a kind smile that makes you feel comfortable.

“Call me ignorant, but what is specifically dharma?”

“It means a lot of things in my religion. But in this case, it means you and your husband have good energy. The connection is strong; there’s a balance that holds the love. And all of that is what Magda receives. This is just a bad season…” you analyze his words, trying to accept them.

“Then why do I feel like it’s not my fault? I feel that he needs to apologize…”

“Oh, because he does need to apologize. What he said was wrong. Even if he’s the one having a bad emotional moment, he caused this” It’s incredible how easy it was for Pavitr to understand when he was still a late teenager, only a couple of years younger than you, but wiser.

“Thank you, Pavitr,” he nods, hugging you again.

“Now come back, please. Gwen and Miles have been looking for you.”

“I’ll go. I need some minutes.”

He smiles one last time before leaving you alone again.

You sigh, and more tears spill, but quietly.

For a second, you don’t want to think about anything; you stare a the street in front of you.

The people laugh, scream, and look happy. A lot of them have the little lights in their hands already.

You try to savor the moment, so you sigh and breathe with your eyes closed, letting more tears run down your cheeks.

You could either fight for you and the love of your life and daughter… or move on, even if it was early to say it.

You don’t come to an answer because when you open your eyes, Miguel is on the stairs, going straight to you.

You’re startled, unconsciously standing up. You know you can’t enter the temple but you want to be away from Miguel.

He’s fast enough to stop you, grabbing your forearm.

“No. Not right now, Miguel,” you say firmly, with a broken voice.

“Wait. Please, bonita…” he hates to see you like that.

Finding you alone, crying on those stairs when everyone was happy and celebrating, was painful to him. Even more when he was the cause of it.

“I don’t want this night to be over with us fighting, please.”

You don’t say anything. You stare at him as he stays some steps under; you have him straight face to face.

“I didn’t mean anything I said before. I would never find someone else. Never, y/n” You remember his words.

Maybe I should go and make it real.

“That’s how it starts…” you say coldly. He shakes his head, grabbing both of your cheeks.

“No. No, mi amor… I only have eyes for you, and that’s how it’ll remain for the rest of my life,” he means it. Miguel fell in love with you one summer, months after meeting you. And from the day he accepted he was in love, the feeling never changed; it only increased.

“I must have… men postpartum depression” Immediately, you’re relieved. Because you had your suspicions, knowing that was the reason for the little downgrade of marriage soothed your worries about him cheating.

“Why have you always avoided it?.” You ask him. He only sighs, his hands leaving your cheeks to land on your shoulders.

“I don’t know. I guess I just… didn’t want to believe it?” you know he’s telling the truth. Miguel never lied; if he ever did, he would never babble. But he was looking defeated, showing vulnerability.

“It was stupid. I should have told you… agh, ¿soy un pendejo, no?” You nod, looking at him in the eye. Savoring his embarrassment, but not in a toxic way. You appreciated that he was recognizing his errors.

“We’ve talked about… Gabriella and what happened. But, now that Magda is finally here… I got scared again” It’s inevitable to not grow fond of him. He was guilty but also a victim of his own mind. And it was your role to help him.

“We’re not going anywhere, Miguel. I Can assure you that this family will last forever. Because I won’t let anything happen,” sometimes Miguel forgot that he married a brave young woman. Who showed him what he thought was lost in the world. And gave him a daughter to heal his past and grow better.

“I’d be lost without you and Magdalena, corazón. I’m so sorry for making you think otherwise.”

“And I’m sorry for not pressuring you to get help,” he smiles.

“No, y/n. You’ve done nothing wrong but being the most lovely and perfect mother and wife ever,” you blush. And Miguel will never stop loving his power to make you feel loved and blushed.

“Will you forgive me?”

“Are you going to the doctor?” He nods, so you sigh.

“And promise that this will NEVER ever happen again, Miguel O’Hara. Swear it…” he chuckles, but he knows it’s serious.

“I swear, this will never happen again. I swear it for my love for my wife and daughter”.

You smile, and that’s all Miguel needs to move his hands one last time. To your waist, to pull you closer.

As he hugs you, he enjoys the smell of your hair. That watermelon shampoo you loved to use. He’s at home.

“How can I begin with my apology?” He asks.

“Just hold me. Never… never, Miguel. Never let me go” his eyes get watery, and immediately his hands find their way to hold you, brush your hips, and lay his head on top of yours.

“I’m never letting go of the woman that saved my life” Tears flow across your face, but a smile grows too. No matter Miguel’s walls' height, you had all the power to crash them, and for the best.

“I love you, bonita,” you nod, sobbing and giggling simultaneously. Squeezed in his arms, you lift your head and smash his lips.

It’s warm, slow, and sweet. Both of you have flashbacks of the first kiss you shared. And it fueled the love, making the kiss even more adorable.

“I love you too. So, so much…” Between every so, you kiss his cheeks. It tingles him, so he laughs.

“Stop it, Nena” For some seconds, you stare at each other in silence, feeling the love slowly returning to reign.

You are thankful for having a husband like him. Someone who had problems like everyone else but would always stand up for his family and try to make everything better.

“Hear me out. I’ll never be able to give you back, Gabriella. But Magda and I will love and cherish you for her. This has been a big change for us, never forget that, Miguel” Magda was his light, just like you were the dawn he enjoyed every day. But the dread of his past wasn’t ready to leave yet. Nothing would compare to the time he had with Gabriella, but nothing would change the fact that she was gone.

“I’ll get over that someday. But now I have my girls, and it’s perfect. Simply perfect…” there was something about you that Miguel wouldn’t trade for anything. You gave him happiness, comfort, and a daughter.

The canon never warned him that you would appear, yet, there you were, willing to listen and help him. Even after all…

“I like the sound of that…. I can schedule an appointment with Doctor Spider-Man. He knows everything…”

“Yeah, that would be fine. I also think we should have a second honeymoon” Your eyes widen.

“What? Really?”

The first honeymoon was a fever dream. Almost a month in Oaxaca, in a boutique historic hotel, and fantastic food, outside activities, and… tons of sex. Thankfully you were cautious with protection, cause otherwise, Magda would have been a honeymoon baby.

“Yeah. Or we could have our first family trip. Magda is young enough to still make it pass as a second honeymoon” his playful tone makes you aware of what he meant, and it burns your cheeks.

“I’m also sorry about what happened last time we were…”

“I know,” you quickly answer.

“I would never waste the opportunity again. If I could go back in time, I would have apologized better and rewarded you with a big orgasm,” you laugh, punching his rock-hard chest.

“Miguel, shut up!. We’re at the entrance of a temple” he looks with curiosity and realizes it is true.

“Shit. Sorry… okay. Can we go back to the party?” You nod, and you gladly take it when he offers his hand.

…

When you make it back. The Festival of Lights is starting. Jess hurries and looks between you and him.

“Everything alright?” You nod.

“Thank you so much, Jess,” she says. It’s nothing, handing you a smiley Magda, who happily coos at you and Miguel.

The man smiles at her, kisses her hair, and takes her little hand.

“Oh, I got some perfect spots,” she adds. The balcony's edge is where a lake looks like a mirror with lights.

Peter, Hobie, Gwen, and Miles gather with you and your family.

But Pavitr leans closer.

“I told you it was all about the dharma you two hold,” the young man says, pointing at you and Michel.

Your husband frowns, confused.

“Dharma?”

“I’ll explain it later, man,” Pavitr answers smiley, leaving.

Miguel takes Magda in his arms, and he feels better; the light weight of his daughter and your head resting on his bicep was everything he needed as everyone watched the lights go up and illuminate the sky.

It was time to let go of his past at all. His present was right in his arms, and you were right.

As he would fight to keep his family, Miguel knew you would too, and that was a lot to say.

___________________________________

Sends ideas / requests 4 Miguel. I’m planning something based on hummingbird (I love that song so much) <3.

I’m seeing Taylor Swift tomorrow SEND HELP OMG :0

Taglist: @obi-mom-kenobi @g0oshtt @berlinswifey @alison645 @futuristicpandakid @sleepyoriana @amb3rrz @amyg1509 @t00-pi @crowleysthings @boobabietch @l3lazee @brtodd @gigachadcowboy @saturnknows @chiyoyooo @miggyyyyohara @puresweetenerx @saturnnnnl @natthernandez @reagan707 @voidashh @daisydark @kissezfornamjoon @etherealton @wonderlandangelsposts @niyanispunk @ang3l-dust1 @electro-supremacy @bestie1223 @dangerousness15 @iluvjisoo @atlaincorrect @naponiac @edgycatx @fluffy-koalala

[cherryberry-sugarandspice]

Could I request some hcs with Atsv Miguel x Milf Reader? Instead of (Dilf) him with Gabriella like the fic on ao3 what about a mommy or spider woman mommy reader with his child?

ugh ima go crazy with this one yall *barking* like miguel enjoys a domestic life

Miguel O'Hara x Milf!Reader Headcanons

Miguel is definitely overprotective of you during your pregnancy. He always calls or texts to check in on you and the baby, attends every ultrasound and asks a CRAZY amount of questions, and if you're about to run out of prenatal vitamins, he goes to the store to buy you two extra bottles.

