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laufeysodinson · 6 months
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coming out of hiding to say GO MOTHER GO GET ITTTTTT
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laufeysodinson · 9 months
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this is so sweet 🥹🫶🏼
𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬? | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚
you have a bad habit and miguel finds a solution —a begrudgingly in love miguel deals with his gf’s oral fixation. 1k. requested here
cw mildly mature themes/love bites. mdni
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
Miguel knew when he passed you his hand that you'd start some weird shit like this. You withhold for a while, but eventually his fingertips end up by your mouth. You brush them against your lips absent-mindedly. He knows you like the feeling, knows you draw an unconscious comfort from being able to chew on something, and he's not interested in demonising you for something you can't help. 
What he can't abide is your using him like a dollar store chew toy. The second he feels your breath against his fingers, he pulls your joined hands down into the gap between your thighs on the workbench and warns, "Don't." 
"Sorry, Miguel," you say, blinking back to attention. 
"Can't you chew on a pencil like a normal person?" 
"Sorry," you say again, not really sorry. Miguel's not really mad. "I forget that it's you." 
He likes the sound of that, even if he's still disapproving. It's hard to be mad when the level of trust you have for him extends so far, the comfort he gets from your mere presence reflected in you and your lack of shame surrounding a bad habit. Miguel sighs and goes back to his sketching. You squeeze his hand twice and do the same. 
If you can't bite him, you'll bite yourself. It starts with your nails and stretches to your cuticles. You've hurt yourself doing it before, and Miguel doesn't want to see you do it again. He winces at way you nibble your skin.
"Could you cut it out?" he asks. 
"I'm not doing anything." 
"You're trying to start the next apocalypse." 
"It's not hurting anyone," you insist. 
"It's hurting you." 
You let go of his hand to take the computer mouse, dragging and dropping a file from the first monitor onto his. He doesn't bother opening it. It's some flirtatious drivel or tech he doesn't want to deal with,  undoubtedly. 
"It's okay," you sing-song quietly. "You're such a worrier."
He thinks, Fine. Leaves you to your work, gets on with his own, and tries not to worry about your poor fingertips. Ten minutes become an hour, and he forgets what you'd been squabbling about, distracted by work. You drop file after file onto his screen until he gives in and opens one, finds a note drawing done with a jagged cursor of him, he assumes, frowny-faced with a bright red heart drawn around himself. The majority are the same, though the first one you sent him is Miguel with a smile, his cartoon version captioned, "secret softie :3". He puts a couple in his files and the rest in the recycling basket. 
He's retrieving the ones he deleted guiltily when you hiss. He checks on you from the corner of his eye, and notices the little red line of blood building in your cuticle. 
"There's actually something wrong with you."
"Ouch," you murmur, waving your finger around. "Stings." 
"I told you." 
"D'you have a bandaid?" 
Miguel doesn't have a bandaid in the workshop. His first aid kit is half nano tech, half traditional wrap around bandages, all overkill for your surface wound. He takes pit on you and your crinkled face and pulls your hand toward eye level to inspect the damage. You've pulled the cuticle skin up toward the bed and torn skin that should be left alone, blood quick to congeal in the air. He should've just let you bite him. 
"Idiot," he says, and kisses the side of your hand. "Don't do it again."
You grumble at his name calling but seem otherwise appeased. It's not long before your hand is going back to your mouth, but you must remember his demand, choosing to tuck your hands between your thighs. You squirm in your seat and can't focus on your work. 
Miguel thinks, Fuck it. 
"Alright, come here."
You wheel your chair closer.
"What, I have to do all the work?" he asks, holding out his arms. "Come here." 
You stand and slide between the desk and his legs. His thighs are big, and your own press to the top of the desk from the lack of space. You put a hand on his arm curiously. 
"Kiss me," he says. 
You lean in quickly and kiss him. A tentative thing where you're usually confident laying one on him. 
"What was that?" he asks. 
"A kiss?" 
"Kiss me properly," he says. He bracelets your elbow in a big hand, a soft touch to reassure you. "You've wanted to all day." 
You have the decency to pretend (albeit weakly) that he's wrong. "Whaaaat? Who told you that?" 
Miguel sighs and takes your face into his hands instead. He takes in your expression slowly, your eyes, your pupils like black dimes, lashes kissing in the outer corners as you look down to his mouth. You bite the inside of your lip and he loses it —Miguel tugs you against his chest and kisses you firmly, hand at the small of your back and pulling urgently upward in an attempt to bring you closer. 
He can feel the little line from your own biting on your lips as he presses against the seam of them, and he doesn't know what he's going to do with you besides kiss you: he won't let you chew on him, no matter how nice your mouth is. He'll just have to kiss you until you can cope. 
Or you could always bite him in other places. 
"Wait, wait, I can't breathe," you say, pulling away. 
Miguel works his fingertips under the back of your shirt, feeling the slope of bare skin there absentmindedly. "My bad. How's your compulsion?" 
"Wanna play vampires?" you ask. 
He laughs and leans away from you, a feigned disapproval. "Wanna play get a grip?" 
"Grip on your neck?" you ask. 
"How about I bite you? See how you like it." 
You pull your knee up, socked foot digging into his thigh as you lay your cheek on his collar, straining up every time you want to kiss his neck. You press sweet, chaste kisses into his skin, seemingly unbothered by the pretzel-like position you've twisted yourself into. 
"You act like I'm a chair."
"You told me," —kiss, kiss— "to sit here, Miguel, I don't know what you want from me." Third kiss, then a fourth. 
He tamps down goosebumps and gives up. "Can you chill out while I work?" 
"... I can keep kissing you?" 
"Do what you like. I need to finish this net." 
You lounge. Miguel struggles to keep it together, but at least you aren't biting your nails anymore. 
