#spiderman2099

He was only a shell of the man he was when he had Gabriella. Even though the copy of his old wife has her same personality, the relationship couldn’t be exactly how it was before because he had changed so much. You had helped him become whole again. His tastes and likings had all switched to everything about you. The charm he found in his old wife doesn’t hold a light to you now and he was getting frustrated. He had wanted this so badly. He felt like those babies who whine and cry wanting to eat a lemon and once they get their way they realize the sour truth.

Miguel never truly realized what it was like to loose you until three weeks after he told you the truth. Over the years the idea of losing you terrified him but he only ever thought of it being in death. He never considered separation when everything was perfect for both of you then. There were times he believed that you were made just for him and he treated you like his queen. Which you truly were to him in his spider society. Why would he ever throw that away? Look at what he did.

He gave himself every excuse in the book before you knew he was cheating on you. ‘This is only for research.’ he would think every time he found himself back in that universe. As everyone knew he was so serious about his work, obviously this is just him getting to know more about certain universes and canons. Lyla was the only one seeing straight through him knowing where he was actually going. Things kept tumbling and the more he found out about the place and spent time with her the more his grief and yearning returned. It was all just there, so reachable.

There was a time his mind tried to snap him back out of it while cheating on you and made him realize the guilt. The first time he kissed this woman you were there in his mind. He came home right after and held you without saying a word. You never questioned him, just showed him comfort as much as you could. Lightly stroking his back, you never over stepped or pushed him when he was vulnerable with you. He only closed his eyes and held onto you tighter processing how you were always too good for him. He was converting to living two different lives; his old self during the day and then coming home to you. He didn’t want to let go of either at the time.

Once he found out he could safely have Gabriella again was when he became distant with you. The shame of using you for research made him become stoic. He didn’t want to admit how wrong he was treating you. All while you were always being so loyal and trusting towards him. Things were slowly slipping through the cracks and he knew he couldn’t up keep it. He wished he could have had that conversation with you so much differently but it was over. Now he had his old life back, a dream he had his mind set on.

He ignored the shakiness in his hands when he returned to her after letting you go. ‘It’s all for the best.’ is what he would repeat in his mind as a mantra. His new girlfriend truly had no idea who he really was or what his background was. Miguel continued to feed her lies to the point where he even started believing them himself getting too lost in avoiding what he’s done. He believed he was happy as he spent time with her.

When she got too close to finding the truth after finding his wedding ring in one of his pockets, he set her off course from it by revealing his spider identity and taking her to HQ. This was the day that everything felt like it was crashing around him. Being reminded of his marriage, having to face his friends with his new lover, sharing his personal spider life, his work with someone who wasn’t you. He excused himself rushing to an unused office room while his chest was tightening. Pupils dilating as he realized it was his first time having a panic attack.

Nevertheless he continued to push it all aside and act completely normal with his girlfriend. He was feeling your absence the most while working. You had became an extension of him. He had trained you from scratch and you helped him build this society he has now. You knew the ins and outs of everything and fought perfectly alongside him. Now that he was on his own he let his girlfriend be there for him when he got stressed, but there always was a knot in his stomach he never could get rid of.

The more his mental health ate at him late at night the more he considered searching out for you. There was no closure between both of you and he never got to listen to how you feel. What was your opinion on all that happened? Do you hate him?

He wanted to speak with someone so badly but he dug himself in a hole too deep. You were gone, he was lying through his teeth to this poor woman he’s kept for some fantasy, he felt too ashamed to say anything to his friends, he would rather die if all his workers found out how big of a piece of shit he is. Anytime Lyla tried peeping a word that wasn’t work related he would snap. He had pushed everyone away and now he just felt alone.

Regardless he would wake up in the morning and swallow all his dark feelings. He would remember his grief of when he lost his family and it would put him back in the moment. He has another chance. He was happy with the direction he was going in now.

Right?

—

The day he found out you were at HQ he felt his heart stop. He was mid mission trying to call for Lyla but she wouldn’t answer. Frustrated he tried looking into what was happening only to see her busy having a conversation with you. It felt like something took over him when he opened a portal in less than a second. Without thinking nor wasting a heartbeat he rushed back. Just a glimpse of you, maybe just to hear a word out of your mouth. The feeling of having you back in HQ was making him ignore all his insecurities. How he would coward at the thought of trying to reach out to you before. You were in his home, your home, and the thought drove him wild.

You were already long gone though. Lyla stared at him not saying a word. The quietness in the room making his ears ring but his thoughts were screaming in his head. He stood there frozen still trying to recollect himself. He was the one that left you, what is wrong with him?

Again he went back and forth in his own head trying to convince himself ‘You wanted this.’ but if he did why is he feeling like someone just killed a puppy in front of him? Why is he here fighting with his self if this is really his dream? Why did he try chasing after you? The wounds of his past grief were too deep. He never took the time to properly heal and now look at what he’s become.

“Miguel, what’s this?” He was startled turning around seeing his girlfriend holidng your watch and skimming through the divorce paperwork addressed to him.

There was no more hiding, no more lying. He swallowed hard even though his throat was dry. He let everything he had kept away rise to surface. It hurt him to see the beautiful face his old wife shared contort into such anger and pain while finding the truth.

She didn’t stay, but for some reason he wasn’t upset. Though he longed for his daughter, he knew it would have never been the same now. He finally closed the door on his past. His heart had made the choice this time but it’s too late. Now grasping onto the divorce papers left by you, emptiness spread through his soul.

—

You on the other hand did not find yourself crying by yourself on a rooftop for long. The shift in the air from your arrival alerted the local spider-man immediately.

“It didn’t work out, did it?” He crouched down next to you as he noticed your watch gone and your missing wedding band.

Peter Parker knew both you and Miguel. Your husband had come to do many rounds of research in this universe when he took you. Eventually offering this Peter a spot in the society, which he politely declined due to just being busy enough here. You both never spoke much but always had an appreciation for each other.

“Do you need a place to crash at?” He continued while trying to get you to look at him. Reaching his hand towards you.

You had absolutely no one and you had been gone so long you couldn’t even go back to the little you had. When you met Miguel you didn’t hesitate to never look back and now it filled you with regret. How naive were you to put all your trust and reliance on him.

You took Peter’s hand. You were ready to start your own life and be your own person now.

—

Peter Parker was nice enough to let you stay with him as long as you needed it. You both had became ‘besties!’ as he would love to poke at you. The first month with him you were a disaster really but he showed you how he liked to cope using his spider abilities.

The first thing he helped you with was getting a new suit. Your old one resembled too much to Miguel’s and you felt suffocated every time you put it on. Peter had taught you to use your current emotional pain on whichever sad little villain was making trouble out in Brooklyn that night.

“Come on, we got multiverse spider-woman helping me keep these streets clean now!” He would taunt at the men while watching you easily take them out a little bit too aggressively. His feet kicking up and down while he sat on the side of a building watching you. The crime rate did go down a bit once word got around how strong your punch was. Peter’s just happy he can now spend some nights to himself.

You got yourself a job at the mart on the corner to help cover bills for Peter and save up. You were grateful enough the owners never batted an eye when you would disappear during a shift to either suddenly go cry uncontrollably or beat the shit out of someone at a nearby robbery. Next thing you were enrolling yourself back in university, wanting to finish that degree you never did.

It wasn’t too long that some of your older spider friends would stop by to check in on you. Seeing them was difficult sometimes, you were internally itching to ask about Miguel. Things were going okay for you on a very slow path of breathing step by step. You never wanted to feel that hurt again and so you very well pretend like Miguel didn’t exist if you could.

You couldn’t ignore the hurt resurfacing when you passed couples on the street. Or when you found yourself going to fidget with your wedding ring just to remember it’s gone. You can’t just move on from a relationship that was so deeply apart of you and lasted so long. You gave everything to him and it will take you much time to get yourself to build trust again.

After two semesters, you finally had your graduation. All the things you learned while in Earth-928 paid off as you barley had to study. Passing top of the class, you immediately got an offer for an internship opportunity with Alchemax and was able to get an introduction tour of the building beforehand.

