Discover Top Posts Tagged with #spiderman 2099

Spin The Bottle!

“I c-cant. I can’t lose you too.”

Pairings: CollegeNerd!Miguel O’Hara x Popular!AFAB!Black!OC

Content Warnings: angst, substance use, mentions of dirty rooms, mentions of gross hygiene (It’s Jason nasty ass), description of injuries, alcohol abuse, Miguel is a lightweight, Drunk!Miguel (he’s kind of an asshole at first), arguing, Miguel gets pathetic, confessions, Bee plays nurse a little

Summary:After the meeting with his father, Miguel makes it his mission to find comfort in the two things that could only make him happy in a time like this. Bee’s healing touch, and a cold case of beer to make all the pain go away.

A/N: i dont really know what to say so uhhhhhh thanks for listening to my mixtape

Want More Marvel? Click me!

September 19th, 20XX. 2177 Everlene Ave, 3:45PM. Earth-05213.

The last time Bee had heard from their now-boyfriend Miguel was right before he hung up in their face earlier that morning, getting himself ready to face the sudden meeting his father had called him to. Once the familiar tone of the dial responded to their confused questions on why he seemed so fidgety over the phone, Bee tried their best to enjoy the small break they had given themselves from the stress of their usual routine. But throughout their so called ‘day-off’—which they quickly realized was a horrible idea after getting multiple emails of confusion from their fairly unhappy professors—they couldn’t get the idea of Miguel and his safety off of their mind. How was he doing? Was he okay? What had happened between the time they had talked until now?

A majority of their day had been spent overthinking every possible scenario, imagining the multitude of ways Miguel would need help, assistance, backup, right before Jason had so kindly humbled them with his annoying presence. Still cooped up in the spare guest bedroom, Bee had been scrolling across multiple social media platforms, and even the official Sigma Chi school page, to see of anyone had heard or seen anything. Something to show them that no, they weren’t crazy, and Miguel was indeed in danger. Or something. But Jason had the perfect remedy to their anxious overthinking, with the right amount of grams.

The two sat in Jason’s stuffy little bedroom, one of the smallest rooms in the house that had been built like an awkward hallway more than anything. When Bee first walked through the house with JJ before he signed the lease, they had confused it for a supply closet upon their initial inspection. Fast forward to now, it was occupied with an old twin XL bed and even older sheets, the opposing wall from the bed frame being decorated with a plethora of shelved pristine Italian records from the late thirties all the way to the sixties. A single light bulb hung above their head, keeping the space ‘nice, dark, and gloomy’, as Jason so liked to say.

And dirty. With one of the smallest rooms, it’s also somehow the messiest. Piles of dirty clothes stuffed under his bed, notebooks and papers with old assignment due weeks ago stacked high on his desk, the familiar stunk of man and loud weed wafted into Bee’s nose like a perfume. “Ugh,” They grunted in displeasure, throwing one thick thigh over the other as their rounded face scrunched up in disgust. “It’s so dirty in here.”

Jason had his back turned away from Bee, the front of his body facing his messy and cramped desk with a laser focus. “You always say that.” He said with a swift eyeroll, and yet even with the tips of his fingernails painstakingly tearing apart little buds of euphoria in order to get just the right weight, he still managed to feel that silent judgmental look Bee had inherited from their stupid brother burning into the back of his skull. The same one JJ had whenever Jason forgot to flush the toilet in their shared upstairs bathroom, or when he left his shoe mark tracks throughout the house. “…Am I that—“

“Yes.” Bee quickly said, giving him a sharp nod of their head. “I tell you this all the time, yes, the answer is yes. And this better be good shit, Jay.” They lowly threatened, leaning back in his bed like they owned it. “Otherwise, it’s me and you.”

The empty threat made him laugh, his bare, pale shoulders bouncing up and down with each crooked chuckle. “You ain’t gonna do shit.” Jason returned with a taunt, looking over back at the disappointed beau sitting on his bed with an elated smile. “Nerves got you that bad, huh?”

Nerves. Anxiety. Feeling ants crawling all over their skin, how were they supposed to feel? “He hasn’t texted me.” Bee began softly, only to be met with a dramatic, drawn-out and overly sarcastic groan. “Jay!”

The upset shriek of his name only made Jason laugh harder, fully turning his shoulders to face Bee with another nonchalant shrug. “What?” He said, crossing his lean arms over his bare chest. The basketball shorts he wore hung low on his hips, the top line of his Calvin Klein boxers just barely showing. “Whaddya want me to do?”