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed!! if you did and you have the time, please think about reblogging <3
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laufeysodinson · 9 months
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🥹🥹🥹🥹❤️
hellooooo!! i love dad muggy, he’s so bbg i can’t 🥹
i was wondering if i could get a dad!miguel fic where their daughter calls the reader saying like “mami? i’m stuck to the wall..” and they learn the spider gene is genetic, and she gets introduced to her parents secret life or something.
if this is confusing i’m sorry 😭😭
have a great day/night and make sure to stay hydrated :)
THIS IS TOO CUTE😭
papa!miguel o’hara x spiderwoman!reader discovering their babygirl has abilities
fluffy fluffy fluffy :,)
“I’m just saying, pizza shouldn’t be messed with like this just because you’re in a different dimension,” You complained, mouth full of the very pizza that you spoke of. Miguel rolls his eyes, reaching across the kitchen counter to wipe pizza sauce from your chin with his thumb. You smile at him while chewing and he licks his thumb.
“She still asleep?” He asks, taking another bite of the unusual pizza topped with fish that you ridiculed not even 5 seconds ago. You hum in response.
“Mhmm,” You swallow, “She should be waking up soon, though” You glance at the clock. Your and Miguel’s daughter has been napping for a few hours now, while the two of you quickly visited another dimension to deal with multiverse nonsense. Traveling dimensions made both of you awfully hungry so you grabbed a pizza from a local spot—unaware of the delicacies the dimension had to offer: fish on pizza. Unusual, yet the two of you were too hungry to care. A small cry came from your daughter’s bedroom.
“Perfect timing,” Miguel smiled at you as he wiped his hands on a paper towel. The two of you walk to your daughter’s door and carefully open it. You walk over to her bed and see no sign of her.
“Gabi?” You call out, growing concerned. You look around the room and Miguel calls your name. He walks over fo your little girl hiding behind the door.
“Que pasá, mija?” Miguel crouches down, holding around her middle. She has tears in her eyes as her hand remains wrapped around the door handle.
“I’m stuck,” She cries out softly. Miguel holds her hand and gently tries to peel it off of the door handle. You take a step closer and see strings of webs connecting her palm to the round doorknob. Both you and Miguel gasp lightly which makes Gabi more nervous. She stomps her feet and rubs her teary eyes with her free hand.
“Oh okay, okay—shh shh shh…,” Miguel shushes her and scoots closer to her and sits on his knees. “I need you to relax for me, baby,” He kisses her cheek softly, wiping her tears with his thumbs. Holding her face, Miguel makes her look at him instead of the doorknob. “Just take a deep breathe,” He takes one with her, “And relax,” he whispers, and shows her to let go of the knob. She takes another deep breath, her breath hitching from crying.
“You can do it, sweetheart,” You encourage, crouching down next to Miguel. She looks at you and takes another shaky breath.
“Relax…” Miguel soothes, and gently peels her hand off of the doorknob. Gabi takes another deep breath with Miguel and throws herself into his arms. He holds her close, and looks over at you with wide eyes. You return his gaze and help them up.
“I think it’s time for a lesson or two,” Miguel tells you, with a wink.
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laufeysodinson · 9 months
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so good!!!!
Web of Shadow and Light (Part III)
Sequel to Webs of Fate
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Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader
words: 5.2 K
warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut
Part I Part II Part III
The Spider-HQ echo with an unsettling symphony - a child's piercing cries and the hushed whispers of concern from some of the multiverse's bravest Spider heroes. They stand clustered around the smallest yet most powerful disturbance they've ever encountered - a baby boy. His wails have been echoing through the HQ since Miguel left the room, leaving the baby and dozens of Spider-man behind. Each cry is a call for help that pulls at their hearts, demanding attention, challenging their patience.
After much deliberation and coaxing from the rest, Miguel gave his team an ultimatum - they have until dawn to find an alternative solution, before Gabriel has to be eliminated, before the universe collapses on itself. His voice was a cold whisper when he spoke, "Figure out another way by tomorrow morning, or..." Nobody dares to complete the sentence, not even Miguel, the unsaid words hanging heavily in the air. And with that Miguel was gone, and the baby immediately started wailing and hasn’t stopped since.
Now Gwen, with her brows knitted in worry, rocks the baby with desperate gentleness. Her blue eyes are bright with unshed tears, a look of sheer helplessness painting her usually confident face. Beside her Peter B. is attempting to cheer Gabriel up but his efforts as pointless as they are endearing. The usually funny and charming Peter B seems to be losing a battle of wits with a one-year-old. It would've been humorous, had the situation been any different.
The sight of the little baby boy weeping his heart out, oblivious to the chaos his presence is causing tugs at their hearts, binding them in a collective resolution - they must protect this child. The shadows and the light, entwined in this web they’ve all been thrown into. And the clock is ticking.
Hobie scoops up the little boy, cradling him close in an attempt to soothe his relentless tears. "See, the cow says muhhhhh," he coos. His tiny cries falter, curiosity momentarily replacing distress. He gazes at Hobie with wide eyes, intrigued by the cool looking man. "And the butterfly," Hobie pauses dramatically, "well, the butterfly don’t say nothin’." He continues his little game, while rocking the baby gently in his arms. "And the pig says-"
 Miles chimes in with an eager grin, "Oink, Oink."
"Nah, bruv," Hobie laughs. “The pig says, ‘You have the right to remain silent!’”
Gabriel’s face scrunches up, and the waterworks start again. Hobie chuckles, "Fair enough, little fella. Cops make me wanna cry too."
Meanwhile Jessica Drew, clad in her black and white Spider-Woman outfit, her dark locks cascading around her shoulders, is leaning against the doorframe, half entering the room, her eyebrows raised. "Well? I assume he didn’t stop crying?“
Beside her Peter B.  with his shaggy brown hair and five o’ clock beard just shakes his head. 
“This is nuts. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING is working.“ Gwen states.
In the background, the cries of baby Gabriel cotinue, little fists flailing as he continued his tantrum. Jessica, arching an eyebrow, comments, “He’s still going at it?”
Hobie Brown, just gives her a quick nod. “Oh yeah, the kid has got a set of lungs.”
Suddenly, Pavitr Prabhakar, yelps as a makeshift toy, made out of wood and spiderwebs, hit him square in the forehead. "Ow! And one hell of arm throw."
Methodically, Jessica starts running through a mental checklist. “Diaper?”
Peter B. Parker nods. “Clean.”