He attends to every need. If you call him while he's patrolling the city for a hot dog or a cheeseburger with a jar of mayo, you bet your ass he's buying what you're craving.

He adores your round belly. Hands have to be constantly on it. Whether the two of you lay in bed or out in public, his hands are always on your belly.

By your side the entire time during your labor. Massages your aching hips as you go through contractions and supports you as the two of you walk around the hallways. He wipes away your tears and tells you how good you're doing. He holds your hand as you push, smiling once he hears the cries of his newborn baby.

A little girl, because come on, he's a girl dad.

Miguel first makes sure both his girls are good before going to get your burgers, because during your 47 hour labor (yeah it was long) you were only allowed ice chips and you were STARVING. So he got you two burgers and a large fry, because his wife just went through hours of grueling labor and needs to fill that belly up.

Loves your body before the birth and loves it after. Your belly is wrinkly and covered in stretch marks, love handles pudging out and thighs big. He noticed once the two of you got home that you were having a hard time with yourself, and listed off a number of reasons why he adores your body, which actually took thirty minutes and if you hadn't stopped him he would've kept going

Miguel is appreciative of you. Nine months of growing his baby inside of you and going through a long labor, making him a father. He loves you for your time and sacrifice and always make sure you know it. Whether its buying you flowers every two weeks or kissing you all over, telling you how much he loves you

He'll get up in the middle of the night whenever the baby cried or allowed you to sleep in. He does skin to skin contact with the baby, sitting in bed with the baby resting on his chest while checking updates on the multiverse on his watch.

The baby will make noises of distress and he'll smile, turning off his watch and holding his little girl in his hands. "What, mamas? What is it? Are you hungry? Or were you having a bad dream?" He'll rock her a bit before she settles down, and place a kiss on top of her head, breathing in that new born scent. "I'll always keep you safe, mija. You and mama are my world. I promise you, that with me, you will never have to worry."

Once the six weeks of healing are up, the two of you do wait an additional few weeks before having sex. Miguel didn't want to risk hurting you or getting pregnant again, considering you just had a baby. So when the baby was old enough to stay at your parents house for a night, the two of you threw yourselves at each other like wild animals.

Miguel went crazy with his mouth on your cunt, pushing your legs down to your chest, tongue swirling all over your wet folds before slithering into your hole. He focuses on your pleasure first before his own, because after all, you were the one who sacrificed your body. He was just the guy who nutted in you.

Loves wrapping his lips around your aching breasts and drink your milk, rubbing his condom covered cock against your pussy before sliding himself in, you digging your nails into his back as pleasure consumes your body.

"Yeah, that feel good?" he'll groan into your ear, his lips coated in golden nectar. He grinds his hips slowly into you, making sure not to hurt you. Until you begged him to move faster does he fuck into you, his arms on either side of your head, moaning into your ear.

After sex, he'll clean you up, dress the both of you in his t-shirts (his shirt fits on him snug but it's like a night gown on you). Miguel will hug you close, kissing your neck, saying, "You've made my life 100 times better, you know that, right?"

Miguel loves the little family he has and will anything to keep his family safe.

[gejo333]

Emergency

Father Miguel O’Hara x Mother Reader

18+ Warning

Summary: When Miguel gives you a watch he tells you to only use it to see him in emergencies. You get big news, and you can’t wait to tell him so you go to his work place. Little did you know that no one knew Miguel had a wife and baby. So when everyone saw you and asked you who you were. They were shocked.

Part of this was inspired by fanart on tik tok of Miguel getting his fangs right after altering his DNA. Will hopefully update post if I get permission from the artist! (Wish me luck🙏)

I apologize for any grammatical errors I missed.

Enjoy💕

Wc: 2.3k

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A beep was heard from the watch Miguel gave you at the beginning of your relationship 4 years ago. Drying your hands after finishing the dishes, you press the button to see the message from your husband.

The workload is light today. I will be home early. Do you want me to grab anything for you, cariño?

You reply by saying you need nothing and how you couldn’t wait to see him this afternoon.

Checking the baby monitor, a smile graces your lips as you gaze at your sleeping daughter. Less than a year ago, she was still in your belly.

Your little Sofia. When you became pregnant with her, you feared Miguel’s reaction since the passing of his first daughter Gabriella. You were surprised to see him crying tears of joy when you told him.

Sitting on the couch, you sigh. Maternity leave was nice. You were happy to get time off and spend time with your daughter. But you had to admit, it was boring the majority of the time. You had nothing to do when Miguel was at work and Sofia was napping.

To ease your boredom, Miguel will take a day or two off every other week to do things as a family or try to come home early to spend the afternoon with you.

You go to the nursery to gaze at your daughter. Walking in, you lean over her crib and watch her little chest rise and fall. She was the spitting image of Miguel, except she had your face shape and nose.

When she was born, you were curious if she would develop any spider traits from Miguel. He said the chance would be small since he had only half spider DNA and you were normal. Turning away from her crib, you grab the breast pump as your chest is sore. Putting on the changing table, you turn around.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you found the crib empty.

“Sofia!?” Panic envelops you. A small happy squeal comes from Sofia as your gaze approaches the ceiling. Your eyes goes wide, a gasp coming from your lips. Hanging from a web upside down was your daughter.

“Hey, baby girl. Come to mommy.” Standing right below her, you raise your arms toward her. Letting out another happy squeal, she drops down into your arms. You hold her in your arms as you try to steady your breathing. The small scare made your heart beat out of control.

You walk over to the couch in the living room, sitting down as Sofia rests her head against your shoulder. She was in the middle of teething, so sometimes she would use you or Miguel as chewing toys.

“Ow.” A sudden jolt of pain went through you as you lifted Sofia’s head. Your shoulder had small teeth marks. Eyebrows furrowed as you sit her up on your lap. She gazed at you with her bright brown eyes smiling up at you. Looking closer at her sort of toothy grin, another gasp leaves you as you see tiny fangs.

You press a few buttons on the watch to call Miguel. He didn’t answer, which meant he was on a mission. Miguel only said to travel to HQ if it was an emergency. You get the buckle carrier and strap Sofia in. Pressing a few buttons, the portal opens up. Miguel said it was safe, so you had no worries going through with Sofia.

You walk through, and within seconds, you are at Spider HQ. You grab the day pass that Miguel leaves on his desk and put one around Sofia’s wrist. You gawk at your surroundings. It was spectacular. It was your first time here as there never had been a need to come here.

It didn’t take long for the other Spider-people to notice you. They only talk amongst themselves as they walk by.

“Y/n?” You turn around to see a certain Spiderwoman walk up to you.

“Jess, it’s nice to see a familiar face here. It’s been a while since you last visited our place for dinner. How’ve you been? How’s your baby?”

“I’ve been good. He’s doing good. With his father back at home. I don’t mean to be forward, but is everything ok?” Concern etched on her face.

“Yes and no. Nothing bad. But it turns out Sofia is more like her father than we thought. I thought of staying home, but she won’t stay still, and I’m unsure ofwhat to do.” You looked down at your happy daughter, gazing lovingly at her.

“Miguel is on a mission right now. But he should be back soon. For now, let’s go to the cafeteria and wait for him.

After catching up with Jess, you arrive at the cafeteria and sit at an empty table.

“Miguel talks about what he does, but he never explains HQ looking as spectacular as this. I didn’t realize there were so many different Spider-Men and women, even animals!”

“It definitely is a sight to behold. It’s nice to see you again. You should come around more often.”

“I would love to. But you know how Miguel is. He likes to keep his personal life out of his work life. He only lets his friends know about me. Which is literally only you, Ben Reilly and Peter.” A chuckle leaves you.

You loved your husband, but his aloofness at work was unlike him. Back in your universe, he was very social. You understood why he was like this. He has a hard time opening up to strangers or acquaintances. You remember how cold he was with you when you first met him. You, a journalist interviewing a scientist at Alchemex who turned out to be Spider-Man. And from there blossomed into what it is today.

Three younger spiders walked up to the table and sat down.

“Hey, Jess! Who’s the new recruit? And who is this sweet little girl?” Asked a boy with nice brown hair that fell over his face.

“I’m Y/n, and this is Sofia. Say hi, Sofia.” You look at Sofia as she squeals. Excited by her new surroundings.

“Awww, Hi Sofia. My name is Pavitr. This is Gwen and Hobie.” Pavitr gestured towards the two sitting next to him.

“When do you start?” Asked Hobie.

“Start what?” You were confused by his question.

“She isn’t a spider. She’s visiting.” Spoke Jess.

“Cool! May I?” Asked Gwen as she held her hand out to Sofia, who was reaching out to her.