“Uhm, for one, put some clothes on.” Bee suggested as their body jerked upwards, flickering their eyes down to his choice of attire before looking back into his mischievous brown eyes. “And second, not laugh at me? I really like him, okay!” Another groan, another defense. “And I don’t laugh at you for liking people, like when you told me you like Korah!”

Korah Zao was a new student who transferred from her hometown in Japan to attend at NYAPU as a sophomore, and due to her shared love with Bee over traditional Japanese folklore artwork, the two became fast friends. Which then, integrated her into Bee’s circle. Subsequently, introducing her to JJ.

And, Jason.

The mention of his obvious crush’s name forced the apples of Jason’s cheeks to blush with a pink tint, his plucked brows quickly furrowing in irritation at the low blow. “Oh, great, now we’re talkin’ ‘bout Korah.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes while he snapped back to his original task—finishing the roll of the blunt. “Fantastic.”

“Oh my god, you are so dramatic.” Bee judged, rolling their eyes with a dramatic groan of their own. “Nevermind Korah. Focus on what I’m saying, Jay.” They urged, leaning back down into the sheets with a sigh. “I don’t care if I sound crazy, something doesn’t feel right—“

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK.

The sharp sound of three distinctive knocks pounded at the front door in the middle of Bee’s sentence, the loud taps ringing throughout the home like a death toll. The sheer volume forced Bee to jump up from their relaxed position, and Jason to drop his now-finished blunt back onto the shitty wood of his desk. A moment passed between the two before they quickly exchanged a mirroring look of concern, like a shared understanding of what was to come. Knocks like that only meant two things—Police, or company that usually wanted nothing but trouble.

So, trouble either way.

“What did you do?” Bee whispered with a hiss, slamming their first into his creaky mattress like a disappointed parent. “Goddammit, Jay! This is the fourth time this semester!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Jason whispered back, raising his hands up in defense. While yes, it was true that Jason and his shenanigans from the night, or the week, or the month before would always result in the police coming down to have a little chat with him, this time it had nothing to do with the eccentric Italian. Which was more terrifying. “It ain’t f’me,” He growled, bucking at Bee before angrily flicking them off with a single hand. “Fuck you!”

Bee only mimicked his action, leaning forward to use both of their hands. “Fuck you, go answer the fuckin’ door!”

“Fuck you, I ain’t doin’—“

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

Each knock nearly rattled the very walls of the home, loud and brash enough to cause JJ to storm off his bedroom in a hurry. “AY!” His booming voice overshadowed whatever petty argument Jason and Bee had been having, the loud ‘thump-thump-thump’ of his bare feet slapping across the hardwood floor echoing from his bedroom door to the top of the stairs. “I don’t know who, you niggas think you is by banging on my goddamn door,” Each annoyed word is accompanied by an irritated stomp. “But my mutha’fuckin’ name is on this lease! We have a fuckin’ Ring, nigga!” Bee could understand why JJ had been so pissed. One, neither one of them were fans of the campus police, and two, the knock had been so jarring and damn-near forceful. No official policeman should be knocking like that.

Bee suddenly froze. No official policeman should be knocking like that. “Miguel!” They suddenly shouted, sprinting off of Jason’s bed with a single goal in mind. Their bare feet raced towards the door in a hurry, eager to ensure he wasn’t hurt. “It’s Miguel!”

“Shit—Bee!” Jason called out, swiping his hand towards their body to try and snatch Bee’s arm only to miss by an inch. “Wait, stop! It might not even be him!”

But Bee was never wrong. That gut feeling they had was almost always right, and in that moment? Everything was pointing to Miguel being their surprise visitor. “Fuck you, I’m never wrong!” They called back, flicking him off one more time just as they jogged downstairs. But Jason wasn’t too far behind.

“We agreed on 95% of the time!” He called after them, joining in on their pursuit to see who would be banging on their door as if someone had died. “Hey!”

Despite Jason’s constant and best attempts to grab Bee’s attention, it never seemed to latch on. Their mind remained occupied on what mattered most, trying to see if it really was him. To which, upon seeing JJ standing by the front door, also shirtless for some reason, and a pair of long tan legs on the other side, they had nearly screamed. “Miguel!” Bee happily called, recognizing those beat up black sneakers attached to the strangers feet from anywhere. “You didn’t text me—“

In the middle of their descend, they froze. Standing at the door was indeed Miguel, but it wasn’t the same Miguel from the night before. No, the version that stood before them right now was a different man, one that had his head held low in defeat as he tried to shield the notable swell on the right side of his face. His right eye was a crimson red and purple, cuts and scratches decorating the sensitive skin like a statement. And his list of injuries didn’t stop there; his lip had been busted, drips of blood oozed from his nose, his knuckles were raw and bloodied.