What you hadn’t realized was that Alchemax had been looking for that girl who snuck into their offices a couple years ago. Who made another dimension’s spider appear and then went missing herself soon after. They had kept as close tabs on you as they could and how foolish you were to think your little break in wouldn’t come back to bite you. The moment you stepped foot back in their building, it was over for you.

—

Miguel had spent a whole year in much deserving therapy. Nothing could stop the embarrassment he felt when Peter B signed him up with HQ’s best spider-therapist after 3 months of constant out bursts. No one could come near the man when he felt like he had lost everything. Those first initial months were difficult for everyone around him.

Therapy did help, he hates to admit it, but it was a very rough ride. He finally was able to understand his deep inner term oil and heal his issues but moving on from you? No, he could never.

You were the only one who had sincerely stood by his side, always rooting for him. He never fell out of love with you despite of everything that he did. He just pushed everything down too deep and was blinded by obsession. Till now he could never deny that he still loves you. Maybe if he just would have went to therapy years ago instead of acting out on unsolved grief none of this would have happened. The guilt always making him toss and turn at night.

He would have big temper tantrums when he would find his coworkers going to visit you time to time and not sharing any details. He needed to know if you’re okay. Did you already move on? He longed to find you and speak with you but he knew he wasn’t ready yet. He was so self destructive and this was what he deserved.

Everyone avoided him completely when he overheard someone saying you were living with Peter Parker. Fighting crime with him and having a cute little home life. Peter followed you around now like a puppy. Miguel did not take the news well at all. Let’s just say, the large bill replacement for his monitor screens was what snapped him out of that rage.

He also wanted to strangle Hobie Brown every time he saw a glint in his eye when your name was mentioned around. Yet Miguel couldn’t hate the kid either, as Hobie was one of the people to try help repair the damage he did to you. How badly he just wanted to hold you and shield you in his arms from any other people taking you from him as if he wasn’t the idiot to let you go in the first place.

Everyone’s big, powerful, scary boss was really just a grumpy, wallowing-in-self-pity, sensitive, lonely man now. Mention your name too much to him and watch him start crying or take it out on whatever he could find nearest to him. He would some nights scroll through your wedding photos while listening to your last tracked log with Lyla. Your words cutting through him deep like long sharp knives. How he urged to go tell you it was all wrong and how guilty he was for making you feel like this.

Despite it all, he still believed in being the best of the best. He used his work to distract himself from his sorrows, to become numb. Even though his divorce paperwork were set next to him on his desk to remind him the pain. He never signed it.

—

“We can’t tell him!” Jessica gritted through her teeth. Small group of spider-people were hovered around Lyla taking in the new found information.

“Her canon events have always been uncertain, we can’t just stop and fix this one?” Gwen Stacy suggested in hopes.

“We have never prevented a canon event of hers or the people involved in it. It could be even more dangerous than a regular canon.” Peter B spoke grimly.

“When ‘as danger ever stopped us?” Hobie spoke up.

“Everyone get your gear.” Lyla added to the stress of the situation.

—

You couldn’t open your eyes properly with a strong blinding light being held above you. Arms and legs secured on top of a metal surgical table. You could feel the warmth of blood scattered on certain parts of your body, slowly starting to dry. It was a mix of yours and the people you had tried fighting through to get out of here when you realize the trap you were reeled into. Different people in lab coats poked and pried all around you while you were tied. Your mask was thrown on another table and your suit had large gashes across it.

Soon you also could feel the presence of Peter Parker being brought to the room, thrown slumped in the corner breathing heavily. They had gotten you too good. They knew everything and had planned this so detailed.

“Now you’re going to help me open the multiverse.” Kingpin loomed around you. All you could feel was searing pain as a laser aimed right at your chest.

—

Miguel was already staring out the window to the glowing night lights of Nueva York when he saw a big hole appear in sight of the skyline. His eyebrows furrowed while he was trying to process what he was looking at. It wasn’t a second later when all alarms started going off in his office.

“Qué carajos?” He exclaimed seeing the alerts of a possible universe collapse. “Lyla! Why wasn’t this being taken care of already?”

“I already sent people.”

“Then what are they doing?” He yelled. His confusion and anger only furthered when he saw a red alarm for a canon event.

“Canon event?” He whispered to himself. He always knew when these were happening, there were none scheduled for today. There was no way he would let one passed him, it’s not like this could magically appear? His jaw dropped in realization… a new canon event.

“Lyla, tell me the truth. Why wasn’t this reported to me?” He made the atmosphere turn cold. She knew he already figured it out.

“A new canon event was received this morning being given to Peter Parker. Of Y/N L/N’s death.” The words from Lyla made Miguel’s body go still. His eyes raced side to side while he processed it.

“No!” He roared, a fist slamming into the nearby desk. His massive strength breaking it in half.

“Boss, you can’t go on this mission only using your emotions.” Lyla warned. However Miguel was already half way stepping through a portal to find you.

He appeared, watching his team struggle to shut down the machine causing the collapse. Outnumbered by the amount of Alchemax puppets. A different kind of rage filled him as he saw you, for the first time in a year, suffering. Miguel was never one to act reckless while on missions but he had no plan here and just ran off the pure adrenaline the fight or flight had hit him with.

His claws tore into the backs of his enemies as he jumped beast-like across the room. Not hesitating spilling blood across the wall while he took everyone down as fast as he could. His team could only watch wide eye with an unsettling fear as they saw Miguel lose himself to his spider sense. While he fought they took the opportunity to take apart the machine.

Miguel was panting heavily, pupils blown wide glowing red, and fangs dripping with venom as the room slowly silenced. Kingpin laid on the floor slowly trying to drag himself after being beaten to a pulp. It was over. Peter B stopped him from doing anything further. Knowing Miguel would kill the man, Peter B let the team finish up to give Kingpin to authorities. Miguel turned frantically to look at you seeing the other spiders step away. Peter Parker was hunched over you in tears. Miguel fought the urge to snap at Peter and grab his hands off of you.

Your vision was too blurry and everything felt like it was burning. A shape that seemed too familiar came into your peripheral vision and you tried to push yourself up.

“Miguel?” Was the last thing you croaked before slumping back passing out. Miguel catching you in his arms before you could hurt yourself further.

“It’s her time.” Jessica spoke behind him. Yet he was refusing to let go. He had never defied the way the timeline worked since he created his society. He would never break the rules and you both had promised each other before not to. If there was a situation like this you both agreed to save the universe first. How stupid was he to think he would listen to that now facing it in-front of him.

He never got to tell you what happened. He never got to apologize. He never got to tell you one more time that he loved you. Even if you in result just spat in his face, at least he was able to talk to you one more time. You were never a placeholder or someone to fill a hole in his heart. His whole heart belonged to you and he couldn’t let you go thinking you didn’t mean anything to him. No matter the consequences, he needed to tell you.

“Call all the teams to control the damage of a possible universe collapse.” He turned to Jess with Y/N tightly in his arms. The spider-people watched speechless as he opened a portal and disappeared.

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Two weeks you laid motionless in the HQ’s medbay.

The clean up after breaking the canon was a little intense. They were able to get it under control as the event started to fade from your timeline once you were returned and starting to heal in Earth-928.

The spider society would remain silent near the medbay. The lights always being dimmed and hushed whispers between staff to not bother the distressed O’Hara. He refused to leave.

Your Peter Parker had now joined the team, much to Miguel’s dismay. Everyday your friends would come in and check to see how you were. Some telling stories about their day or any gossip updates you missed, in hopes that it would get you to wake up. They would ignore the gloomy Miguel who was basically glued to the seat next to you not saying a word to anyone.

At night Miguel would play with your fingers and softly stroke your hair all while pleading “Please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me. Por favor mi alma.” He knew it wasn’t his place to beg this after what he did, but he didn’t mind the words falling on deaf ears.

