#macro micro | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

so-very-small · 5 months

Text

it's not that difficult | doc ock x shrunken!reader part two

[link to part one]

[ao3 link]

Summary: It's been a week since you shrunk down in front of Otto. One week in a bird cage, of being a lab rat, and you decide it's time to escape. Of course it won't be that easy.

a/n: this was written at the request of @miniemew! it's a continuation of my previous Otto x tiny fic, and it was a blast to write. reader is gender neutral, and this goes heavy on the fearplay. that said, I hope y'all enjoy!

The past week has been a strange mix of awful and mundane.

And the open bird cage before you seems almost more like a test than a blessing.

Tests. That's what the past week has been. Otto had swept you away, into some dingy apartment that looked far too normal to belong to a supervillain. Still stuck at the unimpressive height of two inches tall, there was nothing you could do when he dropped you in a bird cage before vanishing. Despite his intense curiosity, the man had other things on his plate, evidently. He was gone for most of the nights and mornings, but in the evenings, he always had a few minutes to spare for you.

For studying you, more accurately.

Checking your vitals, measuring your height, maybe an endurance test on a hamster wheel - which was now more annoying rather than outright embarrassing. On one occasion he had drawn some blood with a needle that seemed too tiny to exist. Whatever data he had gleaned from you was carefully recorded in a notebook, before he returned you to the bird cage.

(To be fair, it actually is a pretty nice bird cage.)

It's silver, the sturdy bars just thick enough that you can't bend them out of the way, and spaced too close together to even think about slipping through. The metal bottom is covered with some fabric, an old shirt if you had to guess, which actually was quite comfortable to sleep on. The entire set up is suspended over his desk, with a relatively large door that latches tightly from the outside.

Except, this time, he hadn't quite latched it all the way.

Otto's gone right now, and it's night. If his pattern over the past week continues, he'll be gone for a few more hours at least. It takes a world of courage to even cross the bird cage over to the door, anxiety blooming in your chest. The latch was usually unreachable, but with it barely in its slot, it could spring free if you jiggle it just right. The fall to the desk would be survivable - Otto had sussed out that your shrinking had left you with some enhanced durability. From there you'd just have to find somewhere to hide, until your body finally decided to return to its normal height.

(It's as good a plan as any.)

(And frankly, it was the only plan you had. So, may as well.)

Taking in a shaky breath, you carefully take hold of the door, giving it a slow, tedious push up and out. The latch slips loose of its hold, and the door to the cage swings open with an audible creak. You cringe at the sound, eyes immediately flying up to scan over the messy office, as if Otto would conjure out of the shadows at the faintest noise. You stay perched at the door for a moment, listening carefully. There's absolutely no response - no movement, no distant sounds from further in the apartment.

After gauging the safety for a second, you decide to proceed. You jump down onto the desk, not giving yourself time to overthink it. The desk is chaos, loose wires and stray bolts scattered about, almost every surface covered with some form of scribbled down notes or blueprints. Organization is evidently not Otto's strong suit, and it takes a minute to navigate around pencils and bolts to the back of the desk. There's a small gap where it meets the wall, the cord from the desk lamp falling down to the ground behind it.

You don't really have time to weigh the small range of options you have right now, so you decide the cord is as good a move to get to the floor as any. It's just big enough to hold onto like a rope, and you carefully work on climbing down from the desk, ignoring the massive drop beneath you. With enhanced durability you wouldn't die from it, but it still wouldn't be pleasant. You'd scaled even higher climbs in your home before, but under less dire circumstances. The fear that Otto might return soundly trumps any anxiety over climbing down the cord.

You make it to the dusty floor soon enough, pausing for just a moment to catch your breath. Your heart is positively drumming in your chest, the sharp buzz of adrenaline running under your skin. You only rest for a second, though, before continuing onward, not wanting to linger any more than necessary.