“Food?” Jessica glances at Miles who holds a baby food jar and a bent spoon.
Miles, in his black and red suit, shrugs. “Kept smacking the spoon out my hand.”
“Nap?” Jessica's questions further.
The entire room answer in unison, clearly frustrated “Literally the first thing we tried.”
Pavitr smirkes at them. “Jinx.” But his joke is short-lived as Gabriels screams become even louder.
Gwen, then takes charge, “Ok, we have to do something,” her eyes flicking around the room with determination. She points to Jess, “You have to talk to Miguel. You’ve been around him the longest, maybe you can get through to him.”
Jess looks hesitant but nods.
“And Peter,” Gwen turns to Peter B who’s still juggling items in his hands, to entertain the baby and stop his crying. “Get Mayday’s toys. Maybe the baby’s just bored.”
Peter gives a thumbs up. “You got it, boss.”
“And Pav, Hobie,” Gwen instructs, her voice steady. “You need to rally the other Spider-people. We need everyone on board to protect this little guy.”
“Margo, you’re with me, girl. We are  paying our old friend Lyla a little  surprise visit. Something’s a little fishy with her.” Margo nods eagerly. 
As everyone scatters into action, Miles stands there, looking slightly lost and raising his hands. "Hey, guys, you forgot about me! What am I supposed to do? How can I help?" he calls out to the rapidly moving group.
Pav whirls around and points at Miles, "You, take care of the little guy, newbie," he says, as Hobie thrusts the still crying baby into Miles' arms.
"Great," Miles grumbles, balancing Gabriel on his hip and looking down at the squirming bundle of tears.
 He starts to bounce up and down gently, trying to imitate what he's seen in movies. The baby continues to cry, unfazed by Miles' efforts.
“Alright buddy, let’s figure this out together. I can swing through New York, so how hard can babysitting be?” Miles whispers to the baby.
Hours drag on and Gabriel's relentless cries continue to echo through the HQ. Despite his earnest attempts, Miles, armed with only his spider powers and limited babysitting experience, is unsuccessful in calming the baby. He’s tried everything he can think of – makinf funny faces, telling funny stories in a soothing tone, gently swinging him back and forth with his web-slinging skills, and even humming a little tune (it was Humble by Kendrick Lamar, but the thought counts, right?). At one point, he even tried to entertain the baby by creating animals out of webbing, but that didn’t work either. The baby is relentless, and his cries only seem to get louder. 
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In the meantime in Miguel’s office, the echoing cries penetrate through the walls. Migel is sitting behind his desk looking at some documents, while Jess stands in front of him.
“Please, Miguel, it’s a baby boy. How did you imagine doing this, huh?” Jess exclaims, her voice rising. “Did you plan to build some sort of machine to just vaporize him? Or did you think of strangling him with your own bare hands? I know you’re not a monster.” But Miguel's face remains stoic, his eyes never leaving the papers on his desk.
“And look,” Jess continues, pointing vaguely in the direction of where the baby’s cries are coming from, “this baby is already older, and nothing has collapsed yet. The universe is still here.”
“I can’t risk any more lives, Jess,”Miguel responds coldly, finally looking up at her.
“But what if there is another way? We haven’t even tried everything. We have brilliant minds here. Let’s...let’s figure something out that doesn’t involve.. that,” Jess pleads, her voice softening.
Miguel looks at her for a long moment but his expression remains unreadable. The cries of the baby continue to fill the air.
Jess then turns her gaze towards Lyla, , who is stationed nearby, her holographic interface flickering with data. “Lyla, what are the kid’s powers? Run a genetics test, a DNA test. We need something to work with.” 
Lyla’s synthetic voice answers in an eerily calm tone, "I have already processed the genetic information, Jessica. Thanks very much, genius. As per my findings, the child’s power attributes remain undefined. In regards to the DNA test..."
Lyla hesitates just a fraction of a second, but enough for Miguel to notice. It's an unexpected response from an AI that's programmed to be efficient and direct. A strange tingle rises within him but he pushes it aside, refocusing on the matter at hand.
“is inconclusive.” Jess squints at Lyla. “Inconclusive? What do you mean? Is he an anomaly or not?”
“He’s an anomaly, certainly. However, the DNA analysis is...complicated,” Lyla maintains her composed tone. “Complicated how?” Jess presses on. “Just...unfamiliar and intermingled genetic markers,” Lyla responds vaguely. “The child is an enigma.”
"Miguel, please" she continues, turning back to Miguel, clearly frustrated with Lyla's vague responses that are not helping her case. Her tone is still serious, "this isn't some variation of a monster, this is a baby."
For a moment, Miguel’s gaze flickers, his usual icy aura briefly wavering. "It doesn't matter," he finally grunts, closing his eyes as if to physically shut out the argument. Jessica's voice turns unexpectedly brittle. "I didn't join the Society to kill innocent kids."
Miguel clenches his jaw hard. "We do what we have to do for the greater good. No exceptions." Jessica takes a deep breath, her next words coming out almost in a whisper. "What if there was my Gerald or a version of your-" she begins, but is quickly cut off.
"DON’T. Don't even go there, Jessica" Miguel growls, his hand forming into a tight fist. "And why the hell is it still crying?"
Jessica's gaze softens slightly. "That child, that little boy, probably misses his parents. Parents who are going through hell right now, searching for their baby." Miguel's fist tightens further, a spark of something, maybe regret, guilt,  flashing in his eyes. Jessica presses on trying one last time to convince him. "He was found in 586, right? Maybe we can reconnect with Su-" 
"No," Miguel interrupts sharply, his voice a final command. “Until tomorrow morning, Jess,” he finally says in a low voice, putting an end to Jess’ outburst. “That’s all. You can leave now.” 
There’s a heavy silence, where the only sound is Gabriel’s distant crying.
Jessica looks at Miguel, her gaze piercing. "Think about what you’re doing, Miguel," she whispers and leaves the room, closing the door softly behind her.
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In the heart of the HQ, Margo sifts through the labyrinth of Lyla's concealed data. She uncovers a file that captures her attention – the baby's DNA results. "There you are," she mutters to herself, an air of triumph in her voice. As she opens the file, her eyes widen in disbelief, "Oh no…“
"What is it, Margo?" Gwen asks making her way over to Margo.