Miguel hadn’t eaten in days, he felt too nauseous from anxiety to even try anything. Pavitr had done the favor to bring you and Miguel’s favorite empanadas from a small street vendor downtown. Hoping to get Miguel to at least try the food before he ended up in a hospital bed next to you due to starvation.

You started to blink open your eyes, spots surrounding your vision. You could hear a soft breathing to your right side and you slowly felt your sense come back one by one. It felt like you just had a really rough nap.

“Oh my god that smells so good.” You moaned, sitting yourself up to try to look at where the smell of food was coming from.

You were met with a wide eyed Miguel holding a box of empanadas. His jaw slacked open acting as if he’s seen a ghost looking at you. Confusion hit you first for a second and then you start to panic.

Why was he here? Why was your ex-husband sitting right here? You started to push away from him and Miguel caught on to your panic.

“No, no, no mi amor stop.” He tried calming you. “You’re hurt, you’re going to open your stitches.”

You suddenly remembered everything that happened right before you blacked out. At that moment you forgot the hurt you had towards your ex-lover. Gathering yourself you just stared at him. “I’m suppose to be dead.”

Tears rimmed your eyes. Why did it feel like life just hated you so much?

Miguel engulfed you in his arms as you started to cry. You didn’t care right now. You had ached for this feeling again, so alone, with the comfort Miguel used to bring you. Just for a moment you could pretend like how it was before.

“We can’t do this Miguel.”

He knew what you were thinking. He didn’t want to let you leave his arms yet, as he let his self hold harder and push your head closer into his the crook of his shoulder. The tickle of your breath on his neck, he just wanted this forever.

“She left. Almost a year ago.” He let out to you. A big weight coming off of his chest. You pulled back from him and looked up into his eyes while you watched him avoid your gaze. You felt bad to say you could feel a bit of satisfaction bubbling in you.

“Good, she deserved better.”

“So did you.” Miguel sighed playing with his hands. Your eyes widened when you saw the ring still on his finger. He let you stare. “I-I could never. I couldn’t.” The emotions struggle to come out of his mouth. You understood him though. You always did. Placing your hand on top of his you just nodded.

“Please stay here.” He whispered.

Miguel had broken you in so many ways. Yet he almost ruined another universe just to keep you alive. You both needed time to talk and coming out a coma right now isn’t good timing.

“I finally became my own person when I went back in my universe. I enjoyed my independence.” The words pelleted at him. He could only hold his breath as he waited for you to continue. “I’ll stay… but not for you.”

It wounded him deeply; but he deserved it. This place will always be a home for you even if he wasn’t apart of it. Before he can tear his gaze and turn away, you reached out to hold his face close to yours. Your fingers gently rubbing on his cheeks as you slowly look at him properly after so long. You let your thumb smooth over his frown lines and he leaned into your touch closing his eyes.

“Let’s give us time.” Was the words you blessed that opened every door of hope he could find. He would take it, he would absolutely take it. He has to fight for you, he has to prove to you. He would do anything but for now he’ll be on his best patiently waiting for you.

Both of you sat comfortably without speaking, only the faint background beeps of the hospital monitor making up for the silence, while passing small glances. For once both of you felt a missing warmth you didn’t realize you needed. Sharing empanadas with each other, just maybe it will be alright…

—————————————————

The end!!! Thank you so so much for your time in reading my story. i really really was so happy with all the comments and feedback on pt 1 it really meant a lot!!!

i hope this was ok ~ i apologize for how long it was i was thinking of doing another part but just wanted to finish this up. I was in such a conflict how to end this. i hope it wasn’t too cliche or anything i’m just a sucker for very wanty needy dramatic stories. It’s a hopeful ending tho~ i couldn’t pick with just happy or sad.

So many of you had tons of amazing suggestions which I appreciated so much. I was such a mess trying to figure it all out. Many of you wanted to see Y/N move on with another person but I ended up going this route. I used Peter Parker as an obv character in y/n’s universe but it’s not tied to any specific one and you guy can think of him more to your liking if you want to!

If any of you would like a small drabble or imagine of another route of this story or just anything angsty/possessive and rarwrarwbarkbark miguel. I’d be glad to help lol!! My request box is wide open~ i had so much fun writing this!

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TAG LIST!

On the fourth day though, that routine was interrupted by a knock on the door. Who was up so early on a Saturday? You were disorientated, your throat still burning with the acid. It took you a couple of seconds to remember that your friend was coming over. Right! As a reminder clicked on your head, you shouted a quick “Coming!”. You cleaned yourself as best and fast as you could, and rushed to the door. 

You opened it, being met with the smiley face of your best friend. 

“Hey…” she started, before shutting her mouth. She stared at you, eyebrows furrowing. “Are you okay?” she asked, worry evident in her voice. “You look like shit.”

“Gee thanks, I love you too.” you answered, moving aside to let her in. 

“What’s wrong?” she pressed, walking in. She took her shoes off and hung her jacket and purse. 

You sighed, closing the door. You were tired. Despite the awesome sleep at nights, emptying your insides  was wearing you down. 

“I puked, again” you emphasized. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“What do you mean again?”

You walked to your couch and plop down. Your friend followed after you. 

“Oh right, I haven’t told you.” you said, rubbing the exhaustion out of your eyes. “This is the fourth morning I vomit”

“Always in the morning?” she questioned, brow furrowed. 

“Yeah…” you trailed, taken aback by the query. “Why? It doesn’t–”

“Girl, really?” she laughed. “For being one of the smartest people I know, you sure don’t seem like it.”

“The hell are you talking about?” you asked.

She laughed. “When was your last period?”

You furrowed your brow. What did that have to do with…

Oh.

OH. 

Your eyes opened like plates. “You don’t think…” your voice barely above a whisper. 

“Don’t panic!” she stated, standing up in a rush and grabbing her things from the rack. “I’m going to run to the farmacy and get you some tests. Oh my god, I’m so excited.”

Your friend put her shoes on at lighting speed and before you could say something else she blew you a kiss and was out of the door. 

 And just like that, you were alone. Or, were you? You looked down at your stomach, pondering the implications. Could you be pregnant?

It was a possibility. You and Miguel… well. You could count with your fingers the amount of nights where you went to bed and straight to sleep last month. How could someone blame you? Anyone would throw themselves at Miguel if they had the chance. You were just lucky. 

The thing was, you used protection all the time. You weren’t on birth control because of the whole hormone shit, which you didn’t like. But you used condoms. Right? 

You stood up, too anxious to just sit around and wait. You paced around your living room, biting your nails, trying to remember if there was a night where you had been reckless. The events of previous nights with Miguel flashed through your head. 

The way he was always careful with you, treating you like you were going to break at any second. Sweet nothings whispered in your year. Spanish words and curses flying out of his mind when he was close. His caresses after it was done. Lips brushing against your naked flesh, leaving goosebumps in its path. 

One night in particular materialized in your head. You had been teasing Miguel all day. Sending him pictures, flirting more than usual, lingering touches here and there. Everything happened so fast. One minute you were in the kitchen, and before you knew it, Miguel had you pinned to the bed. The pace wasn’t the problem. Despite how hungry you were for each other, you two were responsible. 

However, you remembered what Miguel had growled in your ear. You hadn’t paid too much attention to it. You brushed it off as a heat of the moment kind of thing. Miguel was on top of you, caging you with his body. Almost crushing you with his weight. His thrusts had begun to become uneven, signalling he was close. His hands grew desperate, groping and squishing every inch of your body. Incoherent rambles and noises escaped your lips. Miguel’s breath became more ragged. 

He was needy, he needed you more than ever. Miguel loved talking to you while he fucked you. Sometimes, he would say sweet things. Others, he would try to make you remember who you belonged to. Not like you could ever forget. That night was one of those times. Miguel had told you how you were his, how he was going to  make everyone see. He was going to make you pregnant, so everyone could see in your growing belly that you were his, and he was yours. 

You rested your forehead against the nearest wall. Did he really mean it? You were hoping that he was. You wanted children, but did he? You knew about Gabby and how that affected Miguel. He had shown you the videos. Explained to you the consequences. Obviously, being from the same universe and you just being a mere civilian, the stakes weren’t as high. However, you also knew how harsh Miguel was on himself. How he saw the responsibility of being Spiderman. 