The apartment was more of a workspace than an actual home, something you notice while navigating over and around the multitude of mechanical parts on the floor. It takes a minute to get your bearings, trying to find the door beyond all the scattered clutter, but you eventually find it. Out the office, down the hall, out the front door, and you'd be home free.

Escape is the only thing you have on your mind, as you swiftly creep through the messy workspace. It doesn't take too long to reach the door, the gap underneath is just big enough to squeeze through, out into the hall. The carpet fibers come up to your knees, making walking just a touch more challenging, but that's one of the last things on your mind right now. Turning right, you see the looming front door in the distance, like a beacon of hope. You immediately begin jogging towards it, a small buzzing bit of excitement starting to grow in your chest. Relief washes over you as escape gets closer and closer.

A heavy crash breaks the stillness in the air, and you immediately run into something sharp and hot. You stumble back like a bug bouncing off a windshield, falling to the ground. In front of you is an actuator, the massive claw clenching down into the carpeted ground, just a few sparse inches away from you. The actuator flexes slightly, metal whirring softly as you hear a soft chuckle behind and far above you. Paralyzed in place, the warmth of excitement immediately shifting into chilling dread, it takes everything you have to look over your shoulder.

Otto stands behind you, with a soft smile on his lips that only he could make look sinister. He lifts a hand, waving his fingers at you lightly like you were just an acquaintance at a grocery store, and not a captive in the middle of an escape attempt. You have to tilt your head all the way back to even get a glimpse of his dark eyes, the sharp curiosity in them sending another pang of fear down your spine.

The actuator rises up, causing you to whip your head back towards it, half prepared for the thing to snatch you up in its claw. It doesn't, though, instead it pulls back further and retreats behind Otto.

He looks down at you expectantly.

"Try again."

You stare at him for a moment and only just a moment, before scrambling to your feet and sprinting like your life depends on it. The drag of the carpet fibers slows you down a little, and you fully ignore it, intent on putting as much distance between you and the looming villain as you possibly can.

(But... that's what he wants, isn't it?)

(A chase.)

Heart pounding furiously in your chest, you zoom down the hallway, lungs nearly bursting from exertion. Over the rush of the wind in your ears you can't hear a single sound behind you, and you don't dare turn back to look. You make it to the very end of the hall before you hear the first footstep crash down behind you.

The living room is far less cluttered than the office, leaving nothing to hide behind, no last resort. The carpet transitioned into hardwood, making running just a touch easier. You stay focused on the sliver of light from under the front door, and not the sound of Otto casually following you, covering more distance in one footstep than you did in ten seconds.

Risking a glance over your shoulder, you find Otto practically on top of you. He'd closed the gap in no time, with that same awful smirk on his lips. The actuators are poised behind them, all their glowing eyes are trained on you. Otto's hands are carefully folded in front of him - making no move to grab you even as your speed slows down in the slightest.

(He's toying with you.)

(And the outcome of this was likely predetermined long ago.)

Without warning, a heavy boot slams down in front of you. You stumble, the small quake of his foot hitting the wooden floor being enough to knock you off your feet. The boot's angled carefully, just far enough to miss you. It's practically bus sized, utterly dwarfing your minuscule frame.

You stay still for only a moment, frozen with the icy fear that floods your veins. A distant chuckle rumbles overhead like thunder.

"Last chance," Otto says, from far, far above.

Despite the overwhelming futility, you scramble to your feet, quickly looping around the shoe in your path. It doesn't move, thank god, and you continue sprinting to the front door. Every bone in your body is screaming out for rest, but you don't dare stop.

The gap underneath the door gets closer and closer, as close as the booming footsteps behind you do. A foot away, ten inches, five, almost there .

And then Otto slams an actuator down, the tremor of his metal claw on the ground knocking you straight off of your feet once more. You hit the floorboards hard, heart pounding sent into overdrive as you catch sight of the looming claw in front of you.