When he left this house he was perfectly fine, now he was battered and wounded after interacting with his father. It didn’t take a genius to understand what had happened in the hours he had suddenly went MIA. “Miguel!” Bee shrieked in absolute horror, scaling the rest of the stairs in seconds, their hand pushing JJ aside once they reached the bottom in order to get a better look at their boyfriend. “Oh my god—“ Bee began, their face dropping with terror. “What?” They softly questioned, raising a hand to touch his face before hesitating on if they even could. “Wh-What happened to—“

Miguel couldn’t give a logical explanation. He simply stood there, eyes focused downwards while the blood from his nose continued to drip down onto the fabric of his shirt. How could he? What could he say after what happened? Nothing, nothing that would bring comfort to the tears filling Bee’s eyes.

But that didn’t stop Jason, who finally got to the frame of the door, to share Bee’s concerned sentiment. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” He shouted, loud enough to alert the other two members in the home—Cole and Kyle. Both of them had been tucked away in their bedrooms when Miguel first arrived, and since the loud reverb of JJ’s voice had echoed down the steps whilst he went to go and confront the problem, the two had thought everything was fine.

But that all changed once the commotion of the aftermath managed to reach their ears.

Cole had left his bedroom first, working his arms through a white tank while his feet hurriedly moved towards the sound of the commotion. Kyle was right behind him, baggy anime tee on (backwards), and a pair of old shorts. “Yo, what the fuck is going on?” He asked behind his friend, jogging in front to push past Jason and JJ. “Who’s at the—oh shit!”

“We get it!” Bee suddenly interjected, turning around to see the plethora of men behind them, all expressing their own separate emotions upon seeing Miguel’s battered face. Kyle was shocked more than anything, Cole couldn’t stop gasping at how bad it was—along with Jason—but JJ? Silent. Stone cold. Neutral almost. “It’s bad! We know!” They nearly shouted, the tears misting at the corners of their eyes still prevalent. “Stop it!”

Kyle shook his head, letting out a scoff of his own in disbelief. “It’s not bad,” He spat, as if the word didn’t do any justice to how Miguel actually looked. “It’s fuckin’—“

“What happen’?” JJ cut through Kyle’s light hearted comments, glaring down Miguel like he was trying to disarm some unknown threat. “Who did that to you?”

Who? Miguel didn’t have to say who, Bee already knew, JJ already knew, they all did. One night he’s running from his shit of a brother, by the next afternoon he’s walking around with a black eye, a bloody nose, and a busted lip. “…I don’t want to talk about it.” He cryptically replied, his focus zeroing in on the only person who really mattered to him at the moment. “I just…” Miguel began, watching Bee slowly move to face him with that same sad, puppy-dog look. “…I came to get Bee.”

Get them? And take them where? JJ’s mind tossed around the two questions in his brain like a puzzle piece, eyeing Miguel up and down. “And go where?” He asked with an accusatory tone, taking a single step towards the taller man. “What y’all finna get into?”

“JJ, please.” The pleading words broke on Miguel’s tongue as he forced them out, the tips of his fingernails digging into the skin of his palm. “Can we please just…leave? I won’t…we won’t do anything, okay?” He emphasized with a determined head shake, all he wanted to do was simply leave. “So please. Just let Bee go.”

September 19th, 20XX. The Village at Alchemax University, Apartment 2901. 5:15PM.

The crisp smell of soft sautéed onions and freshly cut bell peppers filled the air inside Bee’s little apartment, the beau humming to themselves a blues tune while they cooked dinner for themselves for the first time in weeks.

“Ugh!” And…Miguel. Who invited himself to their home after he came to pick them up from JJ’s house, and who was also occupying Bee’s living room with two cases of Modelo sitting at his feet. Following the couple leaving JJ’s, and after Miguel had explained his odd reasoning for his surprise visit on the way over, it was Bee’s idea to cook a meal for the two. They had offered aid, a meal to soothe his wounds, and a call to one of their friends studying medicine, someone who could bring over just what they needed to speed up the recovery process.