“Of course! She loves meeting new people. Would you like to hold her?” Gwen looks at you with a excited look as you take Sofia out of her carrier and pass her to the teenage girl. A wide smile graces your lips as Sofia immediately warms up to the three young spiders as they take turns holding her.

You stretch your back, relieved to have less weight on your back.

“Aww, she’s a baby spider! Like Mayday!” Said Pavitr as he awed over Sofia.

“Whose Mayday?” You ask Jess directly.

“Peter B. had a baby with MJ. And she got his abilities.” Your eyes brightened when she said there was another baby like Sofia. Another mom who understands what you’re going through.

“Ow.” Said Hobie blatantly. You turned towards the three teenagers. You reach where they are standing, just a few feet away.

“Oh no, I’m sorry. I should have warned you that Sofia was teething, and she likes to chew on her fingers. And what I just realized today is that she has fangs.” Gwen hands her back to you as Sofia just giggles.

“Wait, she has fangs?” Asked Gwen.

“Yeah. She gets them from her father.” The three spiders look again at Sofia and back at you.

“Why does she remind me of someone we know?” Pavitr said. Both Hobie and Gwen look surprised, figuring it out, as the two look at each other. Sofia’s joyful squeals become louder as she moves more in your arms.

“Amor?” You turn around to see your husband, who looks at you with concern. You walk towards him as he happily gives you a hug. Releasing from the hug, he puts his hands on both your shoulders.

“Is everything ok? Did something happen?” He checks to see if you and Sofia are ok.

“We’re fine, Miggy. I came here because I need your help with Sofia. Turns out she’s more of a daddy’s girl than we thought. She has some of your abilities.” You pass Sofia to her father.

Miguel looks over his daughter, seeing that she has fangs and organic webbing like him. Sofia placed her hands on her father’s face, which made him smile.

“Wait, wait, wait. Why didn’t you tell us you had a wife and baby!” Said Pavitr, pouting.

“Who would have guessed the boss man had a family.” Chuckled Hobie, which earned him a glare from Miguel. You lightly nudged Miguel with your shoulder. You both looked at each other before he rolled his eyes and sighed. Admitting defeat.

“Each of you can only ask one question.” Miguel huffed.

“How long have you been together?” Asked Pavitr.

“Four years. Known each other for six.” He says.

“What’s it like to be married to him?” Chuckled Hobie.

“It’s the best. He’s the most amazing husband and father a person could ask for. He is also the love of my life.” You gaze lovingly at him as he returns the same gaze.

He wraps an arm around your waist as he brings you closer to his side as he holds Sofia in his other arm.

“Te quiero, Y/n.” He kissed the top of your head.

“Awww, such a cute family.” Peter B. walked up as he held Mayday in his arms.

“It’s nice to see you again, Peter.”

“You too, Y/n. You should come around more often. It would make Mr. Grumpy here less Grumpy.”

“No puedo más,” Miguel grumbled to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. You give his hand, wrapped around you, a love squeeze which he returns.

“You have the last question, Gwen.” You smiled at her.

“Will you and Sofia come back to visit?”

“Of course. We would love to come back and visit you guys. And keep Mr. Grumpy happy.” You go on your toes and kiss his cheek.

The three young spiders look at Miguel to see if he agrees. A long sigh escaped him before saying yes. They jump for joy at his response. You thought they were so cute even though you were no more than 6 years older than them.

After talking for a bit longer, you and Miguel decided to return home. Walking through your door, you walk to Sofia’s nursery to set her back down for her afternoon nap.

You close her door before entering your bathroom and turn on the bath. You go back to Miguel, who sits on the couch. Going behind him on the couch, you hug him and give him a sweet kiss on the lips which he gladly appreciates.

“I was running a bath and added some nice soaps. Do you want to join me?” His lustful gaze scanned over you. You stand and walk slowly to the bathroom as you undress.

Miguel came up behind you, and you felt his hot breath hit your neck. His suit dissolved, revealing the sculpted body of a Greek god that you loved so much.

He took your hand and led you to the tub. The tub was huge, so Miguel could easily fit in it and be comfortable despite his large stature. You get in after as you sit between his legs, lying your back against his chest. Your hair was brushed to one side by Miguel as he began leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

“I’m going to take more time off. I can monitor from home. Give Jess more leadership duties at HQ.” He said in between kisses. You turn your head to meet his gaze.

“Will it be difficult to work from home?”

“It shouldn’t be. And just until Sofia is easier to control with her abilities. You shouldn’t have to deal with that on your own. Maternity leave is not just to be with Sofia but also to rest and recover. I’ll help her more so you can relax. I can help you relax more too.” His voice lowered to a growl with his last words as he continued to kiss and suck at your neck.

He massaged one of your breasts, pinching your nipple, a moan passing through your lips. His other hand trailed down your stomach to your thighs as he separated them. His fingers gently rubbed your clit as your back arched against him. Two fingers passed your lower lips as he began a pace, thrusting and curling them inside you.

“You’re such a slut for me, mi amor. As soon as I begin fingering you, your pussy clenches tight around them, wishing it was my cock.” His pace quickened, which sent you close to the edge as your head fell back against his shoulder.

The mix of him sucking your neck, massaging your breasts, and finger fucking you was making you reach your climax.

You came undone when you felt his fangs bite down against your neck, sucking on you before removing them and licking away the blood from the small wound. He removed his fingers as he licked them clean.

“Mhm, sweet as always.” His comment dusted your cheeks as you came down from your high.

Miguel’s lips were against your ear as he whispered, “Did I help relax you?” You turn to place a passionate kiss on his lips.

“Yes, you did.” You rest your head against him. The sound of his heart beating relaxes you further.

“Good. I can’t wait to help you relax for the next few weeks.”

____________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed reading this cute oneshot💕

[honestsycrets]

querido i: a reward of 2099 | outlaw!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | outlaw!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ type | doubleshot; chapter is safe for work.

❛ summary | it's been a long time since you've been with miguel o'hara. when your daughter gabriella finds his wanted poster, life starts to unravel.

❛ tags | mention of murder and minor character death, hidden pregnancy, western au, spanish not translated, outlaw!miguel, baby-mama!reader, slight cursing, angst, threats.

❛ sy's notes | here's to listening to the civil wars' devil backbone one too many times. i needed a break from filling most requests, so i only incorporated one very lightly in this piece.

“Mamá, 2099 is a strange amount for a reward, isn’t it?”

Your daughter was a mischievous girl just like her father. She tore down the poster that was tacked up on the homely post office’s bulletin board as you gathered the weekly post. Coming into town was always a bit of a laborious task. With goods to gather and a little girl to socialize, you made it into town once every week.

"Sure is," Jackson the postman said.

“Thank you,” you plucked mail from the man’s dark hands. “I’ll see you next week.”

He wore a warm, kind smile. Working in the post office, he always seemed to be well-versed in what was going on in everyone’s life. His coal-black eyes shone warmly at you.

“Take care now, there’s wild men out there. What with Peter gone and all, you sure you girls will be okay out there? Rio’d sure put up Gabi and you at the hostel.”

Gabi scrunched up her face tight like a screw being twisted into a board.

“That’s real sweet of you to worry but I’m sure we’ll be fine. We've been out there nine years now. I’ll see you next week, sí? ” You tucked your post into a basket that dangled on your elbow, pulling long and heavy skirts to avoid trampling them with your boots as you opened the door.

“See ya then!”

Gabriella stepped out first, pulling on your lace sleeves as a cue for her delayed answer. She wouldn’t butt into a conversation, but she always seemed to hold her questions for a better time. You sighed, looking at the pale wooden buildings. Saloon, feed store, bank, and the occasional hostel. Over the last decade, the town seemed to flourish, bringing all manner of people to your once tiny Spanish town.

“I suppose they didn’t wanna give the extra coin out, Gabi.”

She looked back to the paper in her hands.

“Wanted dead or alive. Notorious badman Miguel O’Hara, 38, native of Nueva… why that’s here, mama!”

Your blood chilled. Congealed even. The sun nearly blinded you, even with the hat that kept the hot sun off of your head. You stepped off the doorway and onto the dusty ground, spinning on your heel to face your little girl with your dark blue fan in your hands, waving the heat of the day off your flushed skin.

“Wanted for--”

You swiped the paper from her fingers.

“That’s about enough of that. We best get on our way, we got goods to buy, the undertaker to see, and a new dress to fit for your papá’s funeral.”

“I was just reading it. In case we see him?”

“We won’t. It’s been a time since he’s shown himself around these parts. You have no business looking at-- that kinda man. He’s a troublemaker. Now get in the cart, let’s not dolly around.”

You would know.

“O—okay, mamá.”

“I’m sorry, Gabi, I don't mean to yell. You’re all I got, preciosa,” you wedged the paper into a new bible, right next to your wooden rosary, and flung it into the basket.

"I know."

You started ahead of her, fussing with your white veil, sparing no expense to the many questions that she had that day. You had just as many questions as she did.

You just couldn’t articulate them to a grieving little girl.