Scrambling upright again, you shuffle backwards from it. The claw darts up, pointed prongs of metal now directly facing you. There'd be no way to run past it without running into it, so you dart to the right, further into the living room. There's practically no energy left in your body at all, lungs and limbs burning from exertion, and you don't dare stop. The overwhelming sound of creaking metal follows you, and there's a harsh yank on the back of your shirt as you're swept off the ground by the actuator.

You struggle, although the grip it has on the back of your shirt makes it far too tight to slip out of. Fingers scrambling up, you hook them between the collar of the shirt and your neck, trying to ease up some of the pressure.

Something eclipses the light overhead, and you barely have time to process the giant hand in your vision before it swallows you up. Otto snatches you in a tight fist, arms pinned immobile to your sides. He raises you up to his eye level, at a speed that makes the whole world swirl around you, vertigo in overdrive. His sharp brown eyes light up once you're in sight, a crinkle around the corners giving away his excitement.

Despite the overwhelming helplessness, you struggle, attempting in vain to loosen the hold of his fingers wrapped around you. His hand didn't budge a centimeter, if anything his grip tightened in the slightest amount, just enough to knock a little air out of your lungs. Otto doesn't say a word, he merely turns to the sofa in the living room, quickly crossing over to take a seat. A notebook is perched on the coffee table, and he flips to a half-filled page with his free hand, quickly writing something down.

"Was... was this a test?" You sputter out, half convinced the man would ignore you entirely. Your voice is strained, still unable to get a proper lungful of air with his fingers around you, but his brown eyes do flit to you for a moment.

Otto lowers his fist to the table, loosening it and roughly dropping you onto the coffee table. You land on top of a stack of sticky notes, and you don't dare move. Even if you wanted to attempt to run again, you're far too exhausted to even try. You let yourself collapse, still trying to catch your breath.

"Of course," Otto answers, not looking up from the page he was still scrawling on.

He eventually glances at you, leaning in slightly closer. Otto fills your entire vision, his looming for making you feel like you were in the front row of a movie theater. A little bit of brown hair fell into those dark eyes, which flicked down as he carefully took your form in.

"I wanted to see how fast you could run," he says, smiling once more. His voice is polite and even, as if he didn't just admit to terrifying you on purpose. He turns back down to his notes, still jotting a few things down. "Obviously, your functions are affected when I monitor you closely for tests. I wanted something a little less structured than a hamster wheel."

He finishes writing, carefully setting down his pen on the table. His eyes snap back to you, looking at your face carefully. You're still breathless and sore, trying to gather yourself mentally and physically from the escape attempt, and you feel absolutely pinned under his gaze.

"You couldn't really have thought you were going to escape?" he says, raising an eyebrow.

"I... I kinda did, yeah," you reply. You'd never snapped at him, never raised your voice, but the adrenaline still buzzing in your system and the absolute fury and exhaustion you feel can't help but spill out a little into your tone. "Even if I got caught, I had to try."

Otto nods, surprisingly accepting your answer with ease. He leans back on the sofa slightly, actuators draping over the back of it. His eyes are unwavering, still pointedly trained on you.

"Admirable, if not reckless," he says, "I must say though, you're far safer with me than you would be out there. I can't imagine what Oscorp would do if they got their grubby hands on you."

Pushing yourself up from the sticky notes, you rise to your feet, crossing your arms over your chest. Despite how correct he probably was, that wasn’t his call to make.

"Can't be worse than a goddamn hamster wheel," you mutter. Despite keeping your voice low, Otto does catch it, and he laughs brightly. He almost seems harmless for a second.

"I can assure you, my dear, they would not be as kind as me. I'm curious, but I do not intend to do you any harm. Other scientists, well, their methods of discovery aren't always so kind towards their specimens."

You narrow your eyes at the man, trying to gauge if you should believe him. There was no doubt that Oscorp would have been a nightmare if they had found you, and in all honesty, living at the apartment wasn't going to work out long term. You didn't need confirmation that the world outside was dangerous, but you still wonder how honest he was really being.

