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roosterbruiser · 1 year

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𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄 — 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄. 𝐑𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐅𝐔𝐋. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟏.𝟒𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓, 𝐖𝐕 & 𝐒𝐓. 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐌𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐌𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍

It’s still strange that she’s here. And even more strange that she will be here, in your arms, forever.

You’re gazing down at her, just a tiny thing between your legs, still plush and swollen from the arduous task of being birthed. There’s tufts of silky tawny locks adorning her head, which shine beneath the fluorescents above you. She’s sleeping, his tiny wet lips puckered, and her eyelids gleam with the antibiotic ointment they smeared across her skin.

You didn’t think she would be like this--perfect. Utterly and completely perfect. Not even in the way all babies are perfect--ten fingers, ten toes, chubby cheeks, sweet nose, distended belly--but in a way that you never even considered until she came into your arms. You recognized her instantaneously--like you’ve known her forever.

When you saw her face for the first time, her eyes wide open and her lips wobbling and her fingers flexed, you were stunned. It was strange how suddenly familiar she was. She was like the first flower to bloom in the springtime--a tiny and delicate thing, fragrance perfuming the air surrounding her, a sure sign that sunnier days are coming.

The entire time you were swelling with her, growing more and more frightened with each day that passed, you didn’t even consider keeping her. Even found a nice couple up in Wyoming to take her for you. But then she cried for the first time and you, in all your exhaustion and delirium and emotion, swore that you could hear bluebirds singing in the sound of her screams.

And now the little creature is squirming in her sleep, just tiny involuntary movements, a whine dying on her lips. This tiny thing, this little itty bitty girl, is what got you into all this trouble.

How could something so utterly faultless bring you such anguish?

“You know what’s gonna happen if you keep her,” your mama said to you, her usual softness dead and gone. Her face, usually adorning a lazy smile and too much blush and blanched brows, was harder than you’d ever seen it. “Don’t make us do it, Indigo. Don’t make us do it. You gotta--you have to--it’s…it’s only right to let her go.”

“I can’t, mama,” you’d said softly to her, weeping. You were holding your daughter against your chest, still reeling and sore and tearful, as you gazed up at your mama beside you. “I can’t--I can’t just let her go. She’s my baby.”

“You can and you should,” your mama said. And then her brows hooked and she frowned. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, staring down at her flip-flops against the distinctly hospital tiles. “Not even--not only just because of that couple you’re surely letting down in Wyoming, but because…Jesus, baby. You know the rules. And I’m not gonna--we’re not--your daddy and I aren’t gonna allow you to bring that baby into our home.”

“She’s not dangerous,” you argued. “Please, mama, I--!”

“No,” she interrupted. “There’s an…example to set for your little sisters. And I’m not gonna just--just give that up because you got yourself in trouble. And she is dangerous, baby! You can’t just go around and do whatever you want and then expect us to live with the consequences.”

“Please,” you wept. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” your mama sighed. She looked at you--really looked at you. Her oldest daughter, always so calm and cool and honest and sweet, sitting in a hospital bed with the baby you hid from her and your father with tears streaming down your face as you cling to that baby. “Baby, you can beg all you want. But that doesn't change the way things are. If you keep this baby, if you wanna be a mama…you can’t do it at home. You gotta do this on your own.”

And then you looked down at your baby, the one sleeping against the pillow of your breast, and knew deep in your soul that she was made to be in your arms.

“Okay,” you answered. “I’m on my own.”

Grief is sitting heavy in your gut. It’s a rocky stream, coming in spurts that knock you off your feet and carry you down with the currant. Each time you think about home--the sprawling country estate where you were born and bred, the white one with green shutters and four fireplaces, will soon be your old house. The wisteria that hangs above the porch will soon only be in your dreams, bookmarked between the stained glass door and the wide front porch. The rocking chairs out back, the ones that you used to sit in with your daddy to watch the Canadian geese land on the Kanawha River, will never seat you again.

And with every quivering breath, every wave of grief, you tremble when you remember: you’re on your own.

You’re still crying now, like it’s your natural state, and you don’t really see an end in sight. You’ve never been able to see very far ahead of you when grief overwhelms you this way: when your lashes are heavy with it, when your palms sweat with it, when your throat is thick with it.

“It’s just me and you,” you whisper to your daughter, carefully grazing her lips with the pad of your index finger gently. “I’ve got you, right? I’ll take good, good care of you. We’re gonna have so much fun.”