Margo's voice trembles slightly. "So, while looking through the hidden data, I found the baby's... there was a parental match."
Gwen's heart skips a beat. “I knew something was was off with Lyla. Of course she knows more. Well, who are the little guy's parents?"
Margo hesitates, then blurts out, "Miguel and Sunny."
Gwen stops dead in her tracks, her mind reeling. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"
"The baby's mother is Sunny, and the father is Miguel," Margo reiterates, her voice steady.
Gwen eyes widen. "But... are you sure? I know Sunny's baby. I was there when baby Gabriel was born!“
"Yes, I'm sure. There were two parental matches for the baby in the spider DNA logs:Sun Spider and Spider-Man 2099. When was the last time you saw the baby, Gwen? Babies change quickly at that age." Margo confirms. 
"Miguel and Sunny? That's not possible... how have we never noticed that there's something going on between those two?" Gwen's mind whirls with confusion.
"Oh, I noticed," Margo's voice holds a hint of smugness, "The way he was sneaking into her room at night? And the way he looked at her every time she set foot in a room, like a lovesick puppy. It was adorable. Wait, nobody else noticed?"
Gwen splutters, taken aback, "What? No, I... well, he's all 'we need to sacrifice ourselves to protect the multiverse. No more traveling for fun'" she imitates Miguel's voice with a teasing lilt, then she adds, "And Sunnys is literally the personification of a warm embrace."
Gwen's mind whirls but she continues, “ Woah, okay lets focus on the important part. I mean, I knew something was wrong with Lyla, but why... why would she do that?"  
"There's more, Gwen," Margo says, her voice shaking slightly. "I found another thing in her data. It's... it's about how she's processing information."
Gwen frowns, "What do you mean?"
Margo takes a deep breath before explaining, "In simple terms, Lyla's been teaching herself new things. She's changing, growing beyond her original programming. Her code is self-evolving."
"And the data about the baby?" Gwen asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
Margo sighs, "She's been... twisting it, making the baby seem more dangerous than it actually is."
Gwen's mind reels with this new information, the world around her seeming to tilt. "But why?" she finally manages to ask. "Why would Lyla do this?"
"I don't know, Gwen," Margo admits. "But we need to find out and warn Miguel. And soon."
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Meanwhile in Miguels office, the wailing becomes louder, almost as if piercing through the walls, trying to reach something, or someone. Miguel's face betrays his discomfort, as if the cries are tugging at his walls around his heart. There's a weight on his chest, something unidentifiable that makes it hard to breathe.
Suddenly Lyla’s holographic interface hums. She begins to show the outline various strategies for eliminating the child. Her voice, analtytic but almost cheerful, fills the room. “So, we could create a temporal displacement field, effectively erasing the child from existence. Or perhaps expose him to a slow-acting molecular destabilizer..." 
 "Based on the trial," she continues unfazed by Miguel’s lack of response. "the device should work as intended, wiping out any of its DNA and trace. Be like the anomaly never existed." There's a hint of satisfaction in her words.
Miguel, until now staring blankly at the wall, finally turns towards Lyla, his complexion pale and his eyes wide.
His insides twist painfully, the mere idea of bringing harm to this innocent child becoming now unbearable.
“Stop,” Miguel chokes out.
“Apologies, Miguel. We must consider all options for preserving the multiverse. You out of all people should know that,”Lyla retorts.
But something within Miguel snaps. His ice-cold distant facade crumbles. Rising abruptly, his chair clatters loudly onto the floor.
Without saying another word, he strides out of his office. “Miguel? Are you listening? Where are you going?” Lyla calls after him, but her words are unanswered in the empty room.
Walking down the hallway, Miguel slows down as he passes the room where the infant's cries come from. He pauses when he hears Miles' pleas inside.
“Little dude, if you stop crying promise I’ll get you some cool kicks. Maybe some baby Jordans? Please, please just stop crying,” Miles pleads, his voice sounding desperate and utterly exhausted.
After a moment hesitation, Miguel pushes open the door and steps into the room. His gaze, sterner than ever, as he takes in the scene: Miles looking near defeat, his energy spent trying to soothe the wailing child, his spider suit rumpled and hair disheveled.
"Enough," Miguel comms sharply.
Miles looks up from where he's been pacing with the baby, his eyes wide like he's just been caught stealing cookies from a jar. “You,” Miguel points at Miles, who is holding the still-crying baby. His voice booms with authority. “Put him down”
Miles, slightly dumbfounded, obeys and carefully lays the child down on his makeshift bed. “I need you to return to Earth 586. Get some of his belongings - toys, blankets, anything you can find," he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"But Miguel--" Miles startsbut gets cut off immediately.
"Now," he says, his red eyes flashing dangerously. Miles opens the portal hastily and disspears to your universe.
The crying has subsided to whimpers, and Miguel finds himself kneeling next to the little one, who reaches out for him. As if on autopilot, Miguel’s hands scoop him up abruptly from the bed.
"Quiet, niño. "Miguel growls at him with a  low and threatening tone. "I could just... do it right now." His irritation gets the better of him, and he bares his fangs at the little one. This sight shocks Gabriel into silence for a moment, his big, teary eyes widening at the sight. 
But then, to Miguel's surprise, the baby breaks into a fit of giggles, the sound infectious and joyous.
Gabriel suddenly mimics Miguel, baring his own little teeth – two tiny milk teeth and the beginnings of baby fangs peeking from his gums, causing Miguel to stiffen in shock.
Caught off guard Miguel's hold slips and Gabriel lands back on the web-shaped bed with a bounce. The baby's laughter ends abruptly and is replaced once more with tears and cries.
Still in shock, Miguel stumbles back a step, but Gabriel's cries soon pull him back into the present. With a sigh, he picks up the little boy yet again andGabriel immediately snuggles into the crook of Miguel’s neck, his tiny arms winding tightly around his throat.  Miguel swallows hard, unsure of what to do next. 