"You won't hurt me, but you'll keep me in a bird cage for a week?"

Otto shrugs, unbothered by the accusation.

"Can’t risk you running off and hurting yourself," he says.

He leans in once more, slowly bringing a hand down in front of you. The same one that snatched you up earlier. You look at it warily, waiting for it to grab you in a fist, pinch the back of your shirt and dangle you, but he doesn't. He simply lays it level with the sticky notes, right in front of you. You can feel the heat off of his skin, see the shift of his muscles as he waits.

"May I?"

(He'd never asked if he could hold you before.)

(You can see his fingers twitch in impatience, and decide not to push his kindness too far.)

You gingerly step onto the man's calloused palm, feeling his muscles and tendons twitch underneath you. It's a little hard to keep your balance, but he brings his thumb up, something for you to brace your hands on as he raises his palm to his face. It's far closer than when he was looming over the table, all the minuscule details on his face magnified.

"As far as I'm aware of, you're the only one like you in existence," he says. He lowered his voice for you, the usually brash and proud tone now just a quiet whisper. It was still overwhelming regardless. "I wouldn't allow harm to come your way, that would entirely deprive me of figuring you out. I am still just a physicist at heart, dear, you cannot expect me to not be fascinated by a person who can change their bodily mass on a whim."

You can feel the heat coming off his hand, the shift of his thumb under your palms. From this close, every time he exhales it ruffles your hair in the slightest. His eyes are a mix of a dozen brown shades, still locked firmly on you, and you shift your weight from foot to foot.

"It's not on a whim," you correct.

(If it was on a whim, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now.)

"But it could be," Otto says, "Someday."

With that, he rises to his feet. The thumb you're holding onto gently pushing you back, knocking you off your feet and pressing you into his other fingers, coming to rest around your waist like a makeshift seat belt. A small noise of protest escapes your lips, ignored as Otto takes up his notes and walks back to the office.

(It takes him just a few seconds.)

(All the agonizing minutes you had spent running, trying to cross that distance, and he closes it in just a few seconds.)

Otto enters the office, quickly reaching the desk and taking a seat. You half expect him to immediately return you to the bird cage. He doesn't, though, fingers shifting you slightly in his palm, so he can rest his elbow on the desk, leaving you sitting in his hand at eye level. His thumb stays locked over you, like a heavy weighted blanket in your lap.

(You don't think you could get it to budge, even if you tried.)

"You honestly know less about your shrinking than I do, and I've barely begun to scratch the surface," Otto says. He speaks with a certainty that's just a little grating. "Your powers are incredibly unstable now, but there's no indication that it will always be that way. And even so, I still want to know how it works, what makes you tick."

He looks down at you, with that familiar glint in his eyes. It's positively piercing.

"And I can promise I'll be less invasive than any other scientist you meet who wants the same thing."

Looking up at the man, you can't help but believe him. Your work at Oscorp had been brief enough to not see anything too awful, but you knew that the company had a dark underbelly. Otto, at the very least, wouldn't be killing you anytime soon. You can see on his face he's expecting a response, and you shrug.

"It's not like I have a choice, is it?"

Otto chuckled humorlessly, the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Clever little thing, aren't you?"

With that, his other hand sweeps in, two large fingers gently pinching around your chest and back. It knocks the wind out of you slightly, but his grip is careful, holding you just tight enough that you wouldn't slip from his grasp. He lifts you from his other palm, gently setting you on the desk. His warm fingers stay in place until you're balanced on your feet, and then he pulls away gently.

That clinical curiosity never once leaves his eyes. He glances behind you, searching for something amid the mess of his desk. When he reaches out for it, his arm arches over you, eclipsing the light overhead. His bicep practically becomes your entire sky, and in a second it's gone, once he grabbed the ruler behind you.

"Stand straight, my dear," he says.