She knows your voice--she must from all those months you spoke to her, about her, for her. Already she must know what it feels like when the skin of your throat vibrates as you hum Bluebird Wine. Already she must know what your laugh sounds like, the one that shakes your belly and makes you cover your mouth, the one that always made her jerk awake. And like she is listening to every word you speak, her body responds: her little legs draw up to her chest and she fidgets, thighs rubbing together.

She’s making those little whines in the back of her throat, the ones she probably saved just for you. And it’s like she knew you’d change your mind--like she knew you’d see her and love her and keep her.

“Little cricket, aren’t you?” You laugh quietly, pressing your palms to her blanketed legs, squeezing softly. “Chripin’ away. Dreamin’. M’gonna be good for you.”

And in that hospital room, just the two of you and no one else in the world, you slowly pick her up. Her weight feels different in your arms than it did in your belly--it’s warmer, heavier, more fragile. Her body still feels like tissue paper wrapped around glass, like you can’t move too suddenly or she will shatter. But you pull her against your chest anyway, letting her rest there, letting the sound of your heart keep her slumbering.

“Promise it,” you mumble, kissing the crown of his head softly. “Forever and ever, Emmylou Iris.”

You don’t consider yourself good--not really. But that was before her, before Lou. You can be good for her. You will be good for her. You’ll be so good she’ll weep with it. You promise. Forever and ever.

Somewhere else in Montana, Rhett Abbott is standing in his first bedroom outside his family home. He’s breathing in all the settled dust, squinting under the buzzing light above him, his socked feet pressing against the warped floorboards.

It’s small--comically small. They had horse stalls bigger than this room back on the ranch. The ceiling is low, almost low enough for him to have to duck when he straightens his spine. The walls need a coat of paint--or two or three. There’s some flies buzzing in the windowsill and a few more little black corpses below them. Below him, he can hear the chattering of the cafe: clattering cutlery, outdated country music on the jukebox, timers beeping, people laughing, babies crying.

But this room is his. It is his and only his. Cecelia can’t come in and pile all his laundry at the end of his bed. Royal can’t open his door at the crack of dawn and tell him to get moving. Perry can’t wander in when he’s lonely, when he’s thinking about Rebecca, and bother Rhett with his tears. No one has the key to this room except Rhett--and he is going to keep it that way.

And when he lies back on the rickety twin mattress, the springs crying from beneath him, he doesn’t even mind that his feet hang off. He doesn’t mind that he’s still in his jeans, that he’s still got his dusty t-shirt on. He doesn’t care that he’s dirty, sweating into the covers. He just cares that he is alone, in his bed, and it is going to stay this way.

This is the beginning, he thinks. I don’t know what everything else was, but I know what this is.

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: OKAY BUT YOUR MOM SUCKS

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

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wolfjessedragon · 10 months

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Based on @liliacamethyst Webs of series

Webs of What if Part 2- Webs of Friendship

A few days later…

Sunny: So I took your advice.

Peter BP: And? How’d it go?

Sunny: He wants to be in the picture, even asked me to move in with him.

Peter BP: That’s great! So when am I gonna get to meet this baby daddy?

Sunny: *chuckles* Actually you know him already

Peter BP: Wait… is he another spider?

Sunny: Yes

Peter BP: Wow, oof that’s gonna be a toughie to explain to Miguel if he ever finds out.

Sunny: Well… about that..

Peter BP: No way!

Sunny: Yeah

Peter BP: You and Miguel?! Shut the front door!

Sunny: *chuckles*

Peter BP: Sunny! Girl! I want the deets, I mean how? You're like this embodiment of warmth and kindness and he’s… he’s…

Sunny: Finish your sentence

Peter BP: Kinda the complete opposite, so how?

Sunny: *sighs* Sure most of the time Miguel can be-

Peter BP: A serious stick in the mud and oftentimes downright terrifying.

Sunny: I was gonna say guarded, but I guess yours works okay. But during those times when it was just the two of us, he was sweet, gentle, vulnerable, like him being with me gave him that freedom to take his armor off and be him. That’s as best as I can describe it.

Peter BP: Wow just wow. How long has this been going on?

Sunny: Well at first he made it clear it was just a sex thing, hooking up for the sake of hooking up, stress relief he had called it.

Peter BP: *clenches his fist and teeth* What?