Then, almost instinctively, he starts to hum a tune he thought he'd long forgotten. "Tú eres mi sol de la mañana, el sol que brilla..." His voice is barely audible, the words shaky. Gabriel's little body relaxes against him, a content sigh escaping his lips followed by a quiet yawn. He nuzzles closer to Miguel, his tiny breaths falling into sync with the rhythm of the song. "...alegra todo, mi corazón," Miguel coninues softly, his mind flooding with memories. He sees a bright, lively girl with the same curious eyes as the boy in his arms. 
"Daddy," Gabriella asks, her large eyes bright with curiosity as she looks up at him, "why do you call me your morning sun? I'm not yellow."
Miguel chuckles at her innocence, his fingers gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He cradles her against his chest, looking into those eyes so full of wonder. "No, mija" he replies, his voice soft with affection "you're not yellow but you are my sunshine."
"But why?" She wrinkles her little nose, her childish curiosity making Miguel's heart fill up with love.
"Because, mijita," he begins, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, "just like the sun, you light up my world. You chase away the darkness with your laughter and your love. You are warmth, you are joy, and just like the morning sun, you are a new beginning, a promise of a brighter day." 
Gabriella blinks up at him, her lips curving into a small, and she hides her smile in the crook of his neck. "I like that, Papi," she whispers, "Sing the song again, please?"
“brilla, conmigo, brilla que brilla, alegrandome esta cancion. Tu eres mi sol de la manana…“
Eyes closed, Miguel draws Gabriel unconsciously closer, his heart full, and for the first time he’s feeling a sense of contentment he hasn't experienced in years. 
The moment is shattered by the sound of a throat being cleared, pulling him abruptly out of his peaceful trance.
Peter B is standing in the doorway, arms loaded with various dolls. "Wow, he's finally asleep," he remarks, looking between Miguel and the now sleeping Gabriel with a relieved smile. "I was starting to think that was impossible." 
Without responding, or even sparing a glance in Peter's direction, Miguel turns away from the door and heads to the bed. He gently places the sleeping toddler down, pulling a small blanket over him. Once he's confident that Gabriel is settled, Miguel quietly leaves the room, his demeanor as frosty and aloof as ever, making no acknowledgment of Peter's presence. 
Peter B is quick on his feet, rushing after Miguel. "I brought him toys from Mayday," he blurts out. "She won't miss them. She's not too good at sharing, but I guess she won’t mind in this case."
Miguel continues his stride, not giving Peter so much as a backward glance. "Que maravilla," he mutters under his breath, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Ignoring the dismissal, Peter B. reaches out and places a hand on Miguel's arm, stopping him in his tracks. Miguel raises an eyebrow and glances back at him half-heartedly, clearly not interested in a conversation.
Peter takes a moment, his gaze intensifying. "Hey, boss," he begins, his voice shaky yet determined. "We can't let anything happen to this boy, right?" 
At Peter's words, Miguel closes his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath.
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Back on Earth 586, you're in the throes of a meltdown. Your little boy, Gabriel, is nowhere to be found. You've scoured the whole city of Nea Yorkey, every nook and cranny you can think of, but there's no trace of him anywhere. Desperation gnaws at your insides, and fury bubbles up, hot and fierce. Your mind is in turmoil, swirling with anger and fear, clouding your ability to think straight. One thing is crystal clear though: whoever dared to touch your child will pay dearly for their actions.
You're frantically trying to find a way to contact anyone from the Spider Society, while simultaneously considering every possible avenue to traverse the multiverse yourself. Alchemax - the multinational conglomerate known for its cutting-edge research and technological advancements - seems to be your only hope. As you're about to make your way there, a sound from Gabriel's room stops you in your tracks.
Your Spider senses, already on high alert due to the unexpected circumstances, seem to kick into overdrive. Every instinct within you screams that something is about to happen. Your heart pounds in your chest like a wild drum as you slowly approach the room.
Meanwhile, in Gabriel's room, Miles is having his own share of troubles. In his haste, he stumbles over a toy car that starts making an assortment of noises and brightly lit animations. "Ah, this stupid toy!" he curses under his breath.
A thought suddenly crosses his mind and he wonders aloud, "Wait, does he need a blanket?" Just as he's about to reach for a small bunny stuffed animal that lay discarded on the floor, an intense blast of sonic energy sweeps across the room.
Caught by surprise, Miles finds himself flung across the room, his back hitting the wall with a thud. Before he can even let out a gasp, a spider web shoots out, pinning him securely against the wall. There he hangs, suspended, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. His breath comes in shallow gasps as he attempts to comprehend what just happened. Well its safe to say he didn’t saw that coming.
Miles, still stuck against the wall, manages to blurt out, "Who are you?"
"Who am I?" you echo, incredulity lacing your tone. "You break into my son's room and ask me whoI am?"
Your mind races as Miles stammers, "Wait, your son's room? Wait, are you...are you a Spider-person aswell?"
Ignoring his question, you stride towards him, an aura of threat radiating off you. "Stop talking!" you command, "I ask the questions!" In your hand, a ball of solar energy forms, crackling with power and casting a glow across the room.
"Why are you here? Where is my son?" The words are more of a growl than a question, the motherly instincts in you sending waves of danger rippling across the room. "Your son is okay, please don't hurt me!" Miles pleads with a shaky fear laced voice.
Squirmy and visibly frightened, Miles stammers out his confession, "We-we took him...it was our mission... He's an anomaly...we needed to get him out of this universe, send him to his own, so it wouldn’t collapse and interfere with the multiverse...but he doesn't have one, and I'm so sorry..."
His voice dwindles to a murmur, words tumbling over one another in his haste. Amidst his ramblings, your icy inquiry slices through like a blade, "Who instructed you?"
A sharp wince contorts his face, betraying his fear. "Our boss..." he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, "Miguel... Miguel O'Hara."
The energy in your hand dissipates, leaving only shock in its place. It's almost too much to take in - the idea that Miguel, your Miguel, could have done something like this. "He's okay, we... we didn't know he was the son of a Spider-woman. I'm Miles Morales, by the way." he introduces himself, attempting to inject some normalcy into the situation.