Do you think it's a boy or girl? the seamstress asks a woman in her shop. She fashions all sorts of fashions from birth to death. Her store is stuffed to the brim with frilly and lacy baptismal dresses. Your gaze fell on her belly, tracing the curve.

"Una niña," she says. Her voice triggers something old, some ancient memory you've suppressed. His voice in your ear, a soft kiss on your head. You're sitting there, next to the little girl that he always wanted, haunted by the flood of memories that comes with looking at another woman's pregnant belly.

"You're not like the others. Aren't men supposed to want sons?" you teased him. Miguel snorted, his arm underneath your neck as he gazed up at a sky of glittering stars. The air was lightly warm, a light wind fluttering through the tall grass. Post-relation bliss was warm on his skin, peaceful and quiet.

"For what? Men are jealous of sons," he muttered, shifting his head to kiss the top of your head. "Little girls are... the light in their lives. I'm going to call mine Gabriella. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"That's a real pretty name."

"Sure is. ¿por qué?"

You didn't tell him why. That you hid a secret underneath the layers of your dress. A secret that you knew Miguel would have more than an issue with if he knew.

"Mamá?" Gabi shakes your arm, "Mamá we're next."

Your mind likes to pull mean tricks on you.

Wanted for double murder.

Miguel O’Hara was always somewhere between a hangman’s knot and three mouths to feed. For you, the latter. You were under no illusion of the sort of man Miguel was.

Every look at your daughter’s soft, peaceful face at night reminded you of him. You worried that the more she looked at posters of Miguel, peered into an artist’s rendition of Miguel’s slight, sultry eyes, lush lips, and strong jaw-- she might be able to locate the similarities when she looked at herself. That was why you had to take the flyer from her. The artist sure had a fine hand at drawing him, the man who danced in your dreams by a warm fire and stayed up late counting the stars. He’s gotten thicker, you thought. You sat on the rocking chair as she slept peacefully, rocking back and forth on the chair.

A violent knocking at the front door swept you free from your thoughts. You snatched up the silver lantern, yanked a fine ivory rebozo over your shoulders, and rushed down the stairs. The booming knocking became louder, more urgent. The movement was mechanical, with no husband to answer the door for you, you checked the window first. The man who stood there was not a man you’d want to see. Not now, not back then. He had a wicked face that sat beneath a wide-brimmed hat that obscured the balding spot on top of his head.

God, not him. He was obsessed.

“Buenas noches, Doña O’Hara,” he peeped into the window.

“Bendito, don’t call me that,” you rushed out, the heavy wooden door slamming to a close behind you. “I’ve told you already, he is not here.”

“And I don’t believe you. First, your man-loving husband dies. Next, sightings of Miguel a town over. ¿Qué piensas? Hm? What comes after that?”

“My husband was trampled, Aaron. By a bull. He was a hard-working man who worked with violent cattle. These accidents happen. Why don’t you ask the undertaker?”

He wouldn’t. Although you don’t think Aaron is a complete idiot, he surely has his own motivations for which leads to follow and which leads to ignore. Your husband’s death was one of them.

“I’ll tell you what comes next. You come next. It’s only logical that he would come back to you. You have his daughter and all. Or… does he not know about that? I seem to recall him running out of here like a bat outta hell.”

“You’ve checked my property three times. Barn, basement, home. It’s been nine years, Aaron. Gloria a Dios, he’s probably remarried and forgotten me by now.”

“Not according to my reports.”

You hate the twinge of delight that comes from that admission. Your cheeks warm with blood, highlighting the rouge that sits across your cheeks. He chuckles caustically at how easily it shuts you up. Aaron takes a step forward, his deep leather boots creaking along the aged floorboards.

“What’d you want me to do with that information?”

“If he comes to see you, and I know he will,” he reached out for your chin. Your hand connects with his, shoving him back. “Tell me. You know, it’s a crime to kill another man without good cause.”

“You wanna catch Miguel for your own reasons, Aaron. Don’t bring none of that holier-than-thou bullshit to my footstep.”

“She can curse,” he laughs again. “Here I thought you were a good Christian woman.”

“Don’t try me,” He tries to corral you against the door. You flip your skirts up, his eyes following the motion. You seize the handgun strapped to your thigh, threatening to pull it on him. Aaron slides back, holding his calloused hands up. "Get off my property."

“I’m just saying. If you see him, you know where to find me. Who knows, you and I could work a lil something out.”

Even if you knew where he was, you would be hard-pressed to turn him into Aaron Delgado. You knew Miguel O’Hara would kill him. So, really, it was for his good. You watched him beat down the squeaky steps and mount his horse, fading into the distance of dark, twinkly stars. You probably shouldn’t be praying that robbers got ahold of him.

But only Diosito could judge you for that.

You dipped down to pick the lantern up, stepping off the steps to ensure that he was not just off your property, but properly gone. Then, seeing him set off toward town, you gazed up at the deep night sky. It was littered with an abundance of stars, massive and twinkling brilliantly. Miguel’s favorite constellations shone brightly in the sky. The Anglo called it-- Orion’s belt. Around here, it was named for the hunter: the deer, the pronghorn, and the sheep. You count each of the stars on your way back indoors to sleep in your empty bed.

You prayed Aaron’s hunt would be fruitless that night.

With your husband's untimely death came several complex decisions. Namely, what to do with his cattle hands and the animals under your care. You were fortunate enough to have support from the community in caring for the cattle, but you knew human affection did not last forever. You could sell his property at a scam of a price as a woman or you could keep it and work bitterly on the farm.

Or, as Aaron suggested today in the cover of concern, you could remarry yet again. It was nearly the only good option. Working wasn’t sustainable when you had a little girl to raise and a whole host of children to teach, as you always had. It would be nearly impossible to find someone like your dearly departed husband who knew your situation and couldn’t care less about it.

It’s good for a lil girl to have a father, he says. You know that-- but Aaron should be no one’s father. Not Gabriella’s. Miguel would’ve never approved. Neither did you.

You loosened beads of sweat from your hair as you returned inside, the ends of your skirt matted with dust. Gabriella would return home from school soon and you were fully intent on feeding her a slice of fresh peach pie.

You made your way into your home, your boots between your fingers. The smell of a smoky hearth piqued your attention. It didn’t arise from your great big wood stove that sat against the wall, ready to cook fresh tortillas, but the sort of hearth settled in the deep outdoors.

“Dios mío.”

Miguel sat there, plain as a field flower. His fingers tapped over the heavy wooden table, rolling in succession. He’s older than you remember-- jaw peppered with dark facial hair, his hair dark and wild, set away from his kind eyes that caught yours as quickly as you caught his. You dropped your boots at your feet, backing up once, twice.

“Don’t run, you won't get far,” his voice trilled, low and warm. Beside his sombrero on the table sat a thick rope and his gun, you don’t want to know which one he was planning to use today. His head twisted, a mused smile growing on his face. “You look so surprised, amor. You had to know I was coming.”

The nickname cut more than it used to. You had not been someone’s amor in a very long time. Married strictly by the weight of paper, you don’t exactly recall what the fleeting emotion of love felt like. Wisps of it licked a dead flame to life in your stomach.

“Miguel.”

“You look gorgeous,” Miguel hummed, turning his impossibly broad arms one over the other. You don’t remember him being this thick. He lurches onto his leather boots, taking a few practiced steps closer. Brilliant, you think, you’ve languished years thinking of this moment just to smell of sweat and cow shit. You suppose he’s smelled worse as an outlaw, a name that doesn’t quite fit the handsome man before you.

“You were always a bad liar.”

“Look, not smell.”

“My point stands,” you say.

Your normally practiced updo has gone frizzy, bits of hair escaping the clips that kept it flat against your head. Miguel’s eyes flickered over the strands, then down to your skin flush with blood and exhaustion.

“Mine too.”

You stared at him a moment longer before you found yourself laughing, just a light-- a small thing that you had failed to do over the past week. His death, and the subsequent funeral, was all too miserable. Now he was here and for a moment, just a brief thing, everything didn’t feel so earth-shatteringly dire.

He cracks a smile, drawing his hand to your flyaways, soothing it down against your head. You should be more angry at him-- settling you with a baby like he did and disappearing into the long grass with Widow and not a word more.

“I missed you,” you said quietly. His hand falls away from your head, drifting past his dark blue vest, and hooking at the fat metal belt buckle. “Pero… why are you here?”

“I heard Peter passed,” he said in a practiced tone. “I was a few towns over. Seeing how he’s taken good care of you all these years, I dropped in to say my dues to him. Came to see my girl too.”

The grief may not be readable in his eyes, but you know he’s practiced it in the same way you did for your Gabriella. Her only daddy was gone, deep in the cold earth. His words echoed in your ears, cutting through your grief bright and resonant. You wonder if he knew, but logically, you knew he couldn’t. Miguel always wanted to be a father.

“Who’d that be?”

“You,” Miguel turns your name over, making your name sound beautiful and light on his tongue. It’s sweet, like the peach pie cooling in your aged windows.