You had never talked in depth about what you wanted to do after marriage. Sure, you had joked about having little yous and little Miguels running around the house, but never serious. You lived in a good apartment, but it only had two bedrooms. One which was used as Miguel’s study, for when he had to do some work at home. 

Being pregnant meant a lot of changes. To your body, to your relationship. To your way of life. You started weeping. Tears rolled down your cheeks and you made no effort to clean them. You just let the emotions run through you, letting them out completely. You were so immersed in your thoughts you didn’t hear your friend coming back. 

You jumped back when she placed her hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey,” she whispered. “Everything is going to be fine.”

You just nodded, not trusting your voice. She handed you the bag. Peeking inside, you saw three pregnancy tests. This was it. The moment that would change the course of your life forever, or not. You had never been so anxious for a test. 

You dragged your feet to the bathroom, your friend trailing behind you. She waited outside while you took them. Once you were done, you placed them on the sink. You stared at them, terrified. You couldn’t decide what you wanted. Positive or negative? Either way, you knew you were going to be a crying mess. 

Thank god your friend was there to calm you down. You waited patiently. Those minutes felt like an eternity. 

Your timer went off, startling you. Okay, this was it. This result could change your life forever, or honestly? Crush you. You were so ready, you wanted this, despite the fact that you were also scared of how Miguel was going to react. 

Your friend pushed you forward slightly, urging you to go. You walked slowly, each step weighing more than the last. You closed your eyes on the last part, reaching the sink using your other senses. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. 

Slowly, you opened your eyes, peeking at the tests. Soon, you found out that it wasn’t the brightest idea. Two lines can easily look like one with your eyes barely open. You stared at the three tests, all reading the same. 

Positive. 

You were pregnant. Holy shit!

You turned around, clutching your stomach. Tears rolled down your cheeks. 

“I’m pregnant” you croaked out, a lump forming in your throat. 

Your friend smiled, and hugged you. You buried your face on her shoulder, embracing her tightly. 

“Are we happy?”

You nodded against her form. 

“Good. So there is nothing to worry about. Only maybe looking for a new apartment. Or making this one work, for now.”

You chuckled, pulling back and cleaning your tears with the back of your hands. 

“Yeah, well. And telling Miguel” you sniffed. 

“Pfft, girl please. That man is utterly madly in love with you. He would move heaven and Earth to be with you forever. Besides, he seems like the ‘I want to be a dad type’” she said.

Yeah. He was. Miguel loved being Gabby’s dad. But that was part of the issue, and your friend didn’t know that. 

“Yeah, I know” you mumbled, not sharing your thoughts. 

“So? Let’s celebrate!” she smiled at you, throwing her hands in the air. 

“Maybe later. I really want to tell Miguel and be with him now.”  you said, rubbing your arm. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all! This is a big moment for the both of you.” she answered, taking your hands in hers and squeezing them. “Take your time, tell me how it goes later.”

“Thank you.” you beamed at her. You really won the lottery with this friendship. 

You walked your friend to the door, kissed her goodbye and sent her on her way. Once you closed the door, you started crying again. Happy tears? Who knows. You were overcome with emotions, but the most prominent one was anxiousness. You really wanted to talk to Miguel. Tell him how much this meant for you, and hope for the best. 

You decided that it was best to take this to his territory, the society. It had been a while since you had been there, and you missed it. Besides, you felt that if Miguel needed some time, it would be easier for you to split. If you had called him and forced him to come home, and then he decided to leave, that would break your heart. 

Plus, you also thought that it would be a good idea to take something. Probably food. But first, you had to shower. While cleaning yourself, you decided to make him empanadas from scratch. You had the ingredients at home, you had done it before, and if everything went right, they would be ready by lunch time. Perfect. 

Excitedly, you got to work. Once they were ready, you changed into a nice dress, applied some make up and braced yourself for the talk that was coming.

The building of the Society never failed to amaze you. The whole city of Nueva York was beautiful, but that one had something else. You walked into the building passing like a million Spider-men? Spider-women? Spider-things? You don’t know. At the start of your relationship you would ask for everything. Name, story, universe, whatever you could think of. Miguel never refused, because he trusted you. But after the hundredth Peter Parker, you gave up. Thank god Miguel had Lyla, otherwise he would go crazy.

One of the other perks of being with the boss was that he had adapted part of the building for you. It was initially thought of as a place for Spider people, so there wasn’t really a need for stairs and even floors to walk on. There wasn’t really a ‘correct’ way to walk here. Ceiling? Fine. Walls? Fine. They all probably thought the floor was boring. Which it was, you can’t say you weren’t jealous watching all of them swing around and stick to shit like it was nothing. 

You were grateful for the distraction. 

Each step towards Miguel’s lab was exhausting. Fear crawled its way into your bones. Your hands carrying the boxes of food began to shake, despite the many attempts to stop them. Spider people passed by you, some familiar. They all stared at you, the ones that knew you greeted you. Thankfully, none commented on why you were there, or why you looked so anxious. You could feel beads of sweat running down your neck.

You reached the doors to Miguel’s lab. Closed. Typical. You cleared your throat. It didn’t matter how many times you did it, but talking to thin air while speaking to Lyla without seeing her was mind blowing, and also, a little embarrassing. 

“Umm… Lyla?” you asked, looking around. Where are you supposed to look when talking to an AI that is everywhere?

“Oh hi!” Lyla greeted you, appearing right in front of your face. “What brings you here?”

“Just bringing Miguel some food” you showed her the containers on your hand. 

“Great! He is grumpy as always. This for sure will cheer him up.” She smiled at you, opening the door to the lab.

“He isn’t grumpy.” you defended your boyfriend. “Maybe he has reasons to be so angry around here. He is a big teddy bear.”

Lyla laughed at that. “Oh, don’t make me laugh” she said, cleaning a fake tear from the corner of her eye. “But if you do have embarrassing pictures of him, send them my way.”

“Lyla!” the sound of your boyfriend’s voice cut off your conversation. 

There he was, in his full glory. His platform descending, making him look like a God. Which he was, in your books at least. 

You hurried forward, not even waiting for the platform to reach the bottom.

“Hola mi vida” Miguel smiled at you. 

You jumped on the platform, placing the boxes on the desk before hugging Miguel.

“Someone is excited,” Miguel commented, hugging you back and chuckling. 

“How could I not?” you said, looking up at him. “I have the best boyfriend in the world. Despite the fact he leaves me in a cold bed” you pouted. 

“Mmm.. if I remember correctly, you knew exactly what you were signing for.” he teased, bending down to peck your lips. 

You got into your tiptoes, helping him. You hummed into the kiss. “Yeah, maybe. I’m just so crazy about you.”

“I’m the crazy one.”

Just as you were about to kiss again, you heard a camera click. Miguel pulled back and whipped his head towards the sound. “Lyla!” 

The AI disappeared in a fit of laughter. You giggled too.

“I’m not going to hear the end of this.” Miguel mumbled, peeling himself off of you. “What brings you here anyway?”

The question took you back to reality. You weren’t there just for fun. You had something important to say. 

“I– umm” you began. “I brought you empanadas!” you turned around and picked the boxes quickly, almost dropping them. 

“What did you do?” Miguel asked, hands on his hips. He smirked. 

“Nothing!”

“Mmm..” Miguel eyed you, but took the boxes nonetheless. He opened the first one and smelled it. “This smells so good. Gracias beba.” He pecked your forehead quickly, before putting the first empanada in his mouth. 

“So…” you began. “What are you doing?” 

“Besides the usual, you mean?” Miguel asked. He arched his brow.

“Yeah!”

He finished the rest of the empanada before setting the box down. 

“Okay, you are acting weird. What’s wrong?” his whole attention on you know. His sharp, red eyes staring at you.

“What do you mean? I’m perfectly fine. Perfectly normal.” you lied. You couldn’t tell him, not now. 