But somehow, Miguel took Bee’s plan to drive to the local Publix then back to their place as code for; ‘buy two cases of beer for yourself and get drunk’. And that's exactly what he had been doing since they had both gotten home, since Bee had begun cooking. At first they had hardly noticed it, too busy in ensuring their Cajun pasta would come out just right, but after they heard that sixth can being crushed in Miguel’s hand like he was some douche frat boy from the living room?

Yeah. No.

“Miguel?” Bee called, flicking the stove heat to low as they walked around the sturdy island bar of their kitchen counter. “What are you doing?”

The sounds had been better than the sight. Miguel had his head kicked back against Bee’s deep brown couch, pushing his skull into the wall like he was trying to make himself disappear. Fifth beer can in his right hand, his left laid out on the couch cushion as if he just lost the love of his life. Which, if it weren’t for the fact that his eyes might’ve actually dried out, Bee could’ve bet that there would’ve been tears streaming down his face. “Miguel…?” They softly called again, but he still didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch. “Hey…what are you doing?”

Nothing. Silence. The only movement he made was to carefully sit back up, leaning his head forward just to take another sip of the Modelo. This brand had a slight twang to it, but it almost always felt like coming back to an old friend. A comfort. A crutch.

“Mig—“

“I’m fine.” Miguel finally spoke with a crack in his voice, keeping his eyes down at the floor. Unmoving. “I’ll be fine.”

Fine their ass. He hadn’t said a word after he told them that Tyler was the reason why he was like this, not even divulging in on what exactly happened. Was it selfish to want to know? Maybe, but when he was like this, what other choice did Bee have? They offered him a frustrated huff, pointing a single manicured finger towards the open can of beer in his hand. “You’re shotgunning beers on my couch,” They said in distaste, before gesturing to the crushed cans lying at his feet. “And crushing them in your hands. That’s not fine.”

Miguel’s jaw ticked. Did they not realize how stressful this was for him? What he had just endured on their behalf? “Don’t tell me I’m not fine.” He angrily spat, finally flickering his eyes towards Bee like they were going to take away the one thing that was making all his pain go numb. “You don’t even know wh-what’s going on.”

For a solid second, Bee stood completely still, frozen in place. Had the shy, awkward Miguel from this morning suddenly vanished? Did Tyler secretly kill the man they had met the night prior and released this asshole out instead? “Excuse me?” They questioned, tilting their chin towards Miguel carefully. Had he lost his mind? “Do you wanna try that again? Because you still haven’t even told me what’s going on.” Bee reminded, only to earn an irritated bundle of words from their boyfriend.

“I told you what h-happened.” Miguel hiccuped through his words, taking another harsh swig of the alcohol. Bee could only watch as he swallowed half of the can in a matter of seconds, finishing it off before he crushed up the aluminum in his palm. “Tyler did th-this shit.” He spat again with an attitude, drunkly tossing his trash onto the floor. “Mierda estúpida…”

“Oh, I know you fuckin’ lyin’.” Like a rubber band, Bee’s temper snapped, they could understand being sad or upset after such a traumatic moment, but it was another thing entirely to disrespect the one space they were giving to him out of the kindness of their heart. “If you wanna be upset,” They began, stomping over to his frame before snatching the beer can out of his hand. “Then do that, but pick your shit off of my floor!” A loud shout greeted Miguel’s ears followed by an exaggerated gag. “That’s so nasty!”

Nasty? Bee thought he was nasty? Miguel’s focus never wavered away from Bee’s gaze, now empty handed with nothing to sip on. Nothing to ease the constant flashback of Kron swinging on him back to back, with his father’s face in the background. Filled to the brim with glee. That sight was nasty, even when it was just a memory. “Give th-that back.”

“No.” His lover denied, walking away from him to throw away whatever was left of his can. “This isn’t—“

Before they realized it, Miguel was already on his feet. Quickly, quietly, like some kind of predator. He sped up like lightning behind them, rushing over to stop Bee directly in their tracks. His hand slapped onto the wall next to their frame, subsequently pushing them back into a trap. “No.” Miguel grunted out, puffing out a breath of hot air against their tied-up locs. “I’m not f-finished with it. Give it b-back.”

So, he really had lost his mind.

“What are you doing?!” Bee shouted in anger, quickly trashing the beer without another thought. If Miguel was so dependent on this poison enough to get out of his seat and corner them, then he had more than enough for the night. They turned around to see his drunken face up close; flushed like hell even despite his injuries, his good eye half drooped like he’d pass out any minute. Bee groaned. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

Miguel hiccuped. “N-No.”