“After all these years?"

"Claro."

"You... shouldn't be here. You’re a wanted man,” you said. “Aaron is looking for you. You know that, right?”

“He's nothing to be concerned about.” Miguel shrugged off your suggestion. "I'm only wanted in these parts."

“Where else is there?” you said

“Out West. South. You take your pick,” Miguel lifted his hand, tracing your parched lower lip. “It don't matter to me. I seen all manner of places, like it here more than anywhere.”

"There's nothing here."

"Nothing but you."

You felt your stomach swoop, a delight filling it better than any meal you’d had. You parted your lips to say something else, to find a response that would fit-- to tell him the truth. But he left you then, came back when something fit better than the road. You wonder what fortune he must have made on the road that he’d come back. His hand caressed your cheek, rubbing it as if to soothe you. It didn’t.

“You think you can just go and come back like nothing happened? After what you did?”

The front door squeaked, dragging with a long hiss. Miguel peered over your shoulder as if it were instinctual, his hand snapping to the gun on his hip. You stopped him short of seizing his handgun. Gabriella bobbed in, closing the door tightly shut behind her. She wore a plain blue dress, fine ribbon braided in the updo she had on that day. She takes a few short steps forward before realizing who you were talking to.

“Mamá, I’m home!” she gasped. “That’s the man in the— in the flyer mamá--”

“Gabi go to your room.”

“I’m not--”

“Gabriella,” your voice went soft but stern. Nearly apologetic. You had been so hard on her lately. Miguel’s eyes dropped from Gabriella’s huge, doe-like eyes to her nose, then lips. His eyes sharpened, whipping back to look at you. “Por mí, okay? He won’t hurt me. Te prometo.”

She darted up the many steps to her room.

"Gabriella?" He stared at you uncomprehendingly. He quickly goes quiet, searching your eyes for something. You worry that he’s found the truth, your breath light as you walked over to your wooden stove, checking the flame and setting a pot of water that you brought from a nearby creek to bathe with. He follows you to the stove.

“My daughter is home. You should go,” you remarked, less of a command than a meek statement, floundering on your lips at the end. As delightful as it sounded, running off into some other territory, town, or world with Miguel-- it was unfeasible and irresponsible to be with a man whose name was stapled on the bulletin boards towns over.

“How old is she?”

"That's none of your business." Your outlaw hovers over you, absorbing the space, a bundle of heavy muscle and rage that plumes off his skin like the smell of sweat on your skin. It’s almost as if he can smell the regret seeping off your skin, despite knowing you couldn’t have done anything differently. No one told him and you could not reach him. Whatever the reason he stayed away, you were not the one he reached out to for updates.

“Tell me,” he growls, waves of anger causing his voice to shake. The tone is heartless, empty of the nights together, of slipping off with the old cattle hand at night and day, in the barn and the field. You’re stuck in the memory of your lovemaking with your vaquero, now your outlaw man. You missed him.

“Don’t do this. She could be listening.” You pad away from the stove to the window with the hope that he wouldn’t follow. He backs you up into the wall, his calloused hands so tight on his belt that you could draw lines of tension through his veins.

“You're not telling me because she’s mine,” he’s whispering, the words going through your chest, fizzling out into terrible pain. He reaches out, squeezing your hips to keep you put. Miguel leans into your space and buries you in his overwhelming scent.

“What do you want me to say?” you stare at his prominent muscles, the shift that is thrown open to expose his skin. He cups your jaw and throat with his large hand, forcing you to confront the truth. Your eyes blink closed, bits of tears dripping there. Miguel doesn’t have the patience for pity, or empathy, whichever the two you were looking for right then.

“I want you to tell me the truth. It's not hard.”

“Me telling you the truth changes a whole lot of nothing. You're putting her life at risk just being here. You're an outlaw,” you say, trying his rapidly evaporating patience. "You got a bounty on your head."

"It changes it all," he shoves you back into the window, a choked cry slipping from your throat. He doesn’t mean to hurt you, he meant to have the truth. Distantly, you were aware of Gabriella’s feet beating down the steps. You’re relatively certain she’d never gone all the way up to her room. In this creaky house you would have heard her door shut, the floorboards bounce. In either case, there’s no point running away from what you both know to be true.

“Sí, she’s your daughter,” you mustered the words in a bid to get it over with. Miguel always had to get his way. “Now what?”

Miguel flicked a look over his shoulder, marked by the heavy drag of his weighted firearm skidding across the wooden table. A life on the run will do that. Gabriella’s tiny hands slipped around his handgun.

“That ain't true!”

“Gabriella,” you cut her short. “Gabi, bebe, put that down.”

Miguel took a step back, pulling his head back slightly as you shifted in front of him. Her tiny head shook, over and over, tears pricking her bright brown eyes. You fooled yourself into thinking that she wouldn’t listen-- because your Gabi was a good girl. A wonderful good girl who liked nothing more but running in the field with the boys and brightly colored ribbons laced into her braids. She was also a mischievous girl who had been trying really, really hard to be good for you this week. Children had their limits.

“My papá is dead,” she said, her fingers trembling about the thing. Miguel’s head tilted in response, expecting you to take care of it. “His name was Peter and-- he liked sunsets and fluffy chocolate calves and--”

“Badly made blankets,” Miguel said lowly. Gabi lowered the gun, slowly, just an inch or two. “Shorn fabrics, uneven stitching, ugly colors.”

“He liked to make you smile-- be helpful,” he added. You snapped to look at Miguel as he rose his hand to his hips, gazing at the floor and rocking. He waits another moment, noting how Gabriella’s head nodded, rubbing away the tears that dripped off the corner of her eyes with her shoulder. She set the gun down on the table.

“You knew my papá?” she turns her arms one over another. “How?”

“He was my friend.”

“Mamá?” she looked toward you, seeking an answer from someone who wasn’t a face on a wanted paper with a reward of 2099 dollars.

“Peter was your papá but-- Miguel is your padre, mija,” you breathed hard, exhausted from years of suppression. She looks at you, not used to this level of betrayal. Her eyes are distant, somewhere in her tiny memories. She whips around and runs out the back door. Miguel turns his eye out the window, her tiny body disappearing into the deep green fields. The sun blinds your eyes as you look out to the fields full of cattle. He reaches for his rope and gun, settling them in their respective places.

“¡Déjala! She needs time alone.”

He heads out the backdoor. He never did listen well.

[fl3shm4id3n]

Girl I saw u open requests for spider verse and I ran here right away snsnsknsmsjdndh I'm bad at explaining shit but could you write something for miguel that's like wait i forgot what I was gonna say damn I had a good scenario in my head too well hell never mind just ignore this I think im still tweaking lmao

ₗₐ ᵥᵢᵤdₐ ₍ₜₕₑ Wᵢdₒw₎

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴏ'ʜᴀʀᴀ x ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀ-ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ!(ᴡɪꜰᴇ) ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱᴏɴɢ: ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʏʟᴠᴇʀꜱ- ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀɪɴ

TW: Angst, Death, grieving, comfort towards the end

A/N: I had a fic idea for Miguel (My beloved), and now I shall write it. I listened to I bet on losing my dogs by Mitski while writing this. I didn't cry, I swear. I hope this was to your liking, I couldn't wait, I had the need to write something.

Masterlist

You had lost everything, your daughter and your husband. You knew that being Spider-Woman had a prize, but you didn't expect for it to be like this. First it was your aunt and now your family was gone. Sometimes you wished that you could of gone back in time in time to save your husband and daughter, but there was no way. The first weeks, you basically slept at the graveyard, on top of there tombstones, you didn't want to part away from them.

For many years you've mourned, you never let yourself fall in love again, your husband was the love of your life and the only man that you'd ever love. You felt as if you were betraying him in a way, you had promised to him that you'd never love anyone else but him and him only. You still had your wedding wing, you'd wear it on your hand and when out on patrol, you never took it off. You also still had his stuff in your room, pretending as if he was still there, you didn't have the heart to give his stuff away to people who needed it, you couldn't do it.

You also kept your daughter's room the same, you left it alone, the only time when you'd move anything was when you'd go to clean off the dust and change the bedsheets. Sometimes you'd go in her room to just look at the stuff she had, you felt as if she was with you the whole time. You'd lay on her bed while hugging her soccer jersey, her first jersey, sometimes you'd cry on the shirt, wishing that she was there, telling you and your husband about her game. Just like your husband's things, you didn't want to give them away. How could you? She was you first baby, your daughter, the one that you carried in your belly for nine months, the one who'd cry when she was hungry or wanted her parents attention, she was yours and Miguel's baby. Gabriella will always and forever be your child. Sometime you wore the little gold bracelet that she owned when she was still a baby, on a necklace, to have something of hers on while on patrol.

That was unexpected, you had ended up in a secret Spider Society with Miles. A boy you began to work with after bumping into one another while trying to stop a mugger, that was when you decided to team up together as a duo. You knew about his identity and he knew about yours. You both had come up with the excuse that you were a lady that was teaching him Spanish since his parents would wonder where he'd wonder off to. It worked his you knew Spanish, it was a different kind of Spanish, but his mother was happy that he was learning it.