You know the drill well enough, you stand up just a bit straighter as you feel the ruler fall into place behind your back. It presses flush against you, the cold plastic sending a chill down your spine. Otto leans in closer, dark eyes narrowed in scrutiny at the tiny numbers marking your height. His eyebrows raise, evidently a little surprised before he leans back in his chair, the ruler clattering down onto the table.

"You gained half an inch," he says, and you can't tell how he feels about that. There's a clinical edge to his tone, covering any real emotion.

You can't quite even tell how you feel about that. Half an inch was fairly inconsequential to regular sized folk, but it was everything to you. Things had seemed a touch smaller than before, but you didn't think you had grown that much. This was the longest you'd been tiny, and knowing you were growing back - if incredibly slowly - was something of a relief.

"Huh," you can't help but say out loud, showcasing a little of your surprise. Otto quirks up an eyebrow.

"You didn't notice?" he asks, with a small tilt of his head.

You shrug, slouching a little now that you don't have to hold yourself up.

"Everything is big at this scale, there wasn't much of a visual change," you say, "It's all still overwhelming."

Otto nods, and you can see the gears in his head turning once more. It's always obvious when he's thinking hard about something - leaning in, eyes narrowed, something intense in his face. It makes you feel like a bug under a microscope, fully on display, analyzed at every angle.

"Interesting," he comments. "I imagine at a certain point it's hard to gauge anything's size accurately, like estimating building dimensions just by viewing them. I don't blame you for not noticing."

(It's kind of a little surprising how well he gets it.)

"And you also said you grow back instantaneously, correct? This isn't typical, is it?"

You take a second before nodding, thinking back of all the times you had shrunk alone in your apartment. Most of the time you'd fall asleep tiny, and wake up normal sized - it was rare you were actually awake for growing back. The few times you had, you had only short bursts, and those were generally exhausting enough to knock you out regardless.

"I'm usually asleep for it," you say, "I just wake up at my usual height. I'm always pretty sore after."

Otto chuckles.

"I'm not surprised. I can't imagine your physical form changing that much, that rapidly, would be a comfortable feeling. If you do wind up having discomfort with growing back, I can give you something for the pain."

You don't reply instantly. You merely look up at the man, trying to read into his expression, figure out what's beyond the clinical curiosity on his face. He seems passive, detached, and then he expresses concern in the same breath. It's a little confusing, and you're tired of being confused.

"So, what's your deal?"

Otto raises his eyebrows, evidently not expecting the pointed question. He doesn't speak, but merely looks at you expectantly, tilting his head slightly as he waits for you to clarify.

"So you want to figure me out like a science project, I get that," you say, and you try not to think about if it's stupid to speak so candidly to a giant supervillain, "But why be nice to me?"

Otto's expression remains blank, and he leans in closer. Both his hands come up to rest on the desk, one on either side of you, palms pressed down onto the flat surface. His long fingers make you feel fully surrounded on all sides, that feeling only increasing when his face stops just a few relative feet from yours. His brown eyes lock onto you, and when he speaks, the breath from his lips ruffles your hair like the wind.

"You think I'm being nice to you?"

You swallow thickly, nervously looking up at the man. You resist the urge to stagger backwards - any distance you could put between the two of you, he could close in a fraction of the time. This close to his face, you can see every little imperfection in his skin, every single fleck in his eyes. It makes you forget what you're saying, for just a moment.

"I-I mean, you said yourself you're being kinder than other scientists," you say, voice coming out just a bit more timid than you'd have liked it to, "And if you really didn't care, you wouldn't worry about the pain from growing. It... I just..."

You pause, tilting your gaze down to the desk. The fake wooden swirls in the wood seem positively fascinating, much more easier to look at than the giant face in front of you. You can still feel the heat off his hands, the pressure of his gaze still on you.

"I'm sorry," you say after a second, "I'm... this is weird, I've never been kidnapped before, I'm still adjusting."

Otto stares at you for a moment more, before chuckling lightly. You hear the low noise intimately, the exhale gently brushing over your skin. He draws back, his face and one of his hands retreating to give you some breathing room.