"I'm Spider-Sun," you respond automatically, your voice sounding distant to your own ears.
"Wait … you?" Miles' eyes widen in recognition. "You're Sunny?" When you give a numb nod in response, he continues, "You look more like 'Stormy' if you ask me." Your gaze snaps to Miles, the intensity of your death glare immediately silencing his attempt at humour. "Sorry, sorry," he stammers, raising his hands in surrender. "I just...I've heard Gwen and Peter talk about you."
"They never stop talking about you," Miles continues, trying to regain his composure. "They always say you have such a radiant personality and how much they miss you. They take care of your son, don’t worry. Hes safe for now.” 
"What do you mean he's safe 'for now'?" you cut him off abruptly, your voice cold and hard. Miles gulps nervously before responding.
"Eh...we have until morning to find a solution for this...anomaly," he stammers. You interrupt him, seething with a fury that makes him cringe. "My son's name is Gabriel. He is not an 'anomaly'," you spit out the words like they are poison, hating the way they make your sweet little boy sound like some kind of mistake.
"Eh, yes, for Gabriel," Miles corrects hastily, "because, eh... if we don't find an alternative, they need to, eh...eliminate..." He trails off, speaking so quickly and softly that you almost don't catch his last word.
"ELIMINATE?????" You scream and for a split second, Miles is sure he sees your eyes blaze with a terrifying, luminating light. 
"We can stop them. We can talk to them and say it's your son," Miles says quickly, desperately hoping to calm you.
"I don't talk. Bring me to my son," you demand. Without wasting another moment, you order him to open the portal. "Y-yes, right away, Sunn... eh, Mrs. Sun, eh... Ma'am," he stammers, visibly trembling under your steely gaze.
 It takes him two shaky attempts before he manages to successfully open the portal, his hands still unsteady from the encounter.
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Back at the headquarters, Peter chases after Miguel into his office. "Boss, all I'm saying is, what if Lyla is wrong?"
Miguel is pinching the bridge of his nose, a deep sigh escaping his lips. The weight of the situation is quickly becoming too overwhelming and he feels himself teetering dangerously close to his breaking point.
Just at that moment, Gwen, Pav, Margo and Hobie burst into the office, their faces set withdetermination. "Miguel, there’s something you need to know.  Please hear us out. Margo and I, we found something.Lyla is - ," Gwen starts but Miguel is quick to silence her with a raised hand.
Just as Miguel is about to speak, the lights flicker, casting an ominous glow throughout the room. Hobie looks around nervously. "Is that eh...normal?"
Peter quirks an eyebrow. "Did you forget to pay the electricity bill?" 
The lights flicker even more violently, plunging the room into a dance of shadow and light.
With a violent burst, the door is flung open, and a brilliant surge of light blinds everyone. You stand in the doorway, an ethereal aura glowing around you.
"O'Hara!" Your voice thunders through the room, heavy with wrath and revenge. As Miguel turns around to face the source of the sound, a massive, lightning-tinged sonar blast slams directly into his chest. He's pushed backward, knocked off balance before he can brace himself for the attack. He tries to recoverr, to shift into defense mode but he doesn't get the chance. You're relentless, a solar goddess in human form, hurtling blast after blast at him. Miguel has no time to regain his stance, each attack landing with more force than the last. 
Gwen makes to step forward, her instincts screaming at her to intervene, but Peter grabs her arm, pulling her back. "That's Sunny," he says, his voice a mixture of awe and concern. Hobie's eyes widen comically. He cocks his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Our Sunny, eh? Blimey, I never knew she had it in her. That rebellious firecracker," he mutters, a distinct note of admiration creeping into his typically laid-back British drawl.
Miles bursts into the room, breathless and disheveled. He stumbles towards Gwen, his voice hurried and concerned, "I tried to stop her, but she was...she was furious. Woahhh, I've never seen Miguel get beaten like this before."
And he wasn't exaggerating. Miguel was fighting back, his fangs bared, his claws out and ready but he was no match for your rage-fueled attacks. You were right up in his face, delivering punch after punch at a brutal pace
"Where's my son, O’Hara? What have you done to him?" you demand, your voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.
At your words, Miguel's movements falter. His defense wavers, and he barely manages to gasp out, "Your son?" He doesn't dodge your next blow, doesn't attempt to shield himself or strike back. Instead, he allows you to continue.
Miguel is shocked. His reflexes kick in as he sees the next punch coming and he grabs your wrist, halting your next powerful punch aimed for his face. He locks eyes with you, his gaze holding an emotion you've never seen in him before. Is it fear? No, it's much deeper, more profound.
As he stares at you, your luminescent eyes gradually lose their fiery intensity, shifting back to their human form.
"I... I didn't know," Miguel stammers, his voice a trembling whisper. "Lo – lo siento. I – I didn’t know.”
His breaths are ragged, and you can see a war waging inside him.
"But...how?How didn’t I know?" His voice is choked, your wrist still securely in his grip. “Your son?” Miguel continues,his voice is barely above a whisper. His eyes search yours and all he sees is raw, untamed anger with an aching pain that pierces his soul.
“Yes, MY son!” your voice echoes through the room like a whip. “Did you think that you could just take him from me? That I wouldn't come for him?”
Miguel’s grip on your wrist loosens as he stumbles back. His heart feels like it’s about to explode as realization dawns on him. The dark curls, the small fangs the baby had bared at him –pieces of a puzzle start falling into place. His own blood runs cold.
“Where is he, Miguel? Where’s myGabriel?” your voice breaks as you say the name, and it feels like another punch to Miguel's gut.
“Gabr...” Miguel chokes. “No... no...”
His voice is barely audible, the air knocked out of him by the significance of the name. His knees buckle, and he falls on the floor. "NO."
“You, who I thought would protect any child, wanted to eliminate my – our – flesh and blood!” Tears, full of anger and hurt, stream down your face, but your voice doesn't waver one bit. 
Miguel, still on the floor, looks up at you with tear-streaked cheeks. “I didn’t know. I swear on my life, on Gabriella’s memory. I-I wanted to do the right thing. I- I never, -Lo siento.” 