You were getting to learn about all the Spider-Men and women, how they were all from different dimensions and what they did in headquarters. Then you got taken to a room, where who you assumed the leader of the whole thing was. As soon as you saw who it was, you nearly fainted. It was the one and only, Miguel O'Hara, your husband, well, not really your husband, but it was him.

"Y/n... is that who I think it is?" Miles whispered to you, then he saw the look off shock in your face, getting the idea that you knew who it was. Miles knew about your past, who your husband and daughter were. When the man turned, his serious face turned to one of shock, just like yours. Gwen was the one to noticed both you and Miguel staring at each other, then she had an idea. "I...um.. I'm going to show Miles around a bit" she excused, then took Miles by the arm, guiding him out and Hobie followed them.

Miguel approached you slowly, seen every inch of you, wanting to see if it was you, his wife, not his particular wife, but you were her. After a bit of staring, he spoke. "You're not my wife.." he said, sadly, then you responded. "You're not my husband.." you said, with tears forming in your eyes. Miguel wanted to hold you in his arm so bad, comfort you and tell you how much he missed you, but he didn't.

You sigh, wiping off your tears. "So... you're spider man.." you said, there was a bit of an awkward silence, then he spoke. "And you're spider woman.." he said, as he reached over and placing a pieced of your hair behind your ear. You couldn't help but ask. "Gabriella... how is she..?" you asked, Miguel almost flinched violently by the question. "She's... gone.." he said, sounding very defeated by his response. You swallowed the lump that had built up on your throat. "You too?" you asked, this time tears had spilled from your eyes.

This made Miguel look at you, he got the memo that Gabriella was also gone in your universe. It hurt, seen that in both his and yours universe your daughter was gone. He sighed, seen that you had began to cry, it was obvious that you had not got over his and Gabriella's death like he was. He come over yours and his daughter's death, it took him a while but eventually he understood that no matter what he did, he could never bring you or his daughter back, but he couldn't help but miss the both of you. It was understandable, you were a wife and a mother, who lost both her husband and first baby. And he was a husband and a father that went through the same thing as you. Then he just went for it.

Miguel then pulled you into a tight hug, you didn't hesitate to hug him back. You buried your face onto his chest, crying, letting out all your sadness. You hugged him tightly was your so called Husband rubbed your back comfortingly. Being in his arms, felt like an eternity, you had forgot the last time you were held by him like this. You began to remember the first time you met, it was raining outside one night, and you had forgot to get an umbrella, then you came across Miguel, who was walking somewhere, who knows, but he saw how drenched you were and had offered you his umbrella. You didn't want to take it since you didn't want him to get soaked, but he insisted until you took it. Then he left, that kind gesture meant a lot. Afterwards you had made it your mission to find him and return his umbrella, it was weeks but you finally manage to find him again, in another rainy day, then the rest was history.

Rainy days had become significant to you an Miguel, since you both met on a rainy day. Every time it would rain, you and your husband would go outside to enjoy the rain, not caring that you both would get sick the next day, it was worth it, if it meant being sick together. Then Gabriella came in, she too would also come with you and Miguel out in the rain. "It's okay Mi amor" he said sweetly, but also sadly. You cried more, it's been years since you've been called that by your husband, he wasn't technically your husband, but he was. No matter what universe you were from, you and Miguel would be husband and wife. And Gabriella your daughter, you'd like to think that maybe in a different universe, you were all alive and living a happy life together.

ₙₑₓₜ ₚₐᵣₜ

[charles-forza-ferrari-sempre]

ᏝᎧᏉᏋ'Ꮥ ᏰᏝᎥᏕᏕ

ᎷᏗᏕᏖᏋᏒᏝᎥᏕᏖ #2

It was a beautiful morning in Nueva York. The sun was shining, birds were chirping and the city was alive with its usual hustle and bustle. Miguel and his wife, Y/N, were sitting on their balcony enjoying their morning coffee.

Y/N was content with the peaceful moment, sipping her coffee and leaning her head on her husband's shoulder. Miguel's arm was wrapped around her waist, his thumb gently rubbing circles on her hip. They had been happily married for five years now and were expecting their second child.

Miguel was overjoyed at the idea of expanding their family. After losing their first child, Gabriella, in a tragic accident, they never thought they would be blessed with another. But here they were, happier than ever and eagerly waiting to meet their little bundle of joy.

'I still can't believe we're having another baby,' Y/N said with a smile, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

Miguel turned to her, a loving smile on his face. 'I know, it's a dream come true Cariño. I can't wait to hold our little one in my arms.'

Y/N's heart swelled with love for her husband. He had been her rock through everything, especially after Gabriella's death. She couldn't have asked for a better partner in life.

As they sat there, enjoying each other's company, Miguel's holographic assistant, Lyla, interrupted their peaceful moment.

'Sorry to interrupt, but you have a meeting in half an hour, Miguel,' Lyla informed him.

Miguel let out a sigh, not wanting to leave the comfort of his balcony. He was the CEO of Alchemax and had to deal with all the responsibilities that came with it.

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile. 'I'll go get ready for my doctor's appointment.' she said before giving him a quick kiss and heading inside.

Miguel watched her go, feeling grateful for the life they had built together. He quickly finished his coffee and got ready for his meeting.

The day went by in a blur of meetings and paperwork. Miguel couldn't wait to get back home and spend more time with Y/N. As the clock struck 5, he rushed out of the office to head home.

Upon arriving, he was greeted by the delicious smell of dinner cooking in the kitchen. Y/N loved to cook and he couldn't wait to taste whatever she had prepared for them tonight.

He walked into the kitchen to find Y/N humming as she stirred a pot on the stove. She turned to him with a smile when she heard him enter.

'Hey, how was your day?' she asked, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

'It was good, but I missed you cariño,' Miguel replied, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Y/N chuckled. 'I missed you too. How about we eat dinner first and then spend the rest of the evening together?'

Miguel nodded, not wanting to waste any more time. They sat down at the dinner table and enjoyed their meal, talking about their day and making plans for the weekend.

After dinner, they settled on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms. Miguel gently rubbed Y/N's growing belly, feeling the movements of their unborn child.

'I can't wait to meet our little Empanada,' Miguel said with a smile, leaning down to place a kiss on Y/N's belly.

Y/N chuckles and smiles down at him, running her fingers through his hair lovingly. 'Me too. I know Gabriella would have been the best big sister.'

Miguel felt a pang of sadness at the mention of their first child. He still missed her every day, but he had learned to focus on the present and be grateful for the blessings in his life.

They spent the rest of the evening cuddled up on the couch, talking and laughing. Miguel couldn't imagine his life without Y/N by his side.

As the night went on, Y/N yawned and said, 'I think it's time for us to go to bed. You have a big day tomorrow.'

Miguel nodded, knowing Y/N was right. He kissed her forehead before they made their way to their bedroom.

Laying in bed, Miguel pulled Y/N closer to him, wrapping his arms around her protectively. 'I love you, mi amor,' he whispered, placing a kiss on her neck.

Y/N smiled, feeling content and loved. 'I love you too, Miguel.'

As they drifted off to sleep, Miguel couldn't help but feel grateful for the life they had built together. Their love had overcome all the challenges and made them stronger.

The next day, they went to the doctor for a routine check-up. Miguel was excited to hear their baby's heartbeat, while Y/N was a little anxious. After the loss of their first child, she couldn't help but worry about everything that could go wrong.

But as soon as they heard the strong and steady beat of their baby's heart, all their worries vanished. They were both filled with joy and excitement for the future.

Nine months flew by, and before they knew it, it was time for Y/N to give birth. Miguel was a bundle of nerves as he sat in the waiting room, waiting for any news from the doctors.

After what felt like hours, the doctor finally came out with a smile on her face. 'Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. O'Hara. You have a healthy baby girl,' she said, handing the newborn to Miguel.

Miguel's eyes welled up with tears as he held his daughter in his arms. She was perfect, with a head full of black hair and her mother's beautiful features.

Y/N was wheeled out of the delivery room, looking exhausted but elated. Miguel couldn't wait for her to meet their little miracle.

They named their daughter Isabella, after Y/N's grandmother. She was a blessing, and they cherished every moment spent with her.

As the years went by, their family grew and their love only got stronger. They faced challenges and struggles, but they always stood by each other's side.

Miguel and Y/N were grateful for the life they had together in their comfortable apartment in Nueva York. They had everything they ever wanted, and most importantly, they had each other.

On a special evening, as they sat on their balcony, watching the sunset, Miguel whispered, 'I never knew love until I met you, Y/N. Thank you for being my wife and the mother of our beautiful children.'

Y/N smiled, tears glistening in her eyes. 'And I never thought I could find true happiness until I met you, Miguel. I love you more than words can express.'

As they shared a loving kiss, surrounded by the sounds of a bustling city, they knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it together as a family. And that was all that mattered.