“Yeah, and I’m the funniest Spider-man” he said sarcastically. 

You bit your lip. Your hands were sweaty. You could feel tears forming in your eyes, blurring your sight. 

“I–” you swallowed heavily. “I– I can’t, I can’t say it.” You shut your eyes, tears spilling out. 

“Shh mi amor. Why are you crying?”

Miguel cradled your face, wiping the tears of your cheek. 

“Look at me beba. I hate seeing you cry”

You opened your eyes slowly. You were met by Miguel’s loving gaze. You cried harder. Miguel pulled you into a hug. You buried your face into his chest while he rubbed your back. 

“Shh it’s okay. Whatever it is, we will work it out together. Like we always do.”

You shook your head. 

“No?” He asked. “Why? Please tell me.”

You could hear the worry in his voice. You hated it. But you were also terrified of him leaving you. 

“I’m scared,” you confessed. 

“Of me?” Miguel said, barely above a whisper. 

You looked up quickly, seeing his hurt face. 

“No no, I could never be scared of you” you placed your hand on his cheek. “I love you more than anything.”

He nuzzled against it, kissing your open palm.

“So tell me.”

You stared at his face for a while, seeing how soft he looked at that moment. You couldn’t grasp how someone could be scared of him. Curse you for using that word. You knew how much that affected him. How he viewed himself. You trailed his features with your eyes, burning in your memory how he looked. If this was the last time… you wanted to remember everything. 

You stepped back, detaching yourself from Miguel. You took a deep breath, calming down. 

“I’m–” you began, your voice wobbly. “I’m pregnant.”

Everything stopped. Miguel took a step back, staring at you with wide eyes. 

The air in the lab grew thicker. That, or you were hyperventilating. It was harder to breathe. Every passing second Miguel didn’t answer, a million thoughts ran through your head. 

That’s it. He was going to shout at you and tell you to leave. 

No! He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t be mean. Don’t think like everyone did. You know Miguel, the real Miguel. The man who cares. The man who despite being angry at you, found the time to make sure you are okay. Miguel, who made you meals and did things he didn’t like because of you. 

He could not want children, but he would never leave you stranded. Fencing by yourself. 

“You–” Miguel began, breaking the silence. “You are pregnant?”

You bit your lip, and nodded. You couldn’t trust your voice. 

Miguel stumbled back, crashing into his desk. He rested against it, rubbing his face. 

“Miguel?” you said quietly. “Please say something.”

A minute passed. 

Nothing. 

Sadness bubbled inside of you. You were crying again. You felt like you were about to lose the love of your life. Trying to make things better, you started to ramble. 

“It’s just–” your voice broke, sobs escaping your mouth. “I know how hard it was for you with Gabby. How much she meant to you. And, I want this baby, I really do!” you cried, doing your best effort to stare at his face while talking. “And– and, I don’t know what you want. I don’t– I can’t live without you. I want you and this” you placed your hand in your belly. “I want to be a family, with you. But I– I’m scared” you sobbed, looking down. 

You heard Miguel walk towards you, and then his fingers under your chin, lifting your face to meet his eyes. “Mi amor” he whispers. “No llores más mama.” 

The gentleness of his voice made you sob harder. Miguel grabbed the sides of your face with both his hands, using his thumbs to wipe your tears away. You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. He caressed your cheeks, before kissing your forehead, then your closed eyes. Your nose, both your cheeks. Finally, he pulled you forward slightly, your chest colliding with his, his lips smashing against yours. 

The kiss was full of love. You knew what Miguel felt without him even uttering a word. You placed your hands on his chest, deepening the kiss. You didn’t want to let go, you wanted to stay right there. Safe in his arms. 

Miguel pulled back, reluctantly, resting his forehead against yours. For a moment, all that was heard was your and Miguel’s breathing. He was warm and cozy, making you sleepy. He pecked your forehead again, before giving you a hug, placing your head in his chest, where his heart rested. One of his hands was cradling the back of your head, while the other rubbed your back. You wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“I love you, you know that right?” He broke the silence.

You hummed, your eyes closed, enjoying the even thump of Miguel’s beating heart. 

Miguel chuckled, making you groan as his body shook. He stepped back, escaping from your embrace. You were about to protest at the loss of contact, until you felt him grab your sides. You opened your eyes, seeing Miguel on his knees in front of you. He was looking up at you, eyes full of love and warmth. 

His face broke in a smile, showing the wrinkles around his eyes that you love. Miguel kissed your stomach over your shirt, still looking at you, and placed his chin there. He engulfed you in an embrace again. 

“Vamos a ser papás.”

You smiled, tears forming in your eyes again. “Yeah we are.” you brushed his hair out of his face, running your hands through his curls. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” he said. He looked at your stomach and whispered. “And I love you too, mi amorcito.” He kissed your belly again, before resting his cheek against it, slumping against you. “I’m sorry I took so long to answer. I was just– processing what it meant.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, running your hands through his hair. 

“I’m a father again.”

“Yes you are” you smiled down at him.

“Los amo”

“We love you.”

You don’t know how long you spent like that. Miguel sitting on the floor, resting on your stomach while you ran your fingers through his hair and rubbed his back. But you wouldn’t change it for anything.

✧ : ̗̀➛𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 ✧ : ̗̀➛ 𝙖𝙤3

✧ : ̗̀➛ 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 1 ✧ : ̗̀➛ 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 2

𝑨𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆!!! 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔. 𝑰 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒔, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒊𝒕!.

𝑺𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝑰 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒔 (𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒆). 𝑯𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅!𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒖𝒑, 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆, 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑴𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘!!! 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒏. 𝑯𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒊𝒏 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 🥺🥺. 𝑴𝒚 𝒐𝒗𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒅𝒆.

𝐼 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝐼 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑀𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑒𝑙 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ.

𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡, 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒, 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑏 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑀𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠, 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙!! 𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒, 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑜 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛.

‘Tell me you’re my little puppy and sweeten the deal with a cute little bark…’ 

‘I-I’m your… l-little… puppy…’ 

‘Woof…woof…’ 

“Mierda!” 

The curse tore out of Miguel before he could stop it, the sound echoing through his tiny on-campus apartment just as his pencil smacked against the desk. 

The poor thing didn’t deserve it, but neither did his brain for tormenting him like this. 

Ever since he got home, his mind had been stuck in a damn loop—replaying every single thing that happened back at the library, and then at Mama’s diner. 

Over and over again. 

It still didn’t feel real. 

Like a broken record that refused to shut up. 

From him being caught pleasuring himself in the library that morning, to being dragged to Mama’s diner and dropped into a situation he never in his life thought he’d be in—sitting at a booth with Peter B. Parker, the university’s golden poster boy, and MJ, the voice of the student body and campus media. 

It still felt like a dream that any of it happened… 

Honestly? Miguel could at least rationalize that part. 

Popular people hang out with nobodies all the time. Doing their homework, being used as a stepstool. Whatever. 

But you? 

You were the one thing Miguel couldn’t wrap his damn head around. 

Miguel still couldn’t figure out how the hell he’d ended up breathing in the Queen Bee’s proximity—close enough to smell your jarringly sweet perfume, close enough to hear your laugh, close enough to feel your hand wrapped around his—

“Fuck,” he uttered again, the word heavy and tired as he slid off his black glasses to drag a frustrated hand down his tanned face. 

His fingers pressed into the deepening lines at the corners of his eyes, trying, but failing, to soothe the stress etched there. 

He was only twenty-six, but with the weight he carried? He looked like a man in his late thirties, worn at the edges by everything he refused to talk about. 

Miguel groaned, letting his tired eyes drift toward the digital clock on his wooden desk. The blue neon numbers blinked back at him: 9:00 PM. 

‘Dammnit… she wanted me at her sorority house tonight.’ 

The thought of seeing you again sent a whole damn tidal wave crashing through him—lust, anger, anxiety, anticipation. Every emotion seeking dominance all at once.  

He hated it. 

Hated how turbulent it all felt. 

Hated the way these emotions pressed on his chest like they were trying to choke the air right out of him. 