Great. He was. “Yes you are.” Bee said with an irritated realization. If Miguel was this drunk, that meant they would have to take care of him. A task they always hated doing, no thanks to Veronica and Jazmyne. “For fuck’s sake, Miguel.”

That tone, the one that reeked of disappointment, made Miguel’s face slowly drop. Lost in the mist of the liquid euphoria, had he upset Bee? “Do you hate me?” He suddenly asked, his brown eyes wide and pleading behind the frame of his notably broken glasses. “T-tell me you don't, Bee. Pl-Please don’t hate me.”

Before Bee could even respond, the taller man suddenly dropped to his knees before them, a notable pouty frown trembling against his crooked cupids bow. “N-No me odies, por favor no me odies…” Miguel whined, leaning forward to press the crook of his nose into Bee’s neck. “You can’t…”

Oh, he was really drunk.

Bee didn’t know what to do. Handling their friends drunkenness was one thing—flinging Veronica away from a fight about to happen, or Jazmyne away from a less than friendly man—but Miguel was something entirely different. He was rude as he was necessitous, something that Bee had never experienced before. “I…” They began with a nervous swallow, using both of their hands to push his frame slightly backwards. “You’re…drunk.”

At the feeling of Bee, in his mind the only light of his life at the moment, pushing him away like he was a danger, Miguel actually sobbed. “Don’t.” His voice cracked, placing both of his hands against the dry wall as if it was his life line. “Don’t p-push me away. Please.” He begged, “Y-You’re all I have left.” His palms slid downwards as his body leaned forward again, hiccuping on his own words like he was choking. "Please d-don’t leave me.”

This was bad. Horrible, if anything. “Miguel…” His lover quietly began, only to have their sentence cut off by another pleading slur of words.

“Don’t.” Miguel continued, digging his fingernails into the wood. “I c-cant. I can’t lose you too.”

Bee didn’t know what to do. They stood frozen in place while the wetness of his hot tears splashed against the skin of their neck, the steady beat of their heart thumping against their rib cage like a fluttering drum. Out of the two, they had always suspected that they would’ve been the first to burst into a puddle of tears, but for Miguel to beat them to it? “Miguel…” Bee quietly called his name again, “I don’t…I don’t wanna lose you either but—“

“Estoy enamorada de ti.” The sudden spur of Spanish flying out of Miguel’s mouth took Bee back by surprise, the beau jumping in place just as his hands switched from the wall to their waist—but instead of hesitant grabs like when they had first met, now it was nothing but desperate grabs. His forearms fully locked around Bee’s plump waist, earning a surprise yelp from their lips.

“Oh, Miguel!” They hissed, this time using their palms to push him backwards. Drunk or not, they had a limit, and he was quickly reaching that point. “Look, you’re just drunk, okay? Go lay down, and—“

“E-Estoy enamorado d-de ti.” Miguel cut them off again, this time his words being accompanied with a heartbreaking sob. “Estoy enamorado de ti desde tu segundo año.” He explained, another stream of hot tears trickling down the left side of his face as he sniffled. “E-Estoy enamorado de t-ti desde que te vi en la exposición de arte del año pasado.”

Año. Bee didn’t know much Spanish, but they knew enough to know that word meant ‘year’. Their eyes slowly began to squint at him, tying to decipher his words. What was he saying? They opened their mouth to interrupt him but decided against it, choosing instead to reach up towards his face where his glasses laid half-perched on his nose.

“No sé cómo e-explicarlo de otra manera.” Miguel continued, keeping his eyes solely focused on Bee’s face despite their fingers reaching for the broken edges of the frames. “T-Tengo demasiado miedo para d-decirte la verdad.” He whispered. “Por favor, sepan que os q-quiero.”

Quiero. Their heart nearly stopped all together, they didn’t need a translator for what he was trying to say. Bee’s finger’s froze just as they fully removed the mangled eyewear off of him, which only worsened the feeling both in their chest and their stomach. His good eye was fully wide, filled to the brim with tears like Bee’s existence alone was the only reason why he was still breathing.

“Creo que... t-te amo.”

Divider Credit: @/pixopix, @/cafekitsune

Ready for the next chapter? Click me!

Wanna rewind? Part One! Part Two! Part Three! Part Four! Part Five!

#x black reader #miguel ohara #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara x black reader #miguel ohara x oc #miguel ohara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel x reader