[sassypossumm]

Dadbod Coach!Miguel x Reader moodboard

'I never anticipated the sunlight you'd bring into my life'

He simps so hard for you. Late night car rides. Making out like teenagers in the backseat, even though he knows his back is going to be killing him tomorrow.

Him trying to get you into fishing. Gabriella slowly warming up to you. The two of them dragging you reluctantly on camping trips.

Mind blowing sex. Back breaking sex. Everywhere and anywhere in the house. Waking up to the smell of waffles. Wearing his shirts as nighties.

Groping at his soft belly as you make out and grind against each other lazily. You've brought so much light into Miguel and Gabriella's world.

Secret is, Miguel bought a ring last week...

I really enjoyed doing this!!! @lazyjellyfish300 thank you for the idea, my love!!! 🥰🥰🥰

I'm lowkey down to do this with some of my others fics too!

[florencemtrash]

Hummingbird: Chapter Seven

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: angst and some suggestive content

Peter plugged Mayday’s ears with his fingers before saying, “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

He stared daggers into Miguel’s back as he typed away at the computer, the sunglasses you’d given him resting on his broad nose.

Miguel ignored him, but Peter was anything if not persistent - Mayday got all her charm from him… sorta.

He flicked out a web, launching him and May up onto the platform that Miguel had isolated himself on for the last three days, only leaving when he absolutely needed to or when a multiversal problem came to light.

“Did you hear me, Miguel?”

Peter went to jab Miguel’s side, but the grouchy Spider-Man wasn’t in the mood, catching Peter's wiry wrists with ease and chucking him over and off the edge of the platform. 

Peter rebounded quickly.

“That was rude.” He said, first dusting off his sweater and then Mayday’s. She giggled in her carrier.

“Again! Again!” She cooed.

“Go away, Peter.” Miguel’s voice was rougher than sandpaper.

“Bet you wouldn’t use that tone of voice with Y/n.” 

Miguel practically growled, shooting Peter a warning glance. He looked like he was going to say something, but one glance into Mayday’s pure blue eyes and he hesitated.

“I’m not in the mood, Pete.”

“I know you’re not. You’re never in the mood to talk about your feelings.”

That wasn’t the whole truth. He had wanted to talk about his feelings with you the night he fired you from Spider Society. He had wanted to explain so many things - what his life had been like before he met you and before Gabriella; how sorry he was for letting you get hurt; how he just couldn’t seem to get past the wall of voices in his head that told him something terrible would happen if he let himself be happy. 

The words hadn’t come out that night. He’d just stood there like an idiot until you finally gave up on an answer and left.

Maybe it was better this way.

“Miguel, do you remember what I was like when you first met me?” 

The question surprised him and Miguel snorted without thinking. 

Peter had just started to pull himself together when Miguel popped into his universe and asked him to join Spider Society. Miguel had helped him get his act together - helped him lose the bags under his eyes and the five o’clock shadow and the beer belly. Hell, he even helped Peter pick out the flowers to bring to MJ’s house. Granted, Peter had gained all that back - the eye bags, the facial hair, and the extra weight - but for a good reason this time. Mayday was living proof of that. 

Peter smiled at the memory. Miguel had been a happier person then. Still sarcastic and dry, but with a lightness that hadn’t been seen in years… at least not until you’d showed up.

“Yeah... I remember.” Miguel said quietly. 

“Would you believe me if I said we’ve switched places since then?” 

Miguel frowned, disliking the comparison.

It wasn’t that he thought less of his friend - on the contrary, Miguel had always been jealous of how easily Peter could step into his role as a father and husband - but he just hadn’t seen it like that.

He looked forward, bits and pieces of his face staring back from the dark corners of the screen. His hair was disheveled, eyes bloodshot and burning after hours of looking at screens, and dark bags dragged down the skin beneath his eyes. 

“Fuck.” Miguel groaned, dropping his face into his hands. 

When was the last time he’d slept? Actually sat down to eat a meal? He missed you more than anything. He wanted to see you again, to make you smile, and to have you in his arms. Maybe it was selfish - it was definitely selfish - to want to have you around him, but… 

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. Language!” Peter once again covered Mayday’s curious ears, “There’s a child here, you son of a bitch.” He whispered aggressively.

“What do I do, Peter?” Miguel murmured softly, “I don’t know what to do.” 

Peter sighed, pulling out headphones and plopping them on Mayday’s head of bright red curls. This was a conversation for the adults and she seemed to understand, settling down against her father's chest and widening her eyes to comical proportions.

“I think you know exactly what to do.” 

“I literally just said I don’t know.” 

“Aggghh,” Peter shook his hands in frustration, “How can you be so smart and so dumb! Do what I did! Win her back! Go to her apartment. Apologize. Tell her how you feel. Be better.” 

“It’s not that simple!” Miguel threw his hands up in the air, “I don’t belong in her world and she doesn’t belong in mine. To even be around her - to love her - is to risk everything I've built. Everything we protect. I can’t-I can’t make that mistake again. I can’t…” Miguel swallowed thickly, “It was my fault Peter. It was all my fault. I lost my daughter. I can’t lose Y/n too.” He finished, eyes angled to the floor and shoulders shaking with each shuddering breath. 

Peter's shadow fell over his feet, but what he wasn’t expecting was for a pair of small, chubby hands to grip his cheeks and smear away the tears that had fallen there.

Little Mayday Parker, as wild and mischievous as her father, crawled out of her carrier and hugged him with a strength no normal two year old should be capable of.

“Don’t cry. No crying.” She commanded, rubbing her hands against his face again.

He couldn’t help it. He smiled.

“I told you she makes everyone feel better.” Peter said. A proud smile warmed his cheeks.

“She does.” Miguel said.

The precocious toddler leaned back to inspect her work and nodded in approval.

Peter clapped a hand on Miguel’s shoulder. “Y/n is different from the rest of us, Miguel. And I think she just about breaks all the rules you know about the multiverse. If things are going to work out with anyone, they’ll work out with her.” 

Miguel felt that inextinguishable bit of hope inside him grow a little stronger. Then he flinched, thinking back on how he’d ended things with you.

“I messed up, Peter.” 

“I know.” 

“No, I majorly messed up.”

“Oh trust me, I know.” He said, picking Mayday up and twirling her around, “But! I have an idea about how you can fix things.” He winked, “I learned from the best.”

>>>

Washed, clothed, and feeling worse than ever - that was the tagline of the evening as you sank into your couch, turned on the TV, and started drawing circles on a notepad. You pushed through the cramping in the palms of your hands, willing the feeling to extend up to the tips of your fingers which had remained numb and stiff ever since being electrocuted.

Someone knocked at the door and your heart gave a little leap as you blinked over to the front hallway and peered through the peephole.

“Y/n?” Mrs. Fleming’s muffled voice asked. “It’s Mrs. Fleming. Are you in there?”

You tried to mask your disappointment before flinging open the door.

Mrs. Fleming folded her fingers together, laying them on her plump stomach as she calmed herself. “Good heavens, dear!” 

You flinched, “Sorry for scaring you, Mrs. Fleming.” You said apologetically. 

“I hardly heard you make your way to the door. Might be time for me to get those hearing aids." She made a noise of disapproval with her tongue, diving into the folds of her thick sweater that emphasized her plump figure and pulling out a small container of lasagna. She gave it a light shake.

“I made extra and thought I’d check in. Didn't know if you had time for a proper grocery run since coming home. It’s funny though. I could have sworn I heard someone moving around up here two weeks ago before you got back.” 

“It was probably Miguel.” You said, and almost winced as the name left your lips, “He took care of some things while I was away.” 

“Hmmmph.” The old woman hummed in thought before nodding, handing you the tupperware, and bustling back down the hallway.

Well at least now I have dinner. You thought to yourself, shutting the door and shuffling over to the kitchen. You watched the plate turn and turn in the microwave as thoughts turned in your mind. 

Maybe you should have told someone you were officially leaving (or rather that you’d been officially kicked off the team) and said your goodbyes, but it hadn’t been your intention to teleport back to your dimension. Now that you were here, you knew it wouldn’t be a walk in the park trying to get back to Earth-928 on your own. You’d seen what kinds of worlds the multiverse held and didn’t want to risk ending up stuck somewhere strange if things went awry. You’d stick to this world with its quirky landlords and quality cooking shows - a world without Miguel.

Damn it. You frowned, setting the plate down on the coffee table with a clatter. You were thinking about him again. You were missing him again.

There came another knock at the door, and you were convinced you heard the click of the silly knitting needles Mrs. Fleming always carried around with her. It was why you didn’t bother to look through the peephole before swinging the door wide open again.

“Hey Mrs. Fle-”

You froze. Mrs. Fleming was nearing 80 years old and barely came up to your shoulder. You were eye level with this person's chest.

You already knew whose russet-colored eyes you were going to see before you looked into them. 

Miguel was almost unrecognizable in civilian clothes, a bouquet of white and yellow daisies clutched in his hand - your favorite.