"Ultimately when I figure out your powers, you'll have figured them out as well. At that point, you'll either escape and be clever enough to utilize said powers to evade me, and that will be the end of it. Or, you could stay and help me."

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you look up at the man. There's nothing but sincerity in his features, something almost as surprising as his words.

"Help you?"

"Someone who can change their size at will could be quite an asset to my work. I'm more than capable of most things, but the actuators don't lend themselves to subtlety well. I think I could get some use out of someone who can be a touch more discreet when the situation calls for it."

He wanted you.... to become a supervillain?

That's honestly not what you expected.

"So... you're being nice to me so I'll help you break the law?"

Otto shrugged.

"To put it simply, I suppose."

In all honesty, it isn't that bad of an idea. You'd heard the stories of Doc Ock, you knew he was terrifying, but he wasn't the worst as far as supervillains went.

"I'm... I'm not a killer, or anything."

Otto leaned back in his chair, and he carefully drummed his fingers on the desk. Each tap sent a small shake through the wood, reverberating through your tiny frame. With the hand so close it was almost overwhelming, seeing fingers twice as tall as you are moving so swiftly, and it's all you can do to try to not look unnerved by it.

"I'm hardly one myself, dear. The actuators do the dirty work, it's not something I'd expect of you." He pauses his tapping, thinking for a moment before continuing. "The media likes to highlight my more... uncontrolled moments. My real plan is actually nothing evil at all, it's simply a device that would create unlimited clean energy. Were you to help me, I'd just need your assistance in getting some parts, materials, that sort of thing."

He seems like he's being genuine.

There's no hint of a lie in those eyes, and while you know this man is dangerous, he's no less dangerous than everything else is at this size. Even if you didn't wind up helping him down the line - his thought on you escaping when you can control your powers was a good idea, actually - it'd be smart to play along.

His hand next to you rises up, carefully and slowly. His fingers approach you, and you try not to flinch back. It's almost like watching a bus directly come at you, the size and speed overwhelming, but you can tell his every motion is meticulous. Extending his pointer finger, he gently presses it to your back. Moving it down in almost a petting motion, a small smile flits over his lips.

"However, that's not a topic of conversation until we get a better grasp on your abilities," he says, "When you're useful enough to be an asset, we'll talk then. But for now-"

"Bird cage?" you interrupt, unable to keep back a small sigh.

Otto smiles, corners of his eyes crinkling up. The rest of his fingers dart forward, carefully flexing around your frame and scooping you up once more. You tumble back into the digits, quickly held in place by his thumb as he brings you back up to eye level.

"Oh, I thought we were beyond that?" he says, "Friends, and all that."

Otto stands to his feet, further making your head spin as you're shot up relative stories by the movement. Your hands come up to brace on his thumb, well aware the loose grip he holds you in is the only thing saving you from a long fall to the ground below. Otto raises his free hand, tugging back his leather jacket. The hand holding you drifts towards the inner pocket, and your eyes widen at the sight.

"Hey!" you yell out, because you don't necessarily want to be in a bird cage, but you definitely don't want to be in his pocket right now either. Otto doesn't respond, instead he tugs the pocket open, and drops you inside.

You tumble down roughly into the cloth, and it takes a second to scramble upright. Looking up you can see a sliver of light from the opening of the pocket, swiftly extinguished when he drops his coat back against his chest. It's warm, especially pressed right up against him, held in place by the thick leather of the coat.

"There’s a few things I need to attend to tonight,” he says, and you can feel every word shake through your bones, “Thanks for the company, my dear.”

Letting out a sigh, you relax back into the pocket, letting the warmth of him wash over you. Everything shifted slightly as he started walking, and you shut your eyes. Accompanied by the booming sound of his heartbeat and your exhaustion, it doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

#g/t #giant/tiny #macro micro #otto octavius #doc ock x reader #otto octavius x reader #my writing

136 notes · View notes