Sunny: Easy brother from another mother, it’s no longer like that now.

Peter BP: Phew thank goodness because if it still was I would have-

Sunny: Gotten annihilated

Peter BP: Hey!

Sunny: *chuckles then alarm goes off* Oh snap, sorry Peter I gotta bounce. *opens portal back to Earth 586*

Peter BP: We’re talking more about this!

Sunny: *leaves through portal*

Peter BP: Sunny and Miguel… I did not see that coming

Somewhere in Nea Yorkey…

Sunny: *sits in a cafe waiting* C'mon dude, where are you?

*A disheveled woman comes in and sits across from Sunny.*

Sunny: You’re late

???: Sorry Spider Sun

Sunny: You’re fine Veronica, is everything okay? Are you taking your medications?

Veronica: Yes ma’am, I’m being sure to stay on top of my medications. Still having trouble finding a place to live though.

Sunny: That’s actually what I’m hoping to talk to you about. *places a large envelope on the table*

Veronica: What is that?

Sunny: The keys to my apartment, some money, and some other documents. They're for you.

Veronica: What?

Sunny: They’re for you.

Veronica: W-W-Why?

Sunny: Let’s just say I’m moving away. I’m not gonna be in Nea Yorkey as often anymore because of personal stuff. The city is going to need a new protector.

Veronica: No it can’t be me, I nearly destroyed this city, everyone hates me.

Sunny: That was the old you, before you got help. Since then you’ve helped me save this city more times than I can count and more than redeemed yourself in the eyes of the citizens. You’re the best person to take the mantle. Besides, you'll have Venom and Eddie backing you up.

Veronica: I don’t know what to say.

Sunny: Say you’ll try.

Veronica: Okay, I’ll try.

Sunny: Thank you, Vulture.

A couple days later on top of Sunny’s apartment building….

Miguel: *exits the portal and is shocked to see Peter B. Parker and his daughter Mayday, he groans*

Peter BP: Well *groan* to you to

Miguel: What are you doing here?

Peter BP: Waiting with Mayday

Miguel: Is Spider Sun here?

Peter BP: If she was I wouldn’t be out here waiting with Mayday. Also no need for the formalities, I know you and Sunny are a thing and you’re her Baby Daddy.

Miguel: I’ll ask again, what are you doing here?

Peter BP: I’m waiting with Mayday for Sunny so I can help her move to your place.

Miguel: Well your assistance is no longer required so you can-

Peter BP: Yeah I ain’t going anywhere. *glares*

Miguel: *a little taken aback, glares back*

*A tense atmosphere surrounded the two men as they glared each other down like two gunslingers at high noon.*

Sunny: *swings in and sees them* Hey guys *dissipating the tension*

Peter BP: Sunny *high fives*

Sunny: Peter, Mayday *tickles making Mayday giggle then steps to Miguel*

Miguel: *smirks* Soleada *kisses Sunny’s lips softly*

Peter BP: *jokingly gags and covers Mayday’s eyes*

In Sunny’s apartment…

Sunny: *Keeps Mayday busy while Miguel and Peter move the few boxes Sunny has back and forth through the portal. There wasn’t much as Sunny was leaving most of the furniture to Veronica since they take up too much space in Miguel’s place. What was in those boxes were… irreplaceable.*

Miguel: *picks up one of the boxes when something falls out, he goes to put it back when he sees it’s a video and photo camera*

Peter BP: Oh no way *web grabs the camera and starts looking* Sunny look what Miguel found

Sunny: *looks at what Peter is holding and blushes beet red* You wouldn’t dare

Peter BP: *grins mischievously* Miguel check it *shows him a video, in which a much younger Sunny costume’s zipper breaks and she’s frantically trying to get out, then laughs his ass off* It’s like one of those dog paper bag vids *continues laughing*

Sunny: *glares at Peter BP* Oh like you haven’t had wardrobe malfunctions before

Miguel: *somewhat curious briefly scrolls through the other pictures and videos, getting an array of reactions from Sunny*

Sunny: That’s when I first met Venom and Eddie, that’s when Veronica got out of the institution, and- *stops as she sees the picture of a giant bridge*

Miguel: *notices* Estás bien amor?

Sunny: *on the verge of tears* Yeah I’m fine just memories and hormones

Miguel: *just hugs Sunny*

Peter BP: *Pats her back* Tell ya what Sunny, how about one last hurrah?