“Hey,” He breathed out, lips lifted in a nervous, half-smile. “Y/n, I-”

You slammed the door shut in his face. It was more out of surprise than anything else. Yes, you’d hoped that he would seek you out. Yes, you had imagined what you’d say if he decided to find you in your universe with flowers and an apology. But it was very different seeing him stand in front of you like a lost puppy with those beautiful red-brown eyes and tousled head of curls.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. ¿Qué hago? 

You paced in front of the door, gnawing on a fingernail as you tried to think of what to do.

What you wanted to do was drag him inside by the font of his shirt and slam your lips against his, but your pride wouldn’t let you do that with reckless abandon.

“Y/n… I can hear you pacing.” Miguel said from the other side. He was sweating bullets and gripping the daisy stems so hard in his hand he worried they might snap. “Listen, I know you probably don’t want to see me right now. Maybe you don’t want to ever see me again, but… I just want to apologize. For everything. I never should have said those things to you. I was wrong and I'm sorry.” 

Your heart clenched painfully. You pressed your ear up against the door to hear him better, not caring that he could probably tell exactly what you were doing. 

“I never should have kicked you off the team. You are cut out for this and you’re one of the most talented, most competent people I know.”

You watched as Miguel waited seriously, holding onto the bouquet of daisies like they were in danger of being ripped away from him.

You opened with some hesitation, but you were already a goner. His eyes lit up even while the rest of him remained silent and serious. 

“You brought flowers.” You said dumbly, pointing to them. He thrust them out towards you, cellophane crinkling.

“I know it’s not much but-”

“I like them.” You said quietly, rubbing one of the velvet petals between your fingers. The anger you'd held towards him before was all gone. Now, you just missed him. “Come on.” 

You led him inside your apartment. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen your space. He knew to take off his shoes and to watch out for the coat hook that jutted out in the narrow hallway.

You moved around the kitchen with ease, Miguel standing close by and watching as you made some tea for the both of you. Neither of you had spoken since he’d stepped through the doorway.

“Y/n.” Miguel said, one hand brushing against your waist as you turned around and leaned against the counter.

Miguel filled up the tiny space of your kitchen, literally and figuratively, enveloping you in his presence.

“I’m sorry.” He dipped his head down towards yours, looking into your eyes.

“I know.” 

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.”

“Then explain it to me. Talk to me.” You begged, reaching up to take his face in between your hands.

He leaned into your palms, sighing and planting two quick kisses on your wrists before he could stop himself.

“Tell me.” You whispered again, leaning forward and pressing your forehead against his. You wanted to know. You wanted him to trust you enough with the stories he hadn’t told anyone else.

His hands floated down, squeezing your waist gently like he needed a reminder that you were truly in front of him.

“When I first met the other version of you - when I took my variant’s place - she knew something was different. She never said it to my face but I could tell I was hurting her. She was confused and upset because I wouldn’t remember dates or memories from the past. Because I was different. Because I was wrong.” 

You winced when you heard the pain in his words.

“And Gabriella… She was too young to know. She was just happy to have her father but…” He swallowed thickly, tears beginning to collect in his eyes, “I wasn’t him. I was never him. I never knew them like I should have. I was holding onto things that weren’t mine. I was... I was just this poison that came into their lives and destroyed their universe and I lost them both.” 

You shushed him, pulling him against your chest as he began to cry. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, engulfing you in a hug that brought the both of you to your knees. He never let go, holding you against him as he shook with sobs. 

“It’s ok. It’s ok. I’m here.” You whispered into his hair, feeling his breath coming out in short bursts against your skin. You blinked back tears, feeling your throat tighten. “I’m here.”

“I put them in danger and I can’t-” He shuddered, “I can’t lose someone else like that. I can’t. I can’t.” He repeated over and over and over again. “I thought I lost you that day when Miles and Gwen brought you back covered in burns. Your heart-” He stilled, “Your heart stopped for three minutes before you came back to us. And I realized that this time... this time I had something that was actually mine to lose.”

You held him there on the cold kitchen tiles until the bubbling kettle finally gave up and shut itself off and Miguel stopped trembling.

“I love you, Y/n.” He whispered the secret he’d been keeping for months on end.

He loved you. He loved you. He loved you. 

Your heart nearly burst from the feeling. 

“I thought I could ignore it - that it would just be some passing feeling - but I can’t.”

You laughed. It was a quiet, desperate sound, more like a sharp and wet exhale that made him pull back, worried that you didn’t believe him. It was his turn to hold your face in his hands. His hands slid up your sides, caressing your jaw as he tilted your chin up to look him in the eyes. Even with his tear-stained cheeks and mussed up hair he was the most beautiful person you’d seen in your entire life.

“I love you and I know you and it’s been the most terrifying thing in the world.” 

“...but?” You said, trying to tease him. You wanted to hear him say that he wanted you. Fuck the world. Fuck the multiverse. You wanted to hear him say that you’d give yourselves a chance to be happy.

“But I want you. I want to be with you if you’ll have me. I want the first dates and the fights and to come home to you everyday and know that you’re mine.” He said, rushing. He was a man of few words, always serious, always to the point, but if given the opportunity he would have written all the love letters in the world for you, “I want you to stay with me in Nueva York. I want you to judge my cooking and to tease me and-” 

You couldn’t stop yourself. You lips crashed into his, sending the both of you toppling back onto the kitchen floor. His arms immediately wound their way around your back, molding you to him as your hands disappeared into the strands of his hair and your breath became his.

“I love you too, Miguel. I love you,” You kissed him on the lips, “I love you.” You kissed him on the temples, “I love you,” the cheeks, “I love you,” the neck, “I love you,” You whispered against his lips. 

Miguel shuddered under your touch. He was all warmth and longing and heat as you grabbed at one another with eager hands. Clothes crumpled on the floor to the tune of breathless sighs.

The tiles were soothing and cool against your burning skin as you laid with Miguel, chests heaving as he peppered the area around your heart with soft kisses.

You rolled over onto your side to face him, fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones as you imagined what it might be like to draw him when he was at peace like this.

“Come back to Nueva York with me.” He murmured.

“Like this?” You gestured to your bare skin, wiggling your eyebrows. He grinned and kissed your fingertips.

“Depends on if you can blink us directly into my bedroom.”

“I thought you slept upside down from the ceiling rafters. Or in a coffin.”

He squeezed your hips, fingers fluttering dangerously at your sensitive sides as he captured your lips in a kiss. You squealed and squirmed away from his hands as he continued to tickle your sides until you were breathless and crying from laughter.

He loved to see you like this - smiling and laughing and happy. He wanted to see you like this everyday.

Your heart quieted in your chest and you finally allowed yourself to melt back into his protective arms.

“I mean it, Y/n."

 I will stay here - with you - if you just fucking ask me to. 

The pain of the argument you’d both had was still tender and sore to the touch, but a heavy weight had fallen off his shoulders after tonight. You wanted to be with him and he wanted to be with you.

"I want you to stay with me. I don’t mean you have to come this instant but…” 

“I’d like that.” You finished for him, smiling against his lips as you continued stealing lazy kisses from one another.

But then you paused for a moment, looking at him carefully, “And I’d like to be put back on the team.” 

Miguel’s lips flattened, his hands tightening around you. 

“With great power comes great responsibility - that’s what you Spider-People always say, isn’t it?” 

“Something like that, yes.” Miguel said after a pause.

“I can do this, Migs. I’m going to do this.” 

“I know,” He murmured and then said hesitantly, “I still want you to take time off and heal. I don’t want you putting yourself in unnecessary danger. I-” 

You pressed your fingers against his lips, shushing him, “I came back to you didn’t I? I won’t leave you here alone. I promise you that. It’s you and me, Miguel.” 

He let out a shaky breath, holding you closer than you thought possible.

“Me and you.” He murmured reverently. 

You spent the next few hours tangled up in each other on the kitchen floor, whispering sweet nothings and basking in the heat that naturally radiated off of Miguel’s skin. But when you finally fell asleep against his chest to the steady beat of his heart, he took the cue and gently carried you to the bedroom.

He couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face when your hands slid up and down the sheets, seeking out his warmth before he had had the chance to slip under the covers next to you. So when he took his rightful place in the bed, you unconsciously tangled yourself up in his arms again, humming with satisfaction when his fingers brushed through your hair.

“I love you.” Miguel whispered once more, feeling your sleepy arms tighten around him, before he finally closed his eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

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_________

Author's note:

I just want Miguel to be happy, you know?

Also (hot take), I think we all deserve more gentle and loving interpretations of Miguel. I know in the movie he comes across as very stern and aggressive - which is why I think a lot of fics write him as being a very dominating romantic partner - but I think if he were to find someone he loved and was in a place where he felt comfortable starting a romantic relationship, he would be a lot kinder and gentler with them. But those are just my thoughts.

There's still a little more to come in this fic as I wrap things up so let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

Love,

Florence B.

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