There’s a moment of tense silence as you look down at the shattered man before you,the love of your life, the father of your child, who almost made the most horrifying, unforgivable mistake.
Just then, from another room, the faint sound of a baby's cries pierce through the heavy atmosphere. You abruptly yank your wrist out of his grasp and towards the door to leave.
Your heart clenches as you break into a run, following the pitiful cries. You don’t look back.
Miguel remains on his knees. He doenst follow you, he doesn’t dare to move, anchored by the crushing weight of what he's done, as the sounds of Gabriel's cries fade into the background.
"Gabriel," he whispers, the name escaping his lips like a vow. A promise of redemption. And with that single word, Miguel knows he'll move heaven and earth to protect his child.
Part 4 "Webs of Redemption" - coming soon
Hello, you wonderful souls! I want to say a big thank you for your patience and kind words about this series. I really appreciate each of your sweet comments and messages – they mean so much to me. Thank you all for the insightful ideas and suggestions you contributed for part 3. I've incorporated as many of your concepts as I could because they're simply brilliant. I'm eager to hear more of your thoughts, criticisms, and proposals for part 4. I also want to give a special thanks to Jess, @wolfjessedragon . Her inspiration and amazing ideas were the driving force behind Part 3, and I couldn't have written it without her! love you guys, keep being awesome!
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laufeysodinson · 9 months
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so cute 🥹🫶🏼
i'm not cute || m.o.
pairing || miguel o'hara x fem!reader
summary || Miguel always loved when you played with his hair.
author's notes || this is my first miguel fic and im v excited!! there will be much more to come <3 also, my spanish is v v v limited and i tried following what ppl were saying in the miguel tag but please let me know if I need to fix anything!!
warnings || none, fluff, it's tooth-rotting
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“Did you just braid my hair?”
You paused—froze even. Your hands stilled in between his luscious, soft hair, and it took every ounce inside of you to not continue to feel through each strand of his. 
“Uh, no?” It was bashful. 
You inwardly winced at the extremely unconvincing tone of your voice. You couldn’t see, but his lips curled into the smallest of smiles. His spidey-DNA, as you liked to call it, sensed the heat that radiated off of your body. 
After an unsuccessful mission, Miguel came home in a state of ire. His eyebrows were furrowed, anger rolling off of his body in waves as his chest heaved up and down. But as soon as your hand placed itself across the plains of his chest and soothed the fabric of his suit, everything started to dissipate. 
The anger, the grief, the guilt—everything. 
You gently pulled his wrist, and he blindly followed you into the living room of your makeshift apartment he built in Nueva. You sat right above him on the couch, brush in your hand as you stroked through each strand of hair. His frame practically barrelled over you, despite him sitting on the ground with his back to the legs of the couch.
 In return, he wanted to desperately turn around and press light kisses into your skin, but he refrained. He knew that all you wanted to do was comfort his tense muscles. 
“That didn’t sound very convincing.”
You bite your lip, sheepishly, as you ignored his comment and started to braid another part of his hair. You very carefully twisted the fluffy soft hair between one another and grinned at the What he didn’t have to know wouldn’t hurt him, right? Well, apparently, you were wrong because once you tugged on his hair, yet again, and he practically jumps. 
“¡Ay!” He yelps and turns his head to look at you, “¿Qué mierda haces?” 
Your eyes widened, “Miggy! Oh—I’m so sorry!” You go to reach for his head again in an attempt to soothe the pain that you caused, but he caught your wrist. 
If you weren’t too concerned about tugging on his hair, you would have noticed the slight change in his lips that turned into a sly smirk. “Cariño,” He warned. His voice was gravelly and rough—the sound sending shivers down your spine. “¿Qué voy a hacer contigo?” 
In one motion, he’s hovering over you. “Hmm?”
Your mouth opens in surprise—the spark in your heartbeat not going unnoticed by the man before you. “I–I just, Miguel—” You were starting to get nervous under his gaze—just like you always do.
Pure adoration flashed between his ruby eyes, and his finger gently rubbed against the side of your cheek. It was so gentle and affectionate that it almost created tears against your waterline. He loved when you got nervous and playful—it always struck against his chest and seized him whole. He wanted to see the effect that he had on you in every waking moment, it seemed. 
He smiled. “You’re cute.”
You gasped, attempting to turn the tables around and flip him over. “I am not cute!” Alas, you were unsuccessful. 
He laughed. It was hearty and pretty against your ears. “You’re right. You’re the cutest.”
You grumbled under your breath, and it took every ounce of control not to kiss the puffing of your cheeks. “Whatever, you’re the cutest. Not me.” 
Miguel smiled—teeth showing and entirely genuine as he took in your playful expression and fingers that twisted the short hair against the base of his neck. 
“I’ll eventually make you admit it, mi alma. Don't you worry."
~~
¿Qué mierda haces? - What the fuck are you doing?
Cariño - Honey
¿Qué voy a hacer contigo? - What am i going to do with you?
Mi alma - my soul
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laufeysodinson · 10 months
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i volunteer to be his passenger princess
miguel o'hara noticing that u really really like his big strong arms pls 🙏
i request
— MIGUEL O'HARA AND HIS ARMS !
pairing : miguel x reader !
a/n : anything for u dumpling!!!! thank you very much for requesting, also i jsut aced in my val game please be proud. p.s guys the reader doesnt know bro is spider-man lmao what a dumbass
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It was early in the morning, and you were fatigued. Too exhausted to drive yourself to work, your boyfriend, Miguel, had offered to give you a ride.
You happily accepted.
You yawned, pressing the back of your head into the headrest of the passenger seat as your eyes slowly began to close. Miguel glanced over to you, then let out a chuckle at the sight.
"What time did you sleep?"
Opening your eyes, you were met with a very clear view of your boyfriend's arms.
You knew that he was jacked, for sure, but you marveled at the way his black compression shirt hugged his toned muscles, making them stand out even more than usual. Ignoring the extremely heavy weight on your eyelids, you couldn't keep your eyes off his biceps.
"You gonna answer me or keep staring at my arms?"