He never planned on getting wrapped up in college drama—never planned on orbiting your life in any way. 

Miguel just wanted to survive his years at Nueva York University, get his degree, keep his head down, and go home to his quaint apartment each day. 

But this morning had been a breaking point. 

He'd been drowning in work—classes, assignments, projects, presentations, labs, shifts at the campus library—everything piling up with no room to breathe. 

He was stretched so thin he could hear himself cracking. 

Normally, Miguel would cope just fine. Listening to music. Reading research articles. A late-night workout. Those things always grounded him. 

Except lately? 

And he’d been…hornier than usual, which wasn’t helping his situation in the slightest. 

None of it worked. 

The mix of anxiety and pent-up desire pushed him into doing the unthinkable. 

It’s not like he wanted to be seen. But of all people—of everyone on campus—why the hell did it have to be the most snobbish, narcissistic mean girl in the entire study body who found him with his pants down? 

But why—why— did it have to be you who caught him!? 

Literally. 

Before this, Miguel had never actually met you. 

He had only heard the rumors—whispers drifting through classrooms, hallways, dining areas. And from everything he’d heard, you were exactly what he assumed:

A bitch. 

You bad-mouthed and insulted anyone who lived in a lower tax bracket than you. 

Which, let’s be real, was basically everyone. 

You treated people like peasants put on this earth solely to cater to you. 

You used your wealth, your last name, and your immaculate reputation to bend situations in your favor. 

And with that paired with your bitchy attitude, you climbed your way straight to the top of the university hierarchy. 

Now? 

Everyone walked on eggshells around you because of how ruthless and unpredictable you were. 

Miguel once overheard a student complaining about how you snapped at them for being an “ass-kisser”...simply because they picked up the pink lip gloss you dropped. 

Before coming to Nueva York University, the term “Queen Bee” felt like some cheesy movie trope. 

But now? 

It was the only title anyone used for you. 

You were everywhere. 

The only one he ever heard. 

On every bulletin board, every poster, every campus advertisement. Your glossy smile plastered across every hallway. 

And always—always—flanked by your so-called friends: Peter B. Parker and Mary Jane Watson. 

There wasn’t a single day on this campus when you couldn’t look up and see your trio plastered across a poster—smiling sweetly, beaming down at the student body, chirping “Have a great day!”

Only for the real you to stroll by minutes later and splash your Stanley cup water all over some poor kid who had the nerve to step in your way. With Peter and MJ laughing right beside you.

Like everyone else, Miguel assumed the three of you were inseparable—three peas in a perfectly curated pod. But from what he witnessed at Mama’s diner? 

Your sunshine-and-smiles brand image cracked fast. 

You clearly dislike MJ. 

Peter seemed way more interested in the mighty Queen Bee than his girlfriend hanging off his arm. 

And MJ, she looked downright envious—maybe wanting to be you. 

Just today alone, Miguel had seen multiple fractures splintering through the supposed “elite” clique of NYU. 

Her and every other girl on campus. 

On the outside, the three of you painted a flawless portrait of upper-class friendship—picture-perfect, glossy, untouchable. 

But on the inside? It was chaos brewing. 

‘And it looks like I’ve somehow become a part of it…’ Miguel thought, shaking his head in disbelief and disgust. 

If he were to be your lapdog, Miguel knew exactly what that meant—you’d want him around constantly. 

Which meant he’d be seeing the other elitists on campus, too. 

Yes, what happened at Mama’s diner… was steamy. 

But he wasn’t even sure he wanted to be your lapdog. 

Thrilling. 

Easily the riskiest thing he’d ever done—besides jerking off in the library, of course. 

But Miguel didn’t like the man he became sitting in that booth. 

He was honestly recognizable. 

Saying the most bizarre shit. 

Barking. 

Coming home afterward, he’d never felt so ashamed. The idea that he might have to go through something similar again made something cold and heavy settle in his stomach. 

With his cock out. 

He still couldn’t believe the terms he’d agree to. Being your lapdog, or by your words: 

Fetching things. 

Doing your work.

Miguel felt his cheeks heat just thinking about it. 

And, most of all, satisfying your every need. 

His cock pressed against his shorts, growing harder with every memory of your voice. 

It was moments like this that made him question himself. 

Did he…like the idea of being this thing to you? 

He swallowed hard, placing a large hand over the bulge straining his shorts, hiding half his face with the other as a shaky sigh slipped out. 

Any sane person wouldn’t…right? 

Miguel was conflicted about everything—every emotion, every thought—but there was one thing he was sure of: 

He didn’t want to be enslaved to a bratty girl like you. 

You were the most cunning, devious, wicked, cruel, and unapologetically bitchy person he had ever encountered. 

And worst of all—you held Miguel’s reputation and education in the palm of your perfectly manicured hands. 

A tired breath pushed past his lips as he glanced back at the clock. 

All because he’d lost control and jerked off in the library… 

Twenty-five minutes had passed. 

His heart sunk. 

Miguel didn’t want to see you. 

He didn’t want to feel the anxiety, the anger, the overwhelming, foreign, addictive lust that came with being near you. 

Miguel didn’t want to be your lapdog. 

His phone buzzed from where it lay on the desk beside your calculus packet. Miguel’s stomach twisted violently, heart tripping over itself when he saw your name. 

He’d made a mistake…

Puta Queen 🐝: Puppy, I expect you here at 10.  Don’t be late!  You don’t want to upset me. 😡🎥📤

Read    9:28 PM

Miguel’s breath hitched the second he saw your message. 

Not only did it crush the tiny, desperate hope that this was all a dream or that you’d somehow forgotten he existed—it slammed him with the reminder of the leverage you held over him. 

That damn video. 

“What am I going to do?” he muttered aloud, frustration knotting in his chest. 

He hated how trapped he felt—caged, cornered, owned.  

Back to the way life was before this morning—just him shelving books in the campus library, going to class, dodging the jocks who picked on him and girls who kept trying to flirt with him, to bury himself in coursework until the world faded out. 

All Miguel wanted was for everything to go back to normal.

That was the life he wanted. 

Then, suddenly, an idea flickered to life. Risky. 

That was the life he missed. 

Stupidly risky, but Miguel was past the point of caring. 

He didn’t like this new reality he’d been pulled into. 

He didn’t want to be your plaything, your entertainment, your lapdog. 

Miguel glanced at your message one more time, then powered off his phone, letting the screen go dark. 

He wanted out. 

‘Tomorrow will be like nothing happened…’ 

A long breath left him as he leaned back in his rolling chair, staring up at the ceiling like it might offer him a way out. 

‘Everything will return to how it was before…’  

He was avoiding you… 

It had been a month since you caught Miguel—the outcast of campus, the loser in khakis—jerking off in the library, and then offering himself up to you at Mama’s diner. 

That fucking dweeb was avoiding you like the damn plague. 

But now? It was like the man evaporated. 

You couldn’t find his ass anywhere! 

The last time you saw or heard from him was that day. And after that? 

Poof. 

Gone. 

But what really sat at the core of your anger—what made your blood boil every time you thought about it—was the fact that your puppy had the audacity to stand you up. 

He never showed at your sorority house. 

You had slipped into your sexiest pink dress, fully prepared to let the lowlife bask in exactly who he’d submitted himself to…and you waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

You had never felt so stupid, so weak, in your entire life. 

Until it got pathetic. 

Sitting there like some princess locked in a tower, waiting on him, as if you needed him or something. 

The only proof he came anywhere near your place was the sight of your homework packet—finished, perfectly completed—tucked neatly inside the sorority mailbox. 

And from that day forward? 

No replies. 

He ghosted you. 

No call answered. 

You didn’t want to make it a big deal. 

No sightings of him anywhere on campus. 

Honestly, your first instinct was to just post the damn video and watch his entire life crumble in real time for thinking he could drop you like some nobody. 

Instead, you become a detective. 

But for some reason…you couldn’t do it. 

Using your power, your influence, your money and reputation—you hunted for your massive mutt who dared to run away. 

A dangerous one. 