Sunny: Pardon?

Peter BP: How about the four- I mean five of us go down for dinner to that shindig down the street. Ugh I always forget the name.

Sunny: The Milano?

Peter BP: Yeah that’s it!

Sunny: *looks up at Miguel who just nods* Okay..

A while later at The Milano…

*After a very pleasant meal they’re about to pick up the check when “The Dog Days are Over” by Florence + the Machine comes on the radio.*

Sunny: *pauses and grins*

Peter BP: Uh oh

Miguel: What?

Sunny: *gets up from table and holds out hands* Peter, my tiny partner.

Peter BP: Alright *Hands Mayday to Sunny* Don’t go nuts

Sunny: No promises! *chuckles and starts dancing with Mayday in arms*

Miguel: *just watches her wide eyed, seeing her like this is… woah*

Peter BP: *watches* I might be biased because she’s my best friend but that kid the two of you are having is gonna have an awesome pair of parents.

Miguel: …… thank you and thank you.

Peter BP: Miguel, we may never be buddies but we have got to change our attitudes about each other. Because like it or not we’re gonna be more involved in one another’s lives. If not for each others sakes then for the sake of our families. Can we agree on that? *goes for a handshake*

Miguel: *sighs and shakes Peter’s hand*

Peter BP: Oh and uh one more thing

Miguel: Wha- ow!

Peter BP: *squeezes Miguel’s hand hard* Break Sunny’s heart and I will break every bone in your body.

Miguel: *pulls his hand away* Anotado. Maldito sea, que apretón vicioso tienes.

Peter BP: *chuckles*

Miguel: *watches Sunny dancing with Mayday, finishes his drink, gets up, and walks towards them*

Sunny: *notices Miguel approaching*

Miguel: *bends down to Mayday’s level* Disculpe, señorita Mayday, mind if I steal your dance partner?

Mayday: *squeals excitedly and starts waddling back to her daddy*

Miguel: Now fair warning I got two left feet

Sunny: *giggles and takes Miguel’s hands as they “dance” to the second chorus while Peter BP watches with Mayday in the background.*

Later in Miguel’s apartment…

Sunny: *waves bye at Mayday as Peter holds her while going through the portal*

Miguel: *walks up to her and puts a hand along her waist* Had fun?

Sunny: Yeah, thank you by the way.

Miguel: For what?

Sunny: For a lot of things but to keep it simple just… thank you. *her head leans on his shoulder*

Miguel: Well I have to admit I had fun too. *Looks and grins a little flirtatiously*

Sunny: *bites her lip and blushes*

Miguel: *gives her a peck on the lips then crouches down and kisses her abdomen as he wraps his arms around her* Hey baby, fair warning, your mom is salvaje.

Sunny: *scoffs and playfully hits him*

Miguel: *chuckles* But to be fair, so is your dad.

Sunny: *smirks*

Miguel: One more thing baby, cover your ears. *Suddenly picks her up.*

Sunny: *Yelps then giggles as Miguel carries her to the bedroom.*

{Authors Note: Taking a bit of a creative liberty, I decided to make Earth 586’s Vulture a villain turned hero. (In Veronica’s case here’s the summary she was a homeless girl with serious mental issues taken advantage of by 586’s Doc Oc. Doc Oc performed inhumane experiments on Veronica turning her into a harpy like beast that would be known as Vulture. Fast forward a bit and after a particularly fight where Sunny had found out Vulture’s history as Veronica. How like the vultures, everyone had treated her like pest, Sunny chooses to do what few have done for Veronica. Treat her like a person in need of help. In the aftermath of the fight Sunny got most of the charges on Veronica waved and instead of jail got her put in a good rehabilitation center where she also learned how shift between human and harpy forms. Time passes and there were several times when Sunny was in a bind only for Veronica to come bail her out. And when Sunny started working for the Spider Society, Veronica had occasionally taken her place. (Cause TBH one of the things that kinda bugged me about the Spider Society is that the Spiders would leave their native realities for noticeable amounts of time.) Sunny, now moving in with Miguel, is giving the resources she’ll need to be the full time protector.) Taking further liberties I decided to make some other changes that I will happily answer in the comments and in future posts.}

#fanfiction #miguel o'hara #wolfjessedragon #liliacamethyst #what if #fluff and angst #bffgoals #brother from another mother #sister from another mister #web series #miguel x oc

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