This snapped you out of your daze, causing you to blink twice before adjusting your posture. You averted your eyes to anywhere else but him as you felt the heat rising to your face.
"Yeah, ha... like 4, maybe?" You were too embarrassed to actually try to remember what time you finally passed out, but you knew it was late at night.
You didn't notice, but he was getting a kick out of seeing you like this, all flustered over just his arms. The smirk on his face was already formed thirty seconds ago, and he couldn't wipe off the smug that came with it.
"We're here. Don't get out yet though, I'm parking." He had a certain tone to his voice, like he was planning something. You shook your head, not wanting to be the reason he was late for his job, whatever it was.
"Ah, it's okay, I can just-"
You were distracted from the sudden movement of his hand moving from the gear shift, his arm reaching around the shoulders of your seat. He turned to get an accurate view of the rear window, reversing the car. One hand stayed on the wheel, and you swore right then and there that he looked ten times hotter while driving.
The arm you were staring at moments ago was now right in front of you, giving you a perfectly good look at the high definition of his muscles. It seemed that they were flexed this time, but you had no complaints.
Unbeknownst to you, he knew exactly what he was doing. He loved when you showed attraction towards him, and he loved embarrassing you about it even more.
He finally parked the car before looking at you, a small smile appearing when he saw that you were still in a trance with his arm.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and pulled you close to him, embracing you in his arm, looking down at you to see your flushed cheeks. "I'll see you later, hermosa." He kissed your forehead, and you felt your stomach doing flips.
You then gasped in realization, glancing at the time. "I'm gonna be late!" Frantically scurrying to gather your things, you thanked him for the ride before opening the door and hopping out.
"I'll pick you up later?" He raised his eyebrows.
"Sounds good!" You nodded as you gave him one last wave, rushing past everybody near the building in fear of your boss giving you a hard time today.
On the way to your office, you smiled to yourself. You couldn't wait to come home and be engulfed in his strong arms, where you were safe from the world.
Meanwhile, Miguel's head was clouded as he watched you enter the building safely, thinking of all the ways he could get you to blush from his arms again, when really, all it takes is a simple hug.
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laufeysodinson · 1 year
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(through gritted teeth) i love being out of my comfort zone it is necessary for my personal development
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laufeysodinson · 1 year
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"Villain era," I hiccup between sobs as I'm forced to assert basic boundaries for my mental well being.
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laufeysodinson · 1 year
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before spotify wrapped comes out, y’all gotta realize that i went through approximately 20 personality changes and am not responsible for whatever song i looped for seven hours
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laufeysodinson · 1 year
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what did i do in my past life to be subjected to this fandom war between chris and alba stans please god
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laufeysodinson · 1 year
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Ooh. Please please make more self-inserts. Not only is it fun you have no idea how much it can help you be kind to yourself. Have the hero of the franchise fall in love with you for what you think are your annoying quirks. Have the wisest man in that fictional world, tell others that your are the kindest and the smartest person he has ever met. Have the evil guy fall for you and revoke his evil ways cuz youre just that hot. Allow yourself to be loved by the fictional characters you look up to and in time you may also begin see how wonderful you really are.
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laufeysodinson · 1 year
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laufeysodinson · 1 year
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me whenever women do the most horrific, ungodly actions to get their revenge: she did what she had to do. 
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laufeysodinson · 1 year
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laufeysodinson · 1 year
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INSTAGRAM AU
Henry Cavill x You
Summary: IG posts ft. UR BAAABY
A/n: Had waaay too much fun on pinterest. Help. I have 200+ baby pins. I’m too young to have baby fever 😩 all pictures are from pinterest!
yourusername
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Liked by joeybateyofficial and thousands of others
yourusername Might have had a little bit too much food during the holidays 😳
📸: @henrycavill 🤪
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henrycavill Or not... 🤨
henrystan OMFG!!!!!!!
yourbestfriend 👀👀
cavillbabe YOU’RE GONNA BE THE BEST DAD @henrycavill
henrycavill
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Liked by prideofgypsies and millions of others
henrycavill Small update from @yourusername’s food-baby-or-not slash is-this-just-roast-or-is-it-something-else dilemma...
#NotFoodBaby
#ItsSomethingElse
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prideofgypsies welcome to fatherhood ! congrats bro 😍🤙🏽
anyachalotra 😍
yourusername baby’s asleep, why are you awake and posting on instagram? 😂
henrycavill @yourusername Couldn’t help myself 😁
henrycavillfan ^^^ 🥺
yourusername
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Liked by milliebobbybrown and millions of others
yourusername I haven’t slept in 23,476 years but I wouldn’t trade moments like this for any amount of sleep in the world.
Prayed so hard for you two. I am the luckiest. @henrycavill
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yourbestfriend ahh, I still remember you sending me so much baby pics/vids and crying because BABY FEVER!!! Now you actually have your own 🥺
yourusername @yourbestfriend honestly still can’t believe it 😭
henrycavill We are the lucky ones to have you.
yoursister ^^ u guys r just beside each other pls flirt in private 🙄🙄🙄
henryfan @yoursister LMAOOOO
henrycavill
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Liked by freyaallan and millions of others
henrycavill She says she hasn’t slept in 23,476 years and still ended up looking like THIS. Me, on the other hand... 😬
@yourusername
#MILF
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yourusername out of all the pics you could post!!!! LOL go back to sleep, dada
yourusername AND THAT HASHTAG!!! sir this is a wendy’s!!!
laurenhissrich @yourusername @henrycavill you guys... 🤣
danygarciaco 😂😂😂😂 your captions never fail to disappoint @henrycavill
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laufeysodinson · 1 year
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Unpopular opinion but an adult still living at home with their birth family doesn’t owe you an explanation for why they’re living there. 
It could be an illness/disability they have that’s not fully visible. Maybe they want to be around to care for their aging parents. Maybe the rents in their area are so disgustingly, astronomically high that it really doesn’t make sense for them to move out. Maybe they just don’t trust strangers enough to move into shared accommodation. No matter what it is, it’s not your business. 
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laufeysodinson · 1 year
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i'm hotter than i think i am but i'm also uglier than i think i am. won't elaborate
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