And unsurprisingly? 

Being the Queen Bee of Nueva York University meant doors opened when you flicked your wrist. 

It was easy. 

A few words here, a subtle threat there, a flash of cash—and suddenly, you had everything. 

His class schedule. 

His perfect grades. 

His on-campus apartment number. 

His work hours. 

Hell, you were pretty sure his social security number was buried somewhere in the stack of documents you’ve collected. 

But one thing stood out: His library schedule had changed. 

The discovery only confirmed what you already knew. 

The nerd worked afternoons or evenings now instead of mornings—the time the two of you “met.” 

The missed calls. 

The silence. 

The scheduling switch. 

The sudden disappearance. 

Miguel was trying to vanish from your radar. 

And honestly? 

He might have succeeded…

If there wasn’t one giant flaw in his entire plan: 

The fact that his lame ass thought you wouldn’t find him made you angerier than anything else. 

You being the fucking Queen of Nueva York University. 

So you decided your little runaway puppy needed to be punished. 

It was 9:30 in the morning when your pink heels began their sharp, authoritative clicking down the pristine floors of Reilly Science Hall at NYU. Each strike slicing straight through the murmur of students crowding the hallway. 

And what better punishment than paying him a visit when he least expected it? 

Every step earned attention. 

Eyes flicked toward you—some with envy, others with shameless adoration. 

And the rest? 

They didn’t matter. 

They were planets meant to orbit you, never the other way around. 

You don’t slow down nor manuever your way through the crowd. 

The day that happens is the day the world officially ends. 

Why would you? 

People move out of your way before you even reach them—some stepping aside instinctively, others thinking for a split second they might challenge you…until one look sends them scattering like the seas parting.  

You swept past the ogling peasants with ease, adjusting the strap of your purse—your sleek designer bag that cost more than most of these students’ entire wardrobes. 

As always, you’d be a fool to challenge the Queen. 

It sat perfectly against your side, because expensive things always knew their place. 

The soft rose silk of your long-sleeved crop top hugged your figure just right, the oversized bow framing your chest like it was tied there by the gods of couture. 

Paired with the crisp pleats of your white skirt and the height of your pink heels? 

You didn’t look untouchable. 

The hallway reeked of old textbooks and cheap coffee, but the scent never reached you. 

No, you were untouchable. 

Your perfume, something floral, expensive, impossible to imitate, trailed behind you like a signature. 

A few students whispered. 

Someone glanced down at their outfit as if suddenly realizing how plain they were in comparison. You smirked. 

However, today this Queen had a lost pup to track down, and apparently a Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology class to grace with her presence. 

Just another day being Queen. 

At the end of the hall, the lecture room door awaited. You already knew what was inside: 

Students who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, a professor who could be bought with what you spent on makeup, and your burly mutt who seemed convinced he’d slipped his leash. 

You pushed open the door, and the room fell quiet—just for a heartbeat. Just long enough to confirm what you already knew. 

Let’s see about that… 

They saw you. 

They always did. 

Your gaze cut through the room like a blade, narrowing when it found the mutt in the very back row. 

Miguel O'Hara. 

He looked up, met your eyes—and went pale, like he’d seen a ghost crawl straight out of his nightmares. 

‘Aww…isn’t someone looking a little ill today,’ you thought, a wicked grin tugging at your glossy pink lips. 

Miguel O’Hara always enjoyed genetics. Hell, it was his major—he hoped he enjoyed it. 

Didn’t expect this, did you, big boy? 

Gene splicing, mutations, mitosis, meiosis…anything involving genetics, and the Latino could ramble for hours in pure joy. 

Of course, no one ever asked, so he kept that information to himself. 

Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology, one of his required courses, was something he adored deeply. 

Miguel was always fascinated by CRISPR, gene therapy, and synthetic biology—constantly wondering how far the field can go. 

Human enhancement. 

Evolution. 

The endless possibilities. 

It was his scientific dream. 

So every day, without fail, he would walk into Dr. Octavius’ lecture with his head a little higher, a tiny pep in his step, ready to expand his mind in his favorite subject. 

But lately, like everything else… 

Miguel didn’t notice the sudden hush in the lecture hall, nor the way the air shifted. 

It had come crashing down. 

He was too busy studying his textbook, airpods in, zoning out to his favorite band. 

His amber eyes, framed behind black square glasses, moved quickly over the printed words. The world around him was muted, softened, distant—the way he liked. 

The only thing he ever paid attention to was Dr. Octavius’ muffled voice signaling the start of class. 

So when Miguel heard the familiar tone, he reached up, removed his airpod, and lifted his gaze toward the front—only to meet eyes with the she-devil dressed head-to-toe in Prada standing beside his professor. 

His heart slammed into his throat. 

In that instant, his world shattered. 

His blue cardigan suddenly felt suffocating. 

He tugged at his tie, loosening it, but it didn’t stop the room from closing in on him. 

‘What the hell is she doing here!? In my lecture!?’ 

The rush of emotions was immediate—anger, frustration, and that unwelcome, humiliating burn of desire. 

When he left your homework packet in the sorority mailbox, he swore it was it. 

He’d never see you again. 

He’d vanish. 

You’d get bored and move on. 

Changing his work schedule, avoiding campus hotspots, ghosting you—all of it was supposed to work. 

Clearing his throat, he forced his expression into something neutral, something controlled, even though his pulse was hammering and he felt anything but unrattled. 

For once, it appears Miguel miscalculated. 

“Ms. Y/L/N,” The professor, Dr. Octavius, you believe his name was,  greeted with a hopeful smile, “what a lovely surprise. To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

He lowered his gaze back to his textbook, pretending to read, trying to ignore the way your stare was boring a hole through his skull. 

You barely acknowledged the man. 

Anyone who willingly lectured a room full of horny young adults about DNA replication as a job was already beneath you. 

You hummed dismissively, eyes locked on your trembling mutt in the back row. “I’ll be joining your class today,” you said, blunt and absolute.

He was not worth your attention. 

Dr. Octavius blinked behind his circular frames, startled. “W-With all due respect, miss, it’s the middle of the semester. A-and you can't just join a class today. You can’t simply—” 

Your head snapped toward him in a single, lethal motion. His words died instantly. 

“O-Of course,” he corrected himself quickly. “I-I think I can fit you somewhere.” 

A slow, glossy smile curled your lips. “Thanks, doc. I knew you’d understand.” The seductive lilt in your voice hit him like a tranquilizer dart. 

You watched the man sway slightly, dazed, enchanted for one humiliating moment. “Mhm…o-of course,” he stammered. “Take a seat wherever you’d like.” 

Your attention slid back to Miguel—the loner, the mutt, the runaway pup. 

He was hunched over his textbook, shoulders tense beneath that tragic excuse of a blue cardigan. The navy-and-beige outfit did nothing to hide the sheer size of him—the large, imposing body of the so-called nerd who had dared avoid you. 

A familiar spark of anger flared beneath your skin. 

You strode toward him, savoring the way he stiffened with each step. 

His jaw tightened. His glasses slipped a fraction down his nose. His exhale was deep, bracing—a man preparing for impact. 

His large hands reached up to adjust his tie, a desperate attempt to ground himself. 

Not once did he look up at you. 

Each click of your heels on the stairs boomed like thunder in his ears. His jaw clenched. 

Smart boy. 

Your perfume arrived a second before you did—sweet, expensive, hypnotic. 

Then—

“You,” you commanded, voice sharp enough to slice steel. “Move.” 

Miguel’s stomach twisted painfully at the sound of your authority—a reaction he despised. 

He didn’t miss this.

He didn’t miss you. 

The student beside him scrambled out of the chair like he’d been set on fire. 

Not. One. Damn. Bit. 

You wrinkled your nose at the seat, pulled out your sanitizer mist, and sprayed it thoroughly—because of course you did. 

Only then did you sit, lowering yourself with the effortless grace of a queen settling onto her throne. 

You crossed your legs, set your hands neatly in your lap, and basked in the anxiety radiating from Miguel’s body like heat off asphalt. 

Down at the front, Dr. Octavius began his lecture, but his voice blurred into meaningless noise. 

You reached into your purse, deciding it was a great time to touch up your makeup. ‘Peony pink…yes, that was the shade.’ 

You popped open your compact with practiced ease and began applying your lipstick—slow, deliberate strokes dripping with confidence and ego. 

No one dared say a word. 

Not with you here. 

Miguel had never felt this tense. 

Not if they knew what was good for them. 

He needed to focus on the lecture—goodness, he needed to—but how could he when you were right next to him? 

You, the one person who could ruin everything he’d worked for. 

You, sitting close enough for him to smell your perfume and make his chest tighten. 

He took a slow breath and straightened, trying to pull himself together. 

“Didn’t think you took genetics,” he muttered, voice low and clipped. 

No greeting. 

No softness. 

He refused to give you more than that. 

He already knew the truth—Queens like you didn’t give a damn about CRISPR or gene sequencing. Miguel just needed something to say to prove your hold on him was nonexistent. 

“Well, well…so he speaks.” A smirk curved your mouth as you tucked your lipstick away. 

Your hand stilled on your lips, eyes sliding to him—sharp, amused, predatory. 

You gave him your full attention, settling into your seat like a cat sitting back to observe a toy. 

“Why not take a different class for once?” you purred. “Might help me understand my new pup a little better.” You rested your chin in your palm, studying him like he was something you might dissect later. 

Tilting your head, your smile deepened—sweet on the surface, venomous underneath. 

The title sent a chill tearing down his spine. 

“You really didn’t think you could avoid me forever…did you, mutt?” 

Miguel inhaled sharply through his nose. His fists curled in his lap, tension rolling off him in waves. 

But his face stayed controlled. 

Blank. 

Neutral. 

I’ve been busy,” he muttered, jaw tight. 

“You’ve been hiding.” Your reply came instantly, sharp as a blade. 

His jaw ticked, just once and then finally—finally—he looked at you, dark eyes narrowing behind his square glasses. 

For all his nerdy exterior, there was nothing timid in that stare. 

He looked like a storm forced into polite clothing—coiled tension, restrained fury, a lion shoved into a sweater vest. 

“And if I was?” he asked quietly, voice edged with danger. 

You leaned in slightly, watching his throat bob, watching his muscles tighten beneath that ridiculous cardigan. 

Oh, you liked that. 

He hated this. 

Hated you. 

But he wouldn’t dare lash out. 

“Then you’re not as smart as I thought you were,” you murmured, your voice syrup-sweet, your smile deadly. “And it seems you’ve forgotten the power I hold and the shit I have on you.” 

Not when you could destroy him with one tap of your screen. 

Your pink manicured finger tapped lightly against the phone in your lap—a soft sound, but the threat behind it hung in the air like a noose tightening. 

Miguel’s breathing slowed. Controlled. 

For a moment he just stared at you, something unreadable flickering across his features. 

Of course, you’d bring up the video. 

With a sharp inhale, he leaned back, head tilting slightly as he carefully chose his next words. 

It was only a matter of time. 

“And here I thought,” he said evenly. “You had better things to do than chase after people you claim are beneath you.”

A clean hit. 

Your glossy lips parted, a razor-sharp retort forming on your tongue—

A checkmate—if you were anyone else. 

But— 

“Ahem.” 

Dr. Octavius’ voice cracked through the tension, louder and more pointed this time, demanding attention. 

Demanding your attention. 

“Y/N, dear.” 

Dr. Octavius’ voice rolled across the room—rich, authoritative, slicing through the thick tension that had settled over the two of you.  

“Since today is your first day of Genetics Engineering and Biotechnology, may I ask what all the… chit-chat is about?” 

You caught it. 

That tiny twitch of Miguel’s lips. 

Not a full smirk—just enough to say, ha, finally someone calls her out. 

Your manicured hand tightened around the armrest, but your expression remained pristine, perfectly polished. 

The little shit. 

Both of you turned your attention to the professor standing at the front, arms crossed, unimpressed brow arched like he actually thought he could put you in your place. 

‘None of your business, dipshit,’ you thought, even as you placed a sweet, easy smile onto your lips. 

“Oh, nothing of importance, Professor,” you said smoothly. “Just getting acquainted with my new…classmate.” 

Miguel didn’t flinch. 

Didn’t move. 

Didn’t dare breathe too loudly. 

But you felt it—the subtle shift in his posture, the tap of his fingers against his textbook, that restrained irritation he tried so hard to hide. 

He hated being associated with you. 

Absolutely despised it. 

And the fact that he didn’t correct you? 

Dr. Octavius hummed, unconvinced. “Well, if you’re so eager to socalize…perhaps, you’d like to demonstrate what you know thus far in genetics?” 

Delicious.

For the briefest moment, your smile faltered.  

Barely.

But Miguel saw it—his head tilting, amusement flashing across his eyes like a spark. 

Your nails dug into the fabric of the armrest. 

‘Oh, he thinks this is funny? The nerve of this lowlife.’ 

But you refused to crack. 

With a practiced breath, you straightened, flipping your hair back over your shoulder. 

You were the Queen Bee of NYU— and no overgrown nerd would ever put wrinkles in your flawless skin. 

“I’d love to,” you began pleasantly, “but I’d hate to overshadow my peers on my first day.” 

Then, with a venomous smile: "I'm sure Miguel would be more than happy to answer.” 

The smug twitch in Miguel’s expression vanished instantly, replaced by a hard scowl. His entire body tensed. 

The damn professor even smiled. 

The idiot. 

“Excellent idea, Y/N. Miguel, please explain the role of CRISPR-Cas9 in genome editing.” 

You reclined in your seat, folding your hands in your lap as you watched the dread pool behind his eyes. 

But he hated this—hated being watched, hated the attention, hated being put on the display. 

He knew the answer. Of course he did. 

With a slow exhale through his nose, he adjusted his glasses and began: “CRISPR-Cas9 is a gene-editing tool derived from bacterial immune systems. It allows for precise modifications of DNA by using a guide of RNA to direct the Cas9 enzyme to a specific sequence, where it makes a cut, enabling insertion or deletion of a genetic material.”. 

He hated most that he was sure you knew that. 

Steady. 

Restrained. 

Professional. 

“Well done, Miguel,” Dr. Octavius praised. “Now, Y/N, I expect you to be just as engaged as your…classmate.” 

Nothing like the chaos tearing him apart inside. 

You opened your mouth to reply, but the professor continued before you could. 

“And Miguel,” he added, gesturing down the row, “go ahead and move a few seats over, please. Let’s give the new student some space to be engaged. Four down should do.” 

Your smile froze. 

The audacity. 

Miguel looked like he wanted to melt through the floor—not from embarrassment, but from relief. 

The absolute gall of this clearance-rack scholar. 

And that relief pissed you off. 

Before he could stand, you leaned in, voice a velvet blade against his ear. 

His hand tightened so hard around his satchel you swore you heard the fabric squeak. 

“Yes…run along and obey. Good boy~” 

A soft sound escaped him, barely audible, as he shifted in his seat, thighs pressing together, trying to hide the growing bulge you’d awakened. 

Then, with a stiff swallow, he stood and moved exactly four seats down. 

You watched every step he took. 

Miguel clearly thought he’d gotten away from you. 

Cute. 

You had more than enough time to turn this class into a personal nightmare for him. 

A/N: Lapdog 2, is here!!! 🐶💋 I hope this Christmas gift was to your liking and worth the wait! I worked really hard on this, and I apologize again for how long it took. Like I’ve said before, I did not expect Lapdog to get this much hype, so I definitely became a bit of a perfectionist with the second one. I really hope you enjoy it just as much.

Andddd—good news! There will be more coming soon, so stay tuned for more of Nerd Miguel and Queen Bee 😏

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you’d like to add a request to the kink series Entangled Desire, or if you have an idea in general, feel free to message me or submit an ask. Don’t be nervous—your idea could be really good!

I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe!! 🩷💛

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